We live in a confusing world. Some days I watch the news and shake my head. I myself don’t know how to process the events, let alone explain them to those in our care who are young and impressionable.

Books have always been my answer when it’s time to have difficult conversations with kids.

When discussing death, I tend to read the picture books The Memory Tree by Britta Teckentrup, That Summer by Tony Johnston or The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White and Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson all also effective.

When discussing prejudice or intolerance, I read Freedom Summer by Deborah Wiles, The Other Side by Jacqueline Woodson or Don’t Laugh at Me by Allen Shamblin and Steve Seskin.

When discussing messages of kindness, The Big Umbrella by Amy June Bates and Juniper Bates, Ordinary Mary’s Extraordinary Deed by Emily Pearson and The Invisible Boy by Trudy Ludwig are excellent choices.

Books generate such wonderful discussion. And, I guess that’s why I love working with children. Children have the ability to frame things with such humanity and hope. “While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” Angela Schwindt

Every time the Olympics roll around, I find myself thinking about the role of sport in our society.

I played several sports as a kid and I have as an adult, as well. I see value in the camaraderie, the activity, the discipline, the health benefits and the inevitable lessons about winning and losing.

And like many Canadians, I enjoy watching the Olympics: everything from the athlete profiles, to the events themselves. I find myself feeling proud of these athletes that I only know through television. I admire what the Olympic and Paralympic athletes do to get themselves prepared to compete at such a high level: the training, the sacrifice and the discipline. Often, these athletes have overcome great hurdles through incredible dedication and hard work.

But there is one thought about the Olympics that I can’t ignore. When I hear how many billions of dollars are spent, I wonder… are they billions well spent?

Many of those dollars are spent on infrastructure. And depending on what is done with the infrastructure after the fact, there could be value. Often though, the newly built stadiums and venues are under-utilized or even left abandoned. And a considerable portion of the money is spent on making sure the host country is shown in a positive light to the world; some have even called it one-upmanship from one Olympics to the next. Even the bids for the Olympics run into the millions of dollars.

Yet when I think of the millions of people living in our world in dire conditions – without adequate food or housing, without access to clean water or health care – I struggle with the billions spent on the games.

Not to be a downer. I just think there must be a way to engage in a world event such as this, encouraging patriotism and fostering world unity, but also to be more cognizant of the money poured into the event. To find ways to eliminate some of the exorbitant spending.

So as we cheer on our athletes, let us also remember to advocate and support those in our world who go without.

Wilma Rudolph has said, “Never underestimate the power of dreams and the influence of the human spirit.” In sport or in life.

 

One of the things I love about teaching writing to kids is that it is a skill they will use throughout their lives.

And even though it is something I love to do, I know that not all of them like it and many of them never will. But, I want them to know how important it is. And if they learn to love it, or even like it a little more, wonderful.

One day, they may write a poem, a thesis, a job application, a blog, a journal entry or a love letter. They will find their voice and they will write.

We write for life.

Today, a friend will experience the funeral of her husband. Her daughters will say goodbye to their father. They have journeyed with him over a difficult four years. I admire their love, patience and devotion.

The gravity of this day for them reminds me of the precious nature of life. We simply don’t know what is to come and when.

Hold your loved ones close. Tell them that you love them. Live life today.

 

After listening to the news last week, I found myself infuriated. Again. It happens more and more these days. But neither the sting or shock of last week’s news have subsided.

I believe in the positive power of words but I also recognize the ugly side, too. Words can be used to hurt and humiliate. Words can be thrown about carelessly. They can be used maliciously and deliberately to insult, intimidate and divide.

Call me crazy, but when leaders use words, I want their words to uplift and unite, to provide hope and comfort in uncertain times, to inspire us to reach our potential, individually and as a collective. One of the reasons I admire leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Barack Obama is that they were deliberate in the words they chose to say, recognizing their power.

Lately, it feels like years of effort to educate, unite and build bridges, have collapsed in mere seconds when words of ignorance and bigotry are spoken on a world stage. These words have the potential to cause others with similar beliefs to become emboldened. That thought terrifies me. Therefore, I can’t keep quiet. I feel like now, more than ever, we need to speak up. To use our voices for good. Barack Obama says this, “Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”

Monday, January 15th is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I leave the last words to him: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

Since the new year began, I’ve been trying to decide on my word for the year. It’s not that I’ve been procrastinating, it’s just that the right word hadn’t found me yet. I’ve heard other people’s words and I’ve contemplated a few of my own (balance, aspire, write, breathe) but none have felt exactly right.

And then I thought about the word live. The verb. Too simple? Sort of inevitable? I don’t think so.

What I mean is this: I want to live deliberately, live in the moment, live my best me, live my dreams, even. Every so often we are thrown a reminder that life is short. Therefore, to live, is something I want to make the most of, each and every day.

Yup, that’s it. Live.

 

Loving Father, during this Christmas season,

Teach us to be an example of peace in the world, beginning in our own homes.

Open our hearts so we may extend kindness to those grieving, in pain, or alone.

Remind us to show gratitude for all we have.

Give us the strength to share the hope and faith of the season with all we encounter.

Loving Father, thank you for the gift of your Son. Let His light ignite compassion, grace and peace in each of us.

Amen

 

Last week I read How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss to a grade 6 class and two grade 5/6 classes. I had only met the students a couple of times before. I had a purpose in reading it, although pure enjoyment would be purpose enough.

I love watching the reaction of older kids when I pull out a picture book. In my own classes, reading picture books is the norm – no matter the grade. With other classes though, the range of reactions are interesting to watch. There are those who get truly excited. There are those who are seemingly indifferent. There are those who shift nervously in their spots. And, there are those who think they’re too old for a picture book and try to mask a little eye roll.

As I begin reading, I continue to watch their reactions. A few pages in, I know I have ’em: even those whose tendencies were the eye roll. Kids love hearing a good story. They may not necessarily admit it, but their change in demeanour is evidence enough for me: their eye contact with both me and the book, their stillness, their smiles.

“And what happened then …?

Well … in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch’s small heart

Grew three sizes that day!”

A few weeks ago while teaching grade one, I said to the class, “You can ask your neighbour for help if you need.” A little one exclaimed, “What? Our neighbours? We’re not at home!” They giggled at my use of this word.

Last week in a grade five class, we were discussing the complexity of the English language: all of those rules that aren’t always followed! We teach our students to add an ‘s’ to make something plural. But what about these? Mouses … foots … gooses … tooths … mans? And why aren’t too, blue, grew and through spelled using the same pattern? What about said and red? Limb and him?

Kids encounter new words, words in new contexts, rules, and words that break the rules, each and every day. It’s no wonder they make errors. How could they knot?

I’m a little behind on This Is Us. Just now nearing the end of season one. Watched the ‘Memphis’ episode last night. I’ve been thinking about William’s words to Randall: “Roll all the windows down. Crank up the music.”

At this busy time of year when teachers are tired from report cards, and the hecticness of the holidays awaits us, his words hit home. Yes, responsibility calls. There are things we must do whether we want to or not. But I am trying to remember not to live “a life of almosts and could haves.”

Amidst my responsibilities and must-do’s, I’m going to take the time to roll down those windows and crank up the music. Today and every day.