Flu id


1. a substance that has no fixed shape and yields easily to external pressure; a gas or (especially) a liquid.  “We all need several glasses of fluid a day”

1. (of a substance) able to flow easily. “the paint is more fluid than tube watercolors”
Fluid seems like a pretty harmless word, but when you break it into two words, you get nothing but trouble. What if fluid really meant a selfish virus – flu id: These two words from within a word mean something very different apart than when the space between them is gone.
If something is fluid, it moves in harmony about and around the forms and forces acting upon it. In Science, it is generally considered a state of matter. In the Arts, the dancers were fluid in their movements as they leaped across the stage. In baseball, a hitter may have a very fluid swing.*
Fluids are observable, measurable, and useful. Whether it’s a litre of stock, a cup of  cream, or a spoon of olive oil, together or apart, each contributes to a delicious recipe.
In life, situations can be fluid too. Often they change or are changeable with little to no control or resistance. Come to think about it, the flu is pretty good at being fluid as it evolves into new and virulent forms in order to thrive from year to year. It’s id saying. “catch me if you can.”

 The flu morphs and hides in the nearest convenient host. The id is like the GPS for our psychological and physiological existence. Like the flu, the id is always seeking ways to get what it wants and needs to survive.

The Flu virus floats around like a plastic bag in a breeze and lands on anything with a warm surface. It proceeds to take up residence in the heads and lungs of its victims. Like the id, the flu wants what it wants. Once inside, it becomes the house guest from hell, turns the heat up on its new hosts, and rejects anything that gets eaten. Not wanting to stop there, the flu and its id are even more happy to move on to a new residence with a sneeze, forgetful touch (doorknob, remote, phone) by an unwashed hand, or a nose wipe.

As a teacher, there will always be students, parents, and or colleagues battling the flu and its id on a regular basis from October to March each school year. Fevers, coughs, phlegm, dizziness and vomiting are all part of the suffering unleashed by this selfish super bug. I was down for a whole day and half this year because of it.

And what does the world tell us to do when it hits us? Get some rest, and drink plenty of fluids. SMH.

* This is the opposite to a hole in their swing as I shared in What are holes made of? Pt 2 Language


The right words

I have the right words to say, but the lump in my throat won’t allow them out. These puffs of air that attempt to pass over my vocal cords do so without a peep.

I have the right words to say, but they’ve all been shared before. As if they are reserved only for the times when madness takes its toll.

Asking why
But not shocked
Witness to despair
Slowly coming to grips
A nation that has lost itself
Reliving senseless hatred again.

We have the right words to say, but thoughts and prayers are not enough. Words won’t heal the destruction done by a damaged mind sowing seeds of their madness with a gun.

We have the right words, but maybe it’s time to listen instead?


What are holes made of? Pt 2 Language


This is a mind purging follow up to my 2015 blog What are holes made of? Pt 1 Science. In it, I share a story from a kindergarten class where I asked them the title question. This post continues the conversation about holes and their simple and complex nature.

When we are in debt, we are in the hole. When prisoners are put into solitary confinement they are going down into the hole. Alice in Chains and the Police sang about holes. There was even a band called Hole. Who could forget that The Beatles sang Fixing a Hole on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band? (I almost did)

Holes are similar to hunger. There are lots of holes in the foods we eat. Have you ever looked at a pancake or meringue? The lighter and fluffier the better. This has me wondering whether holes get confused with bubbles from time to time? If we really think about it at a molecular level, there are spaces in between everything – therefore holes.

Sports are filled with analogies about holes. A baseball player or golfer who is struggling to hit the ball is said to have a “hole in their swing”. Baseball players have been asked, on more than one occasion, whether there is a hole in their gloves?

In football, the offence is always looking to punch a hole through the defensive line in the hopes of seeing a little daylight on a running play. If a team does this enough times then they could score multiple time. If that happens, then their opponent might not be able to climb out of the hole they’ve made. Ouch.

Speaking of ouch, losing a player to injury will leave a “hole in the team”. Many fans have holes in their hearts when their favourite teams lose a game. Some of them could become motivational speakers for as often as they extol the virtues of patience, devotion, and ‘there’s always next season”. Maybe these die-hard fans have books in their futures?

Not surprisingly, there are books about holes. And at least one movie has been made about holes. Although, I’m not quite sure of the title. So with all of these holes to see through, what’s it all about?

When any of use language it can go a number of ways. We can dig ourselves into a hole with our words, or we can dig ourselves out just as quickly. Holes happen in arguments. When this happens such logical fallacies in one’s words expose them down to the profoundest levels. It is often said that a poor argument has as many holes in it as Swiss cheese. Words, true or otherwise might pierce the mind, but nothing can prepare for what pierces the body.

Bullet holes are also symbolic of some deep shit. Their blatant and sole intent is to put a hole in someone. To spill the lifeblood out of a fellow human might be the cruellest hole of all. When we think of all we can do to repair the holes we’ve made, there is little we can do after the hate decides to pull the trigger and fill others full of holes.

What I wonder is how the holes that have been put into people’s hearts today by gun violence and hatred could ever heal? Could we turn our minds to making things whole instead?

Grade 5s and their desks


An actual Gr 5 class captured while re-organizing their desks. No actors were harmed in this pic.

What is learning? Is it the content inside of the textbook? Does it come from all of the socialization experienced at school that is supposed to prepare us all to run on the hamster wheel of life? Could there also be lessons to learn from moving desks in a classroom?

I’m writing this post while my grade 5 class attempts a self-directed room re-organization. Cacophony, collisions, and an occasional boundary dispute resolution tribunal are all part of the process. Desks and chairs in motion cause mini-tremors across our classroom floor. It’s as if 26 simultaneous games of Tetris are being played as the furniture gets turned and shoved in search of a new place, perspective and neighbours.

To understand whether this exercise went well, if at all, requires a keen eye, a calm mind, and a deaf ear. Throughout the process, students do not hear a word from me. It’s their time to sort things out and into place. I’m happy to watch and hear it happen. There are negotiations, subtle and otherwise. Accommodations too.

After 10 minutes of time that seemed more like 15 minutes, we made it. I asked, “What did you learn about this?”

“We have to communicate with each other,” said one.
“Some people are only worried about themselves,” replied another.
“You didn’t help us,” said a third student.
“You’re welcome,” I said.

Letting students shape their learning space on their own has become an informative exercise in my practice. It points out who is willing to embrace change and who is clinging to a familiar and safe(in their mind) past. It also provides me insight into whether peer groups and friendships have changed.

Desk moves also give students a chance to negotiate with one another. I find it interesting how problems get worked out when there are disagreements. It forces students to listen and respond when things are in motion and out-of-place.

When the dust settles. We get back to learning…the other learning.


The lies we tell our adult selves

If you don’t think that students in grade 5 have stress,
You are lying to your adult self.
They do.

If you don’t think that stress is affecting the health of our youth in school,
You are lying to your adult self.
It does.

Today, an entire class of grade 5 students raised their hands when asked if they had ever felt overwhelmed by stress and anxiety –  reasons shared too many to mention:

  • family discord
  • too much free time
  • too little free time
  • pre-adolescence
  • over-consumption of media
  • over worked adult(s) in the home
  • body image
  • fear
  • loneliness

Today, the lies we tell our adult selves about how everything is fine and that it’s only a phase revealed themselves out loud and clear in these students. Will more lies be necessary to help or will the honesty of this moment be the start of something better?

We listened, we shared, tears were shed, and we rallied in support of one another.
The bell rang and we went our separate ways. The students to their lives outside of school. Me to my computer.

Hoping that the lies we tell our adult selves will be absent tomorrow.



New Kintsugi by Kate CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 via https://www.flickr.com/photos/49965961@N00/12436054475

     Courage.             Voice.

     Meraki.                Now.

Four of the many #OneWord2018 offerings from educators via Twitter.

With the retrospective rose coloured goggles secured over my eyes, it’s time to dive into 2018 because it is going to be better. This is not a flippant cliché to elicit the feels and aahs of readers. 2018 will be better.

My one word for 2018 is better.

Whether written, spoken, or withheld on purpose my words will be better in 2018.

They will edify not nullify.
They will appreciate not devastate.
They will lead not supersede.

My lessons will be better in 2018.
They will envelope my students with ownership of their learning.
They will inspire confidence, resilience, and compassion for others.

Failures will be better in 2018.
They will be spectacular and educational.
They will be welcomed into a safe space with room for everyone.

Otherliness will be better in 2018.
Kindness will trump self-centredness.
Students will know how much I care before being asked to care about what I know.

Student voice will be better in 2018.
They will be given a place at the table where their futures are decided.
They will tell us what we need to hear, not what we want to hear.

In 2014, I heard poet/rapper D.O. Gibson share a powerful message about getting 1% better each day.* Once all of the feels and aahs were gone, the power of his message hit home. I began to imagine how to apply it to my approaches to pedagogy and personal learning.

This got me really excited about how we could all get better, and at a pace that would not overwhelm anyone. The next day, I began including this philosophy into my instruction. First, it was in French class with vocabulary, then to Math with problem solving, and soon afterwards all of my subjects. The best part of being better by 1% everyday means everyone is able to work towards an individual and common goal.

I wonder if you would even realize it when someone is 1% kinder from one day to the next, but after a month 30% increase would be difficult to ignore. Even if better only meant 1% per month; 12% per year is still excellent growth. Just ask your fund manager.

So 2018 is going to be better.
I’ve done the Math and even at a modest 0.25% per day.
I am almost 1% better than last year. So far…

What’s your #OneWord2018?

Please share in the comments section.
If you liked this post, please follow and tell a friend.
Thanks for reading.




the rocks


[[File:Rioters Throw Rocks near Nabi Saleh.jpg|Rioters Throw Rocks near Nabi Saleh]] CC BY 2.0

We are rocks.
We are witnesses to all that has passed in front, under and over us, and all that will surely come.
We wait.

Our once jagged edges smoothed by time, wind, and water.
We have been used as hammers, as walls, and as weights.

We have become weapons; thrown back and forth between sides who no longer remember, or understand the original reasons why.

Too many times, we have been plucked from a peaceful place only to be thrown in anger. We land as far as rage and fear can fling.

We have broken windows and bones.
We have been used to punish and frighten.
Our pores hold on to the skin and blood of those whom we’ve struck.

There are nicks and pocks about our surfaces from millennia of contact and conflict.
Each time we are hurled, a piece of us gets left behind as we, too, become battered and bruised.

Praying, like all of the other rocks, to become piles of dust that rest in peace
– to be thrown no more.