I attended a PD session on Friday put on by Inclusion Alberta. The presenter: Shelley Moore. I was looking forward to the day as I had seen her TedTalk and was familiar with her style and content. I knew she would be interesting and engaging; what I didn’t expect was a day of deep thinking and introspection. She provokes a paradigm shift.

Shelley challenged us to consider the gap between what we say inclusion is and what the practice actually is within our schools.

Contrary to some practice, inclusion is more than physical integration. Physically forcing people into the same school or the same room, does not equal inclusion. Individuals may be integrated into your setting, but do they truly have a role, feel a part of the group and make contributions to the group? If we’re honest, not always.

Sometimes, in my role, I see the budgetary constraints that affect the workings of inclusion. Often, the students with the most challenging needs are put in the hands of people with no experience dealing with these needs – through no fault of their own. If we expect our EAs and our teachers to meaningfully meet the needs of students with significant cognitive or physical disabilities AND meet the needs of all of the other students in the class, we must support our staff with appropriate training.

Then, we proceed with the belief that all students can learn. Our job is not to fix kids; this implies there is something in need of fixing! Our job is to educate kids: providing supports for all students to ensure their educational experiences – both academic and social – are meaningful.

As Shelley emphasizes, you don’t do inclusion, you live it. One step at a time.

View Shelley Moore’s TedTalk here!

I’m willing to admit: I am not a cook. I’m not good at it. I don’t enjoy it. I do it only by necessity. And yet, for some reason, one even I can’t fathom, I watch cooking shows. Not only do I watch them, I enjoy them.

There are a few I tune into now and then; my favourite though is Masterchef Junior. I watch in astonishment as kids as young as 8 use ingredients whose names I cannot pronounce. They blanche, sauté, sear and braise. They create art on a plate.

And the best part with the kids: they cheer each other on. Much more than on the adult version of the show, these kids hug, laugh, cry and support each other. They literally jump for joy. While watching the other day, I said out loud, “Kids are awesome.”

With spring break behind us, I look forward to returning to work tomorrow. I look forward to supervision before the day begins when I can reconnect with my students. I know what will be on my mind: “Kids are awesome.”

My dad has given me many pearls of wisdom. It seems every few days I am reminded of something he taught me. Some are words he said, others are things he modelled. Some are exceptionally practical, others are incredibly profound. Some I appreciated immediately, others have made an impact over time. In no particular order…

1. Family comes first.
2. Save for the future.
3. Always keep the gas tank above half.
4. Accept individuals for who they are.
5. Travel when you can.
6. Give people the benefit of the doubt.
7. Forgive those who need forgiveness.
8. Savour each and every day.
9. Enjoy the drive.
10.  Live with hope.

Thanks, Dad.

I’m sensing some exasperation with the frigid temperatures, accumulating snow and indoor recesses. It’s also report card time. And although Spring Break is around the corner, the lists are long between now and then. The 7 Habits can help us survive until the break…

We can put first things first: focus on the necessary and eliminate the extras. We can think win-win by team-teaching with our colleagues. We can generate some laughter and fun by planning an activity which encourages our students to synergize. We can start thinking about how we will sharpen the saw over the break: renewing our physical, social, emotional or spiritual selves.

We will get there… I promise… ten more days is doable!

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… it’s learning to dance in the rain.” (Or snow!)

I’ve always assumed that all provinces have Teachers’ Convention. But recently, I realized how lucky we are to have these two paid days of learning and networking. Many other provinces do not.

The highlight of this year’s convention was Clara Hughes. She had me simultaneously laughing and in tears, inspired and moved.

Yes, she’s a world class athlete. Yes, she has won Olympic medals in two sports: cycling and speed skating. Yes, she’s the only Canadian to have won medals in both the Summer and Winter Olympics. And yes, she has even been named to the Order of Manitoba and the Order of Canada. Yet what I admire about her goes beyond her many accomplishments in sport.

Clara Hughes battles depression. She has faced a lifetime dealing with mental illness and addiction, her own and that of her immediate family. Living a childhood in fear and uncertainty led Clara down a path of drinking and drugs. Yet she persevered and found both promise and purpose in sport. She has discovered ways to turn anger to forgiveness, despair to joy and disappointment to hope.

Her boundless energy (you have to meet her to know this is not hyperbole) is now channelled into helping others: kids through the Right to Play program and others dealing with mental illness through Bell Let’s Talk, for instance. Clara Hughes shows strength and courage in her daily life. For this, she is a hero.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am a lover of art. Art of many forms: painting, sculpture, photography, literature, film, music and theatre.

Art can be an expression of pleasure. Of pain. Of love. Art can explore serious topics such as illness, racism or equality. Art can bridge divides or prompt conversation. Art can carry us away into fantasy worlds. Even in the midst of heartache or turmoil, art has the ability to suspend reality and provide solace. Picasso said this: “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

When cuts in education are discussed, sometimes the arts find their way onto the chopping block. And yet when I see students engaged in the creation of various forms of art, my heart aches to think this could disappear. I have felt goosebumps when students join their voices together in song. I have seen the creative and comedic energy of students revealed in film. I have been awed at the talent of young visual artists who struggle to find success in other areas of the curriculum.

Some describe art as fluff, as an extra. I believe art is integral to the development of the whole child and a valuable endeavour in whatever form it takes.

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.” George Bernard Shaw

When I work with struggling readers, I see noticeable improvement in ability. For some, it is the learning of letters and their sounds, for others it is the decoding of words on the page and for others still it is improved fluency. Despite the skills we practice, the key is confidence.

Most of these students are aware that their peers find reading easier than they do. But by providing targeted instruction for their specific ability levels, we can help them take small steps of success. Each small step gives a necessary boost of confidence.

Some of these students will catch up to their peers but most will likely lag a little behind. Regardless, they will make gains and find success. I won’t have it any other way.

Last Tuesday at Faith Development Day, David Wells challenged us to examine the ‘why’ of what we do. He reminded us that what matters most in teaching is not measurable.

During the last few weeks, I’ve run into four former students: now adults. It was interesting to hear their excitement as they reminisced about their elementary school days. I also enjoyed hearing what they’re up to now. Our accidental reunions put context to the ‘why’ referred to by David Wells.

We know that our students won’t remember the specifics of each day. They may not even remember what units we taught them. But what they will remember is whether or not they were loved and respected. They will remember you.

Religion. Race. Both have surfaced many times this week. The news headlines in the U.S. The shooting in Quebec last Sunday. An activity to help our students understand the experiences of the indigenous peoples of Canada. And last night a play at the Citadel, Disgraced: a dinner party soured by talk of religion and race.

Our identities are complicated: affected by our upbringing, our values and our experiences. No two individuals exactly the same. And never entirely predictable, either.

When I look at the students in our classrooms, I see individuals. I don’t give much thought to what someone looks like, his or her cultural background, or the prayers he or she says. Despite our religion or race, we all crave one thing: to be valued.

This video exemplifies this need and demonstrates the influence we hold as teachers. (Not to mention the power of words…)

 

By the end of the holiday season I have a stack of books to take me into January. The other night I chose a book from the stack, ran a bath, settled into the bubbles and cracked the spine of a new novel. Bliss!

Each time I begin a book, I wonder what world I will fall into and who I will meet on this journey of a few hundred pages. I adore meeting new characters and look forward to returning to them each evening. I love escaping reality and getting lost in the pages.

Perhaps Stephen King says it best: “Books are uniquely portable magic.”