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Bicycles, attendance and the purpose of education

Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon. ~ Edward M. Forster

So I’m listening to a piece on CBC a couple of weeks ago regarding an idea someone in British Columbia has of licensing bicycles. Essentially, so the argument went, if people had to license bikes, thefts would be reduced, people would be more responsible, etc., etc. I’m sure most of us could come up with a rationale for such a thing. Personally, I don’t have a well-developed opinion on the matter. I don’t own a bike and I’m not familiar with the challenges bikers face. I have to say that, from the perspective of a motorist, bike lanes seem like a good idea. But that’s about it when it comes to my thinking on bikes.

The people interviewed on CBC, of course, had far more to say about the issue than I could be expected to have. Of greatest interest to me, for the purposes of this particular blog, was the alternative suggested by someone that bicycle use and all the associated concerns (whatever they might be – as I said, I’m no expert of any kind in the field) should be rolled into a course that would be offered in the public schools. Since any proposed bicycle law was viewed as difficult to enforce, having schools develop and institute a bike curriculum was felt to be a better approach. Let’s leave that for a moment.

I haven’t been teaching in over five years now so I’m not quite as tuned in as I once was to what’s happening in schools these days but my attention was captured just yesterday when a bus went by with a lovely poster announcing, on behalf of Anglophone School District South (our local district), that student attendance was important. That jogged my memory. I recalled that I had heard and/or read another article that was summarizing the push that was being undertaken to improve student attendance, something that was equally an issue when I was still in the classroom.

While these two items may seem entirely unrelated, both, in their way, point to some of the absurdities that the school system and teachers must deal with as they go about the incredibly difficult task of trying to be all things to everybody when it comes to the education of children.

A dedicated course on biking? Really? I’m not saying in any way that it is a bad thing for young people to learn all they can about bikes. At the same time, does anyone really imagine that amidst the many demands already placed upon the system and the teachers who labour there that adding just one more thing doesn’t make so much difference? Think again.

From virtually the onset of my own career as a teacher, though, – over 30 years ago – I’ve watched schools be considered as the natural repositories of responsibilities that might have, at one time, been deemed inappropriate for an educational setting. From courses with such names as “Family Living” through “Outdoor Pursuits”, the very idea of a school has moved far from its original conception as a place where young people went to learn basic skills that would enable them to succeed as citizens in adulthood.

Please, don’t mistake my intentions: much of what has been added as far as curriculum goes has a place and can be easily defended. At the same time, the notion of the school as an agent of socialization has come to mean more than, in many cases, the acquisition of knowledge and/or skills. The emphasis on inclusion at the expense of virtually any other consideration (discipline, learning environment, effect on other students, etc.) is the clearest example of that.

This latest push on attendance, though, is another manifestation of how expectations and the means of meeting those expectations seldom line up. When I saw the poster on the bus telling anyone reading it that student attendance mattered, I couldn’t help but chuckle. DUH! Does anyone question for a second that it matters?

At the same time, from my own experience, I felt the pain of those who had to devise a campaign for this big push to improve attendance. Over my time in the classroom, I saw any number of attendance policies come and go. At the core of all changes was the conflict between those who believed that only if some kind of consequence was involved could attendance be improved and those who insisted that it was all about making school more attractive to those who tended not to come.

When I am confronted with the reasoning of the latter group, I confess I want to weep. These are the “school as socialization” theorists who picture human beings as eager learners who somehow get turned off when they are actually expected to be responsible for something. Never mind that as soon as they leave the cozy confines of public schools, a very unforgiving world expects a great deal.

As for the attendance policy here in New Brunswick, all attempts to encourage attendance must be undertaken in the face of the stark reality that not attending carries no consequence. To be clear, if I am a student and I choose not to attend class, the most I might suffer is a letter telling me I should come. Granted, the longer-term cost of no education is not being factored in, but you get my point.

Initially, the argument was floated that poor attendance was the fault of teachers. They just weren’t interesting enough or something along those lines. Happily, we’re not so far gone (most of us) that we would allow that “opinion” to hold sway.

In different ways, both the bikes issue and the attendance policy point to how disconnected and confused we are when it comes to what we imagine schools can and should do. At one time, I would argue, society’s expectations of a school system were fairly clear. Over the last 40 years, especially, those expectations have diversified to the point where no one could easily specify just what they are except in the very broadest of terms. And as we all know, it’s difficult to arrive at any destination when we don’t know where we are going in the first place.

“The collective wisdom . . .”

Miranda: Oh, brave new world, that has such people in’t.
The Tempest 5.1.188-9

Portions of Miranda’s line from The Tempest have been used in many ways through the years, most notably – and ironically – as the title of Huxley’s dystopian novel, Brave New World. References to Huxley’s work can’t help appearing whenever a political change comes which seems to usher in an era of great promise. As I read the reactions to last week’s election victory by Justin Trudeau and the Liberal party, I couldn’t help smiling. I had been bothered by the course of this election for quite some time and I was glad it was over, a widely-held sentiment, I’m fairly certain, from sea to shining sea.

I don’t think anyone needs me to wax poetical about the power of optimism and hope, but the contrasting campaigns of the election serve to illustrate how it can work when the time is right. Please note that last part: when the time is right. We would be practicing a form of revisionist history if we failed to acknowledge that, in other circumstances, negative campaigns can be very effective. Just ask Stephane Dion or Michael Ignatieff if you doubt that. The number of campaigns south of the border scuttled by attacks far more vicious than anything we would think of mounting in the Great White North are legion.

As we heard from innumerable pundits over the last few years (if you were listening), the evidence is inescapable: attack ads work. At the same time, this conclusion, as with so many others, lacks nuance. Some make the point that negativity can backfire but it tends to be more as an afterthought than a rebuttal of the central tenet that tarring the opposition with any available brush works. As I listened to ongoing coverage of the election results, many expressed surprise, especially with the majority result. To understand, though, I don’t think you need to look beyond the central player in it all: us.

I’m never sure how well my little part of the country reflects the larger collective so I always avoided making any sweeping claims about how things were going to go as the election approached. At the same time, I was struck by the depth and ferocity of the opposition to Stephen Harper and his Conservative government just about everywhere I went. Never before had I seen anything like the “Stop Harper” campaign that manifested itself in signs, hashtags, strategic voting and a whole lot of ways about which I probably know nothing at all. While it could have something to do with the circles I travel in, the feeling was palpable, it seemed, just about everywhere other than amongst the true stalwarts among Conservative supporters. As I’ve said in previous blogs, this polarization concerns me.

My hope, now, is that this particular election proves to be an anomaly; that Canadians will, by and large, return to the moderation that was celebrated in the media on the days following the election. The bitter rhetoric and enmity of the campaign was replaced by articles complimenting the rapid concession from Mr. Harper and his congratulating Mr. Trudeau while affirming that the electorate was always “right”. In turn, the two leaders appearing together and cordial while laying a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier reminded us that we were Canadians, after all.

For me, though, that’s where caution comes in. The Liberal victory has an inevitable character in retrospect. Alone among the three major party leaders, Justin Trudeau hitched his wagon pretty much exclusively to the mantra of hope and change and, quite simply, people were ready for that, longing for it, in fact. People, by and large, want to feel good about themselves and their choices. For the moment, I’m with them. Most people I know seem cheerier this week and that can’t be bad.

But, as I said, we’re the constant through all of this and we will come to be dissatisfied in time with whatever and whoever ends up doing things that we don’t necessarily like. The grumbling will start and eventually a day will come when the current government will be swept away to a chorus of voices shouting about the need for change. If I’ve learned one thing, “change” is the one constant in every election at any level. And yes, it’s a good thing.

At the same time, I hope we can hang on to the images and the editorials that were so much kinder to the departing prime minister and his government than anything seemed to be during the campaign. I’m not absolving Harper from blame for much of it, either. History will tell that tale as time goes on. I remain, however, fearful of Canada becoming too much like the United States where your opponents become the enemy within rather than just someone whose opinions differ in certain ways.

Canada is a special place to me. Maybe I’m just another Canadian buying the propaganda but I really do think we are better than most at getting along and allowing for differences. The extremity of some of the rhetoric on both sides in this now-concluded election has concerned me. I hope it was of the moment and that my Canada is the gracious one I saw over the past week. As a Canadian, that’s the best I can hope for. Even Canadians, after all, are only human.

The future is in our hands

And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense,
That keep the word of promise to our ear
And break it to our hope.
Macbeth 5.8.19-22

Finally, it’s over. I’m not sure how much longer any of us here in Canada could have endured election rhetoric. We’re not like our southern neighbours. Nothing in my experience could prepare me for the 2 and more year marathons now commonplace in America. In so many ways, we are so lucky here. I hope we consider that particular good fortune if we feel like complaining at length over just how interminable the finally concluded Canadian version felt.

And now that Stephen Harper is set to fade into memory, reality will begin to come home to roost. I’ve been scanning the media this morning and, as expected, the message of expectations vs. reality is already playing a prominent role. My bringing it up isn’t original in any way. It’s important to note, though, especially for the sake of those who came out in a big way (or so it seemed to me and others) for the first time, namely, young people in general but many of them first-time voters.

I served as a novice Deputy Returning Officer yesterday and, I have to say, I truly enjoyed it. Some of the highlights were the few new Canadians who were so apparently pleased to be casting a vote. Their pleasure was obvious but so too, quite often, was that of the young people who came as a result of the concerted get-out-the-vote campaign that seemed to me driven largely by the unifying disdain for the now-departing Prime Minister.

And depart he has, in a fashion quite unexpected by just about everybody. I can’t recall any credible predictions of a majority government for anyone and certainly nothing of the commanding scope given the Liberals under Justin Trudeau. If I’m one of those young people who helped to swell the turnout some 7% above what it was in the last election, I have to be impressed. I’m feeling today that the always seemingly tired notion that your vote really can make a difference has more truth to it than I ever imagined.

As a returning officer, I saw that satisfaction a lot last night. I made a point of congratulating people, especially those who seemed new to the ballot box, when they dropped their ballot through the slot. I was inspired watching it happen. Such a simple process and yet, at the same time, such a profound exercise of social consensus and civilized action. Expecting perfection of any system invites disappointment so I never fall victim to that. As I’ve probably expressed before, I always used to think that Churchill’s caution about democracy being the worst form of government ever devised by man, except for all the others, was just witty.
I’ve changed my mind on that one. Not unexpectedly, it’s just as imperfect as we are.

But it really is the best we’ve got and I happen to think Canada is, in general, one of the best practitioners of it. As the quote from Macbeth suggests, though, I fear what expectations unfulfilled might do to the new optimism and sense of empowerment that I detect in the aftermath of Trudeau’s resounding win.

Over my last few blogs, I’ve focused in different ways on my fear of Canada’s drift toward polarization of the American variety, where those who oppose you are vilified as the destroyers of worlds, or at least of the economy, democracy, etc. I’m all for reasoned objection; I just wish it could be reasoned.

Justin Trudeau, to my mind, is to be commended for avoiding, for the most part, the tactic employed with increasing ferocity as the campaign proceeded by the Conservatives and somewhat by the NDP as well. The message, essentially, was that a win by the opponent would be catastrophic in some way. While such a message might tend to play well with the hard-core supporters, the average person, to my mind, is skeptical. You might even say, most people are just too “Canadian” to buy into the catastrophe scenario.

At the same time, those opposing Harper painted him in irredeemable colours that left no room for any allowances being made. It became an all-or-nothing proposition. I hope, with him gone, that that fades and we return to a more balanced assessment of the political choices we face as a country.

The first challenge for the new government will be to hold the interest and commitment of those who “voted for change”. If things slip into the usual morass of qualifications and “buts” and other factors that tend to lead to disillusionment among those who had high expectations, I fear whatever gains we might have made, especially in terms of engagement among the young, could be short lived.

But for today, I’m inspired by my experience as a Deputy Returning Officer. I watched a steady stream of people come forward and cast a ballot believing that what they were doing was significant, important even, and, as I’ve always believed, they were right. The trick now, from my perspective, involves keeping that belief alive. Our future (always has, always will) depends on it.

A poem of Thanksgiving

As anyone who knows me would tell you, Alden Nowlan is a favourite poet of mine. I have always been amazed at his ability to mine from the simplest of situations – sometimes from bizarre ones, too – the deepest of truths.

It’s Thanksgiving Day in Canada today so I’m busy with all things to do with that. Rather than my usual, lengthy missives on something I hope is relevant, I’m going with Alden and this one observation on love, something that is the core of virtually everything we choose to celebrate collectively. Make of it what you will and Happy Thanksgiving!

The Masks of Love

I come in from a walk
With you
And they ask me
If it is raining.

I didn’t notice
But I’ll have to give them
The right answer
Or they’ll think I’m crazy.

Drawing the line: the complicated process of real debate

Dislike of another’s opinions and beliefs neither justifies our own nor makes us more certain of them: and to transfer the repugnance to the person himself is a mark of a vulgar mind.
– John Lancaster Spalding

The debate around the niqab that has now become a strategic element of the national campaign (how effective an element is, itself, a matter of considerable debate) provides a classic example, for me, of an issue that lends itself well to the oversimplification that I like to spend time decrying. It manages to engender strong, emotional reactions: it has religious implications; it is a “women’s issue”; it can be framed as a personal freedom issue; it potentially raises questions about the nature of Canadian identity. Chances are I’m overlooking some other way of framing the debate that deserves consideration but I’ll stick to these four.

Certainly freedom of religion and religious practice constitutes one of the commonest defenses of just about any behaviour that might be viewed objectionable or outside the norm (assuming anyone could ever say just exactly what the “norm” is). It would never occur to most people that such things as hairstyle, clothing, assigned days of rest, food choices, modes of address, – all things that have, by some, been claimed as elements of religious conviction – should be challenged. It is only when a claimed religious conviction comes up against competing ideas that are considered of greater and broader significance that objections become significant.

The most obvious example, recently, would be all things surrounding gender identity whether it be gay marriage, gender reassignment surgery, or other related issues. Certain religions have very strongly held views in opposition to such things (note the county clerk in the U.S. who wouldn’t issue marriage licenses to gay couples because it violated her version of Christianity), but the law, in such cases, increasingly sides with those who see such things as natural and inoffensive.

Interestingly, to me, the niqab manages to raise even deeper questions in some ways. When it comes to sexual orientation and gender issues, we are, here in Canada and the U.S., on solidly Western grounds. As a civilization, Western culture has been moving inexorably toward secularism at the expense of religiously based “norms” for quite some time now. Yes, a vocal opposition commonly raises objections as the law moves ahead with gay marriage and other LGBT concerns, but that train has left the station and few could imagine turning back.

The niqab comes from a culture outside of the experience of the average Canadian. While I can remember a time when the young girl who got pregnant disappeared for a few months or maybe was moved altogether in order to “protect” all concerned, I have no frame of reference which allows me to evaluate a woman’s desire to continue to wear the niqab. In the case of the young girl who is pregnant, I am glad we have developed sufficiently as a society to accept such things and seek to aid and to assist in whatever manner might be deemed appropriate. Ostracizing is no longer a choice, thankfully.

But the niqab? For personal, religious reasons a woman asserts that she wants to wear the niqab. Am I correct if I look at the context in which such a practice is common and say that the wearing of the niqab manifests that religion’s subjugation of women? Should I then be able to ban the wearing of that article because it butts up against the higher moral principle of personal freedom and the equality of persons that Canada, as a country, might tend to assert? At the same time, how can I miss the inherent irony of insisting that someone conform to something as proof of their freedom from conformity?

Nevertheless, we do place limitations on immigrant cultural communities whose practices are viewed as “going too far” you might say. When it comes to sharia law, for instance, some have made efforts to allow for sharia law to be applied in parallel to the Canadian Criminal Code, as long as its application was restricted to those who chose to live by those cultural norms. Shouldn’t they have the “right” to do so if they wish? By that logic, honour killings should be allowed as well. As a general rule, the core limit we place on practices we might otherwise defend on the grounds of religious freedom or something else, revolves around how much such a freedom would affect others without their consent.

In the case of the wearing of a niqab at a citizenship ceremony, the even larger issue of Canadian identity is raised, generally along the lines of “why should anyone conceal themselves at the moment when they are joining the Canadian family?” I could write an entire blog on the manifold assumptions and unstated premises in that question but maybe another day.

As I am repeatedly trying to argue, though, it isn’t simply a matter of saying this side is right and that side is wrong: it’s not a black and white issue. Personally, I’m perfectly at ease with the woman who wants to wear a niqab wearing one. Nothing of what I’ve read suggests to me that she has been coerced or pressured into wearing it. She has made a choice and even if I don’t understand the practice personally, no one is forcing me, or anyone I know, to don any particular article of clothing for any particular reason.

At the same time, the angst that this issue raises, especially in Quebec it would seem, deserves analysis. In an earlier blog of mine, I mused on the difficulty we have, as Canadians, with a national identity. The complacency that, to my mind, dominated such concerns for many years is proving insufficient to the challenges of our shrinking, connected world. As I said, if it were up to me, wear a niqab or anything else you deem appropriate at your citizenship ceremony, as long as it’s something you choose and we know who you are beforehand. But that’s me, and nothing is so simple that we can simply ignore those who do not agree just because we think our way is both right and obvious.

Can’t we all just get along?

The political machine triumphs because it is a united minority acting against a divided majority.
-Will Durant

Believe it or not, politics is not my favourite subject to write about. I much prefer education, having spent almost half of my life teaching and many additional years as a student myself. In fact, I’m back to school even now (more on that in another blog maybe). But politics dominates my thinking these days, without question. Part of that can be ascribed to my personal involvement as a city councilor and then, MLA, but I have always been interested.

Comments that have struck me recently as we approach our impending election day concern the particular horror represented by the “Harper government”. As is common in Canada, the government and its leader tend to become inseparable if they prove to have any longevity at all. In Stephen Harper’s case, though, that commingling of identity seems virtually absolute.

In my most recent blog, I reflected on what I see as Canada’s drifting toward the polarization so many decry in the U.S. and the demonization of Harper (please suggest another word if that one seems inaccurate) is just one facet of that. The three major parties go to great lengths to find the “defining moment”, the “one bad thing” that can be used to characterize an opponent. Harper’s latest gaffe is the “old-stock Canadian” comment. Trudeau has been pilloried for his remarks about the “budget balancing itself” and Mulcair’s stumbles over balanced budgets and tax hikes, while lacking that defining phrase, are a constant theme for the other parties’ leaders.

Some years ago (15 to be exact), when I was writing a regular column for the Telegraph-Journal (Saint John’s local paper), I reflected on the cynicism that I felt was taking hold in the U.S. surrounding elections. Time, of course, has only made the matter worse for our neighbour. Here is an excerpt:

There have been columns and analyses and polls and forums and I don’t know what, almost beyond numbering, all trying to get to the heart of what Gore and Bush, respectively, stand for. Little wonder: in the potentially ruinous maelstrom of competing lobby groups, special interests and political correctness neither the Vice-President nor the Governor can really dare to have a great deal to say about much of anything lest they offend anyone.

The part that I find most amazing in all of this is that the commentators and other pundits seem to think that this is not only inevitable but is, in fact, simply the “way it is.” Especially when referring to the recently concluded series of presidential debates, analysts nod sagely and remark on how well or poorly candidates have avoided, on this latest occasion, the “one mistake,” the wrong word or glance or position on an issue that might alienate the voting public.

Has it really come to this? Can the one mistake be so thoroughly devastating to a candidate’s chances? More importantly, what does this brand of analysis say about American’s expectations of their politicians? Commentators seem more interested in whether or not the particular candidate’s mask has been kept in place than they are in any substantial contribution to public debate made (or not made) in the course of the evening. Americans see validated repeatedly the notion that character is constructed. The challenge is to try and see the man behind the mask in order to determine if he even remotely resembles the persona that has been created for him.

I chose to revisit this old column of mine in order to illustrate, hopefully, in another way, our slide toward extremism. Contrary to what some might think, I am not here trying to support any particular party or view. As a Canadian, I am concerned that we are, to my mind, drifting closer and closer to the American reality where opposing political views can barely exist in the same room. While we may not be there quite yet, my recent experience suggests we are not that far away.

To put it another way, I encourage one and all to vote for the candidate or party you find most appealing. But, as you do so, please realize that you are voting for a construct. As the incumbent, Stephen Harper garners the most attention for the things he says that confirm either his flaws or his strengths (depending on your view of the man and his party). As the challengers, both Mulcair and Trudeau have far less baggage to account for but they are as much constructed by handlers as Harper.

As things stand now, the outcome on Oct. 19 seems most likely to be a three-way tie. Should that be the case, what will that teach us about those who would lead our country? Will anyone be willing to compromise? Is minority government possible when parties spend their time demonizing and vilifying opponents? Another reflection from 15 years ago: “Elections allow politicians the opportunity to convince us that beneath their desire to maintain power there is a legitimate dedication to public service.” Because of my personal experience, I know that those who pursue political office commonly do so with the intention of doing good. A minority situation just might offer the voters of Canada a chance to be reminded of that. It might even remind the politicians themselves.

Drifting toward the black and white: polarization in Canadian politics

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth
– Marcus Aurelius

Some years ago I was dating a woman from the States and, while George Bush was president (his first term), we visited some of her relatives in Minnesota. I’ve always been interested in politics, even before I became involved personally, so I was happy to engage when our conversation took a bit of a political turn. I’m not sure how it came up but the contention one of the relatives raised that has stuck with me is this: all Canadians (or anyone from anywhere for that matter) want to be Americans. According to this gentleman’s view, the rest of the world is consumed with envy. Given the chance, anyone would abandon the land of his/her birth in favour of a place in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

Absurd you say? Certainly I thought that but it didn’t take me long to realize that I would be wasting my time if I tried to develop any kind of argument to the contrary. For this guy, the world’s desire to be American was a matter of faith. If I didn’t think his observation applied to me, I was simply deluding myself. Somewhere deep inside, there was an inner American seeking the light.

This encounter was just one highlight of a time where I came to realize in a profound way how difficult it was becoming to have a political discussion in the U.S. Considering that this couldn’t have been any more than 13 or 14 years ago, it’s hard for me to believe that the radical polarization of politics in the U.S. is so young. And yet, as I say, this was just part of my developing understanding at the time that politics was not something that you wanted to bring up unless you were sure of the company you were keeping.

Flip forward to 2015. A general dismay is expressed over the early success of Donald Trump’s candidacy in the Republican presidential primary campaign. The pundits roll out any number of explanations for his popularity and, in general, dismiss his long-term prospects. While they may be right, I can’t help thinking he would appeal to my then-girlfriend’s relative. Trump’s xenophobic brand of American triumphalism is rooted in the idea that everyone is jealous of America and, since not everyone can BE American, those wannabes will spend their time, spitefully, trying to undermine the country.

To a rational person, Trump’s viewpoint seems absurd (I hope!) but, at the same time, I can’t help thinking it is a logical outcome for the divisive and extreme polarization that has become the hallmark of so much of politics in the United States. I’ve mentioned in this blog before that one of my guilty pleasures when I’m traveling in the States is listening to talk radio of the Rush Limbaugh variety. I am endlessly fascinated by how bizarrely extreme the rhetoric of the Limbaugh crowd really is. They all despise Barack Obama but it is the way in which they despise him that intrigues me. It isn’t simply that his policies are bad or his leadership ineffective; he is “destroying” America, “tearing up” the constitution, etc. Trump’s and other’s buying into the birther nonsense regarding Obama’s origins was just one especially laughable (disturbingly so) manifestation of trends that have been building for some time. As Canadians, (correct me if I’m wrong), we tend to look askance at the politics of our southern neighbor and are thankful that we aren’t like that.

Note the stylized flag

And that is the point of my musings today. How different are we? On Saturday I visited the Fredericton market and did my best to avoid the “Anyone but Harper” table where proponents are trying to mobilize an anti-Harper vote to ensure that vote splitting doesn’t allow a Conservative candidate to ride the middle to victory. On Sunday, I ran into a friend of mine campaigning for the NDP who gave me a hug while saying something about hugging a Conservative (I pointed out I am NOT a Conservative but a Progressive Conservative, a distinction that is quite readily dismissed by friends of mine who are in the anti-Harper camp). I know for a fact that conversations I might have with any number of friends come to a screeching halt as soon as I indicate that I am not ready to participate in the wholesale condemnation of Harper and the federal Conservative Party that has come to be taken as a given by those who are supporting “anyone but”.

When I started writing this blog (if you were wondering where I’ve been, I took the summer off), I tried to make clear that my motivation was to defeat the oversimplification that I believe is endemic in politics, education and virtually every facet of common public discourse. As Canadians, we like to believe that we are distinctly different from Americans in any number of ways. Sadly, when it comes to politics, we are drifting more and more toward the American model.

And let’s be clear: the federal Conservative party has had a large role to play in creating that “us vs them” approach, an approach that demands the demonization of opponents at the expense of reasoned policy debate. At the same time, those who would otherwise oppose such oversimplification are drawn into the fray. People who are generally thoughtful and open to nuanced consideration line up to sign the “anyone but Harper” petition or pledge, as though that represents a reasonable (and reasoned) choice. Demonization through ads, pronouncements, social media and any other means becomes the order of the day for ALL parties, whether constituted political parties or specific groups pursuing an agenda.

It makes me sad. As a Canadian, I have long felt that we have managed to avoid many of the worst excesses of our southern neighbours. I contend that even as those who support the “anyone but Harper” movement claim that they are acting in the best interests of Canadian democracy, they are, in fact, ensuring that we will continue our slide into the starkly oversimplified polarization that we so readily condemn when we look at the U.S.A. And that, more than anything, would be a dreadful stain on the very democracy we all claim that we hope to protect.

The best of both worlds?

There is no decision that we can make that doesn’t come with some sort of balance or sacrifice.
– Simon Sinek

One of the things I like best about where I live is the view. I grant you it isn’t one that everyone would enjoy but I don’t feel the need to sell anyone on its particular attractions. From the small deck in my back yard, I look across Courtenay Bay (part of the Port of Saint John for those of you who might be unfamiliar with the geography) to an oil export terminal. Beyond the terminal, a closer look reveals a wallboard plant, a power plant and, before giving way to natural landscape, various structures with the centerpiece flame that marks an oil refinery. In the distance and to the right, all the way to Red Head, a ridge of greenery completes the horizon, one where the moon is wont to rise and cast its light upon the bay. Full moon at high tide provides the best display, but even when the tide leaves mud flats exposed, the reflection can mesmerize.

A couple of years ago or so, when my wife was still alive, we thought about giving this place up. We looked at one house in particular, on the West Side, that had a great many features we appreciated. We went so far as to have a tour of the property and we came away intrigued but not yet convinced. I remember talking about it in the car as we were driving back home. Much of what we had seen was easy to like but we were unsettled, unsure, without knowing precisely why. We were ready to give ourselves some time to allow the impressions to settle but when we walked up the front steps, stood on the porch and looked out to Red Head across the water, any thoughts of leaving were abandoned. For whatever reason, we were attached to this very contradictory view.

I say contradictory because few panoramas offer such a stark contrast between the manmade and the natural. While Saint John has many other pockets of industry, the conglomeration of activity from the waterfront to the refinery and everywhere in between is without parallel. Among the many things I’ve learned watching the ships come and go is just how quickly the turnaround is and how constant the traffic. A ship comes in on one high tide and leaves a couple later at most. And with few exceptions, another eager vessel is waiting to take its place. Watching tugboats turn large ships displays both power and agility. Taken altogether, it is fascinating. I never tire of it.

Courtenay Bay itself provides lots to see. I follow the tide tables and thoroughly enjoy the ebb and flow. Invitations for photographs present themselves almost daily regardless of time of day or season. For all that this body of water is a commercial centre, it still illustrates the persistence of natural forces. My imagination frequently tries to conjure an image of the tidal action of the Bay of Fundy and I have my own little laboratory just out my front or back door. As I said, the view is not for everybody but I’ve grown ever fonder of it through the years.

Many people find the industrial landscape disheartening. They lament the ruination of the natural scene and I do understand such sentiments. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could eliminate all industrial blight and return the land to its original state? Environmental orthodoxy would answer quickly and forcefully “yes”! As for me, I just don’t think it’s that simple. However much we need to be responsible stewards of our environment, we need to recognize equally that the commerce I can observe on a daily basis contributes in large measure to our being able to enjoy a standard of living that is second to none in the world.

My Courtenay Bay scene provides the perfect study in contrasts. Smokestacks, the persistent hum of machinery, ships coming and going, all set against a backdrop of cold Atlantic seawater and rolling greenery stretching into the distance. As a believer in moderation, I have a hard time with extremism on any front. Those who object to industrial growth and development in virtually any form are no better than those who would ignore every environmental concern for the sake of a profit.

My view across the Bay tells me that we, humanity, are here and we are having an impact. It could not be otherwise. At the same time, it reminds me of the natural beauty that is part of our heritage, a beauty and a heritage that we need to protect. Unless we believe that abandoning all of the amenities of modern life is the way to go, we need to come to an accommodation that reconciles those two seemingly opposing views. As with so many things these days, the public debate might lead you to believe this is a stark either/or question. No surprise, it’s not that simple. “Accommodation” is the key word here, and it works both ways. Balance is seldom easily obtained but rarely has it been so urgently needed.

Religion and reassurance are hard to come by

They say that Caliph Omar, when consulted about what had to be done with the library of Alexandria, answered as follows: ‘If the books of this library contain matters opposed to the Koran, they are bad and must be burned. If they contain only the doctrine of the Koran, burn them anyway, for they are superfluous.’ Our learned men have cited this reasoning as the height of absurdity. However, suppose Gregory the Great was there instead of Omar and the Gospel instead of the Koran. The library would still have been burned, and that might well have been the finest moment in the life of this illustrious pontiff.
― Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on the Sciences and Arts (1st Discourse) and Polemics

I attended an event this past Saturday at the Main Branch of the Saint John Free Public Library. A lecture entitled “Is Islam a Threat to Canada? An Introduction to Islam in our Community” was given by Fazal Masood Malik of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community of PEI. While the numbers might have been greater, those who attended were obviously the truly interested. Altogether there may have been 30 of us and, with the exception of one person who was somewhat strident in expressing a largely negative viewpoint, we all seemed equally receptive to our host and the message he came to provide.

As might be expected, Mr. Malik’s answer to the question posed by the title of his lecture was a resounding “no”. And, through his reading of the Koran, it was easy to see why that was the answer. As Mr. Malik tells it, the prophet Muhammad, and through him, the words of Allah contained in the Koran, speaks of a religion that is tolerant of all other religions, that is dedicated to peace, both individually and collectively, and that has very little to say about the politics of any nation other than to insist that Muslims obey the properly constituted authority of whatever nation it is where the Muslim resides.

Mr. Malik developed his answer to the question within what I would describe as a very narrow window. Not unlike any other defender of a particular doctrine based upon a sacred text, he quoted compellingly from the Koran those instances where Allah condemns the behaviours that we in North America and other Western nations (although not exclusively just Western) have come to associate with jihadists and terrorists or whatever you might want to call them. In his reading of the Koran, it is quite clear: Allah does not sanction the xenophobic, monolithic imposition of the brand of so-called Islam practiced by ISIL, al-Qaida, the Taliban or any other group that fails the litmus test of compassion, tolerance and fair-dealing that are the hallmarks of the true Islam Mr. Malik came to defend.

While I was both impressed and reassured by the apparent moderate and appealing reading of Islam that Mr. Malik presented, at the same time, I left, still troubled by the prevalence of a view of Islam that seems to be diametrically opposed to the teachings I had just heard. Major Middle Eastern regimes lay claim to Islam as the authority whereby they flog some, behead others and generally deny a number of human rights that we, as Canadians, accept as a given. By the measures I heard enumerated on Saturday, no country with an Islamic heritage can claim to be practicing the faith truly and diligently.

As I wrestled with this dilemma – and I do think it is the core of the dilemma that a good many Westerners have when struggling to be fair – I thought back on my own Christian heritage. I was raised in a devoutly Roman Catholic household (a house which shared a wall with the Baptist church next door) and my grandmother seemed quite convinced that those Baptists had little chance of entering the kingdom of heaven, a chance missed by all those who did not follow the “true faith” (that being, of course, the one we practiced).

While I admit to being a lapsed Catholic, that doesn’t mean I haven’t remained interested. I’ve watched the changes that have been led by Popes throughout my lifetime. Personally, I saw John Paul II and Benedict XVI as regressive, throwbacks who wanted to reverse some of the most significant reforms of their immediate predecessors. I watch the current Pope Francis, an interesting study in contrasts, – someone who seems bent on very forward reforms in certain ways while being far less enthusiastic for others.

In my lifetime, and for a few lifetimes prior to mine, interpretations of Christian doctrine have seldom been the source of significant conflict, Northern Ireland being, perhaps, an exception, although that had become far more about political power and control than differences in religion by the time it morphed into the late 20th century. What about some earlier centuries, though? I was reading about the Emperor Constantine not long ago, specifically about one of his conquests where the entire population of a besieged city was put to the sword, ostensibly because they were not practitioners of this new faith that the Emperor had embraced.

Fast forward through the crusades and the inquisition, both examples of Christians, in the first instance, setting out to reconquer lands considered to be within the sphere of influence of Christian powers and, in the second, putting to death anyone identified as being at odds with the prevailing orthodoxy. In either case, I have great difficulty imagining Jesus as a cheerleader. Who today would seriously argue that Jesus would have been there on the front lines of the Crusades or been the guy holding the torch in preparation for the burning of the latest heretic? From the perspective of a few centuries of moderation, we might even be tempted to say that slaughtering unbelievers and burnings at the stake seem unChristian (some understatement there, hopefully).

By virtue of this parallel, I feel I can gain a better handle on Mr. Malik’s argument and, I would say, his predicament. Assuming he represents a “truer” interpretation of Islam, he is going to struggle to overcome the impact of all those who have bombed, attacked and otherwise slaughtered innocents in the name of their particular brand of Islam. What makes the radicals (and all radicals everywhere, no matter the rationale) truly frightening to me is how fervently they seem to believe in their version.

As I’ve tried to argue in all of my blogs here, the reality is far more complex than it might seem. Thanks to Mr. Malik, I have a greater appreciation of the nobility inherent in Islam. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make me any more secure in the face of those who act in its name in ways that seem just as bizarre as any Christian burning someone at the stake before they draw and quarter him/her. Understanding can only go so far. It can’t always prevent me from looking over my shoulder.

Some anecdotal musings

Misdirected focus on paperwork, on procedures, and on bureaucracy frustrates teachers and fails to give children the education they need.
– Christopher Bond

I happened to catch Cross-Country Checkup last night on CBC Radio and I couldn’t have asked for a better topic. Under consideration were Canada’s results on PISA math exams. The Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), developed by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), is one commonly accepted measure these days of just how countries are doing generally in certain core subject areas (reading, math and science). Operating on a three-year cycle, the tests focus on one area at a time. Considering that some 70 countries have participated to date, PISA offers, at the very least, a kind of comparison of school systems. The interpretation of results and such comparisons is the devil amidst those details but I’ll leave that for another day.

When I was teaching, PISA exams in English were administered on more than one occasion and the results were always regarded with what might be called suspicious interest. In my experience, real teachers – the ones who spend their time in classrooms with students rather than speculating from afar from some theoretically supported ivory tower – always view external standardized tests with a grain of salt. While I am among those who always had questions about their quality, I have never discounted them entirely. Through my work with New Brunswick’s own provincial assessments as well as with Advanced Placement exams, I am convinced that good standardized exams can provide a useful snapshot of basic skills.

The discussion on Cross-Country Checkup was the result of Canada’s less than stellar performance on the PISA exams seen in light of other studies which have argued that math and other basic skills are in decline across the country. Nowhere amidst such arguments is much room allowed for anecdotal reports but, as a retired teacher of high school English, I’m going to venture an opinion formed through years of dealing with students after they had made their way through a system that abandoned the teaching of grammar, asserted that spelling was largely irrelevant, insisted that memorization or any brand of rote learning was to be avoided, promoted writing without consideration for form: you get the picture. Guess what, over my approximately 30 year career, students proved less and less capable of reading, of writing or of anything requiring an even mildly sophisticated use of language. One way of summarizing things from my experience: tasks that I would assign to grade 11 students in 1982 were more than I could expect from grade 12 students in 2010.

But, in today’s environment, nothing gets much of a hearing unless it is supported by “research”, a term deserving of quotation marks so that I might indicate how skeptically I view research in education. Considering everything I learned when I was a student, one of the key elements of effective research was the ability to control the variables that might have an effect on results. I’ve never been entirely clear how such control is possible in something as varied and changeable as a real classroom. But that, too, is subject that I have explored previously and that I will, no doubt, return to again.

As far as math is concerned, the debate concerns what, apparently, goes under a number of names but the designation that I had heard before was “discovery learning”. In brief, this is the theory (emphasis on “theory”) that memorizing times tables and learning specific operations (think long division for those of you who remember such archaic methods) is largely a waste of time. Instead, students are supposed to discover solutions on their own, the theory being that the student who can make such discoveries will remember things better and learn more thoroughly.

Suffice to say I think this is hogwash. As it turns out, considerable “research” is emerging that supports my contention. At its heart, research critical of discovery learning argues that some foundation of basic knowledge of a subject is needed if any kind of discovery is going to go forward. DUH! At which point my mind is truly boggled. Does it really take years of meta-analysis, studies, investigations, reports, etc., etc., etc., to figure that out?!? To put it another way, it’s pretty hard to discover something when you don’t have the slightest clue what it might be you are looking for. Double DUH!

If my exasperation with all of this isn’t evident by now, you’re just not reading. Some of my greatest moments in teaching were those where students suddenly had an insight which made the work before them easier. They crossed over from accumulation of data to application and understanding, you might say (I’m doing my best to imitate a certain eduspeak with which, I confess, I have little expertise). But no such insight or epiphany was ever possible without the grunt-work that precedes such moments.

A change is in the wind, at least where math is concerned. More and more, educational systems are returning to things such as memorizing times-tables, practicing specific methods, learning the process, etc. Why is it that we can accept the need to repeatedly practice a golf swing or a slapshot if we want to improve our particular athletic skill while arguing that practice and technique are somehow irrelevant when it comes to higher order thinking?

At this point, the theorists are no longer listening. I’ve made the mistake of asserting something based upon my experience, an anecdotal report of what I’ve seen work through my years as a teacher. I haven’t done a study nor have I sought to test my claims in some clearly and objectively measurable way. In this, though, I’m a bit of Luddite. I’m happy to listen to those who have walked the walk, those who are praised by students for the impact they have had on their education, for the success such people have helped students achieve. Their methods are varied and malleable, as varied and malleable as the people who have attended school in the past and continue to do so today. When those with the power to change the system begin to listen to the honest voices of real teachers, only then will we see the improvements we all believe we need.