I received a fitbit for Christmas. Among other things it tracks my steps. I am now more cognizant of each step I take and much more motivated to get active than I was before wearing it. My goal is 10 000 steps/day at least 4 times a week. I have to work at it though: 10 000 steps doesn’t just happen in the regular course of my day.

A few days ago I had a revelation. My father didn’t take any steps for the last 6 years of his life. Not one. And the three or four years before that, very few at all and each one of those was an effort. Multiple Sclerosis robbed him of this very basic of activities: walking.

With every step I take, I am grateful. I am grateful for the opportunity to stay active and mobile. I am grateful for my independence. When 10 000 steps seems hard to reach, I know my father is encouraging me to take those steps and more importantly to enjoy each and every one.

When I think back to this past week, the moments that stand out are those snippets of conversation with kids.

Between two girls and myself: “Are you coming to Galaxyland tonight?” “No, I can’t. I curl every Friday night.” “You can’t come because you have to curl your hair?” “Not that kind of curl!”

From a 7 year old who recently moved from Africa: “Summer, tomorrow?”

And my favourite of all: “Oh, you found someone to play Xs and Os with?” “No, I was playing against myself.” “Did you win?” “No, I was X.”

Leave it to kids to bring sunshine to our days, simply by what they say!

Recently I had reason to contemplate my accumulation of ‘stuff.’ Sometimes I blame our materialistic society for this vice, or the fact that I am a teacher and everyone knows that teachers are collectors. Regardless of where the blame lies, I admit to too much stuff!

Almost a decade ago a move from a house to a condo resulted in my downsizing. And then somehow right under my nose all that stuff multiplied once again. A few months ago a flood precipitated another downsizing. What I’ve realized is that most of my stuff is just that. Sure, some of it is valuable if considered monetarily, some of it is sentimental, but most of it is truly dispensable.

What I own does not define me. Not to say I don’t love a beautiful piece of art or that I can imagine my shelves without those rows and rows of books. Realistically though, life can change in one doctor visit. And the stuff we thought important is reduced to items on a shelf or clothes in a closet. Thanks to the people who surround me, life has so much more to offer!

“Peace.” This idea, this word, came up countless times this week. The dictionary defines peace as quiet and tranquility; freedom from disturbance.

Ultimately, I want peace in my life. To be at peace with myself and those around me. To live peacefully. To have moments of peace within each day. To live without regret. To accept past mistakes and move forward. To achieve harmony of thoughts and action. Peace of mind. A peaceful heart.

This morning I finished reading Wave: a memoir written by a woman who lost her entire family (husband, children and parents) during the tsunami of 2004. The writing of the book strikes me as an attempt to find peace after a life-altering tragedy.

After all, peace is not necessarily something that comes naturally in our lives. We have to work at it: in our relationships and within ourselves, despite our circumstance.

How will I find peace? I will do what I love and do it often… I will surround myself with those I love… I will be true to myself. The results are worth the effort; as Gandhi once said, “Peace is its own reward.”

This morning I finished reading I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban. Malala’s life changed in mere seconds when three gunshots were fired at her head. Yet after numerous surgeries and rigorous rehabilitation, she is making incredible strides. And though physically she is on the mend and her family reunited in the UK, they are all forced to remain away from home: away from the family, friends, work and life they built in Pakistan. New problems are imposed upon them as they deal with their altered reality.

For all of us, regardless of country or circumstance, there are times in life when dreams falter and reality alters the shape of those dreams forever. As we grow up and older we have a vision of the way things will be, conscious or not. Then, cards are dealt and sometimes the hands aren’t quite what we expect. Loss, illness, violence and broken relationships were not part of the imagined landscape. The challenge then becomes how can we make the best of this reality? How can we alter our dreams and vision of what life was going to be?

Throughout her young life, Malala (and millions of girls like her) have faced hardship, turmoil and terror like none we can imagine. Her dreams? “Peace in every home, every street, every village, every country. Education for every boy and every girl in the world.” These dreams put her in harm’s way. There are those who do not want to hear her words; those who would do anything to silence her.

How is Malala dealing with her new reality? The last line of her book holds the answer: “I am Malala. My world has changed but I have not.”

Those who find happiness in life are those able to adapt and adjust to life’s circumstance, those with a purpose greater than themselves. This young girl has lessons for all of us about accepting reality, fighting for change and altering one’s dreams. Malala will not be silenced.

Two weeks ago, our staff (myself included), were somewhat giddy and down-right exhausted. And with good reason: cold temperatures meant indoor recess after indoor recess and therefore limited opportunity for students to burn off that extra energy that comes with the holiday season. Yes, our students were also ready for a well-deserved break.

These last few weeks allowed for time with family and friends, time to watch hockey (international and local stars – yes, Donatella, that’s you!), escape with a good book, snowshoe through the freshly fallen snow in the mountains and simply indulge in an afternoon nap.

Tomorrow I will return to work feeling a little less delirious and a lot more rested. Some say we’re spoiled to have two weeks off at Christmas. Maybe we are.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I am often inspired by what I read or hear. Recently, I was sent this picture and explanation.

“This is the buddy bench. An idea by second-grader Christian Bucks. He noticed classmates were alone at recess, so he got his school to install this. If you feel lonely on the playground you go sit on the buddy bench, and another student will come to the bench and ask if they want to play or talk.”

This weekend, as Nelson Mandela is laid to rest, and families in Newtown remember those killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School one year ago, I applaud Christian Bucks for his initiative and desire to make our world a better place. I am not naive to think this bench is the end to playground issues or childhood loneliness; yet, it is an inspiring start. With the media riddled with bad news stories, it is refreshing to hear of an 8 year old moved to action to promote inclusion. Mandela would be proud.

In fact, it only seems fitting to give Mandela himself the last words this week: “What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.”

When most of us hear the word failure we assume a negative connotation. And yet failure is often a path to learning and ultimately to future success.

Take my writing career. (Dare I call it that?) I publish my blog posts without consulting anyone; I choose my own topics and edit my own work. Recently though, I had an editor send me some feedback for an article I’m writing. Though I expected feedback, I was surprised at how much. I reminded myself that this was an opportunity to learn.

Even more telling are the multiple rejections from book publishers. I know that J.K. Rowling had a dozen rejections and Stephen King several dozen for their first novels. We hear similar stories for Judy Blume, William Faulkner, Dr. Seuss, Rudyard Kipling and George Orwell. In fact, Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time received a whopping 26 rejections before going on to win The Newberry Medal. And one publisher said this of the now classic Lord of the Flies: “an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.”

So, what does each rejection, each so-called-failure, teach me? After the initial sting, I gain a new perspective and a strengthened resolve to pursue a project I believe in. I strive to improve my writing and remind myself that failure is simply an opportunity to learn.

A good friend recently sent this short video (very short, in fact) summing it all up: Keep Moving Forward. So whether with writing or with life, I celebrate the opportunities that failure presents. I keep moving forward, gaining momentum each step of the way.

 

As the mercury dropped outside this week, I raised the thermostat, made a cup of tea and snuggled under a blanket on the couch. At one point I drove to the Bissell Centre to drop off some donations. The entrance was riddled with shopping carts and sleeping bags; the people inside finding relief from the frigid temperatures. When I walked in, an odd sense came over me. Sadness, guilt, gratefulness: all wrapped into one.

Before each recess we check the temperature: at – 20 degrees or colder, we stay inside. My trip to the Bissell Centre reminded me that not everyone has that choice, that luxury. I can’t help but wonder what brings people to a point in life where they have no home to go to. I wonder about their individual stories. At some point, they were all children in elementary school, exuberant about life. And now they leave their shopping carts at the door to find refuge from the cold in downtown Edmonton.

When I drove away, the bag of clothing I dropped off seemed so insignificant. My thoughts jolted back to our students. It is devastating to think that any of them might potentially be forced to live on the streets, without a home to call their own.

We certainly cannot predict the path our students will take in life. We can however create a supportive school environment for each and every student. We can help build a foundation of skills: literacy, numeracy, problem solving and critical thinking. We can model empathy and compassion. We can inspire our students to find purpose and passion in life. We can give those deemed ‘at risk’ a little bit of normalcy and acceptance.

I will continue to donate clothing and money for a warm meal here and there; and perhaps to those without, that gesture is not so insignificant. Yet I will also strive to empower each student I encounter. I may not see the results but our students are certainly worth the effort.

I work with a little one each day who continues to be a puzzle. Even after this first term of grade one, when those around him are learning to read, he struggles to learn the letters of the alphabet. The only letter he could identify a few weeks ago was the letter x. Until recently he didn’t even know the first letter of his name. This after much repetition, multiple modes of teaching and learning, games, activities and more repetition.

I continue to be hopeful to see some progress. Yet daily, my heart breaks when I realize how confusing these letters and words and this business of reading all seem to be for him. I don’t think he could formulate these questions, but this is what his face suggests: What? Letters have names? And sounds too? I don’t know what that squiggle is, why do you keep asking me?

Though he is not diagnosed with any specific disorder, it is evident that learning is going to be a challenge for him. Some students catch on to this idea of literacy with ease. Yet my daily work with this boy reminds me that the ability to read is truly complex. In some ways it is miraculous that any of us can make sense of these letters on the page. The students I work with tend to be the ones whose experiences with literacy have not been especially positive and who haven’t yet figured out how all the pieces of the puzzle come together.

I can tell you though, when it happens, when those pieces do begin to fit together, the rewards are priceless.