Something Up With Which I Will Not Put

The new semester is about to start, and I am ready. More or less.

I tend to be among the first to order text books, prepare course packages, and submit course outlines. I respect deadlines. I like to know that the "big" prep is taken care of, and that I won't be frantically making copies ten minutes before class begins, or trying to find texts to work with for two weeks while the bookstore tries to track down my last-minute order.

(All of this is notwithstanding unforeseen and uncontrollable issues, such as being assigned courses after the deadline to submit orders, or publishers who discontinue a text but don't inform their customers, or unscheduled machine maintenance at the printshop that takes two weeks... all of which I have experienced firsthand.)

I also spend about a day planning the schedule of major assignments for each course, from which I reverse engineer the reading schedule, and then the quiz schedule, and so forth. This is actually one of my favourite parts to getting ready for the term - I can see the whole semester, planned and precise, and I feel ready. I know where we're going to be by the end, and the path to get there is clear.

Here's where the "more or less" comes in...

It's usually right after I plot the semester, and have that little glow of readiness, that panic sets in - what did I forget? Is there a ped day/holiday/scheduling glitch that I have overlooked? Is there some personal commitment that I have now scheduled a heavy correcting load on top of? Have I scheduled too much? Not enough?

The next wave of panic comes along about then, when I try to figure out how to cope with the first two or three classes (I am convinced I have written about that minefield already, but I cannot find the entry...) and stay on schedule, as opposed to doing next to nothing for a week and a half and then playing catch-up for the next fourteen weeks.

And, as usual, the final wave of panic - how to keep the semester on track despite all the other things I'm trying to juggle? Things are winding down with one project, but I'm submitting my research proposal today for my M.Ed., which means (fingers crossed) collecting and analysing data this semester, and then there's the Liberal Arts curriculum project - I love this project, but so far it keeps getting pushed back onto that back burner by things like cegep a distance and major school change. This semester, though, it has to be front and center.

I'm ready... more or less.

I've said it before, I will say it again - the Internet is a wonderful thing.

One of my recent net gains (get it?) is the wealth of long-lost friends I've reconnected with through Facebook. I resisted social networking sites for a long time, primarily because all the invitations I got came from students. While I love my job, and most of my students, I don't really think I - or they - will benefit from seeing their celphotos of the bathroom floor of some downtown club with lax doormen.

But then one shiny morning I got an invitation from a long-lost friend. A grown-up. So I bit the bullet and signed up for Facebook.

Lo and behold - this is where they're keeping everybody! It's like Toronto, but on-line. Everyone's there. I have reconnected with high school friends; coming from some one who steadfastly ignored all the 20-year reunion hoopla because "anyone I want to see I see pretty regularly, thank you," this is a big deal. I had forgotten how many great people I went to school with, and I am glad to find them again.

I have also rediscovered friends from my bachelorette days - former roommates, university and college buddies, and theatre cronies. Once upon a time these people were part of my daily life, and it's kind of a shock to realize how easily we lose those people. It's nice to know that it's just as easy to find them again.

One of these is my dear friend Lisa. She and I were once thrown together in a host of theatrical affairs, but once I stopped working in theatre, we lost touch. Now we're back in touch, and all of this semi-coherent babbling has been a lead up to a plug for her new blog, Blob 2 Babe. In her own words:

I eat because it's tasty!! I'm a Taurus, a sensualist by nature. I wanna see, hear, touch and smell stuff and if I like it, I'll taste it! (For all of you that don't think food makes noise - ladies and gentleman, I give you SIZZLING BACON. I rest my case...).

My problem is sheer inertia. This body has not moved too much in two years, so really what did I expect?

But it's that moment, and we've all had it, when we realize that the mirror we're looking into isn't at the carnival. It's an average mirror and this is what we look like.

Yikes! Eep! Yow! And finally, WTF?!?!?

So I've decided to take control and embark on a sane, no-nonsence, slow and systematic course of action. Good old fashioned excercise; cardio, weights, and some yoga thrown in but mainly for the cute clothes. I do not relish the prospect but if I have folks cheering (or jeering) me on, I think I might manifest my destiny of babe-dom.

Not only do I think that Lisa is a good, fun, upbeat writer, I can relate to her objectives, and I believe in the power of going public. After all, 2153 days ago, I started publicly counting my days without smoking, and that seems to be going well.

So go read, enjoy, and cheer, please.

Many years ago, before our kitchen was "done," we had no cupboard space, and I used the top of the fridge as a makeshift storage area. I kept two or three baskets on the fridge, filled with bags and boxes of spices, lentils, noodles, and the like.

One fine summer afternoon, the back door was open to allow the sun and fresh air to come in - and the wildlife, apparently. My friend and I walked into the kitchen to discover a squirrel perched on top of the fridge, reaching for a bag of walnuts.

He looked at me. I looked at him. I said "those are not yours. Put that down and move along."

And he did... my friend promptly dubbed me "Reasons with Squirrels" (a la 'Dances with Wolves').

Now I may have to trade that title in for 'Cat Whisperer.'

About a month ago, the Domestic Goddess rescued three kittens and their mother from under her neighbour's porch, and brought them to the Animal Health department at the college where we both work. The Animal Health people cleaned up the kittens and spayed the mother, then DG took the kittens to her mother's apartment as a temporary home.

The mother, according to the Animal Health experts, was feral and the best thing to do was to release her back into her territory, i.e., the neighbour's porch, since she'd never be tame enough to adapt to living as a pet. I offered to take her home and house her in our downstairs bathroom for a couple of days while she recuperated from the surgery.

So, hissing and spitting and yowling, she spent the first night in our bathroom. The next day, I found her curled up in the sink, and although she hissed at me, she didn't make any aggressive moves. I fed her, and left her alone. Two days later there was still some hissing, but there was also this:

Perhaps not so feral, after all?

Within days, I was leaving the bathroom door open and she was rubbing against my legs when I arrived with food. The next step was to open the laundry room door so she'd have access to the whole basement - and she quickly discovered the cat-friendly access to the large storage closet, and took up residence on one of our suitcases.

She's been here almost a month now, and we've gone from hissing and growling to purring and kneading. She's keenly aware that there's another cat in the house (although Heidi is either completely oblivious or completely secure in her position as Number One cat), so she's been very cautious about exploring upstairs, but I think it's safe to say that it's only a matter of time before she's sitting on Colin's homework and demanding water from Dr. T at 3 a.m.

Her name is Mehitabel.

Twenty years ago, I was in a very different place. Geographically, I wasn't very far from where I am now, but personally, I was light years from here. My students now weren't even born.

Twenty years ago, I didn't know I was a teacher. I didn't know I was a mother. I didn't know I was a wife.

Twenty years ago, I was just starting to rebuild a relationship with my mother, after a turbulent adolescence.

Twenty years ago, I was a student, exploring the world and all it had to offer, if I would just take it.

On December 6, 1989, a very disturbed man walked into the Ecole polytechnique and destroyed 14 lives. Those 14 young women, whose only transgression was being intelligent and female, never had the chance to discover the world or themselves.

They didn't know. They didn't know what the future held - how many babies never happened? How many innovations were never conceived? How many rifts were never mended?

They didn't know that being a woman was a crime punishable by death.

They say that time heals all wounds, but I think that what really happens is that time smooths the jagged edges, so it's not quite so painful. The pain is what teaches us - we might not remember, really, just how painful it was to stick our hand on the burner, or to put our tongue on the cold signpost, or to stub our toe against the coffee table, but we learn. We learn to put on the oven mitt, or keep our tongues away from cold metal, or to walk around the table.

Time will not, and should not, heal the wounds of December 6 1989. I hope we're still learning from that day.

Geneviève Bergeron
Hélène Colgan
Nathalie Croteau
Barbara Daigneault
Anne-Marie Edward
Maud Haviernick
Maryse Laganière
Maryse Leclair
Anne-Marie Lemay
Sonia Pelletier
Michèle Richard
Annie St-Arneault
Annie Turcotte
Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz

It seems that the only thing spreading faster than H1N1 - a.k.a. the Swine(less) Flu - is hysteria.

I blame the government, for once, as opposed to the media. The media, it seems to me, has done its level best to deal with the onslaught of 'updates' issued on a regular basis from Health Canada, the WHO, and, here in Quebec, the Ministry (whose web site it, it must be conceded, very useful and informative).

While the government has issued several statements regarding the relative mildness of this strain of flu, they have responded to the initial global panic, which started in late spring (remember? That was when anyone who had been to Mexico for Spring Break was shunned and people started wearing face masks on planes), by rushing to release the H1N1 vaccine in vast quantities.

This is where the story becomes the stuff of disaster movies. The release of the vaccine is a complete fiasco. Initially, the public was told that there was a strict priority list - but then any public official who spoke on the subject assured us that no one would be turned away from a vaccination centre, even if they were not pregnant, chronically ill, or otherwise immuno-compromised. As a result, everyone showed up on Day One, those who should have been top priority were turned away, on-hand supplies of the vaccine were depleted in record time, and people kept tripping over the headless chickens.

So now the public officials are saying that the priority list is being strictly enforced, so anyone who's not 'high risk' should stay away from the vaccination centres.

The problem, however, is with the vaccination centres themselves. Whose bright idea was this anyway?

Here's what should be done: the vaccine should be given to all school children in school, the way the Hepatitis and Gardasil shots are distributed. Boom - all the school age kids whose parents want their kids vaccinated are done. The same could be done at all Cegeps and universities - at least once every semester, the same campuses host Hema-Quebec (the provincial equivalent of the Red Cross) for the blood drive, so surely an on-campus vaccination centre is feasible. In the same vein (ha ha), vaccination centres could be set up on-site at any business with, say, more than 500 employees.

On-site centres, like the blood drive model, could be set up quickly, run for one day, and the be dismantled and sent on to the next site. We could hire nursing and med students (and give them a chance to practice with needles and crowd control) to staff the travelling centres.

If we set up this kind of distribution plan, we would have a significant segment of the population vaccinated within two weeks, rather than two months. The remaining members of the population could easily be vaccinated at smaller, local centres, like our several CLSC walk-in clinics.

I have two kids - one of them is high-risk, because he has asthma and a number of allergies. The other one is home from school for the second day because he has the flu!

There is no way that I am going to venture into the three-ring vaccination circus at this point. My younger son will either get the flu from his brother, or not. At the first sign of respiratory distress, I'll bring him to the emergency room. It seems to me that the overcrowded ER, and the long wait we'll no doubt have to endure, will be a walk in the park compared to the vaccination centres - not to mention that despite his "high-risk" designation, my son is not eligible for the vaccination for another ten days. Too bad he's not a hockey player in Calgary.

The fact is - as the media, to their credit, have been trying to tell us - H1N1 is a flu, and like most strains, is mostly harmless. Yes, there have been deaths, but there have been far fewer than with more common strains of the flu - yet the vaccination panic makes it seem like H1N1 is the Black Death revisited.

At the same time, I've heard otherwise-rational colleagues warning people not to get the vaccine because it's full of mercury (it's not) or it's untested (it has been tested).

Bottom line? Get informed, and don't give in to panic. If you think you might have the flu, don't rush to the ER - start here.

Don't think I am not taking the H1N1 issue seriously - I am. It's in my home, and my son is very much on my mind. We are being vigilant. We're just also trying to be rational.

Be healthy, in body and mind.

I don't think I have an single full-course post in me at the moment, but there are few tidbits I'm willing to share...

1. Further evidence of the suckage of Dell
Following my traumatic relationship with the sexy Dell laptop (I fell for its looks, but like most gorgeous creatures, it was fickle, unreliable, and ultimately a failure in the hard-drive area), I naturally 'unsubscribed' from the usual barrage of software update notifications, promotions, reminders, etc., etc.

I have now unsubscribed three times.

Unsuccessfully.

So on a weekly basis, at least, I get happy fuzzy e-mails from Dell.

Ok, I know that e-mail is relatively innocuous, but my Dell experience was bad (for "bad" read "unf&^%kingbelievably frustrating and stressful). I don't want to hear from Dell. Stop calling me, dude. It's over.

2. I can still see clearly now, although some details are apparently fuzzy
Four months, exactly, after my laser eye correction and I am still reveling in being able to see without glasses or contacts.

I was so pleased with my experience that I wrote the clinic and gushed a little. As a reward, they made me a patient mentor (as in a mentor to patients, not a mentor with patience). Ok, I'm fine with this idea, happy to talk to pre-surgery candidates about my experience, yada yada yada. Except they keep referring patients to me whose prescription and other details the clinic claims are like mine - and so far they are over 50 and wear bifocals.

3. I caved
I made the mistake of going to the welcome back to school corn roast and annual general meeting at (what is now only) Robert's school - the school where I have been chairperson of the Governing Board for the past year, a position I was determined to give up.

Well, the real mistake was going to the meeting alone, without backup. Naturally, the principal cornered me, sweet-talked me, fed me roasted corn... I was helpless. So I'm back for another two years, albeit with promises to accommodate my schedule and stress levels. We'll see. Stupid corn.

*the zombie snack of choice

A friend recently contacted me, and a few other friends who are also parents, and asked for our input - she has a friend who has a one-year-old child, and who is struggling with the decision to have another, or not, and when. After I sent in my two-cents, it occurred to me that I could share this fiddling small change with the rest of you.

I realize none of you actually asked, but until you DO start suggesting topics*, this is what happens.

So, here's what I sent to my friend - and I'll forward any insight from the comments, should any be forthcoming:

I have two boys, 25 months apart, and although sometimes we sit back and wonder what the heck we were thinking, the benefits outweigh the hard work.

I am the oldest in our family, and my sister came along when I was seven - my brother another six years after that. So when I left home for college, my mother still had a pre-schooler! From our perspective as kids, we felt like we didn't really know each other. My sister and I are friends now, but that took some doing as adults. My brother is practically a stranger. From our parents' perspective, it must have seemed like an endless cycle - just when you finally get one through toddlerhood/childhood/adolescence, here comes another one, and another after that.

When Dr. T and I decided to have kids, we specifically decided on plural, and I said I wanted them to be close together. We actually aimed for something like "Irish twins" (there was a non-starter conception between the two boys).

Sometimes our house is non-stop chaos, but there are plenty of reasons I'm glad we ended up with our boys - they are close enough in age that when one has a friend over, the other can join in without it being an "imposition"; they have each other, not just at home but at school and at extra-curricular events; they share games, toys, books, jokes, bedtime, homework routines, and so on... When they were little, it was hard work sometimes; unlike my parents, though, when we were finished with diapers we were really finished with them. Chicken pox was a one-time occurrence at our house.

Now that they're older, they're developing their own interests, but they still spend most of their spare time together, even if it's not always daisy chains and singing ;)

Colin started high school this week, so for the first time EVER they are in school at different places, taking different buses at different times - and for the first time I am actually worried about them getting to and from school, because they don't have each other. Of course, my worries are pretty much groundless, but hey, mums gotta worry!

So, to summarize - two is good, close is good. (wow, that was waaay shorter than the first part)

*which is a neat idea - reader-generated topics! I may regret this, but feel free to send me something to write about. If you ask nicely, I'll even try to avoid ending my sentences with prepositions, 'cause I know they freak some people out.

A few minutes ago, I updated my facebook status as follows: Maggie quit two jobs in two days, and feels AWESOME.

Panic has ensued, which, in a weird way, makes me feel loved. I think I have issues.

But my friends and I aren't getting any younger, and I don't want to stress anyone's system more than necessary, so an explanation is in order.

I should start by saying that I did NOT quit my actual job, as a college English teacher. In fact, for those who missed that announcement a couple of weeks ago, I just got tenure, so I'm not going anywhere for a while.

I should also amend my original statement, in the sense that I didn't actually "quit" anything:

Job #1: Content expert for the development of an on-line/distance education English Literary Genres course
I was hired for this almost three years ago, and at the time, was faced with no teaching for the winter semester, and no real guarantee of full-time teaching in the following semesters. This contract seemed like the perfect stop-gap - it involves taking one of my pre-existing courses, and developing the content, assessments and pedagogy for a self-directed learning package. Since I wasn't teaching in the winter, I'd have plenty of time to write content, create assessments and the accompanying tutor/marker guides, and so on.

Ah, the best laid plans...

The project director was hired by another institution, so my direct manager was promoted, and a new manager was hired. Naturally, this whole management shift took a while, and all the ongoing projects had to shift their timelines to compensate - so all of a sudden I was being asked for lots of work, but about six months had gone by - and I was teaching full-time, fall and winter. I panicked - but the new project manager was very understanding, and we compromised by hiring a co-author.

This was great, particularly since the person we hired was a spectacularly competent friend I know from Vanier, and she was looking for work she could do from home so that she could justify extending her time at home with her son, beyond her mat leave.

For the winter semester, this worked fairly well - but I still found myself checking the caller ID on my phone, nervous that it was the project manager calling to remind me of deadlines or outstanding course elements; I got nervous when I checked my email for the same reason. I spent a lot of my summer "vacation" working and worrying about the project - in fact, I spend a significant number of hours on one section of the final chapter, only to be told that none of the material was necessary, since it had been covered elsewhere by my co-author.

Suffice it to say that my stop-gap had turned into a big ball of stress.

So yesterday I called my co-author and asked her how she'd feel about taking on all of the remaining work, with the remaining money, obviously. Turns out she was thrilled to have a bit more work while she's still at home with her son. I called the project manager, and while I suspect she was not entirely surprised, she was very understanding, and tada, it's done.

I'm still involved in the sense that I will be available as a consultant while my co-author works on the remaining material, and that I'll review the entire course when it's, well, entire, so in that sense, I did not "quit." But I quit!

Job #2: Chairman of the Board

Two years ago, I was encouraged to become a member of the Governing Board for my sons' elementary school. I accepted the nomination, and was elected (to a two-year term as a parent representative) by the parents on hand at the first school gathering of the year.

Now, as a former high school outcast, being elected to anything at school is, like, wow. You like me!

Initially, this added commitment meant an evening meeting once every month, which wasn't too arduous, even if it did mean limiting myself to one glass of wine with supper, instead of getting roaring drunk, like the rest of the week. But then last fall, our chairperson was not re-elected, much to everyone's surprise, given that she'd been chair for years.

Another parent nominated me as chair, and I accepted that nomination too (I know, I bring it all on myself really. I can't say "no." That's how I ended up with the two sons in the first place). I was acclaimed (which is really cool, except that no one else wanted it, so, well...)

Again, this wasn't a particularly arduous position - a little more prep time before the monthly meeting, but that was spent with the principal, who is an awesome lady, and whose educational/global philosophy is just like mine, but more articulate.

But then, at the beginning of 2009, the school board announced a Major School Change consultation. Anytime you've heard some lunatic ranting on CBC/NPR about the school board and the government threatening to close schools, change programs, move students, etc., that's Major School Change. As the Governing Board, we have to attend meetings with the school board, meet with other schools' GBs, draft proposals, consult our fellow parents, and so on.

Ack!

This was, quite literally, not what I signed on for.

Now, as it happens, my two-year term as a parent rep is up, and I would have to be re-elected to continue on the GB. So I sent the principal an email and said, as nicely as I could, that I was not going to accept the nomination this time. So, technically, I did not quit, I just didn't seek re-election. But I quit!

Jobs #3, 4, 5 and 6: the ones I didn't quit
~ I'm still teaching full time, and loving it - three courses, 120 students... but I'll write more about that some other time.

~ I'm getting ready to present my proposal for my M.Ed. research. I'll be gathering data this fall, and writing my thesis next winter.

~ I'm also preparing and heading a project for our Liberal Arts program, with the aim of creating a more interdisciplinary and coherent program.

~ Despite all my other commitments, my family hasn't kicked me out, so there's the whole wife and mother thing.

So, yes, I am a free(er) woman. Maybe I'll even have time to blog :)

Summer vacation is fast coming to a close - I'm already putting together my framework for the coming semester, printing outlines, planning the first week of classes...

So it occurred to me that I should probably get my act together and post some photos from our grand European excursion. In the four weeks we were there, we went to Wales, Scotland and France, and made several day trips to various English locales, including Bath, Oxford, Milton Keynes and Bourton on the Water, and spent a lovely afternoon at the Batsford Arboretum:

The magnolias were almost finished, but this lovely flower was waiting for me.

Over the next few weeks, things will still be nuts, but I'm hoping that as a few of my various projects wind up that I will have more time and energy to think about my blog. I miss it :)

In the meantime, please do check out the photos, over on my flickr page.

...also, there is a lot of wine here. Also, bread, cheese, more bread... but the wine is the real obstacle. Blitzed blogging is perhaps not the best idea.

Paris, I [heart] you.

This summer, we are once again in the idyllic Cotswolds, reconnecting with the UK branch of the family. As always, Dr. T can only be with us for one week out of the four that we'll be here, but the boys and I are well taken care of by his side of the clan.

As the most recent member of the family, Layla, arrived about four weeks ago, we were expecting a rather relaxed trip, what with the whole "just gave birth" thing. However, in the week that we've been here, we've already:

- attended a medieval festival in Tewkesbury, complete with battle reenactment
- made our annual pilgrimage to Bournton-on-the-Water's model village
- eaten at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant in Oxford
- toured the Corinium museum in Cirencester

Tomorrow, we're off to Raglan Castle in Wales, and on Friday, the boys and I will take the train to Glasgow to spend a few days with my grandmother. The rest of the month will be filled with trips to Milton Keynes, London and Paris.

But the highlight of this summer, as it has been for the last two, is the scenery right outside the front door of the house*.

Granted, being here has made me appreciate having kids who are no longer infants or toddlers, not to mention having my own bed, in my own bedroom, but the bottom line is that I lucked out in the in-law department. My sister-in-law is someone with whom I have a great connection - not surprising, really, given that her brother is Dr. T and her mother is TWGMIL (tm), but wonderful, nonetheless.

I had a longer post planned, and partly written, but I goofed and inadvertently shut down the computer, after which there was supper, and dessert, and wine, and tea, and, and, and... so I'm posting mainly for the benefit of Dana ;) But there will be more, certainly - in fact, Colin now has his own camera, so there are two of us recording it all for posterity.

*There are loads more photos from our first week on my flickr page.

We're off to the UK on Tuesday evening, and I am in my traditional just-about-to-pack-but-not-yet phase, in which the simple act of getting dressed becomes terribly complicated because I might want to pack that t-shirt, so I can't wear it now.

This situation is newly exacerbated by Colin, who has been asking, every day for at least two weeks, "should we start packing today?"

Further complicating matters is the fact that the UK is apparently experiencing some weird heat wave, which is anomalous with the past three summers we've spent there, which have been cold and frequently damp. Obviously, I have to pack for the hot, dry weather that seems to be happening, but based on previous experience, I also have to pack for cold, damp weather.

In past years, I have tried to be minimalist in my packing, with the strategy that a quick trip to one of the myriad charity shops will fully supplement my wardrobe for the duration of my stay, at the end of which everything can be regifted to the very same shop. This is, of course, a brilliant plan, but in actual execution has proved to be seriously flawed, primarily because the selection of clothing at the charity shops is, naturally, limited and frequently amusing/terrifying. So the result of the carefully-laid plan is that I end up spending a month in the same pair of jeans and increasingly tattered t-shirt, insisting that we go shopping again, like some kind of deranged treasure hunter who believes that this next expedition will be the lucky one.

So this year, in an effort to appear slightly less shopping-mad, I am trying to pack as if there are no charity shops, or Marks & Spencer, or Clarks, or BHS, or woolen mills, and so on, so that our visit can be about reconnecting with family and celebrating the arrival of Layla, the newest member of the family, rather than about me channeling Becky Bloomwood.

One might think that since there are three of us travelling, and we're each entitled to two checked bags, that the obvious solution is to get six suitcases and cram them full of everything we own; however, once packed, the six suitcases would then have to be transported to the airport in one car, then retrieved by one adult at the baggage carousel at Heathrow, manipulated onto a coach, and then stuffed into an even smaller car for the final leg of the journey - not to mention the inconvenience of having six suitcases in active use in a relatively small house for four weeks.

Mind you, my in-laws are relatively laid back, and if the weather really is hot and dry, maybe the solution is clear - I have to convince them of the benefits of life au naturel.

Then all I'd need to pack is sunscreen :)