Happy Halloween

Well, Jen and I finally get to hand out Halloween candy this year.  Ever since we've been together (5 years now), there has always been a reason that we couldn't entertain all of the Trick or Treaters in the neighbourhood.  At first we lived on the third floor of a very small apartment building in Ottawa and the front door was locked.  It was a bit of a rough neighbourhood.

Next, when we first moved to Fort St. John, we lived in another apartment building, so no Trick or Treaters.
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Then we moved out to Prespatou and we were surrounded by the very dour Mennonites.  Halloween was seen as sacraligous and a pagan ritual.  Needless to say, having a Jack 'o Lantern outside our teacherage was probably not a wise career or social move.  We generally made ourselves scarce on Halloween night, because there were a healthy amount of hypocrites in the Prespatou community.  There were families that would go out Trick or Treating and not bother to dress up.  I don't play that game.  So, in order to avoid having me make a scene, Jen always made sure we were away from home.

Now this year, we live in town and we are in our own house.  Our steps are lined with the Jack 'o Lanterns that our classes carved.  We have had between 60-70 kids of varying ages come to our door asking (politely for the most part) for candy.  The best part is that the little beggars don't have to wear their snow boots or winter jackets this year.  There is usually snow on the ground at this time of the year, but we got lucky and our first big dump melted over the last couple of days. 

Am I a grumpy old man if after two hours of beggars coming to my door, the novelty is wearing off?

The Byzantine World of Labour Relations

I went to a professional development committee meeting this past week and received a copy of our current collective agreement.  It was nicely bound and in a compact format.  I really should have nothing to complain about, except that our current contract expires this coming June.  That's right.  I finally got a copy of a contract that I've been working under for the past three years this week and it it expires in eight months.

When Jen and I first started in this school district we were given a copy of the last collective agreement that had already expired.  When I chased down our union rep to get a copy of the current contract I was told that we couldn't have those because the parties were still working on finalizing a few of the side agreements.  I found this very disturbing that my union would not allow me to see the contract that it had bargained for on my behalf.  However, I was new to the profession and organized labour, so I didn't push too hard.

I have also realized that the only part that most teachers (and maybe most workers in general) care about is the page that shows their wage scale.  While I'll agree that it's important, I like to know what the obligations of the employer and my self to each other are while I'm working (i.e. why and when can I get in trouble).  Of course, that's probably the former lawyer in me poking his seldom seen head out.

Finally, British Columbia teachers collectively bargain as a whole group with the provincial government.  The extent of our collective bargaining rights are set out in provincial legislation.  At the current time, teachers are classified as an essential service, much like fire fighters and ambulance drivers.  This makes it illegal for us to strike.  However, the current government is definitely not pro-union or pro-education and is in penny pinching mode.  To make matters worse, the British Columbia Teachers Federation is highly militant and seems to get off on baiting a government that it seems to me it would be wise to find a working relationship with.  There is a common saying that says don't bite the hand that feeds you.  The BCTF gnaws on that hand very regularly.

Bargaining for the new contract starts in March.  It could be an interesting year.

Pumpkins are sexy

Today I was doing a shared writing project with my kids today.  We were writing about pumpkins.  Every sentence followed the pattern, "Pumpkins are..." and they told me something that pumpkins were.  I had answers such as round, orange and full of seeds.  One little boy however, told me that pumpkins were sexy.  I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly, so I asked him to repeat his answer.  I think he thought I was angry, so he kind of mumbled his answer and one of the children next to him was nice enough to repeat it very loudly.  I tried not to laugh too much and I said that while sexy wasn't a bad word, it was one we probably shouldn't use in a grade 1 classroom.  Another child piped up that it was a mom and dad word.  I agreed with her while think, "What are your parents saying to each other at home?"

So there you have it folks.  Pumpkins are sexy.

Bad Kitty!

I thought I would write about the joys of pet ownership.  We have two cats.  Cats that my wife is convinced are people.  Jen thinks of the cats her furry children.  Need I say more?  As card carrying humans, they (my wife and my cats) think that they should be afforded all of the same rights and privileges as everyone else.  I must admit that this leads to some conflict between myself and the other residents of our house.   For example, I think that furniture should be reserved for humans and the rest agree.  It is the definition of human that gets in the way.

Anyway, today I was cleaning out the cats' litter box and London started meowing and circling around me.  Then he went into my hockey bag and scratched around a bit.  Just as I had finished filling and putting the lid on their litter box I looked over to see London squatting over my hockey towel which was on the floor waiting to be washed.  I hollered at him to stop, but he didn't listen.  He proceeded to drop a massive steaming crap on my towel.  Did I mention that the towel was one that I brought back with me from Hawaii?  It stank so bad and looked so rude, that I had to throw the towel away.  I mean really.  Who could dry their face with that towel when all you though about was your cat crapping on it?

The Dresden Files

I just finished reading the Jim Butcher book Turn Coat.  It is the second most recent book in the Dresden Files series.  It is about a wizard that works as a private investigator in Chicago.  It sounds sort of odd, but it is quite well written with lots of humour and personality.  They are not hard books to read, but satisfying all the same.  I give this book and the whole series so far two thumbs up.

Tales From First Grade

Well, it's been an eventful (read busy) month.  I just noticed that I hadn't blogged in a very long time, so I thought I'd pass on some funny things that happened in my classroom today.

First, one of our Aboriginal Support Workers came in to tell my students about the fall gathering that our school would be hosting this Friday.  She told the students that some elders would be coming to tell stories and some of the students would be making soup and bannock.  One of my little boys put up his hand and asked who was coming.  He was told it was aboriginal people.  The this he asked "So, what, are they French or something?"  The ASW, trying not to laugh told him that they were aboriginal and pointed out one of our aboriginal students and said like him.  This was a nice try, but the aboriginal boy is not quite to the age where he has self-identified with a specific race yet and he seemed alarmed and said "Who, me?"  You would have thought we told him he was a dog the way he reacted with disbelief.  We dodged around that question for a little while before the first little boy accepted that French people were not coming to do some storytelling, set up tee pees and make bannock.

Later, during story time, I had just made a good start on The Gingerbread Girl, when I caught a whiff of something unholy.  I mean, it was bad enough I had to breath through my mouth.  I chose to be the bigger person (well, I already sort of am) and ignore it.  However, when I got a repeat performance about 30 seconds later I decided I was going to asphyxiate before the story was over if I didn't address my students about this little breach of etiquette.  So, I put my finger in the book to mark my place and lay the book on my lap. I said, "Boys and girls, someone is farting and it smells pretty bad.  I'm not going to point a finger at anyone, but you know who you are and you need to stop or go to the bathroom."  A couple of people agreed that it was pretty stinky in their vicinity as well.  Nobody confessed, but you don't have to look very hard at a 6 year old's face to find the guilty one.  I knew exactly who my little bomber was.  Luckily, my plea for clean air did not fall on deaf ears and the pollution stopped.  Well, at least until story time was over.

I'll leave you with a picture I got from one of my students after I had a bad day.  She told me she made it for me just because she liked me.