Went to get a hair cut at Steveston Barbers today. To my surprise a former student was working there. He remembered me and we had a great chat about life in the 90’s at Steves Elementary. He and his friends Peter, Jacob and Brent seem to be doing well! One of the reward of working as a teacher and school administrator. And he is into writing stuff as well. Got to stay connected.
My go to chair from now on! Sorry Ian.
tree peonies bow
silently
the empty lawn chair
I still rise each day thinking about my pop. He was a cool customer. I am glad I had the chance to live with him the past 10 years. It seems a long time but now it seems to have passed so quickly. Too quickly.
I remember when we first planned to have mom and pop come. He had developed a heart problem and was having fainting spells. His heart was not working well. Loose valves the Doctor said. My pop and I talked in that Japanese – English hybrid language we use in Steveston. “Sewah kakitanae,” I don’t want to be a burden he said. I said, “Sewa nae. Madah narannuhn koto ipaei aru.” Not great Japanese but what I said was, “It’s not a burden. I still have lots to learn from you.” “Toshi toru no koto.” How do I grow older wisely? I meant.
He smiled. I really meant it because I knew he could show me about growing older. I was not trying to placate him. I wanted to spend more time with him. In the end we did spend more time together but not enough. We did some things together but not enough. The busyness of work and being with my own family seemed to always take up the time. But, he did show me lots – every day.
He enjoyed his activities like playing Gateball with all his friends. He had a mah jaong group that for a time met monthly at our place. He started his garden and loved his tree peony plants that would bloom so beautifully each year but only for a short time. He appreciated the beauty of the plants without the blooms. He tended them very carefully. He wanted to help at home and would cut the lawn and take out the garbage. He was always doing something and he always had a positive attitude.
He and I would go to many appointments and he would follow the doctors’ orders. Eat less salt. Exercise. He would go for daily walks. In the beginning he would walk to Steveston and back to have coffee with friends. At least 1/2 a mile each way. He would take Jasper our cocker with him. His heart specialist called him a miracle man. He never complained and he always tried to enjoy all our family activities. I watched him closely. Once in awhile we would sit in my parents’ ensuite and watch TV or talk about something. When ever we talked about something that someone did. He never said anything bad about them. He was more curious about the context or backstory that caused the person to act the way they did.
He had two more episodes that took him to the emergency room and made it back home a little less able each time. He could not longer walk far and I would drive him in my C30 to the coffee group during my days away from work. We had many conversations then because I would stay with him for coffee. Each year his ability to walk lessened. It was for me a gauge of his health. In the end he could barely make it to the dinner table.
Even in the hospital he would try to stay positive. He could not breath properly and would have spells where he was struggling for air. It was hard to watch. Still, one night my mom and I and her sister were sitting at the foot of the hospital bed and suddenly he started singing an old Japanese song and clapping. I guess he could see the worry in us and was trying to cheer us up. Ten days before he died he was doing Shigin for a short time – Shigin is a type of Japanese throat singing . Shigin is done on notable occasions. Births, weddings, funerals. I think he knew he was too weak to go on much longer. A week before he died I was trying to spoon feed him because he could not swallow properly and he did not have the energy or motivation to eat. He could not talk by this point. He saw that my hair was standing up. He raised up his hand and patted me on the head. Later the next day the doctor told us it was not going well and we had to let him go. We let him go into palliative care. He went into that medically induced palliative dream state and 6 days later he died. His defective heart was stronger than we thought and would not let him go easily.
I still have the tears. I don’t let them fall. I let them crystallize in my eyes. I see the world a little differently now.
Skypilot… looking for a place to land…
that if a person dies we keep them and cherish them in our hearts. They say that they aren’t really gone if you remember them. They are with you always. Let’s celebrate their lives.
BS.
I walk into my father’s home. He isn’t there. I walk into his bedroom he isn’t there. I sit down to have a meal with him. He isn’t there. I don’t hear his voice. He doesn’t give me advice. He can’t tell me more of his stories. He’s not here anymore. I just feel lonely and sad.
What is real is that I’m sad. Life is lonely. I miss him. That’s what is real. I don’t want rationalizations. Platitudes. He’s dead and I’m sad.
And what’s more, I want to feel sad and lonely. He was important. He mattered. The tears mean something. Living and dying is part of the story. His story. I’ve lost others too that made me feel empty and a deep sadness. It means I have the human capacity to connect and love. They were important to me. Sadness is part of life.
And I have regrets too. I want to talk with pop one more time. I want one more chance. Another day. I want to take him in my C30 and take him on a road trip or take him to his morning coffee group. One more chance to ask him about life and death and everything in between.
What is hard is trying so hard not to feel the sadness and emptiness and loneliness. I can’t do it. No use avoiding it. I can’t avoid it. I accept it as part of the unfathomable part of my existence. I embrace the sadness and emptiness and accept my father’s death. In the loss and emptiness I can feel his love and my capacity to care and remember the times when I felt loved and comforted.
Rambling on… probably going to be rambling for awhile…
Skypilot123………………… Feb. 24th, 2016
The C30 has been a haven this week. Pop is back in the hospital with breathing issues. Been going back and forth in the C30 three, four, five times a day. So hard to watch someone you admire and love struggling, doubled over, eking out small breaths. I usually leave after his breathing has returned to some regular pattern. Sometimes the worry and concern about him and all my other projects can overwhelm me.
But, then I jump in the C30. Put on my favorite tunes or listen to the radio or The CBC comedy program and imagine I am on a great road trip. The Pacific coast. The Crowsnest Hwy. In the imagining I can bring myself to reality. – That life carries on in the suffering and pain. – That I don’t have to dwell in that story all day long. I’ll Be Okay.
Just one of my narrative tactics so I can be the person I want to be for my family and friends when I get home or to the hospital.
A New Years Eve thought and ask.
I have found that one of the things I do a lot of now is drive my Pop to his medical appointments. He likes riding in my C30 because it makes him feel young like he’s in a sports car. He is going to be ninety-one this coming year. He is frail but strong. He is slower but still thoughtful.
He says it is quieter in my C30 than their car which mom still drives around and he can hear me better sitting in my car. We talk in a language all our own. Part English, part Japanese, part nodding and not hearing, part letting the other person sit in the patience of not really hearing the other person but understanding anyways. Kind of seeing ones self as the other and not worrying about bothering with the real words so much. It is a relationship we have developed over many years.
My Pop loves Canada. Pop is 90 now and is hard of hearing and has some trouble walking. He has an enlarged heart and his heart specialist says he is a miracle because his heart is only working at 30% efficiency. But, it is his team of medical support that has created this miracle. He goes to his doctor who is of Chinese descent. He goes to his Respiratory specialist who is of South Asian descent. His Urologist was from England but retired. He checks in now with a young female doctor born in Canada. His heart specialist is of Jewish descent. His pharmacists are a team of women at the local supermarket of Asian origin and they take care to make sure he has the right meds. His hearing technician is of Asian descent and she always takes time to talk with him in Japanese. Pop likes this. Our neighbours are Caucasian Canadians of many years and they always check in with us when they see Pop walking. His great grandkids are of mixed decent and bring him lots of joy and one carries his name. Little Hayao he calls him. With all this help and support and love, I am sure my mom and pop will make it well into the 90s.
I kid him and say he has the United Nations of medical support. He says this is one of the reasons he loves Canada. People from around the world are here helping each other. Only in Canada, he says. I say in Richmond for sure. Despite all the killing and wars around the world it is stories like this that give me hope that one day we can all learn to live together peacefully and help each other enjoy our short time on this Earth.
I keep thinking that if we all learned that we are living out stories that we have created for ourselves and not to be so judgemental of others we would have a lot more peace on this Earth. But, that is a difficult ask in many troubled parts of this world.
So, on this eve of a New Year I wish for peace and love for everyone I know and those I have yet to know.
Alan
The mice are eating my cars. I was looking under the hood of my C 30 today. I found more mice poop and some gnawing marks on some of the foam and rubber pieces. I was horrified. I’m sure they are peeing everywhere as well. I had heard of this happening to others but never to me even though we have lived here for close to 40 years. I read that some mice like to chew on insulation material some of which is made from some plant based materials. I also heard of this ruining car electrical and ignition systems which ended up costing the owners a lot of money to repair.
I live in an older home without a garage so one car is outside in the carport and the other is in the driveway. During the cold Canadian winter the mice are looking for food and shelter. I don’t blame them, but they are eating my car. One day I found a tea bag on top of the motor. This was going too far. Not only were they eating at my car but the mice were having tea parties in the engine compartment. Sipping from the tea bag and having cute mice conversations.
“How was your day, dear?”
“Fine, except I had to drag that darn tea bag up here! Nearly broke my back!”
“Just take a sip and you will feel better.”
I had to do something. I did not want to hurt the mice. I Googled “mice problems” and found out that I was not alone and there were many solutions listed online. I bought a sound emitting device that was supposed to make noise at a frequency that mice do not like. It did not work too well. I found more even more mouse poop in the engine compartment. Perhaps, it was music to their ears and now they were dancing on the motor. The mice were probably laughing and singing mouse songs like “Three Blind Men” as they were sipping on fermented teas then peeing on the starter motor.
I bought some live mouse traps. There was bait in a little plastic container with a short maze in that would trap the mice and then I was to drive the captured mice at least 2 kilometres away. Relocation they called it. I liked that idea. I put some delicious barbecue chicken in the device and waited for morning. I tried this for a week. I never caught any mice and more plastic was being chewed away. They probably thought the trap was some kind of party game. The last one out of the maze had to chug on the tea bag.
At this point I was ready for some kind of truce or negotiation. If I could, I would meet with the mouse leader and discuss the situation with her. I think of mouse communities as being matriarchal societies. I could imagine a high pitched mouse voice telling her clan what to do.
“I need that tea bag up here! No here not there. No over more.”
I would find out how I could help her and her family survive the cold winter. It must be a hard existence I would say to her. But, I could never catch or even see the mice. I could not find away to communicate this with the mouse mum. I thought of making a mouse home for them to use but I knew my neighbours would be horrified. And, the pooping and peeing and chewing continued.
Finally, in desperation I used mouse bait. These contained mouse poison which the mice would eat and then go home get sick and die. I hated the thought of this. I couldn’t use the snap traps that would kill the mice or maim them. At least with the bait they could go back to their burrow or nest to die.
Unfortunately, this worked. Each night for 2 weeks I would place the mouse bait containers under the hood. After a couple of days I did not find anymore mouse poop in the engine compartment.
But, in this latest cold snap the mice are back. I will have to use mouse bait again. Maybe it just makes them sick and they think they have mouse hang overs and are holding their heads, lying down in their nest saying things like; “Never again…”
I consider the mice to be pests but I know I am the real pest in this world. I’d rather live in harmony with mice and spiders and the many animals that live around me. But, there are enough of them and only one of me and I can’t let them eat my car. Skypilot123
I’m sitting in the Steveston Coffee Company having a latte this morning. Frank, the owner, is working hard making up the orders. Lattes, mistos, teas etc. But, he’s a dad too. Working at being dad in the evenings and whenever he can. I’m here talking with him about supporting the Judo tournament we are hosting at the Richmond Olympic Oval.
Steveston is rich in history. Commercial fishing. Farming. Japanese Canadians. Scots. And many others. Many stories shared and written. Archived. And, still being researched and storied to this day.
But, that time has 
passed. It’s being put away for safe keeping. Museumed for all to access.
Now, Steveston is home to many families and businesses living life out here at the mouth of the Fraser.
I’m curious about the details, like how Frank got to this place and time. But, I don’t want to interview him. These are things I’d rather learn in genuine, informal conversation.
Turns out that Frank is originally from Singapore and was in the military. He did some martial arts training there as part of some British foreign unit.
I tell Frank that the tournament at the Richmond Oval will not really help him because it is relatively far from Steveston. He should support the fall tournament which will be held at the Steveston Community Centre. He would get more attention from that crowd.
I bump into Erica who has 2 sons that attended Steves Elementary while I was principal there. She brings back so many memories of the 6 years I worked there. She was always full of life. I find out that she has earned her welding certification and is now in the process of finding work in the field. Given her positive spirit, I am sure that she will find a position somewhere soon.
It is important to love where you live. People like Frank and Erica who have invested in Steveston by setting up a home and business here ought to be supported.
Skypilot123
Somewhere, when I was emerging out of my teenage years I was fooled into thinking that I ought to be on some grand, singular journey and if I did not know where I was going I will have failed. School, society, media, all seemed to present this as the life story to be lived. Get a job. Have a family. Make sure you have a retirement plan. Then, freedom at 55. In this way I would be making my contribution to society.
I fell in to this pattern early. Teacher, wife, kids, not so good at the retirement savings though. This all seemed simple enough except that whenever I took a risk – a side trip off the safe, beaten path and going on some road less travelled, something interesting or wonderful happened. I was nervous facing people in new situations but when I did, I made new friends. When I took side trips in my studies I had to work harder but I learned about the importance of narrative studies. When I had to make myself more vulnerable to others, I hated it, but the conversations became richer. It seemed to me that side trips breathed life into my life.
Today, I took a side trip to visit my sister on Saltspring Island. My sister and I had wanted, for many years, to meet and talk with other school administrators about the work we do but we never had enough time or the time never seemed right. With more time on my hands now I was ready to listen and write.
The day was beautiful and the air was cool and fresh. The drive out to the ferry terminal was clear and smooth. Life seemed transparent that morning. I was apprehensive but it was going to be alright sharing thoughts and ideas and stories about public schools with friends I had not yet met and I would be sharing some of my self.
From the Long Harbour terminal I went directly to my sister’s school in Ganges. One of the first students I met was a student wearing a t-shirt that read “Love Where You Learn”. This happened to be the motto of the school. As I walked throughout the school this theme permeated all my encounters. I met teachers and educational assistants who where engaged and deeply committed to the learning process. They were keen to share their teaching and learning with me. I met students who were and having fun learning. The administrative staff of the office were polite, dedicated, and ensuring that the school was running efficiently and effectively. I did not visit with the intent of making observations like this. I could not help but notice and enjoy.
We met at my sister’s home near Southey Point. A beautiful wooded area on the water. Perfect for having a quiet discussion. I made some notes as we talked.
1. Reflective Practice: Safety and confidence are important so confidentiality (root word is confidence) is important. What is shared and discussed should always remain in the group. No judgements but questions and observations help the conversations to progress. As we listen we are always evaluating and making judgements, so we need to edit our comments. Feeling safe allows everyone everyone to be vulnerable to discuss our deepest feelings about our work as school administrators. If we are not vulnerable we cannot reach the roots of our work.
Reflective Question: “What does it mean to be a learner?”
2. Context and background and setting are important. Sometimes when we are in our workplace we just accept where we are living as the way it is. If we stop and listen, observe and consider the setting, we can find opportunities to enhance or improve our schools and the way we work within them. I was amazed at the diversity of assignments on the island. I was used to schools in a district being quite alike except for the names. I came to think that If one can understand the context and setting of the work, one can work towards improving the learning situation and the working conditions.
Reflective Question: How can we create a school setting where we; “Love Where We Work”?
3. Administrator as Learning Leader: I understand how the constant daily “busy ness” can keep us so busy that we feel we are only managing. We feel we should be doing more supervision and working with teachers. What is understood by the term supervision? Supervision can mean a kind of oversight of the work. It can mean “super” vision – somehow we can see beyond or deeper or through things. It can mean we are in a hierarchical position over staff. This is a lot for one person to carry. One word can have many symbolic meanings – because we give every word or name a metonymic interpretation. What meaning of supervision do we want to give our teachers and staff?
Reflective Question for me was “What does it mean to be a learning community?”
4. Implementation: How do we become the changes we want to see? How do we change conversations into actions? Some important narrative features of the implementation process: A. Begin with the values in mind. Bring the whole school community into the conversation. Make sure everyone is included and feels included even if they are not totally bought in. B. There is an “imp” in the very word “implementation”. There will always be the need to make adaptations and changes. Some forced implementation can cause staffs to lose connection. C. Constant conversation is needed to keep a pulse on the change. It is so important to keep track of the story for everyone.
D. Review the data both formal and informal and check to see if the implementation is having the desired effect…
Reflective Questions: “How do we get to be a learning community and when do we know we are there?”
I enjoyed my time on the Gulf Islands. Beauty, serenity, love, stories abound.
The C 30 has been a great vehicle to do part time work. It is nimble, easy to park and maneuver to places. These characteristics are important if you are not familiar with the area you are working in and if you are on call.
This year, I have been engaged by the school district to assist schools when the principal in a school without a second administrator needs to take a leave for more than 1 or 2 days. There might be a family emergency or some other need for an administrator to take some time. I have enjoyed the 3 schools that I have been at this year. The longest stretch has been for 9 days so far. The thing I notice most is that the details and faces and names may be different but the issues that come up are very familiar.
Each school had an administrative assistant that quickly helped me to learn the daily operational processes of the school day. The schools were full of happy students and hard working staff but it also did not take long to recognize the student that is quick to anger or the student that requires attention on a regular basis. There were students on fringes not fully engaged and there were students who showed great leadership. Anytime people are gathered things happen and issues arise that need to be dealt with. I felt quite comfortable dealing with discipline issues that arose during recess and lunch. For most students it was mainly about teaching them that there was always many sides to a story. It is great to be able to practice the administrative arts in this way.
It has been busy at each school and I use what I know about narrative theory in school administration to become an appropriate part of the school culture. I try my best to make a connection with students and staff quickly. I make sure that I visit each class every morning and once in the afternoon. I give the students something to remember me by. At one school during the winter I wore a red toque everyday to welcome student and while I was on yard duty. I became “the funny man in the red hat”. In another school I took my guitar around to each class and taught them some of my favourite songs. I spent time in each class teaching something. In some primary classes, it was just my quiet hello and goodbye signal. In other classes it was Music or PE. At one school I helped out with the provincial exams. I found that most students want to love the adults that are assigned to look after them. I received lots of positive responses from the students at each school. It did not take long for me to become attached to the students. I had a tinge of sadness on the last day of each assignment.
To support staff, I simply tried to watch and listen and observe. In some situations it was best to stay out of the way. Each staff had created secure learning situations and I could see the balance they had created of teaching eager learners with students that required a caring, firm hand to guide them through the day. Students on the autism spectrum require staff that know them well to do the best they can in the school setting. There were students with diverse needs in all the classes. I did my best not to upset the educational rhythm in the class. I let staff deal with any issue first before stepping in. There were situations where I did have to set up meetings with parents and staff and students to work things out.
Staff also recognized the effort I was making to connect. One teacher took the songs I taught and had students do some artwork. Another teacher sent students to the office to read to me. Other staff asked for advice about the students they were working with. I created a pattern for being principal on call: I have a lunch bag that I pack with my iPad and iPhone and the pass key. I make a lunch each day because I do not know the local situation and would not be able to get away to buy a lunch. I throw in my guitar and red toque and then I hop into my C 30 and drive off to the school. I stop off at Waves or Starbucks for a coffee or a peppermint latte and try to be at the school early to do any paperwork that needs to be done before school day starts. This allows me to be engaged with students and staff at each school during the school day.
I don’t know if any more assignments will come up but I like the idea of being on call. Called to help out at a school. Called to help a student or staff member. Called to help a family in need. Called – no line too busy.
School Administration as a calling, not a job or a career, but a personal commitment to support public education.
Skypilot123
Driving Around in My Volvo C30 