Feeling - if it feels right, it's got to be right
I got my first teaching job with my wife in Fort Resolution. That was hard. I used to dream of turning the wrong way when we went to get groceries in Hay River. Instead, I'd drive toward freedom in the south. The residential school was still standing and, although it was no longer in use, you could still feel its effects. Binge drinking was among the worst. For some kids, school was their only refuge. Which was rewarding. I taught grades 2/3 and my wife taught grades 7/8. I took both classes for gym. They loved indoor soccer. And they were good. Really good. They were also artistic. Nicola's cousin taught Grade 2 in Vernon and wanted to exchange letters with my students. The contrast in drawing abilities was stark. When my students drew a person, she had bulk and depth. A ski-doo looked like a ski-doo. Then, Nicola got pregnant. She wanted to stay home with our future daughter. I took over
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| Nicola, our eldest, and our dog, Emily |
I was given an interim contract for one year but I needed to impress to get that contract extended. So, I volunteered to coach
the boys’ junior high basketball team even though I'd never played the game
outside a few high school gym classes. The boys were excited. They hadn't a team in Viking for years. Our first game was against
Tofield, a larger school about 70 kilometres down the road. We got trounced. Not only did they know their positions, they had plays they could use to take advantage of our weaknesses. By the end of the
second half the score was a tad lopsided and my players were getting a
little bit testy. One pushed an opponent and then there was a
lot pushing and my player got ejected and you'd think that would have been
the end of it. But no, the assistant superintendent had been in attendance. We’ll call him
Biff. Biff’s son was on the Tofield team and I don’t know whether his son was
pushed or what but suddenly, my player who’d been ejected was not only barred
from the league but suspended from school for a period of three days. Lets me make this clear. There was no
blood, no scrapes, nothing more than battered egos and mostly on our side of
the ball.
My first teaching evaluation was by the superintendent. He asked me why the class had behaved so well. Good lesson planning, I suggested. He still couldn't understand. Maybe that's the reason, Biff took over my evaluation. Maybe Biff could get to the bottom of my obvious incompetence. He came in during a health class which aren’t positive experiences at the best of time. For better of worse, nobody cares about health class; not the students, the teachers, the
administration, or the parents.
For some reason, I’d planned a role-playing
exercise for my grade 9 class. What I was thinking, I don't understand except that maybe, I was trying to hit a home run instead of just getting on base. The assistant superintendent in Ft. Resolution had come in to my grade 2/3 class while we were making butter. This was an enrichment exercise tied to a story we'd read in their reader. That guy was really impressed. Biff was not. The kids did not behave. Probably because they'd never done it before. I should have given them worksheets, the meat and potatoes of most health classes back then.
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| My students at recess in Ft. Resolution- always on supervision |
At the end of the lesson, Biff had no suggestions nor did he ever visit my class again. In May, he called me into the assistant principal's class to inform me that my contract
wouldn’t be renewed. When I asked why, he told me that it was a gut-feeling and
he trusted his gut. He said, he liked to shoot from the hip. I had been given no written feedback for my evaluation nor was I being given a reason for my dismissal apart from the fact that he trusted his gut. I called him unprofessional and he exploded. After the health class, he said he'd told me to phone if I had anything to show him. I asked him how I was supposed to interpret that. He said I should have known. I told him that I would have known if I'd actually received something in writing. He told me to get out. I think he was afraid he was going to hit me.
I couldn't understand his outrage. After all, I was the one being fired. Weirdly, losing that job was one of the best things that happened in my life and that of my family. The staff was great but the principal was an idiot. He was the president of the local ATA and I was the school rep so we drove to Ryley for the meetings. On the way back from one of these things, I complemented him on his Toyota Celica. He interpreted this as meaning I really wanted one. Then, he dropped me off at our house which was one of the biggest in Viking. I could feel the air go out of his balloon. I should have had him drop me off at the school. Our next conversation took place in his office in the evening after he'd had one too many drinks. I can't remember what he said because it made no sense. He definitely didn't like me anymore.
Biff's explanation for my dismissal stuck as a gut feeling was just so stupid. Making
decisions based on a gut feeling and shooting from the hip seems to be quite
the fad lately. During the presidential debates, many of us wondered about
Donald Trump. Everything seemed off the cuff like he couldn’t even read. Obviously,
that was what a good chunk of the American population wanted. Someone who spoke
to them. Someone who didn’t think. Someone who just felt. Someone who shoots
from the hip because guess what, he’s “like, a really smart person.” That's why he doesn't need daily intelligence briefings. Not because he has the attention span of my goldfish.
So, this is my theory. We can’t make
decisions based on religion. Nobody understands science. So, what’s left.
“Feeling.” I was intrigued by an interview of
Trump supporters by Jordan Klepper for the “Daily Show”.
One guy in a “United States Army” ball cap says about Barack Obama, “He acts
like a Muslim, he talks like a Muslim and he does the Muslim principles as far as
the jewelry’s concerned.” “Jewelry?” Jordan asks. “Yah, certain months he
doesn’t wear his wedding ring.”
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| A whole book? |
Of course, the ring accusation is ridiculous. There’s no prohibition
against wearing jewelry during Ramadan and the reason Obama was not wearing his
wedding ring during that brief period in September of 2010 was because it was out
for repair. Besides, who could give a care if he was Muslim? (which he’s not.
Let’s be clear on that.) Naheed Menshi, the mayor of Calgary is one of the most
popular mayors in Canada. And this is Calgary, not exactly a hotbed of liberal
thinking.
Mr. Klepper ends his interviews with Trump supporters by wondering if
they could back up their theories with “iron clad sources.” So, when he asked
three people about their sources, one older lady replied, “just Facebook or
twitter, everything” and Jordan rephrases her statement by saying that she just takes all the “facts and bullshit
and . . . put[s] it all together” and she nods her head and replies, “yah.” To an older
gentleman, he asks, “outside of no proof, what proof do you have” and the
gentleman replies, “I don’t have any. . . my opinion” and finally, a younger
lady replies to his question, “Do I have proof? No. Do I have articles? No,”
and Jordan sums that up by saying “Your mind is made up without any
information” and the segment ends with her reply that, “My mind is made
up.”
This stuff fascinates me. How can people be so sure about a man and his
ideas that they know nothing about? Trump’s the kind of guy that I meet at the
bar or at an uncomfortable social gathering and he’ll be holding court to a group
of guys, or worse, talking to me and at first, he sounds somewhat reasonable.
What he’s saying sounds ridiculous but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe he has support for his theories. And then, one theory leads to another
and I realize, this is all bullshit and all I’m thinking is how do I escape. But, the Trump
supporters not only tolerate the bullshitter. They like him and want to believe
him. It feels right and so it’s got to be right. Just shoot from the hip and hope you hit the right target.
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