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


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?



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.


I(n) tune

This is the companion to my post The Groove for The Heart and Art of Teaching blog. I am writing it here in order to keep my blog posts reading times reigned in. It was originally occupying several paragraphs elsewhere, but was moved here to take on a life of its own.

I love music. I’m listening to it right now(Dave Matthews Band – Live in Rio). In my classroom, I sing, quote song lyrics, hum tunes, and offer students the chance to use music as a means to demonstrate they’re understandings of learning. I have an obscure record collection that includes speeches by Mussolini to  songs by Cookie Monster.

From the earliest moments I wanted to be a DJ on the radio. As a kid I was always pressing the presets on our car radio. I loved the idea that one person could curate the soundtrack for so many people. There were countless times I’d dial the local radio station to request a song. And for a very brief while, I believed that the performers were actually in the stations performing live.

It was the late 60s in Hudson’s Hope, BC. Most of our family welcomed the addition of my little sister. Not me, I was officially the middle child and it was time to occupy my time plotting against my siblings. Most days were spent outside playing in the dirt, wandering around the limits of our trailer park, and learning to cruise along, the lone stretch of driveway, on an over-sized trike.  Inside, our little black and white television warmed our temporary double-wide home with its futuristic glow. The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. I was hooked.

Uprooted, moved, and transplanted over the border to New York state. This was followed by the revelation that Buffalo, NY is probably the snowiest equivalent location possible to the Peace River in British Columbia. What did I care? I didn’t have to shovel it.

The move brought with it a home, and some new gear. A colour TV now bathed our living room with light and entertainment. Ed Sullivan was still  hosting his “Really big Shoow!”, but not for long. The soundtrack was changing, evolving, and definitely becoming more interesting. My parents listened to the radio wherever and whenever they could.

Whether we were in the house, the yard, or in the car on the way to somewhere – music was there. You couldn’t help but sing along to the grooves and rhythms of Rock n’ roll, the twang of Country, the hooks of Pop music, or the heart and soul of R and B. In our space, no musical genre would be denied. Although, I think my dad had a limit on how much “hippie” music he could handle.  😉

In 1972 we moved again. This time, it was to Wyoming where cattle outnumbered people 2:1. It is still that way today. Once again a score to soothe the worried mind of a middle child filled my ears with Led Zeppelin, Marvin Gaye, Carole King, and Tammy Wynette. A new home, same TV, but only Ed Sullivan reruns to watch until we discovered Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.

Queen, Bad Company, Van Morrison, and Linda Ronstadt had become household names. Everyday on my way to school I’d be humming one tune or another heard on KWYO AM or KROE FM( now talk radio), which played album sides and a greater selection of performers.

My parents loved music too, and had amassed quite a record collection of their own. To a young audiophile, it was a gold mine of sounds to accompany my musical education.  The album covers alone served as part of my daily reading regimen. When my brother became a wage earner, the collection grew even larger and wilder with his contributions of BTO, Guess Who, Styx, and Elton John.

Wherever I ambled, music made the journey better regardless of what was going on in the world around me. And there was plenty. I remember my first albums, Kiss Destroyer, and Peter Frampton Comes Alive. I nearly wore through that vinyl from playing it so often. Then another move in 1978.

Arriving to Toronto in the late 70s meant having my ears opened to a buffet of musical offerings. Bands like the Dire Straits, Pink Floyd, and Rush began to consume my adolescent times with guitar heavy riffs and intelligent lyrics. Radio became the means by which I got to know my new city.

As a grade 8 student at St. Gaspar Elementary School(closed 2002), I began slowly amassing a collection of vinyl records. Countless hours of my youth were spent listening to albums, reading liner notes, and getting to know about the artists/performers making the music I loved. No genre was excluded. If it was on vinyl I’d give it a spin. Music videos were just creeping into our sound consciousness with shows like the New Music.

The Tubes, Peter Tosh, The Police, and the Clash.

I remember studying the albums themselves and wondering how a diamond stylus needle that get’s dropped into a groove translates the contents into such glorious sounds; complete with crackles and pops. It was as if I was in the room when I could hear fingers sliding across the strings of a guitar or when stereo headphones made it feel like the sound was going right through my brain.

In short the soundtrack to my life to this point was accompanied by amazing music, lyrics, and performers who poured their talents out for the world to hear. I still remember skateboarding and listening to Sultans of Swing  cranked up on my portable transistor radio sans headphones.

Let’s call this the first side of the album…
I will flip it and press play on another post covering the early 80s to present next time.

If you like discussing music please comment and keep the conversation going.
Happy listening.

Header image by Mr.choppers (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

3 things

Warning: Do not read this post for more than 3 -4 minutes.

2016 is hurtling towards its calendar end and thoughts turn to a highlight reel retrospective heading for the history books. My mind is counting down around a repeating loop of ideas and reflections like a Space X reusable rocket. Well, maybe the baking soda and vinegar in a bottle type.

As the countdown approaches, I wanted to ask educators around the world to answer this question. If you’d like, think of it as a wishlist.

What would you change in education for 2017?

If you could change 3 things about education in 2017, knowing you wouldn’t fail, what would they be? I’m talking Astro Teller moon shot type changes here.

We use the word “moonshots” to remind us to keep our visions big — to keep dreaming. And we use the word “factory” to remind ourselves that we want to have concrete visions — concrete plans to make them real.  Astro Teller

Here are my 3 cannot-miss-the-spot-moonshot-thoughts.

  1. End the school to prison pipeline. My wish would be that schools could be funded with the same amount of money per student as the prisoners of our world. I believe that if we provided more funding for our schools, then our prisons would soon be very different and under-crowded spaces.I also believe that by stopping the flow of students from classrooms to courtrooms to cell blocks there would be a better standard of living for our entire society with opportunity for all. Imagine what could be done with all of the extra money if it was spent educating instead of incarcerating? Did you know that the students receive on average only 1/3 of the funding of prisoners?
  2. End standardized testing. What good is asking students to cram 10 months of learning into 9 months, only to stresst them out?  Why are millions of tax dollars being spent on tying up instructional time and resources in order to administer and assess students in grades 3, 6, 9, and 10. Is it worth quantifying education annually as a soapbox for politicians?Has anyone thought that the questions being asked are not considerate of skills and understandings required for the future? Cynical me asks, if there is a correlation to test results and real estate value? This appears to frequently be the case in my own province of Ontario, Canada. My own home price benefiting from strong results in neighbourhood schools.When I look at results by district in the U.S and compare facilities and funding I am left with many questions around equity and distribution of assets. In 2012, 1.7 billion dollars were spent on standardized testing in the U.S.A. If the financial cost doesn’t get your attention, how about the anxiety and mental health issues that result from many educators who feel they need to teach to the test instead of to the needs of their learners?
  3. End the global desk-wagging contest known as PISA and invest the money shelled out back into the students.Are you noticing a trend yet?To whose benefit do these tests and rankings really serve? How come the sample sizes are so small? Why are students and schools used as collateral/capital for international bragging rights? Did you know that schools can be recruited or selected to participate? How does this not scream of yielding a skewed sample? Why are so many countries not taking part in PISA? There are students learning on dirt floors or without access to any education at all. All the while a bunch of people in suits are deciding to see which privileged country’s students are number one.

It’s your turn to share 3 things. Shoot for the stars because you can. It will not be marked.
Countdown in 10, 9 … 3, 2, 1.

If you have made it this far, thank you for your interest in this topic. You are now past 3 minutes. Why not read on? Here is a very worthwhile reading list.

Pipeline to prison – https://briarpatchmagazine.com/articles/view/pipeline-to-prison

School-to-prison-pipeline – https://www.aclu.org/infographic/school-prison-pipeline-infographic?redirect=racial-justice/infographic-school-prison-pipeline

Project Liberty: School to prison pipeline –


How High-Stakes Testing Feeds the School-to-Prison Pipeline Infographic –  http://www.fairtest.org/pipeline-infographic

US should nix its federal department of education –  http://www.troymedia.com/2016/12/12/canada-proves-dont-need-federal-department-education/

School performance rankings from the Fraser Institute –  https://www.fraserinstitute.org/school-performance

How does a school district affect the value of your home (don’t miss comments) –


The standardised test debate. Is EQAO good for education? (don’t miss comments) –


School choice not the right choice for our kids –  http://www.freep.com/story/opinion/columnists/nancy-kaffer/2016/10/02/choice-schools-michigan/91240656/

Pisa and the creativity puzzle – http://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/education/pisa-and-the-creativity-puzzle

The tower of PISA is badly leaning – https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/answer-sheet/wp/2015/03/24/the-tower-of-pisa-is-badly-leaning-an-argument-for-why-it-should-be-saved/?utm_term=.c813afeddee2

My adventures with failure

When we consider our possessions and social status as the only measures of success in life then we have failed to see the big picture. In this post, my incredible niece, Hailey shares from the heart how she overcame a near death experience in her 20s to travel, experience, and photograph our world at a time in life where so many people are too busy chasing careers and things rather than discovering a world waiting for them to experi ence it.

Kean on Culture

I have put this blog off for more than a week. I have written and rewritten it 7 times. I have thought about it and gotten really confused and then emptied my brain and began to think about it again. How do you write about failure, about your own personal failure without embarrassing yourself or being a propagator of TMI? Bear with me. I’m going to write this the only way I can: honestly.

Now that I’m in my 30’s I feel this firm pressure to be at a certain point in my life socially and economically. This feeling becomes more prominent with every wedding invitation I collect, every baby that one of my friends’ pops out, every condo an ex buys and every job promotion one of my university classmates receives. I then realize that I don’t have any of these things and a shadow of failure starts to…

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