Teaching in Canada

I was never really clear on how I managed to find myself in a supervising position at IMAX. I may have been reliable in some ways, but I know without question that mornings were not my forté. I never understood why Ingrid would schedule me on Saturdays for early morning functions. I rarely made it on a time and finally asked her to stop scheduling me on Saturday mornings, and she didn't, so I went right on being late. Miraculously once I was given a key to theatre, I only slept in once. Thankfully Brett was au courant with the various ways to break into the theatre....

Last Monday I started work at a private French school in the plateau. School has changed little since I was in Elementary, except that mornings start earlier. I start teaching at 8:30am and am expected to be here at 8am. Unfortunately this means waking up at 6am.... something that I do far from gracefully.

Aside from my shock at the complete lack of respect that these Canadian students have for themselves, each other and their teachers, it's easier than teaching in Korea. I actually have enough materials to sustain a full class, without resorting to absolutely ridiculous activities. It's difficult though, going from teaching a class of seven students to teaching twenty-seven. On the upside, they expect less individual attention because they know they aren't about to get it. On the downside, the students are less self-sufficient, less respectful and more self-centered. In the two weeks since starting, I've kicked at least four students out of my grade six class for swearing and other innapropriately language. One student told another to fuck off, another told a girl to suck his dick. He told me afterwards he didn't think it was offensive to say it to a girl because she didn't have a dick. Nice. It seems one of the things that has changed since my days is students now call their teachers by their first names. I was introduced to my classes as Mrs. Stephanie - and many of the students have dropped the Mme when talking about their homeroom teachers. I was shocked. I've also noticed that the students don't use vous when talking to their teachers, but the less respectful and more familiar tu. Of course I didn't expect the students to bow to me as they entered the school as they did in Korea, but I just didn't expect... this. It doesn't feel like that long ago that I was in Elementary school, although it has been fifteen years. Every time I yell at my classes, I can't help but feel eery flashbacks to grade four. Every time I yell, "Samuel, je veux voir les quatre pieds de la chaise à terre," I hear Mme Deschênes' voice. Every time I snap "On lève la main et on ferme la bouche," I hear Mme Jolicoeur. I don't feel old enough to have a real job... responsible for the education and growth of over two hundred students. But I am, and it's scary stuff.

After teaching in Korea, I'm not on the same page as the other teachers. At lunch one day, they discussed how it was terrible to have such long days for the students in Elementary school and they were just too tired. They talked about how their schedules were too rigid and it was too bad the system didn't allow the students more freedom. Excuse me? I nearly yelled. Eleven year old children are telling each other to suck their dicks and you think these kids need more freedom? If ever there was a doubt in my mind that I didn't want children, working in a Canadian school has made my decision. I got angry with a student for propping his feet up on the chair next to him- to which he responded, "My feet are clean." I lost it. My time of Korea made me hyper-aware of how dirt travels. At home, I had three pairs of slippers for different areas of my house so as not to transfer bathroom dirt to the kitchen, for instance. Even now I have two pairs of slippers for my Montreal apartment, and keep a seperate broom to sweep the bathroom floor. It was both the sight of dirty feet on a chair and the indignant response of the child that shocked me. I can't imagine how anyone could teach for thirty years. In fact, the idea of going back on Monday makes me mildly anxious. There are too many students in the classes and they have not been trained to think independantly or resourcefully. After explaining a presentation that I assigned my grade four class, I was bombarded by students asking me to translate various words for them. In my day we had dictionaries, which we were trained to consult. Not so today, as they hmmed and hawed about the injustice of my not doing their work for them. People love to blame the schools for not teaching children this or that, but truth be told, the responsibility to teach children respect rests squarely on the shoulders of parents and the community. And it seems we're failing all around.

Fire on St-Catherine

Fire breaks out in a restaurant kitchen on St-Catherine &
St Mathieu...

Two Chinese restaurants, one dépanneur, and all the above
apartments are destroyed...

Unfortunetly I didn't have my camera when I first passed by,
so the above pictures are grabbed off a google image search.

Fear not- Sex Cité and the sketchy Bar Diana are doing okay

The Evolution of Language

I finally received my study guides for my upcoming French test and have realized that it won't be as easy as the woman on the phone promised me. It seems that the Quebec government is picky about details that no one else cares about. And apparently the beloved Office de la langue française has made some new rules for writing. Perhaps they heard a rumour that Francophones were actually becoming somewhat capable of writing their language and decided to further complicate it while they had the chance. For part of the test, we're given a paragraph of text and asked to correct the errors. The prep-booklet suggests that we keep in mind that the proper way to write 21, for instance, is no longer vingt et un, but the Office de la langue française has fallen in love with les traits d'unions and has declared that vingt-et-un c'écrit comme ça. The text also contains des anglicismes. Some are fairly obvious. Ça ce dit pas appointment en français, mais plustôt rendez-vous. Mais y en a d'autres qui peuvent facilement nous tromper. La phrase; 'Veuillez compléter le formulaire' contient un anglicism, mais ça ce dit souvent. Compléter, allegedly, should only be used in the sense of adding something, or to complete it- not à remplir un formulaire. Then again, it was likely printed in France and they speak funny French. They say things like cake instead of gâteau or ticket instead of billet, words that would surely give me a failing grade on my knowledge of government of Quebec approved vocabulary. The Université de Montréal Department of French lists the following as words and abbreviations often contaminated by English:

• adresse (address)
• app. (apt. - meaning apartment)
• Dr (Dr. - note the lack of period in French)
• h (hr. - meaning hour)
• n^{o (no. - meaning number)}

The Office de la langue française is so terrified of my contamination of the above French terms that it fears allowing me to teach English to young Francophones could have disastrous effects on the French language. Just imagine if there were consistency in abbreviations across language barriers! Quelle horreur!

Ethical Tourism

For those who have been reading my ramblings regularly, you may recall that I had very mixed feelings about being in Thailand. I found it difficult to deal with the hoards of tourists and though it was a very easy country to travel because of their dependance on tourist dollars, I also couldn't help but feel that I'd walked into a sort of Disneyland park. Western tourists seemed to believe that since their hard-earned money was paying for their trip, they had earned the right to be condescending, leacherous losers. I actually heard a young Brit telling our guide that led us through the jungle that he took offence to Thai people thinking he was so rich because he had to save up for six whole months to travel to Thailand. He went on and on- really trying to communicate how difficult his life was as a young Brit- never even stopping to consider that our guide, who was paid pretty well by Thai standards, would likely never be able to afford to vacation in England.

The experience made me think about what sort of traveller I aim to be. Though I've found myself back in Canada, I know it won't be long before I'm hitting the road again (and by not long, I mean shortly after my boyfriend gets some working organs). Though cheap, trips to Cuba and Cancun have never interested me. I'm not fond of the concept of package trips and resort vacations. It alters the local economy and puts the tourist in an elite category above the local people. I'm not a fan. Without interaction with local people, I would have had very little to say about my year away. In any case, I began to think about how I plan to travel in the future. I want to see it all- which is an impossible feat as time and money are always concerns, but I plan on seeing every continent at the very least. And it seems as though teaching English and drama will be my vehicles. I am so lucky to be a native English speaker (except in Québec), as there is an endless stream of opportunities for me.

I've been thinking alot about volunteering to teach in Africa for awhile. This is the only way that I would consider travelling to Africa. The idea that some people spend thousands of dollars to go on a guided safari gives me chills. I began to look into volunteer opportunities while I was still in Korea and was annoyed that the agencies serving as the middle man were charging thousands of dollars to place you in a community. I'm perfectly willing to pay my own way and donate my time, but I take issue with paying to volunteer. These agencies are quite clearly scams, as far as I'm concerned. Help is so badly needed, I can't imagine I would be turned away if I just turned up there.

In any case, these plans are still in the thought stage, but if any of you have had experiences volunteering in Africa- please leave me some comments about your time there. I've got some leads on some good agencies, but you can never have too many...

Just Politics

A short rant for you today. I'm off to bed in a minute here, but need to get something off my chest. Ever since I left Canada, I've been contemplating how ridiculous our government is, and how we allow them to go on this way. The Liberal government stole billions of dollars from tax payers and we punished them with re-election. I bet they learned their lesson. Thankfully in the following election we came to our senses and booted them out- even if it did result in Harper being elected. They were too cocky and needed a wake-up call. In any case, I began to contemplate Canadian politics more and more and I became infuriated. We've been brainwashed into believing that our health care system is fantastic- when in truth we only think that because it's better than what you find in the US. We still pale in comparison to many European countries and we pay comparable tax. Our education system is also weak in comparison. My rollerblades have become useless since I moved to Montreal. The roads are too bad to allow me to use them. Travelling in Thailand, I wished that I had them with me. I dream of coasting down hills of roads so nicely paved. Even Mexicans enjoy free education. With all these thoughts floating about in my head, I returned to Canada.

I was determined to get some answers. I hope down the road Canada will be my home away from home- dreaming of settling in a warmer, more transparently corrupt country. For now, however, I feel I should make the most of being home. And I want some answers. I want to know where my tax money goes. I want to know why I nearly starved on the less than adequate student loans provided by the Quebec government. I want to know how they justify cutting off my loans because I made 8,000$ in my graduating year. According to their calculations, 5000$ should have been set aside for my education the woman had told me, glaring down her long pointy nose at me. I've seen how things are done elsewhere, and I'm just not happy with our system. So I looked up my député provinciale- M Yves Séguin (Liberal). All I wanted was to talk. Of course, previous calls to his office have never resulted in a phone being answered, or a message returned. I don't know why I would expect any different in Quebec. Nothing on the Quebec government site indicates anything out of the ordinary. A Google search, however, reveals that M Séguin has stepped down and his seat has been left vacant. Hmmm... I searched for my Member of Parliament. Lo and behold, this position is also vacant. I'm glad that my interests are not being represented at the provincial or the federal level. What a relief!

That's what I get for having a spurt of idealism. Thank god it comes at a time when the Quebec government is voting on raising tuition for the first time since 1994. I'm thrilled that my opinions on the matter will not be heard and that I can enjoy a 200% increase in tuition upon starting my next degree.

Gainfully Employed

Montrealers have got to be the most employable Canadians. We just have to be. We enjoy the country's cheapest tuition and have the most educated population. Perhaps we're more likely to call our employers on bullshit as a result. We take more days off than the rest of the country, but that's just to keep us sane. It's difficult, after all, to turn up at a bullshit job everyday when you realize what it is. The more education you've got, the more likely you are to realize it's bullshit.

We speak at least two languages. You'd think that this would give us an incredible advantage, but that all depends really. If you are fortunate enough to have a passably French last name in Quebec, you're likely to do well. Though Bogue is passably French, it is also the term for a computer virus ... perhaps not the impression I'm trying to make. In English Canada, if you have a passably English name, you're also likely to do well. If you're a French Canadian with a last name like Leblanc, fear not, all is not lost- just pronounce it 'Le blank' and try not to shutter. Being bilingual also allows us to curse our employers in the language that they are least familiar with. This is important.

Montrealers are adept at navigating mazes of red tape and accept that we will be paid poorly for it. This also ensures that we will complain more than other Canadians, but at least we're accustomed to making a hundred calls just to get our address changed on our driver's licence. You'll find us pleasantly surprised if we're able to do it in one phone call- and suspiciously shocked if we aren't charged 50$ for such a service.

We are the fastest driving Canadians, and are thus likely to be on time for work. I say that, but we're actually painfully unreliable. And quite likely to speed away from work an hour early at the end of the day. We drink the most, leading some people (myself) to believe that we are happier in our work. We also gamble more than other Canadians, which should serve as assurance that we will continue to turn up at our mind-numbing jobs (until we win big, that is). Montreal men and women alike spend more money on their appearance than other Canadians. This makes us seem better looking. Screw the filles des roi theory- it's all about not wearing your sweatpants to work.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I just got home from an interview at a temp agency and was struck by the differences between working in Calgary and working in Montreal. Years ago, I saw an ad in the paper in Calgary for a temp agency looking for bilingual receptionists. I faxed in my résumé, sure that I wouldn't get a response since I had extremely minimal knowledge of Word, or any other computer program. I got a phone call the next day. The woman on the other end asked how good my French was... I hesitated. How do you answer that, I don't know. What do you want? A rating from one to ten? She passed the phone to her colleague and we finished the interview in French. She offered me the job and told me I started on Monday. In closing she asked if I was familiar with Word. Of course, I lied.

This morning I dragged myself from my bed bright and early. I made my way down to the temp agency and presented myself at the front desk. The young woman behind the desk passed me two thick packets- ten pages each, one in English and one in French. She pointed me to the exam room and set me to work correcting the grammatical errors in each packet. It screws with your head. They had a list of mispelled words in each one- confusing as hell when they've spelled words in the French packet the English way and vice-versa. They know damn well it reaches a point where you can't remember one way or the other. After that ordeal they sat me in front of the computer and called me on my claim that I 'knew' Word and Excel. By now they must know I lied. Just like that fancy restaurant in Westmount figured out real fast that by 'knowledge of wines' I meant I could tell red from white. In any case, the long stream of testing finally came to an end and I interviewed with the owner. It was refreshing to be able to be totally honest in an interview. She looked down at my cv and asked if I was just looking for work until I found a teaching job. I said yes. Like most French Canadians, she marvelled at how I was able to work abroad and totally misunderstood what the imminent French test was for. She seemed to think that as a requirement for further teaching in Asia, I was being asked to write a French test. Only in Quebec would such an error be made. After careful review of my grammar tests, she gave me a passing grade in both languages and informed me that I would hear from her soon.

The process took me over two hours, and I walked out shocked that I had to go through so much to get a job temping. In no other Canadian city would you be asked to do so much work, with so little in return. As I left the office, I checked my voice mail and found I had a message from the school. After all that, I start teaching on Monday. My days of lounging about are officially done and I'll have to get up at what my mother calls 'a reasonable hour'.

Face to Face With My Quarter-Life Crisis

I assume there's a time in everyone's life when they come to the realization that they are getting old. I came to realize recently that most of my long-time friends are exactly where I would have pictured them to be at this age. Maybe not geographically- but in terms of relationships, careers, education. But every once in awhile someone surprises me. A couple that I always thought were perfect suddenly split up, someone's career takes an unexpected turn, someone has a baby. Fred and I left our friends Michael and Christine on Friday night after dinner. The four of us were exhausted. We had talked about going for drinks but none of us were motivated enough to move beyond the couch, so there we stayed until we decided, half asleep- it was time to head home. A symptom of early-onset old age, as I understand. But there is no greater indication that 'time is marching on' then when your crazy old roommate, 'Spacey Caycee' announces her engagement.

Caycee and I worked at IMAX together. We didn't really know each other all that well until word got around that I was looking for a roommate and had gone to such desperate lengths as to call up an ex-boyfriend to move in. I thought Caycee was crazy- but determined that it would be best if I weren't living with Jon alone. I'd like to say that once we moved in together, I realized that Caycee was not infact crazy, but just misunderstood. But I'd be lying. She's nuts. Barbie dolls with shaved heads and facial piercings left out as cat toys proved that Caycee and I had been very different little girls. I never owned a Barbie doll- soccer balls were so much more versatile. Our lives may have been simple had Caycee and I lived together with Jon. But somewhere along the line, we picked up another couple of roommates, Greg and Gerald. They snapped and moved out a month later. Apparently believing that Caycee's requests that they keep it quiet in chatting to each other on their computers till all hours were completely unreasonable. Exit Gred and Gerald, enter Rageful Scott. Caycee and I thought he was cute. Turned out he was a complete lunatic. Caycee was one of the closest witnesses to the ridiculousless of my flings that year- and has largely remained silent about the extent to which I embarrased myself. Thankfully. But if there was one person that I considered less likely than myself to settle down in a real relationship, it was Caycee. Not entirely surprising- she has been with Kent over five years now, but that in itself is pretty nuts. That's when you know you're getting old. When the person you consider the least likely to settle down, announces that they are. Damn it- we should start a pool. I'd be losing miserably- I also would have bet Diana to be a long-time single girl, and her and Jerod have been married over a year now.


Some people think too much. Others think too little. I believe I'm the former. Just as I think I've made some choices about my life, I talk myself out of it by examining other options. Or taking a step back and considering whether the choice I'm about to make will bring me closer to or further from my goals. Whatever they may be at that particular moment. Now that it looks like stability is just around the corner and my anxious nerves can calm themselves, I began to ponder exactly why I was looking for a teaching job to begin with. It's not what I want to do. I suppose it's closer than serving over-priced food at crappy restaurants though. I know full well that I'll need to return to school- part of me loves the idea of returning to the security of thick books and quantifying my personal development with As & Bs. Part of me dreads the student lifestyle. The instability, lack of funds. For awhile, I've contemplated returning to school in Psychology and pursuing a Master's. I've long thought about pairing the self-exploration of the arts with therapy. Not in the drippy Master of Fine Arts in Drama Therapy kinda way, but in the less obvious- Master's in Psychology - I have intelligence, an imagination and a BFA kinda way. So I begin the phone calls. McGill University pointedly informed me that I could not speak to an academic advisor until they had my 80$ in application fees firmly in their pockets. The woman refused to answer any questions, even regarding scheduling and the possibility of doing the program part-time. I crossed McGill off the list of school possibilities. If that's the snobbery I'm greeted with in making inquiries, they can take their pretentious reputation and shove it. I knew there was a reason I went to Concordia. They were happy to make arrangements for me to speak to someone. The University of Waterloo promptly responded to emails concerning their online Psychology program. As long as I never have to live in Waterloo, it looks like a good option. My mind was made up. This was going to be my course of action. And then I thought, hmm... maybe I'll go to law school instead.

Some article I read said that if you're having trouble deciding on a path, examine the books on your night table and extrapolate from them. So I looked at my night table. The Montreal Gazette, The Bell Jar, A Brief History of Everything, Laughing Wild, Guns, Germs & Steel. Okay.... hmm- current events, literature, philosophy, drama and anthropology. So I've learned I'm ADD. Apparently most artists are, not to worry. After spending so much time focused on returning to school, I suddenly began to wonder if these fields would lead me to the lifestyle that I wanted. I think I've established this year that I need to be mobile. I need to travel. I want to take off for months at a time, and bounce about here and there and everywhere. The idea of being one of those office people that crams their life into their two weeks of vacation every year is absolutely painful. It's just not for me.

On The Road to Stability

Earlier this week, I had an interview for a teaching job at a private Catholic school in Montreal's plateau area. The interview went well, with the principal and vice-principal impressed by my French and asking, as usual, for clarification as to how a girl from Calgary came to be so comfortable in French. The head of the English department was impressed by my insights into the education system of Korea, and by my experience as an actor. They promised to call me back by Friday to let me know if I had the job. Thursday I received a call saying they were concerned that with only one year of teaching experience, I may be a little lost when it came to classroom management. Of course, I didn't tell them this, but I was concerned too. My biggest class in Korea was ten kids- at this school, my class size would increase to 28. They asked me to come in the following day and teach a class, to demonstrate my level of comfort and ability to manage the students. Fear kicked in. I was fairly certain that they would sense my inexperience and eat me alive. I awoke painfully early Friday morning (6am) and began the long trip to DeLormier and Sherbrooke East. As a testament to the time of day, my dépanneur was closed and I was forced to go without coffee until I arrived at the school. Then they tossed me in with a class of grade three students to see how I fared. And I learned something. Teaching English in Korea is a thousand times harder than teaching English in Montreal. As the kids grumbled and grunted their confusion about why a young blond woman was demanding their attention and their usual English teacher was nowhere to be seen, I understood every word effortlessly. I could give them the English word when they asked how to say, for instance, guimauve (marshmallow) in English. The biggest difference, however, was the fact that I wasn't expected to play the role of an overly enthusiastic mime. With thirty kids in a class, they aren't accustomed to individual attention the way Korean kids are in classes of ten. They had all their books on their desk when I walked in. Canadian boys aren't used to their mothers dotting on them, so they don't expect it of their teachers. They're accustomed to hearing English spoken around them, so they already have the ear for it. My fear subsided right away and I breezed through the class and was offered the job. Unofficially. I'm still waiting on the final verdict from the principal, but the woman in charge of the department assured me I would be hired. The only catch is that the position in temporary. A replacement for a teacher who's going on leave for an operation, but apparently a date for the surgery won't be confirmed until 48 hours beforehand. So sometime in the next four weeks, I will be working. Needless to say, I'm still looking. It's comforting to know what I'm getting into, however. At first I felt like I was taking advantage of a staffing shortage to gain employment in a position that I was in no way qualified for. Now I can see how much I learned in my year in Korea, and how it definitely prepared me for teaching in Montreal. Once I start working, I'll deal with the question of how exactly this teaching thing can fit into my acting world... or a busy University schedule. Step by step, as crazy Mr Choi would say.