A Roller-coaster of a week!

I have some grave concerns for civilization after events brought to my attention this week, and combined with some amazing experiences, I can feel the consequences of a roller-coaster of emotions as we slide into the weekend. Like the old adage in education where feedback should be wrapped in a gift of 3 fantastics and 1 work-on, this week featured (1) amazing rides, (2) rekindling a passion, and (3) reacquainting with some dear friends, but the warm-fuzzies were certainly overshadowed by yet another mass shooting tragedy in the US.

Always start with the good stuff, says I.

I treated myself to some pretty amazing rides this past few days, fuelled by Ma Nature's gift of sunny skies and warmer temperatures, resulting in a great feeling of peace and contentment. My travels included a buddy ride to the west of Guelph with my old friend Dave Byers, a connection made back in the days when I coached at Olympia Sports Camps, riding the G2G (Guelph to Goderich) Trail from the hamlet of Millbank to Elora, a tasty treat at the Elora Brewing Company ... highly recommended ... and back. On a different day, I headed in the opposite direction for solo ride from Guelph to Erin, a coffee and treat from Erin's Tin Roof Cafe, and back. I even included a trip north from Guelph to Fergus to Elora and back. I count my lucky stars that I married well because Joyce rarely takes issue with me being gone for hours at a time as I traverse the gravel roads and trails of the community.

I also succeeded in combining some supply work with a passion that was pushed to the back burner during this pandemic when I hauled out and dusted off my camera bag to prowl the touchlines of Barrie North, happily capturing the Vikings rugby program as they put the hard work tasked by their coaches into play in a high school season match. Kudos to Mike Alcombrack, Burke Erwin, Adam Claus, Rich Jessome, and Alex Griffin for taking on the gargantuan task of running the Sr Boys, Jr Boys, and Varsity Girls programs as a management team ... and when I say running, I also meaning winning!

I adore taking photos of high school sports!

At the risk of sounding like an old Fuddy-Duddy, the advancements in camera technology has provided athletes with opportunities that simply didn't exist back in my playing days. I don't own a top-of-the-line model, but my equipment certainly satisfies the demands of capturing the blood and tears of high school endeavours, while on-line connections make sharing the fruits of that labour a snap. While my mates and I had to wait months after purchasing a Yearbook before greedily devouring it's pages to spy the shots captured from the sidelines, I was recently able to gift North's players and coaches with over 700 decent shots (if I do say so myself) that are easily shared amongst the team within 72 hours of the event, and that's after some post-production tweaking!

It's often been remarked that some sport communities are small places. Rugby is certainly at the top of the list as I'm oft reminded when I attend a variety of games from the semi-professional Toronto Arrows, to the local Barrie Rugby Club, or the amazing pitch behind Barrie North Collegiate, and this past week was no different as the glorious weather and the allure of high school sports back in play following the string of pandemic powered shut downs lured substantial crowds of supporters to the touchlines. Among attendees recently were guys that left a huge impression on me as we shared time at the now defunct Barrie Central. Ron Andrews and Brad Chestnut came to support the efforts of Jay Malandrino as he refereed the match between Barrie North and the Sam Loucks coached Bear Creek. Even though I was pretty busy behind the lens, time to rekindle the flame with these guys is always possible, resulting in huge smiles, thunderous laughter, and a few emotionally charged hugs. 

Then the news of Uvalde, Texas hit the news, the coaster reached the top of the peak, and the looming descent sent pangs of rage straight into my soul.

Another distraught, demented American gun owner had taken the lives of his countrymen, many of which were children, before consequently losing his own young life in the name of some twisted revenge spawned deep in the recesses of his psyche. As the angst and frustration was captured in the reports over this latest in what seems like a never ending string of tragedies, renewed calls for changes to America's gun registration laws were sent heavenward with upturned palms in sheer frustration that more children's lives had been stolen. Social Media's pages were soon filled with messages, rants, graphics and links condemning America's politicians who had chosen power and money over lives, sitting on their collective hands instead of risking the steady flow of financial support from the NRA.

One resource brought to my attention was an MSN article that listed the 248 mass shootings of 2022. According to the article, "Mass shootings are incidents involving several victims of firearm-related violence. There is no universally accepted criteria for what qualifies as a mass shooting, but many US organizations, such as the non-profit Gun Violence Archive and the Congressional Research Service, define it as an incident in which four or more people, excluding the perpetrator, are shot at one location at roughly the same time. By this metric, there have been 248 mass shootings in the US so far in 2022, killing more than 250 people." CLICK for the article.

Let that sink in, folks ... TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT!

In the first 5 months of 2022!

Granted that the USA leads the globe in tragedies of this type, the atrocities of the Russia-Ukraine war only serve to fuel the planet's despondence as we collectively sink into a Saddam-Gomorrah like state, bewilderment and frustration filling our consciousness. We humans seem to have a propensity for destroying each other with alarming ease and thoroughness. The reasons behind it all are complex, varied and extensive, but I don't mind admitting that I long for a day when the news reports are ripe with stories of good will, charity and kindness. 

The hope that I cling to fits nicely into my metaphorical roller-coaster and it's peaks, valleys, g-force turns, and cacophony of emotions. 

Whew! Maybe next week will take it easy on me.

It's just my perspective!

As many of you know, I have been back in the classroom in the role of a supply teacher since I retired, and the wide array of teaching coverages has given me ammunition to argue my opinion about a cancerous tumour wreaking havoc on the education system. I chose my words purposefully there ... this trend truly resembles the carnage that cancer inflicts on the body, disrupting lessons, corrupting learning environments, and creating scores of teacher burnout. Lawnmower parents' children are unnecessarily destroying classroom management through their inordinate demand of teacher's time to serve their unbridled desires as they prance unobstructed through the flowery meadows conjured inside their young minds and it's creating an entitled, myopic attitude towards the world around them.

This post was inspired by an article I read recently that was posted on the Blog Bored Teacher.

Lawnmower Parents Are Setting Children Up for Failure
by mscourterrest

We’ve all heard of helicopter parents. These moms and dads hover obsessively over their children, watch their every move, and intervene on behalf of the child whenever a problem arises. To a teacher, these are the adults that a teacher seems to interact with more so, than the child who they spend 8 hours a day with. As exhausting as these headache-inducing parents are (another email about grades, Mrs. Smith, REALLY?!), I’m here to tell you that the real nightmare is a new breed of adults called lawnmower parents.

Lawnmower parents are, without a doubt, oppositional forces to everything educators are trying to teach their students. You see, dear reader, helicopter parents only intervene when they sniff out something wrong that has upset their amazing child. Lawnmower parents completely erase any and all obstacles for their child so that their precious pumpkin can navigate smooth waters instead of learning how to correct course on choppy seas. As a teacher, this is the absolute worst. I can deal with parents being upset about their child suffering. It’s natural for parents to want to protect their children from any and all harm. However, I cannot deal with parents bulldozing the ground so children have nothing to be upset about.

If parents, our greatest assets, don’t teach their children valuable coping skills, how will our next generation deal when these problems befall them?

Any good teacher will tell you that their goals for their students have little to do with content matter. As a teacher, my biggest concern is not if my students can leave my class reciting Shakespeare. Rather, I care that they learn valuable skills like teamwork, resiliency, and discipline that they can carry over into whatever career they choose later in life. With lawnmower parents, these important skills become a wistful dream – not a tangible reality.

If all challenges are erased, how will these students gain the grit needed when things don’t go their way?

Lawnmower parents are creating a false land of delusion that is sure to set our students up for failure. The next generation will surely endure relationship woes, financial issues, and work troubles. If parents, our greatest assets (and, at times, our biggest nemesis), don’t teach their children valuable coping skills, how will our next generation deal when these problems befall them? Lawnmower parents are creating a crop of children who will be out of luck when life gives them lemons. And that, my friend, is a tough pill to swallow.

I have witnessed firsthand the effects of lawnmower parents and let me tell you… it is not pretty. I’ve had students cry over having to wait 5 minutes to eat lunch, having a ball lightly skim their knee, and seeing the playground with their eyes, but not being able to play on it yet. With each of these students, I have a long talk about resiliency and each time, they look up at me with large, terror-filled eyes. The concept of being a buoyant human being is lost on them, and it is clear that this is the first time they are hearing how to cope with something. And each time, I think the same thing: Thanks lawnmower parents. I need you to work with me, NOT against me.

While this epidemic may seem comical to some, I can assure you that it is very real and very frightening. We need to let our kids fall, fail, and figure out how to stand back up. We can give them the tools to get back up, but we also need to let them practice this important skill. As educators, it is our duty to equip our students with traits that will get them far in life. So stand aside, lawnmower parents. I’m not letting you raise a wave of children who will be paralyzed by insurmountable hurdles. You can try to knock us down, but us teachers are extremely used to trudging up mountains.

One of my recent supply duties was in a Student Success (SS) class. For the more mature group reading this, Student Success is a relatively new component of today's school system, and it is chock full of Lawnmower children. Basically, SS is special education for students without a biological impairment. While students with an IEP (Individual Education Plan) have a diagnosed, documented learning disability that disrupts their learning, SS students are identified by teachers and administrators through anecdotal observation that prompts a referral to the SS teacher for assistance. The disruption to their learning is just as profound as Special Ed students, and although small number will have an undiagnosed LD, the main difference relates to "nurture" rather than "nature". The whole idea of Student Success relates back to the notion of credit recovery, or put in layman's terms, a second chance to earn a credit when the first chance was impaired in some manner, be it consciously decided (like not attending, not doing or submitting the work) or through circumstance (suffering major influences outside of school). As I see it, the SS room is profoundly impacted by the children of Lawnmower Parents because, IMHO, they cannot handle life when they aren't calling the shots.

Don't misunderstand me, I am not for a second insinuating that ALL children making use of the SS room are a problem, but just like the classroom, there is a growing number that are sucking an inordinate amount of educational energy like some intergalactic Black Hole. The best way to explain this to those who have not spent time in the education system is to trumpet their prototypical angst, "It's not my fault!" or "I don't wanna do it!"

(Cue the sarcasm)

Of course it's not! That's because your parents have removed all potential obstacles from your life in their distorted attempt to "protect" you, but in doing so, they've robbed you of the life lessons that come with failure and adversity, reinforcing your attitude that you and your whims are the only thing things that matter. To make matters worse, when you do choose poorly and have an opportunity to learn through the "School of Hard Knocks", your parents raise the roof with accusations of incompetence, neglect and unprofessionalism in an attempt to prove how much they love you. All of those efforts simply degrade the integrity of your teacher in your eyes, and reinforce your narcissistic viewpoint.

Where this all hits me straight in the gut is a conversation I had recently with a young teacher whom I feel has their heart in the right place and displays some incredible teaching potential. They were completely despondent about the education system as it stands right now, so much so that they were seriously considering changing careers. Were that to happen, IMHO, we would lose a really good one.

Way back when I first started my career, there was a small poster that circulated that contained a set of rules accredited to Bill Gates, and its message attested that school was a Utopian society that in no way, shape, or form resembled "real" life. The Gates rules were meant as a warning that the "real" world was not interested in the least that you "don't wanna do it" if you wished to continue to earn enough cash to put a roof over your head and food in your fridge. While some of the more mature readers of this post will nod in agreement with Gates' rules, the reality is that they contain some truths that are undeniable, some truths that are negotiable, and some truths that don't really apply any longer. 

Lawnmower parents don't like Gates' rules. 

I'll sum this whole rant up with acknowledging that my number of years on this planet has significantly skewed my perspective of all of this and these thoughts are my opinions, not rules. If you've made it this far and you still don't agree with me, that's perfectly fine with me, and I'm in no way offended by that because I'm really quite okay with people disagreeing with what I say.

For the sake of the future education of my grandchildren, I hope that we as a society start to tell people like Lawnmower Parents to stop creating problems just because they don't wish to do the hard parenting when their child chooses poorly. As a friend said to me as we talked about this very subject, "The inmates are running the asylum" and that scares the bejeezus out of me.

Here's hoping this too shall pass.

Keep your fork!

Keep your fork!

When I was a "wee" lad, I played football at Barrie Central for two amazing and well respected gentlemen, Mr Bruce Clarke (aka Clarky) and Mr Dave Garland (aka the silver fox). For a reason that I no longer remember, I focused on the Offensive side of the game, which meant that the largest percentage of my minutes in the Central experience was under the very watchful eye of coach Garland. We had what would best be termed a Love-Hate relationship ... he Loved to Hate me ... or so it felt to my 18 year old brain. It eventually dawned on me that it wasn't 100% personal. It had more to do with the fact that I was a lineman and not a heaven-sent running back, like coach Garland had been in his glory days at Western.

The good news ending to this story is it was never Love-Hate as my adolescent feelings thought, but rather, coach's intensity in his interactions with the majority of his players. After graduation and a successful university career, I was hired to teach in Simcoe County and eventually found myself back at Central where coach and I became good friends as colleagues. Coach Garland became Dave, a transition that took a little before it became instinctual, and we even spent a couple of seasons coaching together. 

When Dave finally pressed the retirement button, he was invited to speak to the student body at the year-end assembly that was a popular tradition at Central. When he walked to the podium, he was holding a larger-than-normal fork, and my curiousity was immediately piqued. The relatively short speech he gave stayed with me for a long time, mostly because it resonated with my own home experience. In his talk, Dave revealed his deep feelings for his mother, and the very fond memories he had of her, thanks to what appeared to be a wonderful childhood experience. 

The imagery of the fork soon came to light ...

Perhaps paraphrasing a bit since it was over 20 years ago, Dave spoke, "When I was a young boy, we were a busy family but one tradition that was paramount in our household was the Sunday family dinner. It was always a labour of love, usually consisting of some of our favourite foods, and we almost always had second helpings. Without fail, as the dinner dishes were being cleared, my mother would always remind us to keep our fork. We had come to know that she meant she had poured her heart into a delectable, decadent treat for dessert, and she didn't want us to miss out. Over those years, it became imprinted on my soul that a kept fork was synonymous with something special."

At this point in his talk, Dave held the fork up for all to see, and proclaimed, "Being a part of Barrie Central has been a glorious Sunday family meal, full of the favourites I love, but for this next step, I'm going to keep my fork because it will most certainly be a treat."

On one of my deep dives into the Internet, I came across this story, and it immediately reminded me of Dave's talk.

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things ‘in order,’ she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

‘There’s one more thing,’ she said excitedly.

‘What’s that?’ came the Pastor’s reply.

‘This is very important,’ the young woman continued. ‘I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.’

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

‘That surprises you, doesn’t it?’ the young woman asked.

‘Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,’ said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. ‘My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!’

‘So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?!’ Then I want you to tell them: ‘Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.’

The Pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman’s casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, ‘What’s with the fork?’ And over and over again he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.”

So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility

And just remember…keep your fork!

The BEST is yet to come!”

By Lindsay Cole 

These past couple of years have been challenging, to say the least, but as we race toward the light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel, I'll remind you to keep your fork.

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to my own mom, Andrea Porter, to my bestie, Joyce Porter, and to my sister-in-laws Cheryl and Jen Porter. You are all deserving of a standing ovation!

Hold that pose!

Long time friends of mine will already be aware that I have a secret love affair with my camera. What I really love is action photography, specifically, high school or youth sporting events, because there's no better center of focus than a young person's sheer elation while competing in something they love. I find the cathartic release obtained through providing memories caught for eternity to young people I have met through coaching or family interactions both intoxicating and exhilarating. Unfortunately, this cursed pandemic put a large proverbial monkey-wrench in the youth sport gears over the past 2 years, but thankfully, schools have bravely risen to the challenge of post-pandemic activities and I recently found myself behind the lens again. To say I was pleased is the understatement of the decade.

The subject of the day was rugby, as it often is, and the location was a high school in my adopted home of Guelph where I have created some new friendships as an emergency supply teacher. The classroom conversations inevitably swing towards extracurriculars and I boldly surmised that I could "kill two birds with one stone" as the saying goes ... scratch my lens itch while providing the kiddos with some things for their "Gram" or other social medias.  

Way, way back, I had always been amazed at the skill some display wielding an SLR, or something akin, and I was motivated to learn more when then principal Russ Atkinson asked me ... actually tasked me ... with running the Barrie Central Yearbook. Since I was already interested in photography and I now had to teach others how to be proficient, I concluded that I had better start learning more about the confounded device.

My dear old dad chose Nikkor when I was a young lad, and that skewed my opinion of which camera manufacturers were the best, so it made perfect sense to me to become a Nikon guy. When pressed by students in my Yearbook class, I really didn't have a plausible argument other than that was what I knew. We were blessed to have a number of Nikon models so many of my lessons were centered on the workings of Nikon, but also had a few Canon's donated to the program so I was able to become familiar with those. I've had a relatively small number of students bring their own Sony or Pentax in but I didn't use them so I can't really form an opinion, but I'd wager that all SLRs are inherently the same, other than buttons being in different locations somewhere on the camera body. One opinion I formed, rightly or wrongly, is that Canon lenses are top of the field, while Nikon bodies are the most desirable.

Near the end of my time teaching both photography and Yearbook that spanned Central to North, a few students brought in mirrorless models of various manufacturers, and since they were enthralled about this "new" trend, I let them teach me the value of it's system, according to them at least. Based solely on the relatively few opportunities I've had to use a mirrorless model, I think I still prefer my ol' SLR, but that's likely a comfort thing rather than a proficiency thing.

Getting back to the task at hand, the day was moderately warm, the sunshine brilliant, the excitement of the school high (since it was a home opener), and the commitment of the athletes was full on as I gleefully snapped to my heart's content during the Varsity Girl's, Jr Boy's and Sr Boy's friendlies. Considering the noticeable absence of rugby experience over the past 2 school years, the execution of both skills and knowledge was surprisingly high, and I must confess that I missed a few outstanding opportunities because I was busy being a fan. Trying to get back into the saddle, I had to perform some minor post-production tweaks to them to correct the small errors of judgement in camera settings as the sun conditions changed over the afternoon. Having said that, I was mostly pleased with my efforts.

The next challenge is to get the few Gigs of pics to the coaches so that they can figure out how they wish to share my work with the athletes. It was much easier when I was on staff at a school since I was already known to the parents and admin, plus I had access to the school network, but enlisting the assistance of a friend on staff to help me, uploading the lot to the school network was easy peasy. I chose not to post the lot on-line because I wasn't sure what that school's attitude was about their on-line presence. Giving the coaches access and letting them decide how to share them with the athletes seemed to be the most prudent choice. 

After all was said and done, I don't mind admitting that I'm "Jonesing" for another opportunity! The rugby schedule seems to be at odds with the local forecast, and although I'm being altruistic, I'm not embracing the idea of snapping in the rain. 

Maybe Ma Nature will change her mind ... fingers crossed. 

It doesn't take much

As my cousin Tim Burtch often says, LIFE IS GOOD! 

This weekend that just passed has yet again proven that there's infinite wisdom in those simple words as I enjoyed a few events that left me smiling widely, my soul enriched, and my body thankful.

The world of education is not a really big place, especially if you are involved with extra-curricular activities, usually meaning that names and faces of teachers at other schools are familiar. When I spent all of those years at Central, I was familiar with many of the North teachers who so willing donated their time for sports, especially the sports I was interested in. Although they were often a passing acquaintance, there was mutual respect and admiration since we were generally "cut from the same cloth" with similar background stories about paying it forward for the gifts we enjoyed as high school athletes.

One of those familiar faces was Gary Hamilton at Barrie North.

Once the closing of Central passed, the dust settled with my transfer, and the anxiety of changing schools after so many years waned, I began to build some new bridges with the long time HPE staff at Barrie North, a feat that was made infinitely easier by their kind hearts, welcoming smiles, and positive attitudes. Our group quickly hurdled the awkwardness of new friendships, sharing our stories from the "trenches", and swiftly finding commonalities in both personality and mindset. While all of my new colleagues became new friends at a staggering pace, there was a just a shade more connection with Gary. It was not a significant amount, but palpable and recognizable, born out of a genuine intention on his part to strengthen the bonds of our emerging friendship. Gary is kind, warm, positive, engaging, funny, and caring all bottled up in a larger-than-life personality that endears him to the staff and students that he interacts with. His booming baritone echos throughout the halls of North as he kibitzes and celebrates the great things housed within North's walls ... and its surroundings.

The greatest compliment I can give Gary is that he's really easy to be friends with.

A few weeks back, one of the football coaches, Ian Hunter, reached out to me with news that Gary was turning 50 and his wife Pam wished to surprise him with a bit of a gathering. Ian wanted to know if I wised to join in. It might seem pretty innocent, but I will tell you that it struck my as extremely generous and flattering that I was considered by Ian and Gary's family as someone that should be there to celebrate said milestone. Even though I was now living in Guelph, I knew that I had to put this occasion in the calendar because I felt strongly that I needed to show Gary how much his friendship meant to me.

The big event turned out to be a new experience since Pam had arranged the affair at Linx Kitchen + Social, a relatively new establishment in Barrie's south end that featured high end golf simulators in a licensed restaurant. Really, if you like golf, this place is an oasis in the frozen tundra of a Canadian springtime, where you can swing the clubs with your pals while you consume things that you know are taboo, but are so tasty that you choose the path of debauchery willingly. Upon arriving at Linx, I realized that the relatively small group was split along lines of school buddies and life friends, and as I would have guessed, despite being from a wide assortment of backgrounds, we were all similar in personality. I even got the added bonus of spending some time with my nephew Marcus, my brother Rob's firstborn, who has spent the years since graduating from North assisting Gary with the football program. Suffice it to say there was a lot of banter, smiling, and laughing as we enjoyed an informal 9-hole tournament complete with longest drives, closest to the pins, low gross scores, and mulligans ... or F12's ... this was a computer simulator after all.

As anyone who knows Gary at all might suspect, he was incredulous that so many that he values would make the effort to be there, felt humbled by the gesture, and thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. Pam had arranged for some most delicious snacks at each of the simulators, leaving me feel a little embarrassed by her extreme generosity, compounded by the fact that she wouldn't allow me to make a contribution to the cost. I had brought a small token of friendship with a customary birthday card, complete with a personal message about the value I assign to our friendship, but I was floored by a text from Gary as I was returning to Guelph whose message prompted an unaccustomed blushing response, a big deal if you know me at all. 

Yep, Gary is really easy to be friends with.

If you were paying any attention during that weekend, you will have noticed that Mother Nature felt just a wee bit reticent about her recent snow storms and gifted us with one of the most fantastic Sundays on the 2022 calendar. With warm 20+ C temperatures, cloudless skies, and heavenly breezes it was idyllic to say the least. As you might have guessed, there was no way that this bike lover wasn't going to rip off a glorious chunk of km's in celebration of such an event. Settling into my ride with no particular destination in mind, I was entranced once again by the rural beauty of the Guelph area, the agricultural business of spring in full display, the scents of nature blossoming filling my nostrils, and the thrills of being back outside on my steed. My meanderings soon pointed toward the hamlet of Erin and its famous cycling destination, the Tin Roof Cafe, a popular waypoint for travellers of any mode, thanks to it's tremendous assortment of delectable treats. You don't have to be a cyclist to recognize the dopamine-induced glory of a piping hot coffee and a fresh ginger snap cookie ... but it certainly helps. If you aren't one, and you'd like some help with finding a choice little bakery in your area, seek out a local cyclist because they always know where the hidden gems are. Hey, it's a bike thing!

If those happenings weren't enough to pull at the corners of your grin, the piece de resistance was my inaugural exposure to the phenomenon that is the adult basketball league hosted by the Athlete Institute in Orangeville. Having accepted the assignment to referee a few games, I was venturing into uncharted waters, complete with anxiety-spawned snapping alligators born from past adult league experiences, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that while there were definitely a few gators, they were relatively harmless and docile. The institute was filled with teenage spirit, albeit bottled up in the girth of middle age, as yesterday-year's athletes struggled to find their game as their mind's vision was unmatched by their body's production, prompting frustration that occasionally targeted this NEWB "zebra" about calls missed or made. It sounds way worse than it was and I found myself on many occasions audibly laughing at the antics before my eyes. 

As I parked the RAV in the late night darkness, I found myself pausing in recollection of the blessings bestowed upon me, especially those of the past 48 hours, and I caught the twinkle of the streetlight in the wrinkled corner of my eye as I glanced in the rearview mirror. 

LIFE is most assuredly GOOD.

The view from my window

The view from my window ... Supplying all week for a basketball buddy who is on staff at JF Ross SS in Guelph.

It's an interesting turn of events, that's for sure, but not BAD interesting, more of a CURIOUS interesting since I had little to no idea what it wold be like to do an extended stay at a school that I have such a small footprint in. Even when I moved to BNC after a long stay at BCC, I knew people, was known by people, was familiar with the area, knew my way around the school, and didn't really feel anxiety in any form.

My BB buddy is Bill Price, a longtime teacher/coach at Ross. We met via the hardcourt after one of his players transitioned to more elite opportunities that I was involved in, then we built our friendship as we found ourselves facing each other across the timer's table. One thing lead to another and a quality bond of kinship materialized allowing us to share thoughts, opinions, strategies and jabs over the many years that have passed. When Bill had to be absent from class for a few days, he asked his admin if I could fill in. I was quite flattered that they would consent to an emergency supply taking an extended absence.

Prior to this week, I'd done a few days at Ross so I had a general idea of the layout for the school, but I was a definite unknown to the admin, staff and students so there was a small, albeit palpable, level of anxiety on that first day. Ross is a huge school! Way larger than schools in Simcoe County with a student population of just shy of 2200, and I let some of my unjustified, stereotypical anxieties get the better of me prior to that first day. 

Such a NEWB thing to do!

I am pleased to report that the experience has been stellar! I was tasked with delivery of a curriculum I had little experience with in two Gr10 histories and a G12 Challenge & Change, but at least I had a functioning knowledge of both. I should have known, but was pleasantly surprised, that kids are kids regardless of school size or community, and like the proverbial "riding a bike." I found my edu-mojo quickly. I would suspect that some of the credit for the smooth seas I was charting goes to Bill since he's quick with a smile, has great people skills, and is Uber intelligent, so I'd venture a guess that the kids were responding that way thanks largely to his previous guidance. Throughout the week we shared thoughts, opinions and quite a few laughs as we stumbled our way through some hyper-sensitive material like the Holocaust and organ donation. We even enjoyed the great outdoors for a writing session in JFR's quadrangle!

All in all, it was quite an enjoyable week!

To my former colleagues still attempting to stamp out the seeds of ignorance, I feel and see you and your daily grind combatting the siren's call of the device. Teaching these days is like herding cats, and I found my reflexive eye-roll to student opposition of the advice I was offering about their distraction levels didn't really warm them to me. As an aside, I did share a pretty cool graphic that I found whilst trolling the Interweb that graphically outlined the disruptive power of said devices, but some would've had to actually look up from their crotches to digest my message. The crux of the photo is a teacher who somehow bought the cooperation of her class to tally the device interruptions for an entire period. For us old geezers it's a powerful pic that sheds some light on the mental tug-of-war these teens and tweens are dealing with daily. 

Having said that, if that's my only complaint, I'm doing pretty gosh darn well.

Friday's my week's end, a gloriously sunny day, and while 4 days in a row is not a goal I would choose to set regularly, I'm glad that I could help out a friend, rekindle my edu-mojo, and gather a few shekels in the process. 

#GDTBATH

I bleed Carolina Blue!

I couldn't be very much happier with my loyalty than I am right now following the 2022 March Madness, aka the NCAA Men's D1 Basketball Championships! Well, maybe a little bit happier, like perhaps if we'd won, but I have to say that a lot of my buddies ate a sizeable portion of crow thanks my good ol' Heels bracket-busting antics this year!

I have a bunch of really old friends! I have had them a really long time AND they're really old!

As I have stated on this Blog in previous posts, my friends are very important to me. Most of the time we agree, especially on the important stuff, but when it comes to the teams we support in the wide variety of sports we pay attention to? Well, let's just say we have more than our fair share of "discussions". Some of the the most heated ones surround our allegiances when it comes to March Madness but I've never wavered from my complete devotion to the UNC Tar Heels, a relationship that goes back to my very early years. They've provided fans like me with year after year of tremendous ACC rivalries, deep runs into the tournament, and incredibly talented players ... anyone recall a skinny freshman, last name Jordan, knocking down the winning shot in '82?

If you really don't follow NCAA hoops, I'm not at all sure why we're good enough friends that you'd be reading this. HaHaHa ... just poking fun! I'd like you to know that my Tar Heels have proven to be the class of the NCAA for many, many years, and as only one example, hold a number of indicators of long, storied success like holding the record for the most Final Four appearances. CLICK HERE if you wish to read more about those records. TBH, I love watching all of the NCAA schools that make up the Madness because I find the tournament of extreme entertainment value, far greater than the NBA in my books. I'm on the edge of my seat each year as some underdog makes a run in the tournament ... St Peter's this year ... ousting long established blue chip programs by embracing the one and done nature of the Madness. 

I wager that almost any fan of college basketball has heard of North Carolina, but there may be less who could recall the coaches responsible for that incredible longevity in the national limelight. My love affair with UNC started in grade 5 thanks to an east end playground legend from my Johnson Street PS days, Jimmy Stevenson. They were his team,  and as a newbie hoopster, I really looked up to Jimmy so I of course followed in his footsteps. 

I have not regretted it a single year since. 

The coach when I was 10 was the unbelievable Dean Smith, a legend of the game who, for a short time, held the record for the most number of career wins until some skinny West Point grad from down the road recently took it over ... Coach K is easily in to top 5 to ever coach D1 basketball and has my deep respect ... despite where the school he coached. During my time rooting for the Heels, I was a huge fan of Coach Smith until his retirement in 1997 (and shed a couple of tears in 2015 with his passing). I tolerated the the Bill Guthridge years (not a huge fan though), was luke warm with the Matt Doherty years, then did a jig when Roy Williams returned to Chapel Hill in 2003 after a successful stint in Kansas. Williams both played and coached at UNC. 

The 2021-2022 season became one of note when former player and coach Hubert Davis replaced the retiring coach Williams partly because Davis is the first African American head coach in UNC history, but it's mostly about his abilities, not his skin tone. Following their 23-8 season, Davis was recently named the Clarence “Big House” Gaines College Basketball Coaches of the Year by the National Sports Media Association. Additionally, the publication CollegeInsider.com named Davis the John McLendon Award as the 2021-22 National Coach of the Year. The award covers all divisions in college basketball from D-I, D-II, D-III, NAIA and NJCAA.

One of the Dean Smith thumbprints on UNC program is what he coined, "The Carolina Way" and it embodied his personal philosophy surrounding a successful life but enshrined in it was his method of coaching the entire athlete. He believed in following a process that would keep his players focused on the things they could control. It was never about the wins, and in fact, former players say Smith rarely mentioned winning to them. It was all about the process.

The Carolina Way is essentially something simple ... PLAY HARD; PLAY SMART; PLAY TOGETHER. 

Unfortunately, like all great things, people occasionally lose their way and being constantly in the limelight like UNC leads to a lot of opinions finding "ink" in the mass media, opinions that might be counter to the Carolina Way. If you'd like to read more about UNC's stumbles CLICK HERE but I'm going to leave it at that for this post. For me, the proof is in the pudding ... the pudding being the records held plus the tremendous graduation stats.

Quite a while back, I put watching my Heels live at the Dean Dome on my bucket list, and I was as giggly as a school girl when I realized that dream in 2019. I have been blessed with a wife who is eager to share all of my craziness, and willingly tags along as we trapse around North America visiting college campuses for games. The atmosphere in the Dean Dome is electric, the signs of legendary success hung from the rafters in prominence, the fans as loyal as any in the world, and the smiles as wide as the Grand Canyon. I'm 1 and 0 at live UNC games, a streak that will be put to the test when we can finally enjoy NCAA events live again without worrying about infectious ailments. 

As for April 4th, 2022, it was indeed #gdtbath ... a Good Day To Be A Tar Heel!