There's a world outside your window

For my last blog post for this course I wanted to write about Christmas but when we started talking about hair last week I thought I might want to write about that too.  Amazingly, I have found the perfect intersection of the two subjects!

You all must know my all-time favorite Christmas song Do They Know It's Christmas? by Band Aid.  But are you familiar with the context in which it was written?

It is 1984.  Internet does not exist yet.  Although CDs are becoming popular, most teenagers still buy vinyl records of their favorite bands and those who are really fanatic about their records protect the record covers in plastic sleeves and arrange them on shelves in alphabetical order.  Sony is king and all youth walk around with Sony Walkmans and earphones stuck to their ears.  Producing and taping customized cassettes is a popular past time.  In basements everywhere, adolescents are discovering Atari and playing Pac Man, Space Invaders and Donkey Kong.

On the international front, the Berlin wall still separates East and West and Tiananmen Square is 5 years away.  The term genocide is mostly applied to WWII and Rwanda and the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia are horrors that cannot  be imagined.  No one has heard of CNN, RDS, or other 24-hour news channels.  In Ethiopia, famine threatens to decimate the population.

The images from Ethiopia were shocking and, in evolution of the role of the media in ending the Vietnam War in the 70s, the mass media had a large role to play in influencing public opinion on the fmaine issue.  In England, Bob Geldof of the Boomtown Rats decided to mobilize his musician colleagues to create a song and dedicate all proceeds to ending the famine.  In a flury of urgency, the song was written and recorded within a week and released just in time for Christmas.

I love this song and this video.  Although there are elements that merit criticism--the naive,Western-centric, imperialist view of Africa, the conflating of Ethiopia into "Africa" and the claim that it`s "where nothing ever grows, no rain nor rivers flow"--it still represents a turning point for me who was 15 at the time.  The line "there`s a world outside your window" sums it up and it represents the beginning of my awareness of international issues that continues to this day.

Watch the video at least twice.  First, savour the complicated, edgy, choppy, gel and hairspray overloaded, dyed, shaved and bobbed  80s hairstyles!  My own hair look was definitely of the times: a choppy style, long in the front, dyed blond with lots of Sun-In, hairsprayed and underneath the long hair on the right side, a shaved strip that followed the contours of my ear from front to back. Can you spot Sting, George Michael, Phil Collins, Boy George, Simon Lebon and Bono?  I love how all of the members of Band Aid look like they just got out of bed!  So far from our plastic artificial world in which we live.

Then, enjoy the video for the message, delivered by all of that extraordinary artistic talent.  I still get shivers when I hear it for the first time of the season every December.

Merry Christmas gang and all the best for 2011!



One way ticket to here

It's amazing how a seemingly insignificant action can become the catalyst for a life-changing event. 

In my case, the action was the first and only time I ever dropped out of a course.  It was my first year of my four-year undergraduate degree at the University of Western Ontario.  I was majoring in English and had registered for a French course because a second language credit was obligatory for  my program.  I went to my first class, took an instant dislike to the arrogant, condescending professor, dropped the course and signed up for course on Ancient Greece instead.

Fast forward two more years.  I was finishing my third year with one more to go and that French course was still looming in the background.  I had one more year to take the course if I wanted to graduate.  It so happened that Western is part of the Explore program and has its French Immersion School in Trois-Pistoles.  I realized that I could get the credit I needed from Western without having to set foot in the French Department and the government would pay for it too.

So one day in May I hopped on a train with 200 other students and headed east.   I got off that train expecting to earn a badly needed credit in French.  Little did I know that my life would be transformed too.

How ironic that I live at least half of my life in French now when I had stubbornly resisted that French course throughout my undergraduate years!  I graduated with a B.A from Western, went on to travel to Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia,  enrolled in a graduate program  and completed M.A. in literature at McGill .  And  here I am now at the Cegep de Rimouski, teaching English to an amazing group of language students!

 I never did have a career plan.  My plan was just to continue what I loved doing: reading and studying. But life has a way of creating opportunites that you seize because you recognize fateful moments of your destiny.  Although I have travelled on many buses, trains and planes since that fateful train ride to Trois-Pistoles, I never did use the return portion of my ticket.

This week we will examine the Maclean's annual university rankings issue.  You have already made an important decision when you decided to study Languages at Cégep de Rimouski.  In the spring you must make another life decision:  do you apply to university?  what program?  where? do you travel? when? where? with whom?  do you work? where? doing what?   We will take a close look at what Maclean's has to say about universities but at the same time, I can attest to the fact no matter what road you choose you will meet with twists and turns,  obstacles andmost importantly, uncharted surprises.

Ode to Frost

It's 7 am.   I pull on my hat, mittens,scarf, coat and rubber boots and we creep put of the house like stealthy thieves. 

The world is white with frost. The air is crisp and sharp in my lungs.  I must scrape  a thick layer of ice crystals off of my windshield in order to drive away.

We hop in the car, shivering.  The first rays of the morning  illuminate the traces of frost left on the windows, like diamonds glinting in the new sun.

I turn up the volume as Ray Lamontagne laments in his Tennessee mountain twang. We head for the sea, to the summer house on the Grève D'Amours (love shore?  seaside of love?) where the garden, now bereft of its beans, carrots and tomatoes, awaits the winter snow.

I open the car door and the dog leaps out and runs ahead of me toward the sand.  Boots crunch, the dog's hot breath condensing in white puffs in the cold air.  Aside from the duck family paddling close to shore, my dog companion and I are the only beings here.

We are the only travellers in this universe.  The dog runs crazily, delirious with joy.  I am enraptured by this moment at this place.  Every shell, pebble, grain of sand glitters with frost.  Its luminous touch traces the intricate outline of feathers, seagrass and stone in delicate lace.  The frost magnifies the intertidal life and I can only stand awestruck, the sole witness to this magical world.

We walk on.  I am stunned by the clarity of the water and sand.  The frost becomes a lense through which to view the world for the first time.  I see green and garnet seaweed like other worldy shapeshifters, waiting for the sun to warm them up before they slither back to the sea.  Here and there, pieces of worn emerald seaglass glint through the pebbles and I pocket them, my secret talismans.

We make our way to the end of the shore and we have reached the end of the world.  One of my favorite Robert  Frost poems creeps into my mind as I recall the lines:
                                                         So Eden sank to grief
                                                         So dawn goes down to day
                                                         Nothing gold can stay.
It's time to go home.

Blogfest

There are lots of inspiring blogs in the blogosphere where you can read inspiring stories about hope, survival and overcoming great obstacles. The best of these blogs use their circumstances to comment on an aspect of society.

 A subgenre of this type of blog, however, is the fabricated personal challenge blog in which bloggers impose artificial limits on themselves and then write about their trails and tribulations, their triumphs and defeats all in order to to have something interesting to write about in which ME is the star.  This subgenre reminds me of reality tv because both present a narrative arc that is entirely based on artificial challenges and fake fortuitous circumstances.  A classic example of this kind of blog is the Julie/Julia Project.

And so, because I am feeling frivolous and in the hope that one day  I too will become famous and  have a movie produced based on my blog, here are my suggestions for my ticket to fame:

Incognito:  I infiltrate the mafia and write both scathing critiques and lush praise for this deadly yet alluring secret society.

Karaokegirl:  I enter karaoke contests throughout Asia in a bid to become a karaoke star.

$%?*(*&?  -OFF:  I challenge myself to stop swearing in French or in English for an entire six months.

Choxtasy:  I eat a chocolate bar a day (not Mars or Caramilk--the good stuff!) and describe the taste sensations in exquisite detail.  Perhaps Lindt will sponser me?

Canterbury Tales:  I take a year off work in order to write about living like a woman of medieval England.  I write about food, health, education, entertainment, work and family life.  Nevermind that blogging is certainly anachronistic for the year 1310.

Well, I can go on and on but my eyes are getting blurry.  Which one do you vote in?  Do you have other suggestions for me?  How about you?  What's your challenge, real or imaginary?

The Strawman Argument

With a nod to the American midterm elections last night, let's take a look at Grammar Girl and listen to what she has to say about a debating technique dear to the politician's heart.  Her tips on this podcast are useful for a critical analysis of Maclean's articles too!

If you enjoyed this podcast, I encourage you to become a fan on Facebook.  With charm and humour, Grammar Girl has great writing tips and commentary on grammar faux pas in the media. I am not a geek (or am I ) but I do relish discussions about grammar.  Really!

Vampire

He commands respect.  He represents moral authority.  He inspires confidence and admiration.  He is a coach.  He is a priest.  He is a Colonel in the army.  He is a monster.

As Halloween approaches, we are inundated with images of ghosts, goblins, monsters, witches and vampires.  If we so desire, we may choose to wear a costume representing one of these stock Halloween characters.  In a larger context, one can't escape the omnipresence of popular culture related to vampires:  Anne Rice novels, Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV shows and of course, the Twilight series.  Indeed, we are fascinated by representation the mysterious, sometimes monstrous netherworld because of the classic two sides to being human: good and evil.  The representaion of evil in art or popular culture forces us to look at the "evil" side of the human condition while at the same time confirms to us that we are good:  we are not like them.  Vampires may act human sometimes but humans don't act like vampires.  And so we happily stand in line at the movies to be thrilled, horrifed and thoroughly entertained.

But these days, one can't escape another kind of monster who belongs neither to medieval iconography, nor to neo-gothic popular culture.  This kind of vampire walks among us.  He leads a double life.  He uses his power,status and authority as a mask to hide his real nature.  He stalks his prey and he leaves an endless trail of victims.  He has even become a media anti-star: whenever we turn on the radio or television, there he is again.  This steady media diet of horror is beginning to make me feel sick.  I feel a malaise when I think how the vampire becomes the star but the victims must repeatedly relive the horror over a 24-hour news channel.

Sadly, as much as I may wish, this is not a fairytale. There are no princes or princesses, no chivalrous knights and no happily-ever-after in this story.

Run

Ran to fix breakfast.
Sped to drive the kids to school.
Sped back home to get ready for work.
Jumped in the car.  Ahhh, I can relax, I'm not late, the sun is shining, Gloria Steinem is being interviewed on Q
 $%%#!!$! a dead moose on the back of a truck, zoom and another, zoom and another, at least six today all the way to Rimouski.

Sauntered to the office,greet colleagues, check Omnivox, Groupwise, Hotmail, telephone messages, catching up, catching up.
Ran upstairs for a meeting.
Ran downstairs for Cool-Aid center.
Strolled to office
Madly produced administrative documents due NOW and  sent them out
Quickly ate lunch with one hand while typing with the other.
Ran downtown to buy a birthday present.
Glanced at watch, holy $%#%!! I have a meeting in 7 minutes.
Sprinted from Alphabet to the third floor of the cegep in 5 minutes.
Arrived at meeting transpiring and out of breath but ON TIME.
Finished the meeting, jogged to the second floor for  other meeting.
Dashed to office, grabbed work, ran to car.

Sped back home, come on lady, you are driving too slow.
Brisked into the grocery store, purchased supper, slight twinge of guilt for not offering all four food groups.
Pulled into the garderie, picked up kids, B is there, N is there--what É isn't there?  Oh, he's at a friend's house.  Aghh!!! which friend?
Found É, drive home, fervently repeating my mantra :serenity now, serenity now (you know, from Seinfeld).
Unpacked backpacks, helped with homework, spelling words, dictation, addition, subtraction, conjugation,
Exponents--Hey, I'm an English teacher not a math teacher ummmmm, let' s see now.....

Walked dog.

Gobbled supper, get back in car, drive É to arena, tie skates.
Drove back home, read stories.
Got back in car--I said buckle up!
Picked up É at arena, come on, hurry up! hurry up.
Got back in car . Drove back home.
Made and eate snacks, read stories.

 Walked dog.

I am wiped out.  I am beat.
Bed time everybody. Sweet dreams.

I can't sleep.

Coffee break

In the spirit of solidarity with my language students, Present Progressive is taking a break this week!

Do you ever feel like this?

L'air du temps

If there is one holiday that makes me feel like a foreigner in Québec, it's Thanksgiving.  In ROC (rest of Canada), Thanksgiving is a treasured moment in the year when friends and family gather around the table to enjoy the traditional roast turkey, rosemary stuffing, assorted roasted autumn vegetables, cranberry sauce and homemade pumpkin pie.  Here in Québec on the other hand, Thanksgiving is an anonymous holiday without a heart and soul, a banal day like any other. I guess it's a good illustration of the great franco-anglo culinary divide.  On the turkey issue it seems our differences can't be breached.

And so, in the interest of anglo-franco cultural rapprochement, I encourage you to learn more about the art of the Thanksgiving feast by the epitome of holiday festivities, the domestic diva herself, Martha Stewart.  Enjoy and:


    It must be part of  the zeitgeist,of l'air du temps.  As usual, I was driving in my car this week when I tuned in to a Q debate.  The subject :  Carnivore vs. vegetarian!  The debate neatly ties in to our discussion on the ethics of  hunting and eating meat from my previous post, Bullet-proof.  Click here  for more passionate opinions on the subject.  Have a happy Thanksgiving, we have a lot to be grateful for.

Revenge of Bonhomme Carnaval

Our hero on the rampage.--from Actualité

Bonhomme Carnaval, our new anti-hero

Dear Maclean's,

Imagine my shock when I woke up on Monday morning and heard of the scandalous controversy that has shaken all of Québec:  Québec is the most corrupt province in Canada! My first thought was not without a hint of sarcasm:  Thanks for the enlightenment Maclean's , I really need you to tell me how corrupt our politicians are.  Of course  politicians are corrupt, that is the nature of politics: where there is money at stake, corruption is sure to follow.  Nevertheless, you seem to assert that there is something in the the very nature of being Québecois that leads to corruption.  Isn't that a bit like affirming that because of this negative article,  Maclean's is a racist, xenophobic magazine?

In the end, it doesn't really interest me who deserves the title of Canada's most corrupt province.  All of them can win the gold medal in this category.  What fascinates me however, is your appropriation of a beloved symbol of the heartwarming joie de vivre of our wintery province in order to shock, outrage and therefore sell more magazines.  Is your intention to inform or is it to make a profit through sensational Quebec-bashing?



Notwithstanding the simplistic analysis evident in the  two articles that  just attempt to validate the condescending perception of the the Rest of Canada in relation to Québec, your cover attacks the integrity of our national folklore:  the Bonhomme Carnaval, symbol of our bonne humeur, our warmth, our difference.  You portray our lovable mascot as a bandit, an diabolical bad guy making off with the goods.

Can this be a new chapter in the never-ending epic of the battle between the forces of good and evil?  Between the pure and the corrupted, the hero and the villain?  Alas, one  question remains, who is whom in this story?

Bullet-proof

You are walking along a road,  you hear crunch crunch crunch, you look to your right, you see antlers, you see a majestic brown beast, you see a moose, you see two of them!  You are on your bike one day and you hear the familiar crunch crunch crunch, sure enough, its the buck and his partner.   You are driving along that same road, the windows down because your air-conditioning is broken and hey wind-cooling is more environmentally-friendly than air-conditioning anyway and you hear crunch crunch crunch and there again, on the side of the road, stands that buck.  This happens to you all summer, every couple of days.  You become attached to this animal, you admire his grandeur, his quiet nobility. You reflect: gee, am I ever privileged to witness this great creature, just being.  You think to yourself, I hope I never hear bang!

Autumn arrives, it's back to school, back to work but that's ok too, you love your work, you love your 45-minute drive at this time of year.  You drink your coffee, you listen to the radio, you contemplate the surroundings, you're in your bubble.  Then one day as you turn your attention from the red yellow orange trees to the vehicle you are approaching, you realize with growing nausea in the pit of your stomach that your woodland companion has been shot, killed, and tied to the hood of a car.  You become a  voyeur in spite of yourself, you are a hostage, you can't escape any more than the moose can.  Look away too long and you will crash.  You are complicit, you are a witness to the scene.

 And you know it's hunting season again.   You reason that you live in a rural region, it's to be expected, hunting is a hobby, a way of life, a means of subsistance, part of the cycle of nature.  And who are you to criticize, you carnivore, you meat-eater, you who enjoyed all those barbecues all summer long!   But it's that shameless display of that poor sacred creature, the macho arrogance of victory that you just can't digest.

My teacher, my friend

When one of my students  asks to be my friend on Facebook should I say yes, no, or do nothing?  Has friending acquaintences on Facebook become such a banal act that I allow anyone to view my private life?  Do I really want to know what my students eat for breakfast, drink on weekends or think about their photos?What about that word friend anyway?  Now there's a word that has evolved to mean anything from someone with whom you have a deep bond to a vague superficial online entity.

I am constantly grappling with these ethical issues surrounding the nature of the role of the teacher with regards to electronic media.  Should teachers be friends with their students, thereby blurring the lines between professional and private life?  Or, on the contrary, do teachers need to keep their professional distance from their students but in so doing, sacrifice a learning opportunity for both students and themselves?

Are you friends with your teachers?  Do you enjoy glimpsing into the non-professional lives of teachers?  Is it necessary for students to be friends with their  teachers or is mutual respect all that is required? Listen in on Q  for a discussion of issues related to teachers, students and Facebook.

It's Greek to me

Sometimes while I'm writing I must pause to think of the perfectly precise word for the occasion.  Sometimes it takes me half an hour just to come up with a title.  I savour le mot juste.  I adore my well-thumbed, falling apart, 25-year-old paperback thesaurus.  And all of this word obsession is for my mother tongue! 

But what happens when I must speak or write in French?  I yearn to be able to communicate as effectivley in French as certain panelists I listen to on Radio Canada or on Bazzo.tv.  The challenge is that once you are very comfortable in a second language it takes a lot of motivation to improve your vocabulary.  It's just so much easier to rely on the tried and true formula  (did you get that idiomatic but over-used expression?) to express ourselves.  If you are highly motivated to increase your word power, however, you will be rewarded with the satisfaction of accomplishment.

How about taking a vocabulary test at http://www.englishcorner.vacau.com/vocabulary/vocabulary.html
These activities quizz you on your mastery of the Acadmic Word List, a list of more than 500 words that every university student should master.

Is it art, social critique or crass commercialism?

Last week while I was driving my car to work I remembered that I can listen to CBC on my car radio from St-Fabien to Rimouski (only static from Trois-Pistoles to St-Fabien).  I happened to tune-in to an episode of Q and I was rivited.  The host and the guest panel were talking about a video by Eminem and Rihanna in which a torrid love affair escalates into domestic vioence. 

The discussion included many points of view: praise, critique, outrage, appreciation, cynicism, concern.  Although I know who the two hip-hop/pop stars are, I hadn't ever really listened to their music; however, I knew after listening to the discussion, I just had to watch the video for myself.  Before listening to the discussion, watch the video.  What are your first impressions?  Click on the link for the video and the debate.

       Q Debate: Domestic Violence and Entertainment

Welcome back!

Hello language students.  Welcome back to the Cegep de Rimouski.  I have many goals for this session.  First and foremost I want to explore electronic media and use it to help me grow as a teacher as well as using these tools to help my students excel in English.  What do you think?

Are you a beginner in the medium or, on the contrary, do you have a few things to teach me?