Sorry I didn't write last evening. Patricia and I had a thing in Dartmouth after work. Afterward, we grabbed some dinner at a really funky place on Robie Street called Mary's Place and went home. We were both pooped. She conked out around 8:30. I hung around until 9:30 and went off to a large siesta.
(You know, I have always wondered what the Mexican word would be for "Sleep party". "Siesta fiesta"? Does that even make sense?)
Nova Scotia has been a bugger all month. You drive in to work and the roads are deplorable. Ice everywhere. Today, we drove home and the rain had turned everything to slush. Tonight, it is -2, so everything will re-freeze, thank you very much. I do not look forward to driving to work in the morning.
It is 8:41pm. Pretty much exactly 6 weeks ago tonight, at this moment, I was trying to reach my mother, and began to fear the worst. Those fears were reinforced at 9pm when the assisted living facility called to say they couldn't find a pulse in her, and I got the bad news about 9:20. Six weeks. Seems like six years in one way, and six minutes in another. Putting one foot in front of another ever since has been difficult.
My interview with Don Connolly is in Frank Magazine this week. The whole situation regarding the Drake University "bird course" that some Nova Scotia teachers took to bolster their salaries reminds me of a piece in that interview. I don't want to spoil it for you, but will tell you that Don mentions a time he ran afoul of someone at the teachers' union. It speaks to the public relations nightmare that the teachers have faced for many years now. I hope you read the interview, so go purchase a copy of the latest Frank at your fave local newsstand or grocery store. Remember: buy your own copy and do not share it with others, because it makes the baby Jesus cry.
I don't have much against teachers. Most of them are hard-working, dedicated professionals doing a job I would never have the patience for. But more than a few of them, still representing a small percentage, regard their classrooms as little fiefdoms, and their pupils are subjects to be dominated and exposed to whatever religious and/or political claptrap the teachers wish, and to
As I mentioned here a few years ago, I had a teacher in senior high who was very religious. Pious. Sanctimonious. And a jerk. He was our history teacher, and he would think nothing of teaching us about Christianity and Jesus Christ and assign us research tasks about the same. He would cover himself by saying, "I know I can't ask you to do this, but...". And if you didn't do the task because you objected, or your parents objected, he would make note of it, not verbally, but you could see that he regarded you as a special challenge to wear down during the school year. How I hated that man and his approach to his job.
Not sure where I am going with this, other than to say that teachers don't do themselves any favours when they take a long distance bird course from a mostly-well-regarded university in an effort to justify being put in to a higher pay grade (upwards of $8000 per year). They don't do themselves any favours by jamming their beliefs down students' throats. And they don't do themselves any favours by taking offence every time they are criticized by the media. They're smart people and should know these things.
Jumping off my soapbox now. Air is a little thin.
See you tomorrow.