Weathered

This is how the dry summer and deep-freeze of winter ages things. It bleaches exposed wood and leaves the shock-red of paint still showing even after decades left to the whim of wind and sun. It leaves a history for me to find on my walks with Sanford. Not so in rainy Vancouver, where the rain demolishes abandoned wooden buildings and the plants eat so quickly over their shallow remains.

There's a light dusting of snow on the ground that came overnight. The first of the year in town. Good for tracking animals. Up at dark I light the fire, put the water on for tea. Drive up to Bralorne after forcing down some it's-too-early-to-be-eating oatmeal and get in the truck with my friend and the guns. His quad is strapped to the pick-up bed in case we have to pull a dead animal out of the bush.

We drive down an old logging road that is an artery for some of the backcountry I have climbed on skis. The same road where I saw my first moose last winter. I wonder if it is still alive. He tells me stories of growing up hunting with his father, with his brother in-law on horseback, of the moose and deer. The cab of the truck smells like burning fuel.

I spill my honey-laden tea on my lap, on my fingers, then wonder about what happens with the blood. I know that it will be sticky if it gets on my hands. In the end there are no shots, there's no blood, no game. We did follow a couple of wolf tracks, and caught up with them around a bend in the road. He stops the truck, looks at them in the sight of his .33. Two huge, black Sanford-sized wolves that stick out against the snow like peppercorns would on top of a pile of salt. We watch them for just a moment before they notice us and dart off the road into the thick bush.

Later we check the swampy places for moose tracks. Nothing. No deer. No grouse. No moose. Just two wolves, which is plenty to see in my opinion. You could almost see their scary wolf faces from where we were. Could almost hear one growl to the other to "look there's someone there!" in a snaky wolf voice with death on his tongue. They were HUGE and absolutely beautiful.

We will head out again on Friday, and maybe then I will see where the line of my comfort is drawn. But maybe not; I am also okay with just watching for wolves.

Breaking the Ice

I've been writing every second day over this weekend, as it felt like I was just beginning to break through the ice and getting to the meat of the story at the end of my shorter writing sessions. And I'm certainly not one to push myself past the words that are absolutely necessary after I have already put in a long day of work at the school. Not at this stage anyway. Still getting to know the storyline, the characters, still meandering and rambling, and I am okay with that. Rambling means more words.

Tonight I hit 20,000 words in the novel draft. So far the words still come with ease, like cutting through butter that has been sitting out on the counter all day, but I also let them come out sloppy and disorganized and misspelled. Sitting down and getting started is the more difficult part, although I have a little evening routine--stoke up the fire, kettle on for tea, some chocolate. My life here is full, and so I have much to draw upon for inspiration, and the more I write about this life the more I realise how intriguing it really is to be living here like this, as a member of this small community. I consider how much we really know about each other, or think we know. And in that I am starting to find a voice, full and strong, that seems to scribe out the nuances in the lives of others. I'm not sure if I am writing for an audience someday or if I'm doing this just for myself; what I do know is that I am having a wonderful time humming along in the writing of it.

It is writing about me, yes, but also not, as there is much imaginative elaboration in the words. In the end only I will know which parts are true and which parts are embellished and added to, or are changed just enough to push them off the fence and into the lair of fiction.

This weekend I have spent a lot of time walking with Sanford, splitting wood, playing the guitar and painting. It is finally winter outside, at -10 in the morning and warming to just below freezing in the afternoons. Sunny, and the air is pregnant with the crisp smell of snow.

Today there was a Remembrance Day ceremony at the local Gold Bridge Cemetery. A good dozen people turned out. Poems were read, names from the plaque to honour the fallen from this area were read. Some unfamiliar faces. It's always exciting to be meeting new people even after living here for more than a year.

I'm going hunting with a friend tomorrow. I have no idea how it will all sit with me, this killing and gutting of an animal still steaming with the breath of life. I feel that since I do eat meat I would rather be involved in the preparation of my own food, therefore pinning the consumption of it to a life that I have taken, rather than putting the responsibility for the death of my food out of my hands. Rather than purchasing a sterilized version of meat on a styrofoam tray wrapped in plastic, I want to remember that what I am eating was once a living, breathing animal rather than remaining blissfully unattached to this reality. And the animals slaughtered for purchase in stores live lives much more horrendous than one lived by a wild animal out grazing tonight on woodland plants. Perhaps this line of reasoning seems strange to some of you, but I want to be aware of where my food comes from, and want to learn how to get it myself, and if I want to eat meat I need to be okay with taking a life. Not that I am doing any shooting tomorrow. I'm just going along to observe and help in the gutting, if I am even able to. I suppose I will learn where my comfort levels are, and this is the whole point. I'm sure the experience will make me think twice about wasting any of the meat on my plate.

Word Count

Eleven-thousand three-hundred seventeen, so far with relative ease. Now finished day six of the thirty day novel-writing marathon as part of NaNoWriMo. Apparently week two is the tough one. I'll let you know.

Still participating in activities in other areas of my life in addition to the daily word count. Enjoying splitting wood, keeping the wood stove burning, heading out on some drizzly walks with Sanford, researching grad schools, keeping up with fruitful email banter with good colleagues and friends. 

In school tomorrow we are making our own video that goes with the famous "Monster Mash" song. We storyboarded out all of the scenes, looking line by line at the lyrics of the song to decide what kinds of images we should be filming. We have assigned roles of costume/makeup, director (me for this first movie), actors, cinematographer, editors, choreographer. I even made a clap board with erasable scene and take areas, just to get the full effect. 

Our refrigerator box--which was first a spaceship, then a coffin in our Haunted Corner--is now transforming into a robot. 

Working on creative projects is a great way to practice multiple skills and to get everyone in the room involved in the same learning activity with each student participating at their own level. It's also nice because students can try on different roles in a project, starting with something they feel comfortable with and branching out as the project continues, or on the next similar project. And the talk amongst the students is AMAZING! Sometimes I just sit back with a pencil in hand to record all the intelligent ways they are solving real-life problems that arise as they work. I am proud that they now ask each other for help rather than running immediately to the adult in the room (me) to mediate the situation. When this happened at the start of the year I tried to respond with, "well, I'm not sure how we could fix that. Let's bring it up with the group to see if we can solve it together." I tried to then model how to ask for everyone's ideas and talked my thinking out loud as I considered all the options that were suggested. Ultimately the solutions, whenever possible, came from the students, rather than from me, and I hope this showed them that they really do have the ability to solve complex issues if they work cooperatively as a group. They already hold the knowledge within themselves if they remember to take the time to stop to ask for ideas and to have a discussion about it. It's definitely an ongoing process, but so far this group is great at relying on each other and valuing the input of each member of the group.

In writer's workshop we are working on creating powerful openings. The Ks are working on adding details to their stories, and on listening for the sounds of things in their pictures and matching those with letters they know and copying words from around the room. Very fun with children, who still have much of their imaginative spark in tact. They are also incredibly good at "thinking outside of the box", for lack of a more original phrase. Or, as in our case, they are good at thinking both inside the boxes, and out of them. (Hahaha... aren't I funny? Get it?)

Sweet dreams all. Thanks for taking the time in your busy day to be interested in what I am up to. I do appreciate it :)

Play Again - Documentary

You've gotta check this out. It's a two minute trailer for a documentary entitled Play Again, which, from what I gather, looks at what childhood behind the screen has become: one devoid of regular daily interactions with nature, and follows a group of young participants as they get back to nature and discover things about themselves that they just wouldn't be able to indoors. Some of the quotes from the children participants are shocking, yet relate to what we hear all the time as educators: kids are spending the majority of their waking hours inside. Let's get them out!

I'm going to try to host a screening for my community here, and possibly one in Lillooet too. The pie chart was especially illuminating for me. Really puts the amount of time kids spend in the virtual world into perspective. Take the two minutes to watch and tell me what you think. Which parts of the trailer stand out for you?

Click here to be directed to the official Play Again website.

NaNoWriMo

National Novel Writing Month, known as NaNoWriMo for short, is here: November! Obviously I am feeling like I need a bit of a push to get this novel finished, so I signed up to write a novel, 50,000 words, in the month of November. You are considered a "winner" if you make it to the word count, which frees up the creative mind to write complete garbage. You allow yourself to write a "shitty first draft" as Anne Lamott puts it succinctly in her book on writing, Bird by Bird. A highly recommended read for you writer types. If you have any books you'd like to suggest, please leave a comment.

Part of the tricky thing while writing is to get the editor side of your brain to shut off while the creative side is let lose on the page to scribble and meander and play. The editor is the part of your mind that worries about your writing being interesting, worries about spelling, and tells you that your ideas are completely boring and unoriginal and who would even want to read them anyway!? Who can write with such pressure?

So it's day four, and while I haven't finished my writing for the day, I have been getting at least 1,700 words in over the last three days. To get to the 50,000 I need to type at least 1,700 words each day, or double up if I miss a day. So far so good. Lots of ideas, lots to say, lots that is waiting to be found if I keep looking, like the layers of bark peeling back around the trunk of a trembling aspen. New layers are just waiting to be found, and if I run out of material I have the ten or so journals that I have been filling up with ideas for years at my disposal. Now is the time, and I am certainly seizing the days.

Outdoor Classrooms

Schools are already doing what has long been a dream of mine: holding class outside! Click here for a great article about an outdoor kindergarten class in Victoria. Since moving here I feel a lot less constrained to keeping students inside, which means I am able to teach in a way that is closer to my own beliefs about learning: that learning happens deepest when in direct connection with experience.

This philosophical belief is something I hope to pursue in my master's. I'm going to apply to a couple of programs in B.C. and then take it from there. The more I think about it, the more I think that now is the time! I'll keep you posted.