Shaking Shakespeare (and Education)

 Last week, CBC‘s Q hosted Stephen Marche, the author of How Shakespeare Changed Everything.  In feedback and letters, it came to light that some school boards have removed Shakespeare from their grade 9 and 10 curriculum, citing it “too difficult” for students.  I’m not surprised.  As an insider to education, removal of difficulties and increasing the pass rate (and Ontario scholar production) is an unspoken mandate for many boards, administrators, and schools.  Some of these increases, mind you, are due in part to the ever-widening toolchest and psychological knowledge mindful educators possess: but not much.  Education is slowly turning into a shopping game — largely thanks to the importation of business leaders as Directors of Education, and more importantly — and further back in history — a consumer culture coupled with the inculcation of the Education Quality and Accountability Office.  EQAO reports are increasingly used as school-to-school comparators in a time when student enrollment is declining, and schools (sometimes in four boards in a given area) are hungry for more kids.  In this environment, we wouldn’t want to *challenge* learners.  That would make things too hard, marks too low, and numbers too small.  And repeated exposure to challenge would only serve to give students tools and experience in overcoming difficult tasks.  Allowing pampered Canadian children to become able to tackle adversity seems a political anathema.

I have great thanks and respect for the many educators who have refused to relax the rigour in their courses, and adequately table those “hard” offerings (not necessarily by subject — more by teacher) that make things difficult for a purpose.  There is a level of thought and rigour out there to which students need to be exposed, at any grade or educational stream: otherwise we’re keeping them in the dark, which has never been part of a teaching mandate.  Teaching is to prepare students adequately for their next level, whatever that may be.  Not to pamper or deceive them.  (Teaching and expecting students to tackle the “hard” ideas also does wonders for tempering the growing overall sense of entitlement that students — and their parents — seem to be expressing these days).  It boils down to the two camps: those who think schooling is about the market.  And those who think it’s about education.

But back to Shakespeare: In the bard’s defense, I recalled — on CBC’s The Debaters — an episode on Art vs. Science, where Ryan Belleville gave the following summation:

Art is the mouthpiece for imagination; it is the fuel for love; and it stands the test of time.  Five hundred years later, we’re still quoting Shakespeare; and no one here can remember who invented the Betamax.

As a scientist, educator, citizen, and parent, I can agree.  Challenge students.  Keep Shakespeare in.  Amen.

Bretzels

Getting ready for more camping.  They’ll be great for breakfast with jam or for lunch with a sandwich!  Based off of a LCBO recipe here.

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Why Camping in a Trailer is Good for You

We moved from tenting to trailer camping this summer – yet another indicator that I’m softening in my years.  In an effort to manage the learning curve, we camped in it for the better part of two weeks as school was winding to an end.

The benefits:

1. You are conscious of water use in a way that you never are at home, and never were in a tent.  It’s a mindfulness that carries over to home for me.
2. Our camp ground did not come with wireless internet.   Being unplugged has its benefits.
3. Fishing (benefit #1).   Water, two sons, and a host of catch-and-release: smallmouth bass, pumpkinseed, perch, and bluegill.
4. Swimming at the beach (benefit #2).
5. Walking and (for the kids) biking.
6. Camp fires are still camp fires, regardless of what you actually camp in.
7. Trailer campers are every bit as friendly and helpful as tent campers.  Beautifully so.
8. Set up is so much simpler than tenting.  So is take down.
9. Being taken care of by students you once took care of yourself (at the camp ground and the trailer sales place).
10. The realization of how small a home can be, and still be a home.

The deficits:

1. The farm suffers.  Weeds.  (Although saving weeding up for a frontal assault instead of a daily chore has its benefits, too).
2. The peonies bloomed and fell without us.
3. The birds ate every single sour cherry off the vineyard’s cherry tree.  I had plans for those.  So, I guess, did the birds.

Guess I know which one wins.

Post-Lent, Post-plastic

So I managed – for the most part – to go plastic free for lent.  We didn’t sub out plastic-bagged milk for milk cartons, because of cost, so every time I baked with milk as an ingredient, I failed.  I also failed twice during two tournament days, when eating out was a necessity, and I decided that supporting a local Japanese/Thai restaurant outweighed eating from a plastic take-out container (but at least with wooden chopsticks).  And, when I ran out of deoderant and toothpaste, I took to stealing my wife’s (but am now thinking of some DIY deoderant and toothpaste.  I feel like I’m becoming a hippie).

The benefits?

1. We stopped buying margarine, and are now using butter again.  It’s not as bad as it sounds.  Butter tastes better, and probably makes me think more in terms of moderation.  Once we get a family doctor again, I’ll see what that means for cholesterol.
2. I now think of packaging before I think of anything else in a purchase, and what buying that packaging means.
3. I got much more into cheese-making.  My repetoire has expanded from queso blanco to mozzarella (almost – haven’t quite got the stretch right yet) to feta to curd.  Next: cheddars and washed-rind (read: stinky!) cheeses.  People are trying to convince me to get a cow, though.
4. I spend more time on making food than before lent, and enjoy the results more.  You just can’t beat home-made bretzels or no-knead bread (if you just want the no-knead bread recipe, it’s here).
5. My staple lunch – cheese, bread and fruit – gets a whole lot more meaningful when it inspires a moment of thanks and introspection before I eat it in the busy-ness of work.
6. It’s inspired some debate – or at least introspection – in a small number of people when I’ve told them about my lenten vows.  Not so much a sacrifice as a betterment, a deeper connection to what I eat and how I live, and what that means for interaction with the planet.  It was also interesting to hear comments and see faces when I explained what I was doing – from disinterested/apathetic “huh”s to “How are you going to be able to do that?”

I was okay with it.  And feel better in doing it.  So long as I don’t start growing my hair out again, and smelling like patchouli

My Canada

Is not micromanaged in a dictatorial fashion.

Is not a closed door society.

Is never tolerant, but always respectful – open to dialogue and the views of others.

May be argumentative in such dialogue, but never in a cheap-shot, mudslinging manner.

And in the same breath, deals justice to anyone that violates our Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Includes those with opinions and political interests, and does not shut them out.  Regardless of who they get their picture taken with.

Lets people dictate the issues, and trusts that management will respond to them – but not without our input first.

Sources advisors with long-term public interest at heart – not short-term public persona.

Lets representatives represent their constituents to government, not government to their constituents.  From the bottom up – not from the top down.

Has leaders who are let free from their handlers, who can debate in public, and prove their humanity, rather than bury it.

Is a country whose international representation I should be proud of, instead of apologetic about.

What’s yours?