Small Miracles

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My wife is a Principal at a York Region school.  She is a very good, hard working, dedicated and thoroughly professional educator. What she wants, more than anything, is for her students and staff to be successful in their teaching and learning. A principal, though, gets caught up in the administration cycle of putting out fires, and soothing ruffled feathers, and dealing with all the "stuff" that comes with managing and leading any large organization.

There are days when all she wants to do is teach again, to be that inspirational library teacher who fired up the passion in students to be excited about learning, and inspired teachers to grow through ongoing professional development. So this week she was overjoyed when she got to do that once again, in the form of a tiny insect egg case.

Every spring, when I work at Kortright Conservation Centre in Woodbridge, Ontario, I scour the dry grasses for praying mantis egg cases. Once you find one, you never forget the pattern of what you are looking for – a beige, oblong object about as big as an adult's thumb from the knuckle up. I describe it to students as looking for a little foam peanut in the grass.

The female mates in the late summer, eats the male for nutrition (nothing personal, it's all for the kids), lays her egg case on a plant stem, and dies. The little egg case lays unseen through the fall, and the winter snow, and, in the warmth of late spring, stirs to life. The young nymphs, dozens of them, chew their way out of the egg case and emerge as perfect tiny models of the adult. The young mantids will hang around the egg case for a while, often preying on each other, before moving out into the great meadow to live and die.

I bring home one egg case every spring, and put it in a ventilated insect container with a magnifier lid and wait. The other day, my wife heard her kindergarten students choral reading a poem about a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, and she told the students that she had a praying mantis egg case at home. Of course, they all wanted to see it, so that night she asked me if she could take it in to her school. As fate would have it, when we went to the back porch to check on it, the first nymphs were just emerging. Perfect timing!

The next day she took the egg case and container and magnifier into her school, and four classes of wide-eyed kindergarten children watched the miracle of life unfold as the tiny nymphs emerged. They were absolutely intrigued by the little mantids climbing up and falling off the stems and climbing up and falling off again, just like little toddlers learning to walk. One child commented, "I can't believe they look just like their mother!" Others just thought it was all so cool. All were mesmerized by these tiny insects and a new respect for ife emerged.

Like Barry Lopez once wrote, it's not the role of an adult to know it all. It's the role of an adult to affirm in the eyes of a child that this life around us in all its forms is all so cool. To see that look in the eyes of a child that says, "I did not know until now that I needed someone much older to confirm this, the feeling I have of life here. I can now grow older, knowing it need never be lost."

Well done, my love.

Skid Crease, Caledon

p.s. The nymphs are safely back home exploring our garden. Life is good.

My Polar Bear

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Yes, that is MY polar bear. I like to think of him as living out his life wild and free in the Arctic, but I know his fate has already been decided, and it will not be a pleasant ending.

My bear and I first met on an amazing summer Arctic expedition with Students on Ice. It was a fourteen day journey by sea on the S.S. Discovery, now resting forever in the icy waters of the Antarctic, with a team of seventy-five students and twenty-five scientists and educators to study the impact of climate change in the Arctic.  We traveled from Iceland to Greenland to Nunavut following the route of the early Viking explorers. It was a life changing experience for me.

One day, our incredible expedition leader, Geoff Green, motioned for me and Trevor Lush, one of our expedition photographers, to join him in a zodiac. The three of us snuck off to a remote bay where a polar bear had been sighted by one of the other zodiacs as they were returning to the ship. We kept our fingers crossed that the bear would still be there as we headed out to the bay.  It was a crystal clear day, a photographer's dream of primordial elementals fused together under a crystal arctic light.

The bear was asleep on the rocks when we approached, engine off, and drifted in. We stopped only a few metres away, cameras up and and ready. Not a sound, not a breath – this was probably as close as I would ever be to a polar bear in the wild, unless I was about to be ingested. The bear slowly pushed up onto his haunches and regarded us calmly, almost detached. Then he got up on all fours and moved to the water. He looked straight at each of us, looked around at the surrounding rock slopes, then put his head right under the water to check out the zodiac. My heart was pounding.

He pulled his head up and sat down, glanced at us again, and then turned and looked away, out to the open water. It was the most moving look I had ever seen in the eyes of an animal, almost meditative.  It was a look that seemed to say, "Listen to me. I am waiting for ice, I am waiting for seal, and I do not understand. I do not understand why home is changing so quickly, so I need you to understand for me.  I will not die here without my story being told. You are the storytellers – use your voices." It was a request whispered through the roots and the rhythms of life, a reminder of the connections that unite us all.

We backed away in silence and I was haunted. We left him alone on the shore still gazing off across the bay. Geoff explained on the way back to the boat that he was a young male, probably on a starvation fast. With the ice out so early and returning so late, there were no seals for him to hunt. He was too young to take on a walrus, and if he wandered into human habitation searching for garbage he would be shot.  Either way he was doomed, forced to wait until the late summer ice returned, and hope he had enough fat reserves to last him through the fast.  If the bay stayed ice free much longer, he would be another fur draped skeleton on the rocks by wintertime.

"I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues." Who speaks for bear, Dr. Seuss?

That is why my bear sits at the top of my webpage.  To remind me to use my voice.  To remind us that climate change is not a theory, that it is impacting our Arctic faster than anywhere else on Earth, and that the consequences of ignoring its rapid acceleration are the extinction of species. That is why I am so angry at our current governments for their absolute abdication of environmental responsibility in developing policies to deal adequately with accelerated climate change. My bear is our canary in the coal mine, and he is asking us for help.  To paraphrase my favourite story, "Unless people like us care a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it's not."

Come on Canada and the U.S.A., bear is waiting. What will it take to wake us up? Perhaps it's as simple as rediscovering our place in the universe. As the wonderful eco-theolgian Thomas Berry says in The Dream of the Earth:

"In relation to the earth, we have been autistic for centuries. Only now have we begun to listen with some attention and with a willingness to respond to the earth's demands that we cease our industrial assault, that we abandon our inner rage against the conditions of our earthly existence, that we renew our human participation in the grand liturgy of the universe."

Amen.

Skid Crease, Caledon

Photography by Skid Crease, Nunavut, 2005

When Your Children Save Your Life

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Sorry for the delay, sports fans, but I experienced a medical emergency recently that has kept me off the keyboard. All is well now, but I'm taking it just a little easier. Only last week I posted an article about how children can learn to change the world and the first thing I mentionned was:  teach them to be first aiders and lifeguards, that then they will learn to see their fellow humans as people for whom they can care and assist.

So it was more than a little rewarding when my young son found me in medical distress when he got home from school last Thursday and fired into action, contacting his Mom, who was on a school trip in Ottawa, to verify his procedures. He put in the accurate call to 911, contacted neighbours who could help, kept his mom informed, and basically saved my life.

Oh, I'll still be on his back about homework and cleaning up his room, and spending equal time on music and Minecraft and playing with his dog – that's my job. But something deep has changed. Fifty years of first aid and I've never actually saved a life. Oh, I 've assisted lots of people in need of bandaids, or assistance with allergic reactions, or splinting up breaks. But nothing this big.  I don't think he quite gets it yet, the significance, but I do.

Twelve years old, cool under pressure, and my hero.  I know there will never be a request for payback, like, "Hey, Dad, I saved your life, dude, how about the car keys." He knows how much I owe him. He also knows that I know that there is no charge for services rendered.

A lifesaver has honour – the reward is in a llfe continued, the satisfaction that all that training paid off, the affirmation that it works when you do it right.

This year he will go on to his Bronze Medalliion training, more First Aid and CPR, and I'll bet his attention to detail will be just a little more focused. He knows someone's life will be on the line one day and he may be the first responder.

I hope you get him. He is a lifesaver.

 

Skid Crease, Caledon

for William Gates-Crease

WHO DO YOU TRUST, CANADA?

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Ten MOST Trusted Canadians

 

Ten LEAST Trusted Canadians

1. Michael J. Fox, actor

2. Peter Mansbridge, news anchor

3. David Suzuki, scientist

4. Wayne Gretzky, sports figure

5. Mike Holmes, radesman

6. Clara Hughes, olympic athlete

7. Michaelle Jean, former G-G

8. Shania Twain, singer

9. Margaret Atwood, author

10. David Johnson, current G-G

* G-G = Governor-General

 

 

 

 

1. Stephen Harper, politician, PM

2. Rob Ford, pollitician Mayor

3. Bob Rae, politician, MP

4. Don Cherry, sports commentator

5. Justin Trudeau, politician, MP

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, Canada,  perfect timing for the annual Reader's Digest publication of their most trusted list.  This yearly coast to coast survey checks out everything from Most Trusted Professions to Most Trusted Institutions, and includes the above list of Most Trusted Canadians. You can check it all out on their website – just google Most Trusted in Canada 2012.

The timing was perfect because I really needed to see this list.  I had been going over my posts since my website opened on Earth Day 2012, and wondered if I had been a little too hard on some people. Maybe a guy who shakes hands with his children when he drops them off at school really does have a heart somewhere and I just can't see it.  What if it's my perspective that's skewed? Maybe I hug too much. Maybe I'm way off base thinking that environmental literacy, and social justice, and ecological economics are the base upon which a prosperous and just society are built.

Thank you, Reader's Digest.  Thank you, Canada. I will once again take up my lance and ride Rocinante into the sunset to tilt at the windmills of injustice. Together we will dream the impossible dream and reach the unreachable stars.  The True North, strong and free!

Skid Crease, Caledon

The Joy of Teaching

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The last two days have been full of joy and sorrow. Yesterday, was my last day at the Kortright Centre for Conservation in Woodbridge, Ontario.  Taking a medical leave of absence to get my systems balanced. But yesterday and today I had the kind of experience of which every teacher dreams.  

On Thursday, at Kortright, I had the class from heaven. A group of fabulous Grade Seven students with a dynamic young teacher who bonded with me immediately. It was truly love at first sight, and you knew right away you were going to have the kind of day where nothing could go wrong and it was all going to get better and better as the day went on.

From fire making, to roasting marshmallows, to making up our own "Hunger Games" contest in the forest, to "Singing in the Rain",  to doing the challenge of the "land skis", to playing predator prey games, to finding owl pellets and meeting the birds of prey, to chirping like the frogs and toads of a spring pond, and to hide and seek from your teacher in the bush – an AWESOME day.  The kind of class you want to hold on to forever. To Our Lady of Mercy Separate School in the Dufferin-Peel Separate School Board, thank you.  You made my last day at work a joy and a memory I will NEVER forget.

Then today, at my youngest son's school, I was invited to take part in a Career Day presentation on "Outdoor and Environmental Education – how to become a Kortright  Conservation Centre Interpreter."  I had four workshops in a row, and an amazing lunch by the multi-talented Allan Drive Middle School staff. But it was the students and teachers who were the best part of the day. Respectful and very interested grade 6,7,& 8 students and their staff came to learn that to change the world, you have to first learn First Aid and CPR skills so you can view every person you meet as someone you can assist, that you become a lifesaver;  swim, ski/board, canoe, kayak, climb, and get all your certification, and spend time in natural settings so you begin to understand and celebrate this miracle of life that is all around us.

The most silent moments were when Ithey looked at the global poster and reflected on the fact that they were part of 7 billion people, and life was pretty good for them, put not so good for children their age in Sudan. That everyone wanted a slice of the pie, and water, and a little love, self respect and shelter, and some time to play.  That not a single child in this world ever wanted their village bombed or their sister raped or their uncle shot, So why do we as adults keep visiting all of our -isms upon our children.  Time to let children create their futures without all of our baggage.  Got that Israel and Palestine?

The last class presentation of the day was like my class from Thursday at Kortright.  Bright, full of fun, full of life, enthusiastic students – we had a great time just telling stories about life. So, a big thank you to Allan Drive Middle School, and Mr. Ward, and his phenomenal staff.  And to Trevor, the big blonde grade eight boy with the sunshine smile who gave me my Girl Guide cookies – I love you man!  And I am so happy my son goes to this school.

To the students of Jo-Jo's class at Our Lady of Mercy, and the students I taught at Allan Drive Middle School – you are the best of the best and there is hope for the future.  Take this gift of education and life in our Canada (not Stephen Harper's Canada) and show us your best. To your hands we throw the torch –  let it burn brightly!

Skid Crease, Caledon