Posted on October 21, 2014 under Storytelling with 2 comments

Something to cure the first day jitters in the classroom

 

 

“Everybody’s working for the weekend …”

Working for the Weekend – Loverboy

Time has a way of blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. Some events from our past are a distant memory; while others, even those more than fifty years old, can be recalled in vivid color.  Most of us over the age of sixty know exactly where we were and how we felt after hearing about the shooting of President Kennedy in Dallas on a Friday afternoon in November ‘63.  My wife can recall the phone number for the daycare our children attended 25 years ago.  Certainly we remember our first kiss, even if it may not have been memorable for the person on the receiving end.

Our parent’s generation, by and large, stayed in one occupation for entire work careers, often for the same employer. Baby boomers all over the world have begun to retire or semi-retire en masse.  Many of us who form this large, post-war cohort have tried our hands at a variety of jobs.   However, some of my friends bucked the norm and worked their entire lives educating young minds as school teachers.

I was a school teacher for three years.

Admit it. Just about everybody craves Friday.  After a long week of work, it is not uncommon to blow off a bit of steam.  Not surprisingly, teachers have been known to congregate at the end of a school week to compare notes.  Sometimes the new substitute teacher is the topic du jour.

I remember my first day of paid work as a teacher as clearly as my wedding day. It’s bad enough suffering first day jitters, but when the job is substitute teaching, it is particularly nerve wracking.

Unless you don’t have time to get nervous.

The sun was coming up as several of my fellow education students sat in the top row of the grandstands at Oland Stadium the morning after our graduation celebrations. We clinked our glasses one final time and I wandered home through the field and climbed in to bed at my mother’s house.  I glanced at the clock.  It was 6:30 a.m.

Exactly one hour later my mother was shaking me violently. I thought the house must be on fire.  “Get up!  You just received a call from the principal of the junior high school and he wants you to come and substitute.  I told him that you would be happy to go.  He wants you there at 8:00 sharp.”

You have to understand my mother’s work ethic. I was going to teach that day.  Full stop.  I tried to process this information but my neurons were definitely not firing on all cylinders.  I staggered to the shower and tried to regain consciousness.

I retraced my steps through the very same field that I had trodden only a few hours earlier to get to the school. I decided not to drive as it would have been very embarrassing to fail the breathalyzer on my way to my first job as a full-fledged teacher.  No amount of toothpaste or mints could disguise the tell-tale signs of the party that lingered on my breath.  I wondered if I should teach my lessons using sign language.

I survived the day and for some yet unknown reason was asked to come back again. Maybe I was causing uproarious hilarity in the staff room.  Having learned the fine art of lesson planning during my own tutelage, I went home and crafted one for the next day.  It consisted of exactly one sentence.

Never again party on a week night.

“Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end Everybody needs a second chance …”

Posted on October 20, 2014 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

It’s almost show time

 

 

The big fundraiser for the Heatherton Development, Culture and Wellness Association is happening this Sunday, October 26^th. at 7:00 p.m. in the former Rev, H.J. MacDonald Elementary School. There will be a silent auction starting at 6:00. It should be a great evening of story telling and music. The MacDonald family has been working on their set lists and I think you will recognize most of the tunes.

What were you doing last Friday at 4:30 a.m.? I was sitting at our kitchen table with a two year old. I was doing an airport run and had to be on the go early. Our granddaughter was spending a few days with us and she decided that this was as good a time as any to get up. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, she drilled me with these four questions in rapid fire succession: “ What is an oval? What’s a rectangle? What’s a triangle? What’s a diamond?”  I guess they must have been discussing shapes at daycare last week.

I thought you might be interested to know that the Thursday Hot Meal program at St. James United Church is going extremely well. Five of our seven teams have already seen duty and we have been serving somewhere between 40-60 people . All of the teams have embraced this project with great enthusiasm.

The response to Celtic Colors Celestial Choir struck a chord with my readers ( pun intended! ). Several hundred read the piece and many of you weighed in with your comments. It is hard to believe that the five musicians in the story are no longer with us.

I have been exchanging e-mails with a new reader of Week45. She is a retired teacher who lives in Ontario. As a former Antigonisher, she is getting caught up on the news from today and 50 years ago. She shared a very funny story with me about her teaching days that I hope to re-tell one of these days. It caused me to think back on my short and fleeting teaching career.

So,  early this morning, I dashed off a story recounting my first day of paid teaching. I got called to substitute teach the morning after my grad party. At 6:00 a.m. on that fateful day, a number of BEd. colleagues and I,  were sitting in the grandstands at Oland Stadium, watching the sun come up. And yes, to quell your insatiable curiosity, there was alcohol involved. I climbed into bed at 6:30 at my mother’s house and at 7:30 I was woken to violent shaking from my mom. She informed me that the principal of St. Andrew Junior High had called and I was to appear in school at 8:00… to teach. Thinking that she had done me a great favor, she said yes. Coming soon, “ Lessons Learned –  The Hard Way.”

Have a great week and hope to see you Sunday evening in Heatherton.

Posted on October 18, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

Conrad, Raylene and Len

 

 

And when the night brings on the stars We’ll be there, we’ll remember We’ve reached across, we’ve touched a spark The story’s just beginning

We’ll Reach the Sky Tonight – Rita MacNeil

Rosin up the bow. Dust off the old dancing shoes.  There’s a big time ceilidh happening in Cape Breton right now with some of the finest musicians from the four corners of the globe.  Add a major splash of color from Mother Nature and you have the globally acclaimed Celtic Colours International Festival.  The logistics of coordinating an annual event of this size is staggering, but bear in mind that the seeds were sown over a very long period of time, in small communities throughout the island.  It’s harvest time.

When all of the world class musicians take the stage this fall, whether it is in Boularderie School, the Savoy Theatre in Glace Bay or St. Matthew’s United Church in Inverness, they should all take a moment to pause and point toward the heavens. The Celestial Choir has gathered.  John Morris is chording at the ivories while Buddy rosins his bow.  John Allan is tuning his twelve string guitar (an almost impossible undertaking) while Raylene and Rita are warming up their distinctive voices.

One could make a strong argument that Celtic Colours wouldn’t exist without the tireless work of the trailblazers. Not just the Celestial Choir but hundreds of other immensely talented, humble and unassuming Cape Breton musicians.

I was very lucky to have met the five fine Cape Bretoners mentioned above, and had the honor of sharing the stage with two of them. I doubt that this was as memorable for them as it was for me.

J’n Allan and J’n Morris. When they were handing out consonants and vowels in Cape Breton, there must have been a shortage somewhere along the line.  I can’t ever remember anyone calling these musicians “John”.

Humility. And humour.  That’s a combination that you don’t see often.  There are talented musicians everywhere.  You can ask some of them and they will tell you just how good they are.  To a person, the Celestial Choir members were modest people with a few of them bordering on shy.  John Allan wasn’t one of the timid ones!

I enjoyed many cups of tea with Buddy over the years at his kitchen table. He had a wicked sense of humour.  Oh yes, it was dry.  I watched him intently as he pondered a topic.  He would pause, and a small grin would begin to crease his lips.  And then he’d fire out a zinger that would make Jon Stewart proud. (They even lose consonants in New York!)

I have been to Rita’s tea Room in Big Pond but never had the pleasure of having a “cuppa’ with her. I saw her for the first time in a second story nightclub in Halifax back in the early 70’s, before she became a star.  I don’t think she ever looked at herself as one.  There’s that humility thing again.

John Allan oozed charm. His voice was unique and he was a better than average guitar player; but more than anything, he was an entertainer.  He made an impromptu appearance at the Old Chapel on the campus of St. F. X in the early 80’s.  The chapel had been converted into a coffee house and he joined us for a set one memorable evening.  I think he left with two of the “Four Marys” on his arm.

I sang in a group with Raylene during her university days. We were also members of the chapel choir.  When the Rankins made it to the big times, I often teased Raylene that she got her big break playing with me and Conrad at the Abbey X.

Sometimes a musician excels in so many ways that it is hard to find words to describe his gift. Songwriter, arranger, pianist extraordinaire; John Morris was a quiet leader with immense talent and he left us tragically and far too soon.

So let’s raise a glass and toast those who broke ground on fertile Cape Breton soil.

I know we’ll reach the sky tonight Look and see how far we’ve come Standing in our brightest light This is what the dream has done