Tag: LBAS

Education on the Edge

Day 209

Part 2 – True Adventures Yet To Be Lived

Chapter 21: Education on the Edge

This model wasn’t based on research or best practices; two terms we hear often in education circles. Not that either are not important, but to create real change, do we fix what’s broken, or as in the quote at the beginning of this story suggests, do we create something new for research to base findings on and mold best practices after?

One thing that was certain, was that Ivor Memorial High was not closed based on research or best practices, so Jack thought, why should its resurgence? IMH wasn’t given enough time to do any meaningful analysis on, nor the opportunity to garner proper attention to its successes.

Jack often found mention of public education’s need for substantial innovation in texts he read. He had come to the conclusion that to innovate, education delivery had to be re-imagined from the ground up. Everyone from the onset had to believe in the mission, vision, and values. They must be in this for the love of teaching, community, their city, and our youth, for the social good of social education.  The model had to be void of political interference and other educational barriers as well so that the children, staff, and everyone connected to the school could enjoy uninterrupted, locally developed programming that recognized a diversity of thought, needs, beliefs, and origin.

With four years under his belt as a Trustee, Jack had been exposed to a lot in education circles. He knew he had hardly touched the surface in that short a time frame, but he had learned enough about what occupied his thoughts most – vulnerable, disengaged students, decisions being made with little to know research behind them, and simply having been witness to a beloved local model that deserved a second chance, to know that this was what he wanted to focus his educational interests on.

Every so often Jack would bring up going private at conferences or in general conversations with those in education, but as much as people loved to grumble and talk about the change that was needed, the idea of anything outside of Public Education seemed to be quickly shot down. Mention of some bad private models, and the logistics behind offering a pay model for a demographic that in large part couldn’t pay to have their kids attend K-12 programming were all good arguments. It’s exactly where Jack took the conversation when mention of going private with IMH was first tabled all those years ago. Especially in light of the social economical challenges many of these families faced and for many generations.

Jack didn’t blame people for shutting down any conversation about going private. Instead, he seen it as a challenge. There were many great aspects of Public Education. He’d seen so many examples first hand from visiting classrooms, attending Parent Council and community meetings, Gala’s celebrating student success, and talking to educators from Educational Assistants, to Principals, Superintendants of Education and Directors. Examples of success were on Facebook, Twitter, and many other social and traditional media outlets. The problem was that failures, with the best intentions for success, were really not getting the air time they deserved.

At the end of one Board meeting each month, the Director and Chair of the Board took a few moments to talk about successes from around the district. One meeting, Jack felt the need to speak up. Not that he didn’t love hearing about the wonderful and inspiring success stories because he did. However, there was a different reality being written all over the City that very few were aware of which was highly unfortunate because those stories were critical to the bigger picture of Public Education.

“Mr. Director, through the Chair, first I wanted to say that I really enjoy these stories of our successes. It’s somewhat comforting knowing that we are having a positive impact on so many of our staff and students from all walks of life and varying abilities across this Board. My concern however, is that we often talk about the importance of our students seeing themselves reflected in their education, but I fear there is a significant cohort who do not find their experiences within the walls of our educational facilities, reflected in these celebrations. Not that I want us to discontinue highlighting the positive, but I would also like us to reflect on our many challenges and discuss what we are doing every day to tackle these barriers. There are likely thousands of students and staff for that matter, that are not reaching their full potential and who do not see their reflection in the same mirrors you or I reflect in each day. Mr. Director, through the Chair, I would like us to take this time each month to also recognize this; to highlight that we care, we are listening, and to acknowledge that addressing our challenges is equally as important as recognizing our successes.”

Nothing ever came from that plea. Well, not nothing or we perhaps wouldn’t be where we are today, however every time the Director and Chair spoke of success, Jack recalled that speech and internally, thought about all of the phone calls, emails, and social media posts he had read over the course of that month. He hoped that others around the Boardroom whether it be Trustee, staff, or those in the audience or watching the Livestream feed of their meetings, thought about their own local challenges during those moments too.

Jack wasn’t looking to go Turbo, but he made a promise to advocate for IMH students and staff when lobbying to be their elected official. He had fought hard for both the students and staff, but now he not only wanted to make good on his word, he knew with every inch of his being that IMH must exist again but in a format drastically opposite to that which initiated IMH’s demise. Not out of spite or to prove anything to anyone, but because it was the right thing to do.

There were too many staff and students that didn’t find themselves reflected in our neighborhood schools so why were we fighting change and shutting down conversations about models outside of that with which has always existed and for the most part, all we know and understand?

From that first conversation Jack had with a teacher about going private, he knew that that was a word – or anything of similar meaning, he would not use to describe this new model of school. For one, this wasn’t a private school. It wasn’t not a ‘public’ school either, but it also wasn’t technically free. Is anything really?

This was Education on the Edge. Throw out everything you know, and be open to letting your imagination let in everything that you don’t.

Three Tiers

Day 193

Nipa_Hut
Sample Nipa Hut (or Kamalig or Bahay Kubo), an icon of Filipino rural culture.

Part 2 – True Adventures Yet To Be Lived

Chapter 20: Three Tiers

Before visions of buying schools began floating around his always whirling cranium, Jack had long dreamed of being a business owner himself one day. In fact, he had started up a couple of companies in his youth – as in registering a business name but not going much further than that.

There was of course SellYourself.ca. He also registered his own name in an attempt to do some computer consulting which he did do in his spare time for a couple of years – mostly to family, friends, and neighbors.

In his early twenties, jack was going to design greeting cards with a Pilipino co-worker/friend. They called the business NIPA (a type of stilt house indigenous to the cultures of the Philippines) Graphics. They had a logo and did create and print a few designs, but nothing ever really transpired.

Jack didn’t know anything about running a business then and still didn’t before finally jumping in with both feet mid-forties, pulling others feet in along with him.

That fear of leaving a job and starting a business and the mystery of business ownership, didn’t stop Jack from thinking about these dreams on and off the entire 25 plus years since his adulthood began. Who was he kidding? If he really thought back, he spent a great deal of time as a youth reading in depth about the likes of the Warner Brothers, Disney’s, and Fleischer brothers, which surely planted those early dreams of becoming an entrepreneur. The proof was now on this children’s bookshelves.

If there was one thing Jack knew with half of his life now having passed him by, it was that he didn’t want future generations of kids including his own, feeling stuck and scared like this all of their lives. Dreams of youth are nothing more than a lifetime of could have been’s without the tools to if nothing more, explore in some fashion that with which the heart desires. Especially something that carries over decades and isn’t just some passing fashion.

—

After his grandfather passed away, Jack thought a lot about starting a foundation in honor of his grandfather. Some lengthy discussions with a family member and internet research on how to start a foundation ensued. A URL with his grandfather’s name (Arvid Andersen), was purchased as well but he starting thinking of all the amazing things his own parents had accomplished throughout their lives and determined that when it did come time to start a charity, that he would find a way to recognize all of them. Sure, they didn’t fight in World War II, survive the Great Depression, or travel the world, but their experiences were fascinating and important and what they had done for their children, friends and extended family, was worthy and inspiring of honor.

—

When Jack realized that in order to bring back IMH, that he was going to have to not only lead the charge, but he had do so outside of public educations umbrella, he knew he wanted to marry everything; The dreams of business, the desire to open a foundation, and now offering alternative education. How to do it seemed to somehow already have a path carved in his imagination but no words or imagery could pull it out and onto paper as easily or as vividly.

Vividly. It wasn’t really. It wasn’t a dream Jack awoke from one night and could easily write it down as if a novel unraveling from the tip of his pen, but it was there in chunks. Three neat little bubbles like thought clouds as he stared into space. The problem was that the individual clouds had not been fully developed plans either. Sure, many notes and thoughts had continued to enter his thoughts since he first dreamed of being a part of such things, but neither was a business plan awaiting funding or partnerships. They were just dreams.

Maybe three tiers was a crowd, but Jack liked crowds. They exhausted the introvert in him but so did the idea of running any one of these entities never mind all at once. Jack laughed picturing a book he used to read to his two girls. “Dream Big Pig.”

Jack looked over at a recently purchased Hilarious House of Frightenstein album. The Markowitz brothers and their friends once had a dream. Now it’s the longest running kids television show in Canadian history. They put the right roster together. That was the key. Then they went out, took a leap of faith, and did it.

Deep breath.

You’re not doing this alone. You have no intention of doing this alone and never have. You’ve long dreamed of being a part of a team again; One full of so much passion and devotion for the game and not the prize.

Education. Enterprise. Philanthropy.

Three tiers.

Hip, hip ….

Little bitty, ’bout Jack & Cheyenne

Day 174

shutterstock_719466850
Jack and Cheyenne (but not really)

Part 2 – True Adventures Yet To Be Lived

Chapter 19: Little bitty, ’bout Jack & Cheyenne

Jack and Cheyenne met 6 months into Jack’s first term as an elected official, in the middle of his last ditch effort to reverse the decisions to close IMH.

Jack shared equal access to his two girls. He had been separated for 3 years when he and Cheyenne met. That time together had enabled him and his daughters to create a very strong bond between them. Jack found the kid inside. He found patience, determination, and will. Most of all, he found the dad he longed to be and the father he always knew was within him.

Jack had dated a little bit over those years but for the most part it was just the three of them until that Spring of ‘15.

Cheyenne was a single mom who had full custody of her daughter. They had been on their own since her child was 2. Cheyenne was a very successful local manager of a not-for profit and involved in fundraising events when Jack stumbled across her social media profile.

The first connections were really no more than two people building their social  networks, and engaging with like-minded individuals. A month after that first connection however, after many messages back and forth, the two met for the first time over dinner.

They talked for hours about their lives, their work, passions, family, and of course, mostly their children. Jack’s girls, were 8 and 6, and Cheyenne’s daughter was 7.

From that first night, the two were inseparable.

When their kids finally met, at an Annie sing along at a local community theatre, it was also love at first site for the three clowns. They ran around the theater, up onto the stage, through the aisles, and joked around and laughed well into the night in the streets outside the show.

The girls had their troubles over the years as siblings do, but it was always evident when push came to shove (literally), that the occasional cat fight was not something they ever wanted to get in the way of them all being family.

Cheyenne was Jack’s cheerleader – all of their biggest boosters. She was constantly lifting all the girls up, complimenting them and when it came to Jack and his dreams and goals, she was quick to share them with anyone and everyone with great pride and genuine belief.

When Cheyenne believed in something, she would stop at nothing to ensure it got the credit, time, and exposure it deserved. The year before Jack and Chy (shy) met, he had started a little community event for his children after he realized he wasn’t going to be able to spend Halloween with them for the first time. He called it an alternate Halloween that happened a week before the actual holiday, which consisted of a gathering in the park with games earlier in the evening, followed by actual trick-or-treating through the neighborhood at participating homes. That first year seen about 20 kids and a dozen or so participating homes but by the fourth year, the event had ballooned to 250 kids, 40 participating homes, insurance, permits, bouncy castles and so much more.

It was all her. A man is only as good as those he surrounds himself with and Cheyenne was a big influence in all of their belief in themselves. She made Jack stronger. Made him feel like he could conquer anything and everything – including the world which is what this project often felt like. It was a substantial endeavor but somehow she made it feel small – manageable.

From the moment Jack first mentioned the idea for the school and its related entities, Cheyenne was iN. She had questions. She was also Jack’s best critic, but not out of disbelief. On the contrary, she pushed him hard which in turn, helped him strengthen, expand on, and better clarify his vision.

To Jack, Cheyenne was this sweet, giving, forgiving, connector. She was a natural networker in all aspects of her life. Before the idea of the school had even been floated, Cheyenne was making many valuable and sincere community connections. She literally connected people in her full time role, and all those that surrounded Chy benefited holistically from her natural instinct to want to help and the hard work she tirelessly put in behind the scenes. Cheyenne made sure that those she felt needed to get together to achieve like-minded goals, from finding a job/an employee to making a dream come true, met.

One day early on in the project, Jack thought to himself, ‘would I be here today attempting to achieve such a lofty endeavor, had Cheyenne not come into our lives?’. The answer was a resounding no. Chy added so much to their lives. She brought this peace. An understanding and patience with him, his girls, and everything life threw at them – which was a lot. Somehow after all these years together, she was still there by all of their sides. Sometimes she looked a little beaten down, but she still found a way to look at Jack with an adoring love. She would cock her head slightly, do this thing with her lips, and stare so innocently and child like his way.

There were many days where Jack wondered why Chy had stuck around as long as she had. They had been through so much in a relatively short time, but he knew by now that her love was unwavering. He trusted her love for all of them and her pure, and dedicated commitment to being there through everything and anything. There was no doubt in his mind that this woman’s heart was one he could always count on.

Divorce had taught Jack that he didn’t need anyone. It allowed him to see what a great father he was, and that he could do anything he set his mind to surrounded by the right people. Now that he had Cheyenne by his side, he also knew that even though he could survive on his own, he no longer wanted to. Cheyenne was the final romantic path for Jack. It took 40 plus years, but now looking back through everything life had thrown in his way, Chy was worth every obstacle. Every heartache. Every tear.

Jack and Cheyenne. Two Canadian kids doin’ the best they can.

Sideways

Day 134

Sideways ♪

Pablo Picasso was quoted as saying, “All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

The beginning of this tale is rather silly. I’m not apologizing. I am just giving you a heads up. If you’ve lost your funny, I might lose you at ‘I’m a girl’, while writing in an English accent.

The underlying purpose of this project is of course anything but silly. Having said that, the end goal is that creativity will absolutely take the driver’s seat through the visioning, planning, implementation, and life cycle of this idea which we hope is infinite.

Education as a whole, stole my creativity. It shut down my funny. So, to borrow a line from U2, we’re stealing it back.

Bear with me as I release years of stymied humor. Allow my inner child to be free, creative, witty, emotional, random and full of wonder.

I don’t want you to take me seriously. I want you to come laugh with me – or better yet at me. Be free. Find that thwarted creative. Discover the wonder that was once alive and thriving within that little boy, girl, kangaroo, or all of the above in you.

Life is serious enough. This project is serious enough. We’re serious enough in our adult, caregiver, employee, employer roles.

I know you are iN. I can smell your curiosity through your screen. Or you’re sitting too close and that’s pastrami I just caught a whiff of. Ew. Here’s a virtual mint.

The Beginning

Day 125

Part 2 – True Adventures Yet To Be Lived

Chapter 17: The Beginning

The original disheartened admission of the need for a school on the fringes of public ed, dedicated to children and youth with varying needs, was certainly not Jack’s brainchild.

Jack spent three years advocating for the Ministry and local Boards to drive both feet into the air brakes of their misguided inclusion train, and reverse decisions to close facilities offering these inspiring, alternative settings. He ran in the Municipal election on mostly that premise, won, and the first task he tackled was just that.

He  desperately attempted to help his new colleagues see their need to reconsider. Countless emails were sent over many weeks. Images were attached, of the inclusion everyone understood – a Down syndrome cheerleader, in contrast with a snapshot of the last graduating class of of the student body he was advocating for. The children looked no different than any other except each child had a learning disability. Lastly, Jack cited research based on the other side of the discussion, and advice from regarded professionals in the field of special education warning against forced inclusion.

This was the story that could not have been shared with Trustees the previous term, for if they had known of works similar to James Kauffman M., ED. and Daniel Hallahan, P., ED., had they followed stories from neighboring boards and how when faced with a similar dilemma, they proudly cited the importances of these choices and kept one school open. Had decision-makers been encouraged to look at larger metropolises like Harbour City, with 40 some odd alternative schools, their decision to close both schools serving these students would have very likely been different.

Jack realized very early on in this new role, just how hard reversing a political decision was.

Although Jack failed to change the previous Board’s vote, that school was something he often referenced in public and private discussions. Sometimes a bit off topic, sometimes while choking up,  holding back a tear, and from time to time, sometimes with a little anger and frustration in his voice.  He did so respectively, but although he was more or less encouraged to realize this type of facility would not return to their network of schools, Jack wasn’t someone who gave up on the issues he felt very strongly about.

Even though Jack was new to education and his political role, the longer he served and the more he learned about the inner workings of publicly funded education, the more he remembered those pre-election mentions of education on the edge. Not even two years in, Jack found himself becoming increasinging aware of the direction this dream of an alternative school needed to move in.

~

This entire story began with a newspaper article. A few of them actually.  Jack had lived in Waterfall City his entire life, had been educated under this same Board, but yet new nothing about  Ivor ‘The Driver’ Memorial High School (IMH). Suddenly, this school was frequently being discussed in local mainstream and indi media circles.

IMH as it turned out, had been among many in Waterfall City that once focused on vocational programming. Jack would even later learn that his uncle Melvin, who himself had a learning disability of type unknown to the family, had attended IMH. Other uncles had also graduated from vocational schools and gone on to do very well for themselves in fact.

In recent years however, leading up to its closing, IMH, through the leadership of its principle and dedicated staff, had evolved into a school where primarily students with various challenges attended.

Jack had this growing urge to drop into IMH to see for himself, what it was all about. That wasn’t an easy task for a quiet, introverted artist but one day early fall, he did just that. He sent the Principal a message, citing recent articles read and conversations he had had with staff he knew from the school, and within a week, through the Principles invitation, found himself at their parent council meeting.

The dynamics were polar opposite to parent council meetings Jack had attended at his girls schools. From advocating for an audio system or grade 8 trips, to pure survival, the contrast between a standard community school, and IMH, was daunting.

You see, IMH had been voted to close, along with its sister school across the city for students with more mild intellectual needs. IMH itself, was nothing to look at. Obviously in desperate need of repair but that wasn’t of concern to staff, students, or families. They loved this school and everything it represented.

This was the first parent council formed at Ivor Memorial in some 10 years, and they were here to fight alongside the students who had equally been inspired by the the announcement of their schools closure, to take to protesting on school and City Hall grounds.

For years these students and their families had fumbled through mainstream education, until finally finding their way to IMH – sometimes by chance, sometimes through hoops. Obviously the decision to close had been on executive minds for sometime, as they tried to limit it’s enrollment numbers.

That first October meeting, Jack found himself leaving as a community representative on Parent Council.  He had felt an instant connection with this group, but couldn’t put a finger on why it had immediately been so strong. When he had his first tour of the facility during school hours a couple of weeks later, the kindred relationships between staff, students, and the families all made it very clear why Jack had felt an instant draw to IMH before he had even stepped in through those front doors.

It was unique in so many ways, from it’s community mentorship program, breakfast clubs sponsored by the local professional hockey team, music playing in the hallways over the PA system between classes, signs everywhere helping the students navigate the building, dogs wondering the halls with their own staff ID, a greenhouse, smaller staff to student ratios, and some 200 partnerships throughout the City.

The tour guide, an extremely passionate IMH educator, often found herself choking up discussing the love for her school and her students. With each staff member we met, the adoration and advocacy of the need for this special space, dug deeper into Jack’s psyche. Who was Jack kidding. They had him at dogs, reminding him of an early 20’s employer where the owner’s pooches roamed the office freely, stopping by occasionally for a pet.

What really caught Jack’s attention most during his tour of IMH, was the flow of students who came into Principal Pat Seaton’s office, just to say hi. He was well regarded, and the mutual respect he had for his students was obvious. Where other kids, including Jack as a teen, avoided the office, this was a safe place throughout the day for many. One student even had explicit language on his hat (his hat), but it wasn’t something of focus. Neither was language in general either it seemed. Discouraged, but not a game changer among the broader picture.

As Jack was leaving, a couple of former students had popped in for a visit. They missed their school. They missed their principal. Jack stepped back and watched this interaction for a bit, before tapping Pat on the shoulder to say his goodbyes.

“We’ll be in touch, Pat.”

‘Thanks for coming, Jack. We’ll see you at next parent council.”

Jack hadn’t felt this included – this at home, for a long time. He was now a member of this school and he was honored.

He was never the same after that day. He later visited the school to sit in on classes from english and construction, to their composite class. He watched how staff patiently and with great compassion, took turns dealing with escalating student behavior like it was just a normal and very human part of their day. How didn’t office educator’s get this?

In the new year, now an official Trustee candidate, Jack attended the school for a discussion between the Board’s Director, standing Trustee, staff, students, families, and community members, moderated and hosted by a local neighborhood action group. So many in the community had joined the cause to save this school and this program, and this was the Boards attempt to explain how these students and future generations, would be okay under their new full inclusion model.

In Jack’s hand, as he arrived and took a seat in the front row of the IMH gymnasium, was a copy of a book called the Illusion of Full Inclusion (Kauffman/Hallahan). Ironically, it had just arrived that day so Jack brought it and put it on the chair next to him.

Although the moderator kept the meeting civil, neither speaker was able to breath comfort into the hearts and minds of anyone in the room, including IMH Student Council President Will (Megaphone) Martin. With megaphone in hand, Will and his fellow students, who had been quiet throughout, made sure it was known at one point that they would never give up on their fight to save the school that had changed their lives.

A petition of over 1000 signatures asking to preserve the school was presented at the meeting, which included advice from many educators and those who worked with these students in communities across Canada. It meant nothing.

The remaining months were spent reading Kauffman and Hallahan, knocking on doors in an effort to represent IMH in the political arena, and attending rallies.  Will Martin was inspiring people all across the city with his valiant and persistent efforts to make sure everyone and anyone knew about their cause, and why it was important to overturn a decision to close a school nobody but it’s staff and students, truly understood.

In late spring, the school held its annual talent show. It was the perfect example of why having an entire school for these students, rather than a handful of small alternative programs spread throughout the city, was an important option to have. These students would have never taken part in anything like this at their home schools. Jack had a tear in his eyes throughout most of the remarkable performances. These students were amazing. Inspiring. Resilient. They were attending dances, had friends (including girlfriends or boyfriends), for the first time. They were truly included. It was at this moment, where Jack fully understood just how personal inclusion was.

Jack attended a conference many years later where a speaker stated, in talking about these very options in education, that “When everyone is different, nobody is different.” This school exemplified this.

June seen the last ever graduating class of IMH walk across the stage. It was a packed auditorium, and an extremely emotional event. The students all looked sharp. Many were the first to graduate high school in their families, and some were the first to enter into post secondary studies.  These students stayed in school and didn’t just get by, they thrived and enjoyed every last minute of the latter part of their educational journeys. School had not been a great experience until IMH. That alone was worth its weight in ministry funding.

Now, it was all over. The halls silent. The Canadian flag standing guard over the echoes of 50 years of IMH grads, including Jacks’ late uncle Mel. The building, soon to be ashes alongside the program that had so majestically and holistically grown out of nothing – no thanks to any executive design.

The students watched in anguish, as the school was brought to rubble later that same year. It’s a hard enough thing for anyone to watch, nevermind students with special needs wondering why someone would close the first school they had truly found a home within.

What did this say about their value and place in society?

Cranial Conception to Grad Reflections

Day 119

Part 2 – True Adventures Yet To Be Lived

Chapter 16: Cranial Conception to Grad Reflections

I figured the best place to start was at the end.  Imagining how I felt when the dream had been realized. Seeing the support, the tears, the laughter and celebration as we welcomed a fresh look at education, business, community, and how it could all come together in a seamless network.  

We brought back that village that had been missing. That sense of family. Belonging. Acceptance, and a strong delivery of the whole in a very personal manner.  

This was our first graduating class. We had turned everything on its head. Education presentation and monetary structure, business interconnectedness and how community supports both, and vice a versa.  This was business and community modelled after education instead of the long-standing history of the reverse.

Years of network building, fundraisers, public engagements, learning and the proverbial blood, sweat and tears had led us to finally opening our doors, and now standing on this historical stage. This venue had seen 100 years of graduates before, and today, the first of a new and inspiring era in education.

– – –

It was 5 years before when Jack first stood on this old stage looking out into a full auditorium of parents, family, friends, educators and in those first rows, what was supposed to have been one of the last graduating classes of this historied institution.  

The idea of going into education himself had already long been present,  but as he delivered the first of three graduation speeches he was to make that week, he suddenly seen today’s reality in its completed form. For those moments as he talked of the history and traditions of this school, his own education, and advice for the graduates as they started upon their adult journeys, those students became his own. Their parents and other supports, part of his network. The teachers, principals, and staff dear friends and colleagues as well. This was was his dream (all of their dreams), realized. In Jack’s mind, this was already the end he was only today, realizing.  

There were only 12 students graduating with a Provincially recognized diploma or certificate this first year, and 87 students total in all grades in a facility with a capacity to traditionally hold 1500 students,  but interest throughout semesters 1 and 2 quickly gained momentum thanks to an inspiring, award winning onsite social media campaign managed by their teaching partners and students.

425 new students from within and beyond Waterfall City were already enrolled for year two meaning the schools new capacity based on smaller class sizes, in-house community partners,  and alternative classroom setup and delivery methods, was to already be realized in season two of East City K2Life.

This was unlike any graduation Jack had ever attended. From the decorations, performances, the emotion of the families and students (even educators), who found a special place after years of educational struggles, right down to the awards the students came up with for their teachers and staff.

As the students proudly made their way through the front archway into the Welcome Garden, Jack choked up seeing the teachers and educational assistance sitting in their lawn chairs as they had each morning with their coffees greeting students in rain and snow every school day, now symbolically welcoming them to their adult lives and signifying their and the school’s ongoing support for the remainder of their life’s journey.  

The weather hadn’t cooperated well on this momentous occasion but nobody from students, staff, families, community supports, and of course Jack and his family, allowed any obstacles to stand in the way of enjoying every moment of the journey. The downpour of rain somehow made it all that much more exhilarating and refreshing. Then the thunder rolled and all went screaming and laughing for the cover of home – their school.

Halfway through the evening, the rain suddenly stopped, and the setting sun shone brightly through the open gymnasium doors. At that moment, Jack looked over at his partner Cheyenne, reached out for her hand, and led her to the dance floor.

Cheyenne had been there every step of the way. She believed in Jack and this dream, and worked tirelessly to ensure this vision was shared and realized. She was the reason that East City came to be. Cheyenne gave Jack the motivation he needed through every obstacle that came between 5 years prior, and this very night.

In the end, that became East City’s principal vision. Belief in self. Without it, a dream is just a dream we don’t believe in.

Qualifications

Day 66

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 14: Qualifications

Am I qualified for this adventure in which I seek? For the first time in my life, I will allow myself the confidence to answer a quick and firm ‘abosfrogginlutely’.

I’ve spent the past month seemingly trying to help you understand what a mostly uneducated,  still living in his hometown 40 something has to give to a project of this magnitude, but actually, this has all been about my own belief in self. It has been a lifelong struggle with self-confidence but at 44, I am finally there. Not kind of. Not almost. I have arrived.

I am so much more than stamps in a passport or letters on a piece of paper. Not to belittle the value in either but this whole project is about seeing the world through an alternative lens and I think a life seen through these passionate green eyes, qualifies me to realize so much more than I have allowed myself.

Leadership is about the team you surround yourself with. Matching values, intentions, and a strong mix of skills. I cannot do this alone and nor do I wish to.

I grew up playing sports and being a member of a team. I have long wanted to feel the energy of being a part of a group so driven to go all the way like many teams I played on as a child. I miss that passion, but I believe that pneumonia scented spark can exist in business, in community, and at home.

There is a great deal of change and innovation that must come, for more to know what it’s like to be an equal architect of a strong, supportive, winning team. By winning, I mean having fun, learning, and finding a sense of family through success and failures because we can’t ‘win’ every time. When we are as passionate about the journey as we are our end desires, there can be equal satisfaction in watching your friend across the pond celebrate their victories.

INSE will be highly successful if you’re belief in our vision is equal to our passion for this concept to see the light of day.

We can do this together if you’re iN.

Finding Our Voice

Day 18

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 12: Finding Our Voice

It took me a long time to find my voice. Well, I found it in humor in english and gym class in middle school, and math class in high school. I also found my buttocks in the principal’s office or at my desk in the hallway.  

As an adult who had long lost his funny internal sidekick, I first found my serious, somewhat mature voice in the form of the written word in my late twenties. It wasn’t until the end of my thirties, that I finally found my vocal cords.

I’m still quite nervous talking in front of others and have found myself pulling away from the public eye from time to time. I have also woken up sweating with panic at the thought of a successful outcome of this project, but I try to push forward in an effort to teach my children to never give up or let fear take the reins. In the end, I do like public speaking for the right cause.  

I don’t want my children to take this long to find their confidence and the inner strength to fight for what they believe in whether it’s starting a conversation with someone they are attracted to, or standing up to woman’s or Native rights or whatever their cause may be one day.

There is so much power in finding our voices. I feel more alive and impassioned than I ever have as I prepare to enter my mid forties – minus the joint and back pain, being tired all the time, and the greys overtaking my thankfully still thick head of hair. Take that, father time. It may take me 3 days to recover from a game of adult baseball but my inner confidence has never felt so young.

One thing I have learned on the journey to finding my voice, is that we can go too far with the courage that comes with learning to speak our minds. I have been left regretting some actions and written words and to a degree am still in the midst of un-finding my voice. By this I don’t mean shutting up and crawling under a rock. It simply means it was time to listen a lot more than talking. It’s hard when you spent your life being that quiet kid forever listening intently, and now you are suddenly an adult with so much to say to someone other than your pet frog, and a desire to be a big part of so many conversations.

To me, it doesn’t matter who you are whether a child, factory worker, office exec or hockey star, all voices are needed in the conversations of life. I especially have a great deal of respect for stars who use their far-reaching voices to promote positive, inclusive change for a harmonious, diverse world. They often catch a lot of flack from peers who feel it’s a stars job to just shut up and play the sport they are paid to play, or act in the movies they are paid to appear in. On the big screen of life, the play is but an entertaining distraction. It’s what those characters stand for in real life, that keeps me supporting their art.

Let’s help our youth and everyone in our societies find their voice,  and to use that call in a manner that unites us rather than places walls between us.

The Road to Now – As if walking backwards

Day 9

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 4: The Road to Now – As if walking backwards

I am an elected official. I guess that’s as good a place as any to start, or introduce you to an end to where I am at this moment.

I am a Trustee for the local public school board – the same one I was educated within, hired by my neighbors through a Municipal Election that takes place every four years. We share the ballot with Mayor hopefuls, councillor candidates, and those vying for positions as Trustees for the Catholic and French school boards.

Nobody knows who the haiti we are or what the bloody heck we do. Not even most teachers. That the curriculum does not discuss our place in politics is often brought up by my colleagues. It, as well as our part-time role, highlights our importance in the eyes of others elected in the past to represent their communities.

It’s odd to find myself here even three years into my first and likely last term as a public official.

I ran into an old vice-principal I had in high school a few months back at an open house at a Muslim mosque of all places. It was a lovely, informative, and enlightening evening. I imagined him returning home however,  having an apostrophe of a young teen who spent countless hours in his office and graduated by the seat of his pants. A young know-it-all who made weird, distracting noises, barely passed his favorite subject – art. Who had a knack of playing reunion agent between his father and the Principal who once were teacher and student. The same kid who attended summer school, night school, and who elected to take basic courses in grade 12 for fear he would not make the graduation stage with his peers should he seek more challenging subjects.  My plan worked of course but I am not sure what it really achieved looking back?

I imagined that former educator fearful of the fate of our education system with the likes of me at the lead, but I know that is not what he was actually thinking. It seemed from our great and lengthy discussion that he and other past teachers I have spoken with, have long been fearful without my assistance in further mucking it up.

Being an elected official is a bit tricky, confusing, and in a part-time role, often lonely. We don’t have assistants. We answer phone calls, respond to emails and social media messages and attend neighborhood meetings like full-time officials do. We even get lambasted through these same mediums and find ourselves from time to time the reluctant subject of newspaper articles. We also have families, regular jobs, and other everyday tasks to manage as well.  We sit on committees, attend regular board meetings, and are invited to countless events by community partners. It’s a difficult balance.

I perhaps have found all this a great deal more challenging as a single father who only sees his children half of the time and choses to be selective of what takes me away from my children. It is for this reason that there isn’t a day that passes where I don’t think of calling it quits early so I can go back to just being a father. I love being involved in my community. I really do,  but I cherish being dad to my two cuties most.

It is my desire to mostly focus on being a dad that is the real driver to this story and seeking broader support and buy-in before going any further. I try to take small steps each day towards this imagined goal but I cannot move forward with anything that will take me away from my greatest passion – those girls. For this venture to succeed, I must have the human and monetary investment that will assure all of those involved can live their lives in a ‘family first’ fashion.

I did not take on the role of Trustee from a purely ‘betterment of my community’ standpoint  I must admit. Unfortunately there was a monetary value to that decision to enter politics as well. I was divorced, struggling financially, and was looking for something to supplement my income. I was in search of a thing I could be passionate about and that might lead to an eventual career change having been in the same job for 16 years on election day, October 27th, 2014. Let’s just say that I have come to the realization in my third summer as Trustee, that there is no monetary benefit for anyone in a similar situation as I am. That’s okay though because there truly is far more to be gained from this role beyond our honorariums.

So money is a wash then. Time is being taken away from parenting. Stress levels are high. I have little time for the important things like dishes or laundry or on occasion a shower. Like today. Phew. Yesterday? Bloody hell.

Much of my vacation days are also used for events and meetings related to this ‘part-time’ job. My purpose is now constantly being self examined and my place in politics is growingly becoming moot given what I advocated for and what I have actually accomplished.

I do love my role and am extremely honored to serve in this manner. I am very lucky to have been elected to this position. There isn’t a day goes by that I am not thankful and humbled by having been entrusted to represent my communities voice for something as critically important as their child’s education.

I do have so much more to say about my position as Trustee, but I do not wish to expose the storyline beyond the title just yet. So true to me, I will engage in a bit of a ‘squirrel’ moment for a chapter or two or three, and skip around a bit to what has lead me down the path to now sitting at my diner-esque kitchen table imagining this tale.

Quid Pro Quo

Day 7

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 3:  Quid Pro Quo

So where was I then? Aw right. I am a girl. No, a boy. No, a man. Yes. I must be a man now for the true events that haven’t taken place yet are of a very important nature and requiring of a great deal of seriousness and a boatload of cash. That’s where you come in. The oodles of bills and coins flowing from your virtual pockets 100 years after this story was written. Not because you have paid £15.30 for a paperback novel by an unknown ‘writer’ who has to find creative ways to stay focused, because you are reading this story for free on your computer or handheld device right now. At least I hope you are still with me.

Hello? Anyone there?

The vaults of currency for this project will simply appear (at least that is how my tale will end), constantly through the airwaves over the years because you have read or heard of this story and feel it’s something you believe in as well. I fancy £2 from every reader would help us achieve the purest, most sustainable version of the model we are seeking for our venture. Of course your response will determine whether this is a straight forward novel, or a choose your own adventure story where the alternative here is that it all goes to pot, and I am seen as an even more crazed lunatic than is thought any other regular day.

I am not looking to get rich. Um. Yes, absolutely not.  I simply want to make an honest wage doing something I believe in. This is from the man being straight-faced now.  No quips. No sexy English accents. (clearing throat and getting all serious) Plain old boy.

Okay. Accents on.

We all want something out of life but we should not expect it. I do fancy a million pounds but of course one needs to play the lotto to win I guess. I would love a new vehicle. Just a mini-van will do although I miss dreaming of Mustangs and Fiero’s. Stick shifts and fitting 24 bottles of beer where you might find an engine in any other car, are certainly more sexier than seats that magically fold into the floor or VHS players that keep the kiddies quiet for 5 minutes at a time. Yes, VHS players. Who knew. It is even easily removable because at some point in time one needed to worry about a VHS machine being stolen from your family car disguised in red, with a spoiler and fancy rims.

All jokes aside, we must do the things we do because we love it. Because it’s right. Because it feels good. If there is reward great, but that cannot be the end goal, the purpose, or the expectation. We all want something and that is okay.

Indeed I will get a great deal in return should this dream be realized because I will be doing something I can be passionate about every day. In the end however, the expectation is that the effect this vision will have will be far-reaching in our communities and my return will be but a small blip of the grand effect felt by others.

The value of this ‘thing’ is in your belief of this vision. Plain and simple.

So there is no Quid pro quo here. No expectation of payment for reading this story – either from me or you. I don’t demand you virtually toss me a pound or two simply because. I do expect that this story and these thoughts will be for some and not others. There is hope of course. Hope that the former outways the latter.

Come on then. Let’s talk about where I have been and what brought me to where we are here and now, for we must first understand where we have been, before truly knowing where we must go.

These events actually did happen already. Honest they did.