Foremost on my Mind: Take This Tuition and Shove It

4. 42. 1624. 7. 232.

Any writing coach will tell you point blank that you must never start your essay (or column) with a number written as a figure. You will notice that I broke that rule (mostly for effect, of course).

If you must write a number, use words—so the above line should really look like the following: Four. Forty-two. One thousand, six hundred and twenty-four. Seven. And two hundred, thirty-two. (And by the way, Maurice, you will find these numbers scattered throughout this article.)

Another thing a good writing coach should have told you is to always write in complete sentences, expressing complete thoughts--not the way I just did. And again, I broke the rule for effect.

As one gets older, and (hopefully) more experienced, one can bend—maybe even break—some of those writing rules. Authors John Grisham and James Michener can get away with breaking any rule they want to—that's the advantage of being a success. Or in my case, being a tease.

Let me appear to change the subject for a moment: I have been alarmed at the violence, anarchy, and general mayhem in a given locale over the past many weeks. To date, there have been no deaths (so that rules Syria out as the mystery topic). And it doesn't involve the morons behind the “Occupy” movement, so that rules out any number of American and Canadian cities. And no there are no car bombs, suicide bombers, and like, so there goes the Middle East as an option.

No, unfortunately it is in our own fair country-- in the province of Quebec, no less. Under the guise of protesting a tuition hike, students and other factions—not unlike Libya, Syria, and Afghanistan— have banded together to foment the afore-mentioned violence, anarchy, and mayhem.

Because certain students were unhappy about paying a little more per year for their post-secondary education, they and their “friends” took to the streets, destroyed businesses, smashed windows, and forced several annual events to be canceled.

It was shameful to see all the property damage inflicted on the many shops and businesses in downtown Montreal recently. It's too bad so many good, solid citizens, who slave everyday to make an honest living, weren't accorded a little respect from the mindless hordes, who felt it was their God-given right to smash, grab, burn, and pillage.

The issue of tuition hike would be shocking, if, in fact, that was the real motivation for the mayhem. I seriously wonder what the real issue is. Over the course of seven years, the rate would increase gradually to $1624, or, for you accountant-types out there, it would be approximately $232 per year. If my math serves me correctly, over a twelve-month year, that is just pennies under @ 20 per month.

Let me write that again for you: $232 per year is what those ingrates are destroying public property over. How many Starbucks coffees, new jeans, movies, and iPhone bills does that amount to—on a monthly basis alone? These people have no right to demand a reversal of anything, especially a pittance of a $232 annual tuition hike.

I will say that they have a right to disagree with the Establishment, and to sit down and talk things over. If these children had acted responsibly, the outcome could have been quite different. If they ever get a job in Quebec, how would they react to poor working conditions, doing tasks they didn't like, or not getting the pay raise as soon as they expected? Will they smash, grab, burn, and pillage until they get what they want?

I have no problem with peaceful protests at all: I've done my anti-abortion thing over the years; I was present at one of two historic protests against the provincial government recently, as we rallied for parental rights and freedom of educational priorities.

When one gets an “education,” one purpose should be to make a difference in the workplace. There are lots of fresh fraces with fresh ideas making positive changes in their new vocations.

Hopefully, unlike the academic anarchists, they won't go out and trash the staff room because the coffee's too hot.

Foremost on my Mind: Nothing is Something

It's really hard to believe that school is almost over. Kids can't wait for the last bell to ring, the last test to be written, the last bus ride home. Teachers, bless their hearts, likely feel the same way. After all, they're the ones that have to put up with your kids all year, and they really deserve a break.

And your kids probably need a break from them, too.

There are teachers, and then there are, well, teachers. I have very fond memories of many of my teachers—mostly in elementary school. I wish I could sit down today and tell them what I think of them, how much fun we had together, and the positive influence they had on my life. I'm sure most of them have passed on by now, and I regret not taking the time to thank them..

And the other ones? Well, I would just pass on any sort of visit. Some them seemed too old and tired and cranky to have the honourable role of teaching someone else's children all day. No doubt they started well, meant well, but they weren't doing well by the time they got to me—or would that be by the time I got to them?

I say the above because I am a teacher—albeit a part-time one at this point—but also because two separate teacher stories are in the news as I write. Both have been or are on the verge of being fired. And that, my friends, is possibly where the similarity ends, because one represents a parent's worst nightmare; the other, a parent's hope.

The former has been fired for showing a clip of the murder of June Lin to his Grade 10 class in Montreal. I understand that the monster that butchered the Chinese exchange student a few weeks ago recorded it for the world to see. And the world, in the form of a Civics 10 class, did indeed see it—at the initiative of this teacher.

The other teacher's situation is much more intriguing, but less disturbing. He is in Edmonton and he had the gall to give his students a zero for work not done. Maurice, that would be “no marks for no work”.) However, apparently that's against school board policy and philosophy. No student can receive a zero, if I have my facts straight.

I was repulsed by the teacher's actions in Montreal and I believe his firing is the correct response and the least of his problems. Parents hand their children over to the other adults for the better part each week, for most of the year, for a total of twelve years. That's generally the process, if they choose not to home educate.

On that basis, the parents need to know that these various teachers are trustworthy, responsible, and good, that they will reinforce the family's values and standards, that coming under their influence will not undermine the home. Ideally, that's when the school and home should work together.

I know many, many fine teachers, and they are doing a wonderful job. It can be a thankless task many days, when the home is not supporting the school, not just the other way around. I don't know where the breakdown occurred in Montreal, but that teacher is a very bad example of a noble profession.

As repulsive as the Montreal scene is, the Edmonton one is a tragedy; and I'm not referring to the teacher's action—I'm referring to the board's policy. What a travesty at every level! In the good old days, when you did nothing, you got nothing. No work, no pay; no effort, no reward. (Maurice, just remember: This is how things work in the “real” world.)

At home, you don't do your chores, you lose privileges; you violate curfew, you get grounded. You don't eat your veggies, you pass on dessert; you sleep in, you miss the meal. The same rules can be applied to work: One of the purposes of school should be to prepare students for the real world. And part of that real world angle is to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay.

And now the school board has a policy that turns that common sense on its head, with its approach to life and living

The public school board in Edmonton is doing a serious disservice on two fronts: One, they are telling the students that they can do nothing (ie., don't hand in assignments) with no con-

sequences. And two, they are undermining the authority of a teacher, who is making a gutsy and moral decision.

It takes significant courage to stop a certain course of action and say: Enough is enough. While I don't recommend defying one's boss under most conditions, there are times when one must act as a moral agent, despite the accepted protocol.

As for our friend in Edmonton, anyone who has the moxie to do what he did shouldn't be fired. He should have no problem getting a better job, with better pay, with better management over him. In fact, with his understanding of how to prepare kids for the real world, he would make a great Minister of Education. The Lord knows that we need men and women with those sorts of scruples leading our students into the future.

Foremost on my Mind: Music for Young Children--and Their Parents

Only in Canada do you play at a recital and recite at a play. I was at the former (that would be the recital, Maurice) the other day. Three of my kids have been involved with Music for Young Children for the past couple of years, with Foremost's own Lydia Collin as their mentor,.

They were there, along with dozens of other kids, parents and grandparents, performing, playing, bowing, and generally inspiring those of us who were there.

Music for Young Children is not just any programme, and it's not just for anyone. As little as I know about it, the intensity level is high, with kids and their families as active participants. Also, because it involves the parents (usually mom) sitting in the lessons with the teacher, plus the daily practice at home, it takes a lot of commitment. And that heavy commitment also includes the piano teacher herself. It strikes me that this is not for the fainthearted. Or the faint-fingered, for that matter

You might say that it's a little more than scales and singing The Sound of Music theme songs.

That's probably why my wife is the key component to the parent side of things. If Lydia and her ilk depended upon me, with my (limited) musical ability, she's be in trouble: While I do sing (and have sung in many quartets over the years) and my pitch is actually not too bad, it's all the technical stuff that leaves my head spinning, stomach churning, and dogs howling.

And one of my paralyzing fears, if you really care, is that if I didn't C sharp I might B flat.

The two things impressed me the most with the recent recital are the following: One, the kids were keen for it. They were expected to dress up, get up, speak up, then play up. And play up they did. I mean, I was ready to do a little dancing in the aisles with some of the numbers they performed. Fortunately for all concerned, the presentations were short enough to keep me swinging in my seat.

Just as an aside—and I'm just thinking out loud here—we under-challenge (read: we have low expectations for) our kids too much. In other words, we don't think they can master this or achieve that, so, well, they meet our expectations.

Two, the families were up for it, too. I was amazed and delighted to see how many immediate and extended family members showed up. There must have been a couple hundred people there. I tried to count them, but I ran out of toes. I had an urge to take up a collection for the poor of Milk River, but I ran out of pocket space.

In both cases—that is, kids and family--I was much encouraged. With the implosion of the family unit, and with the erosion of family values, it was so reassuring to see—how do you say it?--such an old-fashioned event so strongly supported. Families together with other families, supporting their kids and other families' kids, with the appropriate applause at the end of each contribution.

It's not after-school soccer, you know. Not only does it not have the same value, it actually has the opposite value. Fierce competition, selective talent, and only a smattering of parents present, suggest the opposite.

A caveat is due here: I think some competitive sports has its place, but for me, the arts is where it's at. In the arts, there is discipline, development, and destination; there is also creativity and variety. It sounds like a template for sports, business, and education, doesn't it? This is true, but it goes beyond all those (important) segments of society.

When I speak of the arts, I am thinking in particular of what I recently attended, but it does encompass the creative and graphic and visual and even language arts. How we handle the arts is often a bellwether for how we are doing as a society.

I have my many issues how we are doing as a society, as you know, but, to be honest with you, when I attend a recital like the recent one, I feel a lot better.

I'd probably feel even better if I personally knew the difference between a “do” and a “re.” Oh, well, at least I can spell them correctly. I think.

Foremost on my Mind: Ice Cold Beards

There are many things I can predict accurately in this world. No mere guesswork here, my friends. For instance, it will rain tomorrow, if you are planning a family picnic...or, if you want the phone to ring (or, for you young 'uns, if you want an urgent text), go have a shower...or, if you want a dead battery, line up an interview for that dream job.

So when I speak of predictions, I must admit that I never, ever saw the Stanley Cup final involving teams with names like Devils or Kings. I could have easily predicted the names would have sounded like Penguins, Rangers, and Bruins; or Canucks, Canucks, and Canucks.

On the other hand, anyone could have predicted the name wouldn't sound like Flames.

And I am thinking in particular of the LA Kings. They barely snuck into the playoffs just a few weeks ago; yet through sheer raw talent, they took out the number one, two, and three seed in the Western Conference. Interesting fact: The last time that happened, it was the Calgary Flames in 2004, and, you guessed it, Darryl Sutter was the coach—the current coach of the Kings.

You would think that would give him a teensy-weensy reason to smile, wouldn't you? (C'mon, Darryl, crack a smile--it won't crack your face.)

So the traditional teams that should have made it didn't. However, I'm sure the golf courses of the world are happy—plus all the very chic destination vacation spots.

The other hockey news that I must comment on is that of beards. That would be beards, as in manly hair on yon manly face. In case you didn't notice, there has been a growing tradition—pun most blessedly intended—of every Tom, Dick, and Harry (or would that be every Justin, Dustin, and Bustin'?) to grow a beard until they are no longer in the playoffs.

Maybe I am being a little generous with the term 'beard' here: I am appalled that the fuzz on the faces of some players could actually be called a beard. I would rather use words like scrawny, emaciated, wimpy, ugly, and laughable, but one of those ruffians might hit me with their hockey stick. Or bank statement, which could be a very heavy blow.

I place the Stanley Cup playoffs, and especially the fourth round, as the quintessential Canadian pastime, along with maple syrup from a maple tree, snow in June, and a Tim Hortons coffee to go. Every time I watch these games, I want to stand up and belch, er, belt out, “O, Canada.” That, despite the fact that there are no Canadian teams playing any longer. The finalists, of course, are from the concrete jungles near New York City and Los Angeles, respectively.

As you may know by now, I have never played hockey professionally, amateurishly, occasionally, or any other way that ends with an “-ly.” Well, that's not exactly true: I have played it “terribly”...once. Thus, I need to mince my words when I pass judgement on these guys who play a boys' game in a man's league, on a part-time basis for a fulltime salary.

Granted, I don't understand all the nuances of the game—the blood, sweat, and tears, if you will—but I do understand how exciting it is, as well as how excited we get, even though some of us (starting with me) know very little about the business, er, game.

It still strikes me as odd to see kids younger than some of my own sons, with beards that would make a peach blush, playing the ultimate Canadian sport in a downtown American venue. Envious, because my beloved Canucks aren't at the big dance? Maybe a little. But they lost to a better, more motivated team, and all's fair in love and war...and sports.

So, predictions and beards aside, I don't know how to call this one. My head says I can't see the Kings slowing down a bit, but my heart says it would be nice for Martin Brodeur to win one more cup before he retires.

And next year? I could even handle a Canadian team that sounds like Flames playing in the finals. So long as they shave off those scrawny, emaciated, wimpy, ugly, and laughable beards.