Education's Triple Threat

Hollywood calls them the triple threat, the collective gold standard of talent: singing, dancing and acting. Jennifer Lopez comes to mind for me in the 21^st century. In the last one, it was Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Debbie Reynolds, to name a few of the incredibly talented stars possessing this supreme magical talent. Television, stage and the big screen helped deliver these incredible 'actors' to us.

It came to mind, recently, that education has its own built in triple threat: Academics, Athletics and the Arts, the triple 'A' system of education. ... Alter this trio of gold in any way and the learning curve begins to change, sometimes, dramatically, in a downward spiral for the child not immersed in the culture of 'Triple A'.

In a system designed to educate our children, why is it O.K. that the arts (music, drama, visual arts) and athletics (team and individual sports, gymnastics- even recess!) are, simply, dismissed or worse, deleted, from a rigorous learning agenda in favour of a strictly academic focus. We are shortchanging our children -big time- when just one of education's triple threat partners is missing. Our long term wellbeing, health and success in life and workplace are threatened when each partner in the trio is not treated with respect, especially, for the youngest and most vulnerable among us.

It was important that our sons learn how to skate and swim, early in life. (We live in Canada where winter is a feature of our daily lives, several months of the year. Public skating lessons were begun) Then, there is the summer, where water sports form the basis of everyday living. (Group swimming lessons were ongoing, Spring and Fall) ... Learning these life giving skills also facilitated their learning experience. ... Even walking is athletics, an endeavour worth considering and doing, in the absence of  structured athletic programs. ... A strong focus on movement helps to build strength, in mind and body. It also allows for a brief departure from the rigours of academic learning to permit a different kind of brain workout, involving the whole body. (And as we have learned, it keeps us healthy!)

When our boys were in elementary school -our oldest in grade 5- an Arts focus program was introduced into the northern region of our school board, one of the largest in the province of Ontario. Those interested, applied. (The program's focus: motivation, participation and positive attitude.) This divergent approach to academics was heralded as a new and exciting path to learning. (Transportation to the Arts program was the responsibility of the parents.) .

We could never have afforded this concentrated 'arts' program on our own. This composite programming of music, the dramatic and visual arts, in conjunction with physical education and academics now formed the foundation of our sons' educational 'gold' package. Sadly, this program lasted 6 years before its retirement.  ...  I chose music, an elective, in high school, joined the school choir and participated in musical productions each year. ... My husband's musical experience included the completion of grade ten piano and for a few hours, one evening long, long, ago, he was the drummer for the English rock band, the Kinks, when they visited Canada in the early 60's.

The Arts, with its strong music/dramatic arts component, should be available for all children, in all jurisdictions, not just for the select few or for those where transportation is not a problem. The Arts and Athletics combined with academics bring to the individual untold health, wellbeing and success in life and work. 

When we challenge the brain through music and athletics, we strengthen our body and mind in incalculable ways, that last a lifetime. ...Let us think of the triple threat in education as a right for all children, especially, for those deemed at-risk. Bathing the very young child in a world of music appreciation, painting, dance is to begin the task of triple A orientation, slowly and methodically. It shows the world to be a friendly, familiar face where learning is an everyday occurrence and new experiences are not to be feared.

Mall Cop's Review

Diminutive 'Mall Cop', our Terrier, lay there simply wanting to chew the elk antler, the special one, the one they all wanted but he had found first, on the floor, within the chewing arena. ... This twenty pound dynamo looked at me wondering, if maybe, I wanted to chew, also. (He was polite that way. They all were, really.) 

 I sat on the floor, nearby, offering protection, just in case, the 'others' came calling, hoping to relieve him of the top pick of the moment. He chewed with great delight, this familiar yummy bone, its aroma and texture, so pleasing to all of the visiting 'dognitaries'. (When Mall Cop is There, 9/2013) As usual, our 8 month old, adult 'impersonator', 'Mr.Wiggles' was busy, nearby, pouncing, every which way, to the 'absurd'. (What song was he dancing to, this time, I wondered? I had shut off the stereo.) “Miss S', our 74 pound, 5 year old retriever, my sweet girl, seemed lost in thought, thinking that all of this was so preposterous. "Why aren't they all outside, banging into each other, so I can be alone?"  Oh how quickly we forget, my dear sweet Lab. 

Mall Cop's mini schnauzer sister was nearby chewing the other antler, the biggest one. She was always going after 'bigger fish'. It was her nature to test the limits of her tiny mandate, this 8 month old baby, 17 pound little cutie, with her four furry booties, all around. 

Looking back on my sweet Lab's early years (1-3), I am reminded how truly lucky she is that she was not traded in for an older model of something. Her antics, then, were beyond our human abilities to understand. Her eyes were always fixated upon my reaction to her daily obsession: the constant digging and finding of rocks, large and small, to be held, in trust, between the upper and lower molars of her mouth. Funny how only a retriever could detect the undetectable. 

Scanning her play area, beforehand, did little to unearth these dog 'treasures' of distinction. “Oh. Please,” I thought back then,” “Give me the rock and we'll call it even.” The game we played seemed to involve outrunning one another. (The tree was always there, never moving for a moment!) “Please, give mommy that rock”, I would beg. She understood my concern but she was having too much fun simply running amok while making me crazy, I knew. ..(Today, she is quiet, patient, and kind and oh so wise!)

The day she found the big one was a day in infamy. She looked up at me, staring into the void-which was my mind! At that point, it was strictly primal. Which one of us would win this game of grab and run? How could I catch her before she hit the tree with the paper weight of rocks in her mouth? (She could not close her mouth.) Would she destroy her internal chewing apparatus if she tripped or hit the tree? Oh My! Where had she found this current monstrous piece of dental horror? 

What had I missed? Where had it been hidden? I had been inside the house, looking at her through the glass doors when she caught my eye. She stood there motionless, glaring at me with that “I gotcha, now” look of satisfaction. This current specimen was the 'rock of horrors', larger than ever imagined and one that could barely be contained inside her mouth. I cautiously walked outside, admiring her latest find. I stood there speechless, motionless, while contemplating my next move. "Oh my!" She began to run at the speed of light or sound. I'm not sure which. (The fenced yard helped contain her whirlwind antics.) All I could do now was simply be patient and ignore her, hoping my disinterest in her momentary lapse of judgement would give way to her simply dropping this quaint piece of Mt. Vesuvius. 

I looked at her. She glowered at me. Her dental future and our bank balance were at stake. I offered her a trade. She thought for a moment, then relented. As I walked towards her, I grabbed this newest piece of rock face that had just fallen out of her sweet little mouth. I thanked her for her 'good girl' decision. We had both won this stalemate. She got the cookies. I got the paper weight. No teeth lost. No collision with the tree!. I breathed a sigh of relief, again.  

Though our retriever's annoyance with the throng in her midst was understandable, her personal truth, a step back in time, was worse than those of her assembled contemporaries. Her indignation always seemed at odds with her history. 

Three year old Mall Cop did not do the things she had done - ever. His sister was a saint, in comparison. And our Mr. Wiggles, her baby brother, was just a happy little boy, trying to be friendly and agreeable to all he met. He was an infant, after all. 

Well, my dear girl, do you remember the red 6 foot curtain panel and what happened one dark and scary night? I do! ... To think you would be safe and sound for just an hour in your cage till we returned. Ha, ha, the joke was on me. . Your 'babysitter' was too close to your 'target'. Let's try again, you sweet thing.

A Retro Revival of the Cars of Yesteryear

The re-introduction of former 'muscle' cars from a period long gone in new, more modern skins, is a testament to the incredible genius of the creators of those cars- of that bygone era. These modern day 'retro' sculptures, on wheels, are wonderful reminders of the design integrity and simple beauty of the many styles of auto history's past. ...(First, came the Thunderbird, a few years ago) ..Now, we have the Charger, Challenger, Mustang, Camaro and the Corvette, american made beauties, whose recognizable silhouettes and design profiles, are a walk down memory lane, as you travel the roads and highways in Canada and the United States of America. ...

The car makers of those cherished models have not forgotten their mandate: to give the public what they want in a newer more modern version of the original..... The integrity of today's models is a reflection of yesteryear. They have distanced themselves from the rest of the herd. ... Everything new today becomes old. So it would seem that the opposite would hold true, that the 'old' can be re-imagined and called 'new'.

Growing up in Toronto, in the 50’s and 60’s, I rarely found myself in a car. Our family did not own a car and neither parent drove. I walked everywhere or used transit. ... Few vehicles were in my life until I met my husband and began my teaching career, north of Toronto. ... Learning how to drive was done, just in time and just in case. ...With a terrible sense of direction, I would rehearse every trip for my new job, the day before I was to begin. ... Cars had to be an integral and important part of my life, then. Driving became a necessity- as it is, now, for many people, whose jobs/careers depend upon a car..

One look at some high end lines would indicate that in the process of creating lower priced versions of themselves, these brands have lost something in the process, bearing little resemblance to the original that set themselves apart from every other model, in the first place. Other than the signature plate, hood ornament or the grill itself, brand identification, on some models, is difficult to discern or ascertain. Could a tweaking, of this or that, change the design to reflect the original, in a more defined/refined way? ... Many of today's cars are incredible pieces of machinery, safer, with better gas mileage and more aerodynamic. Years earlier, the public made it known, to car makers, what they thought of the crop of gas guzzlers being sold, then. (The period of cheap gas was gone) Now, with newer innovations , design modification and with science, as an ally, car choice has never been better or greater. The retro look is now sought after by young and old alike. With new generations to serve and with a proven history, it makes sense for car makers to reformulate, redesign, re-engineer their past lineup, those proven top sellers, to bring forward a brand new crop of  these former favourites. Discarding the past, completely, makes no sense.  Simply update, re-engineer, while safeguarding the integrity of the original in look, feel and profile. Simple.......

We bought used, repeatedly, leased occasionally, then new when it made sense. ...One of the cherished vehicles of our family's past was the Jeep Grand Wagoneer, a car whose look, design and large boxy-safe- profile made it a hit with us.(Dark blue with wood grain on the outside)  When it became apparent that its use was coming to an end, I offered to paint it. We could neither afford a new vehicle, body work, nor a new paint job. (And since my husband put in 12 hour days, it made sense that I would paint the Jeep.) So it was painted, with much care and precision by me and our 12 year old son, using the carmaker's paint. Preparing the car for 'spray' painting was painstakingly done The paint job gave us another year. Then, we had to let the Jeep go. Looking back, I think about that car and lament its passing into history.  Could it return in a modern day version of itself? Could the makers of this classic vehicle, The Jeep Grand Wagoneer, revisit the drafting board and bring it back? Others did. I can only hope.

The 'Exotic' in Primary Special Education

Let's make strudel, then brioche, pretzels, ravioli, pierogies, spaetzle, to name a few 'instructive' foods. These 'things' would be easy to do and an easy soft sell where children are concerned. ..These little people, these quirky adults-in-the-making, have no preconceived idea of perfection and are willing to try anything. Strudel would be a monumental achievement- for anyone. Imagine its profound effect on young at-risk children. Unlike yeast dough, strudel would be a 'strategic' activity, a how to, in this order, sort of thing. ...At-risk children require these prudent, 'out of the box' teaching methods. Let us not be constrained by the confinement of educational doctrine. Literacy is always more important than content.

I thought about strudel, unconventionally, the other day, for the primary at risk child. Why not? Engagement should be the only criterion upon which to base the educational goals of primary at-risk children. Waiting for successful 'academic' outcomes is a moot point, counter productive- if the child is not present, is fearful, does not understand the academic goals or is not paying attention. In the learning process, the lessons of courage, trust and confidence will develop, guiding the student towards full participation in the academic life of school. ...  (Literacy and numeracy will follow, logically and coherently) ...With primary at-risk children, of whom very little is expected and about whom I have written many times since March 2012, finding a 'hook' to keep them interested is a priority of educators. (These learned 'baking' skills are not about baking, anyway.) It's about higher order thinking, plain and simple. (And yes, the momsey includes pen and paper in this learning format. The hand /pen/mind connection must never be underestimated in its power to 'instruct', 'ignite' and 'help to penetrate' the young thinking, vulnerable brain....More about this synergetic alliance, courtesy of  Scientific American, Fall, 2013)

The introduction of the exotic-(strudel)- into the formal teaching schedule along a 'side' dish of music appreciation and a 'dash' of dance, is not too much to expect. (Is this education's triple threat?)(Something about doing what we fear in order to grow both emotionally and intellectually)...The incredible internet has changed all the rules. Remember, there were rules in place before the internet came along. ...It is incumbent upon us to throw something into the day of these children to shake them up, to thrill them, to test them. ... Leading the group should also be a desired expectation, at some point. In every group, there is a leader, invisible or not, responsible for the group, in one way or another. Though I have never made strudel, I will soon. It is an ally to the learning goals of education, yet, so incredibly off the chart, where learning a new skill is concerned. Words, printing, cards, reports, questions, grammar, composition and literature would slowly work their way into this learning game towards the acquisition of critical higher order thinking skills.

During the beaver tail lesson in the primary intensive language class- many years ago- the students were always full of anticipation, wondering what was going to happen next.. Devouring these fried misshapen pieces of hand/homemade dough was always a delicious result of the lesson. It was an exercise in doing, attention, planning and thinking!. There were no behavioural incidents. Children never disappoint. They keep us on our toes. We must always be attuned, however, to their needs, much like the needs of a puppy or kitten. These 'special' groups have much in common. ... Little hands/skin and the sense of touch are connected to the brain. It is another example of experiential learning at its best. In our sons' kindergarten class, many decades ago, during the topic of cheese, perogies were demonstrated, from start to finish. The class of four/five year olds simply took over, making me so redundant. Oh, what a wonderful feeling that was! The yummy cheese packages were as good as any I have ever made, perhaps, better.

We must evolve to encompass new knowledge, new strategies about how children learn in today's modern, fast paced world. Preparing the young, vulnerable brain for higher order thinking skills is what education was intended. Only now, the rules have changed. So should the education of our most vulnerable. Strudel anyone? Let's begin...

Breaking Up

Breaking up is one of life's greatest lessons. The end of a relationship is a personal assault on our dignity and self worth. Many times it can be overwhelming. At the time, it presents itself as the worst of times. It seems to cripples us, emotionally. We must not be numbed by its intrusion but reflect on the reasons why and accept its impact. It's a period of self reflection, a period of doubt. But really, it is a gift to us, to our future, though, at  the time, we do not see or believe it. This loss of connection, and identity, perhaps, when it happens, is to humble us, to show us that something was wrong and we were not aware of it. 

Breaking up brings us back to the beginning but in a wiser mind and body format. The clouds roll in, temporarily. Then the sun begins to shine brightly, once again. We have simply been detoxed! I was dumped, unceremoniously, decades ago, on the black phone of the day, with a  ''maybe we should see other people" kind of end to a multi-year relationship quote.. It was a shock. But then after two days of mind numbing sadness, some bouts of crying,(which are non-productive, long term), I realized I had wasted enough time feeling sorry for myself. It was time to begin anew. Quitting work, school and simply staying in my bedroom, forever, as I licked my wounds, seemed somewhat stupid and silly. 

The issue of trust had been dealt a blow, of course. Could I trust another guy? Of course I could. The world is full of good, great people,(both men and women), some of whom have also been dealt blows, worse than mine. It was time to move on with the gift of life. It was a breathe of fresh air. (There are too many good guys in the world for us girls to become focused on the one who dumped us.) There were lessons to be learnt in being the 'dumptee'. ..

My weight had been a concern to him. At one point, I was a skinny 110 pounds, one day, eating lettuce and cottage cheese. Water was out of the question. It would make the scales creep upwards. It was my contribution to what he thought I should be! The relationship seemed to always hold me back, keep me in my place, a place where he wanted me to be. Within two weeks of this dramatic loss of companionship, I met my Mr. Right, though I was not looking. I was too busy working, going to class and healing myself as needed. Being with other people and family helped tremendously in this regard.

I was working the Thursday evening shift, in the 'cocktail lounge' of this landmark Toronto stand-up bar/restaurant when 'he' walked in with friends, to unwind after a long tiring week of travelling. Forty one years later, we are still together and laughing at our 'older' selves. 

Insurance was his game and still is today. (I was the one, he remarked). What had separated him from the previous 'person' was simple. I could trust him. He was kind and nice. Everything else was, simply, not that important to him. What a revolutionary thought! ...When I look back I remember one last meeting with my former partner. He had hoped for reconciliation. It could never be again. A bond of trust had been shattered. A period of cleansing was in order. ...(A relationship, fraught with misgivings, mistrust and impossible standards, is not o.k.- ever- I realized then. At that time, in my young naïve mind, I was lucky to find anyone. He knew it and so did I. When the 'severance' package came, it was the best gift ever. Then in walked my Mr. Right, the future for us both.

Returning to someone who-a) caused one of the worst days of my life and b) was not available for me, on one of the worst days of my life, was not possible. This was simply a dating mishap, a point of no return. (There must always be a standard, a boundary, beyond which we simply must not go, ever!). ... 

That period in my history was also a pivotal moment for me. I was free to be me.. It is now forty one years later. The qualities that brought my husband and me together back then are qualities that still reside in our hearts and minds today. It's a bond that will not break, Trust is the cornerstone of all relationships, I believed then and today. 

Surviving a Head On Collision

The sports car began to fishtail. As we waited for its driver to regain control, it quickly became apparent that we were headed towards the inevitable. I braced for impact. Soon, it would be done. Our time had come. Then everything stopped. The crash of metal to metal held me in its terrifying grip. The stillness of the moment gave rise to the muffled cries from the back, telling me that our boys were alive.

The day had begun like any other. It was a chilly, windy winter's day. On this particular Saturday morning, however, dressing the boys, ages two and three, would require more than the usual. A scarf wrapped snugly around the outside of each of their hooded winter jackets and tucked carefully inside, for safety sake, would help  keep out the chill of that frosty winter's day. As the boys walked towards the car, they seemed like miniature robots, moving in rigid, synchronized fashion through the snow.

A visit to the auto body shop, the next day, would tell the story, of our near miss with death. The vehicle we had been in yesterday, when we left home, was now an almost unrecognizable mass of metal from the front windshield down to the bumper. ... What seemed untouched was the body of the car where we had been seated, a day earlier. .. A pair of glasses, my husband had been wearing, had been smashed into bits. A briefcase, stored in the trunk of our sedan, fell apart when touched. We realized at that moment how close we had come. Had we not been in that car, not been belted, our injuries would have been catastrophic. It was February, 1982. When it was obvious that black ice (ice that is almost invisible on paved roads) seemed everywhere, we had decided to return home. Then the accident happened.

The car we were driving was a Peugeot sedan, a used vehicle we'd had for 6 years. Its crumple zone had saved us all from serious injury. ...Our car was now a mangled mess, a far cry from a simple dented front end I had envisioned, while seated inside, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, that morning. I mourned the loss of an incredible car but not the people inside it. We had been spared the ultimate atrocity!

Our injuries were few. Our boys, with no physical injuries, had  been spared whiplash. They had been strapped, securely, in their 'child' made seats, and anchored snugly, at the neck, by the last minute addition of a scarf for added protection from the harshness of the winter's day.(The weakest part on a child's young body is at the neck) ... Chest pains, lasting months and a grapefruit sized bruise, appearing days later on my left knee, the result of hitting the console beside me, were the only injuries, proof of the adage, 'Seatbelts saves lives'. ... I shuddered to think what might have been without these life saving restraints. ... The force of two cars hitting head on is the result of the combined speeds of the two, coming together, then stopping in an instant. How different the outcome could have been for the five of us. ...( I was expecting our third child, I learned later.)


We had purchased a used Peugeot wagon, in 1971, on the recommendation of a friend from England, who had suggested either a French made Peugeot, or a Swedish made Volvo, well known for their superb safety record. Years later, it was another Peugeot, this time, the sedan, purchased from our mechanic, that would protect us all from serious harm in 1982.

There are many brands of well built vehicles, both domestic and 'foreign', on the market today, with incredible safety features built into them. Choice is limitless. The knowledge accrued since that fateful day in February, four decades ago, has also changed what we drive today. My husband adheres to a line he lives by in his professional career as a leading expert in the creditor auto insurance field, a line he has made famous, “The cheapest thing you put in a car is the gas!”

They Are the Ladies Who Toil

They are the ladies who do breakfast, lunch and dinner. They are everywhere and in every age group, toiling for a living, serving the public these major 'food groups', each and every day of the week. Meeting the public can be a challenge. (Saturdays and Sundays are not weekends off for many of these endearing, steady workhorses of the food service industry.) They are the waitresses whose service to the public goes unnoticed.


A show discussing the hospitality industry and the practice of tipping, for services rendered, had some audience members decrying this time honoured tradition. Many felt that wait staff, those who are disenchanted with their jobs of serving the public, should leave or go back to school to get a better job. (This comment was directed towards this predominantly female work force.) ...If we were to take this absurd comment to its logical conclusion, wait staff would disappear to find this 'better job'. The rest of us could, now, simply stay at home, having nowhere to go because all the waitresses are nowhere to be found. We could, possibly, tip ourselves, while we toil in our own kitchens, bemoaning the fact that the waitresses are gone. The term, ' Night on the Town' with the girls/guys would now have no meaning at all. (Sitting at home eating cheesies, potato chips and ice cream while watching reruns of shows /movies would paint a dismal picture for us.)


Eating out allows us to relax, socialize and enjoy something presented to us in a new way: food and its companions. How we choose to indulge is our problem or our delight! We dine out for reasons that are endless: to celebrate dad's milestone 90^th , mom's 50^th , a son's graduation, a friend's new job, a daughter's wedding day, or simply, a romantic evening out with our special companion or that special first date. It is a moment of relaxation, a moment of bliss, perhaps. Sometimes, we simply want to spoil ourselves. We are fortunate that there are people willing to put up with the demands of serving food to an unappreciative public in the oft rush hours of the day, afternoon and evening. The serving of food must be done efficiently, in quick fashion, with grace and diplomacy. This is no easy task!


Being a waitress, while a full time student in 1970, was a great opportunity to earn money, working part time. There was on-job training and experience was not always a prerequisite. Your people skills were always tested, each and every day. I met all sorts of people. And not everyone tipped. On one occasion, I remember being on duty, alone in one of the larger sections of the two story restaurant, one of the few stand up bars in Toronto, in the late 60's. Realizing that close to a hundred people were depending upon me for their special evening out, I worked quickly and diligently to serve them while spending most of the evening apologizing for any inconvenience caused by the shortage of wait staff. ... It was all I could do to sympathise with the customer and explain that I understood their frustration and worked quickly to show them I was trying. ... The menu was simple and straight forward- which made my job easier. It was frustrating for the patrons and challenging for me. An “I'm sorry” helped to diffuse the situation and calm nerves.. ...(During one slow Thursday evening shift, I met my husband. you might say my tips soared that evening - 43 years ago!)


If we can afford a night out, it behoves us to appreciate the person who chooses to wait tables. They have given us a night off without us having to cook, clean, wash the dishes, the stove, the counters, etc. We are off duty. For me, dining out is always a special treat. It allows me the opportunity to eat something new or familiar, while meeting interesting people. .. People from all walks of life wait tables for all sorts of reasons. If they left to find a 'better job', it just might be ours.