Something wonderful happened in the biology lab this past semester. Stressed students began to laugh. The shy felt comfortable asking questions. They sometimes challenged my explanations. This spurred curious debate and conversation, and a willingness for us both to explore beyond the lesson plan. I shifted from a teacher of content to a facilitator of learning.
Post-secondary teachers are trained to be experts in their field. Yet how do we provide a suitable framework for learning? Many instructors, including myself, are put before students with scant preparation, our only model the example by which we were taught. Knowing the photosynthetic chloroplast mechanism in intimate detail may be important; understanding the best method for engaging students with this complex organelle is vital.
Students complain that their classes are boring, that teachers teach from the book, that they are overwhelmed by essays and exams. They complain because they are not inspired. The central role of the educator is to provide an enriching—and perhaps transformative—learning experience. …
Over the last several months I bought my first Mac, dived into Drupal, toyed with the Mac OS Terminal, wrestled with Radiant, coded my first CSS, and tried not to pull out my hair (good thing I have a lot).
The PC-to-Mac switch proved relatively easy, and sensible. Simple, intuitive, more stable, nearly virus-free, with quality hardware and design.
Now I want a new website. For me, web design began a long time ago in a program far, far away called Microsoft Frontpage (easy to use but impossible to follow web standards). Then I jumped ship for Adobe Dreamweaver (steeper learning curve but better-looking results). I also threw the odd blog onto Blogger (straightforward but limited in scope, and often excruciating to implement the basics).
This time around, I want my CMS (content management system) to be powerful and open-sourced. …
We live in a culture of excess. Clothes, food, books, and floss are necessities. Files, gadgets, decor, bobbleheads, Windex, hello kitty false fingernails—not so much. We are compelled to buy more, when we should spend less.
The past two years, my wife and I have sorted through every closet, box, and storage area. The result? Half our possessions set free. The experience is a cathartic—if arduous—process: choice after choice that ends in exhaustive relief. I kept certain items for decades in hopes of using them in the future. Instead, they became stale relics of my old self.
The five steps below, spoken from experience, help ensure each item in our house holds purpose. …
My favourite moment this past week arrived in the forest, along the trails of Campbell Valley Park. Ice balls on red leafs. Grass dew refracting sunlight. Forest floors verdant with ferns. No entry fee to nourish your soul. Mother Nature … Continue reading
to buy us a house
with a magnificent mortgage
I shall work
seven days a week
to help pay the cleaning lady
I will take
so we can holiday
in the hill towns of Tuscany
I will earn
the money we need
to put the kids in daycare
before their first birthday
that 6:45 to 7 pm
every second Sunday
will be reserved for our time
I will hire
so I never forget
I sincerely vow
in richness and in wealth
to secure us
We arrive at the height of raspberry season. Great Aunt Helen beams at us from the front stoop, her toothy smile at once knowing and mischievous. A feisty five-foot-three, hers was a force to be reckoned with. Our family’s annual expedition to Pentictonsix long hours on the windy, river-hugging roadpromised water slides, lakeside fireworks and long, lazy days under the radiant Okanagan sun. And yet, my fondest memories belong to Aunt Helen’s charming turquoise home and garden of towering sunflowers and immaculate rosebushes. …
In the brave world of new media, the technological jungle is full of digital snares and Facebook leeches. The clear path is hard to find. Distraction is as ubiquitous as termites in a termite mound. Advertisements wave at you like cute squirrel monkeys frolicking in the foliage that turn out to be howler monkeys in disguise. Amidst a constant din of spam and the glow of screens, finding clarity is a struggle.
I strive to find that clarity. I don’t own a cell phone. I delete chain emails and adorable kitten photos sent by well-meaning friends. In the jungle ecosystem, there are far too many links and relationships to follow, and each one that I explore has the potential to keep me from the creative pause, that realm of stillness and imagination that provides the foundation for my creativity. …
Once upon a city, where pinkies are polished, acrylic nails clack keyboards, and thumbs thumb intangible texts, touch is plastic, digital, artificial.
Now upon the lands, my fingers find the earth below our busy feet. The fine hair of roots, the symmetrical teeth of leaves, the cool scent of photosynthesis. Digits dig into fertile dirt, where bulbs are birthed and rhizomes rise. My palms hold the rich blood of Mother Earth. The work is raw and tactile, viscous and resonant with ancestral toil and sweat. Each cut and scrape is a needed reminder that our veins are filled by Her. Her bones of clay and skin of grass, scarred by machine and blade, craves the touch that too many fingers have forgotten.
My hands start to remember, what the deep roots, the supple stems, the green blades and infinite seeds and spores already know.
My hands remember.