Where I Come From
I hail from the small town of Creston, British Columbia. Although it has been a few years since I have been back there, I still consider it to be where I have my "roots" and has shaped my philosophies on learning, teaching, and life in general.
Sense of Place
Growing up in a small community like Creston has caused me to experience a sense of "otherness" that I did not fully appreciate until I had moved away to pursue my post secondary studies.
I am not quite sure when it hit me.
It might have been after the dozenth time I had to explain where I was from, an explanation that usually consisted of an elaborate and detailed description of every region and community east of Hope to provide people with some points of reference with which to orient themselves while searching for my hidden community; at times it was like trying to help people find the Land of Oz.
It might have been when people, scrambling for something concrete from their knowledge of the world remembered our identity as the origins of Kokanee Beer as well as our proximity to Bountiful, British Columbia.
It also could have been when I encountered countless numbers of people who fondly remembered Creston as this beautiful place that they passed through (maybe stopping for coffee along the way) while they were travelling to some place much more important.
It might have even been in my first year of my English degree when I did a literature review of literature from and about Creston, finding that most of it in the form of historical documents that identified the Creston Valley (before it was called as such) as this wild wilderness that was the bane of existence of many colonists who would try to settle the area, along with a few novels and biographies by people who also recognized Creston as this isolated place of "otherness" that was far away from the comforts and realities of civilization; it was also when I was working on this project that I realized how little of Creston's history I actually knew or had been taught in school. All of my history classes were about far away places (the closest being passing references to Vancouver and Victoria) and all the books and poems we read in our English classes were written by authors who were not even Canadian and certainly had no Canadian content.
The accumulation of all these experiences could have made me feel small, insignificant, and discouraged, considering how small I was in the greater scheme of things.
But it didn't.
I was angry and furious that my voice and experiences seemed to be so disregarded among the policy makers and the big movers and shakers of the world (many of which who would probably fail to find Creston on a map). I matter. My experiences and ideas have worth and I will not be silenced.
It is from this experience of being "othered" that a number of my teaching philosophies are inspired. As an English teacher, I feel that it is my responsibility to help my students create and develop their own sense of voice and expression so that their ideas can be heard and experienced by whatever audience they choose. I want to make sure that my students are able to make connections between what they learn in my class and their daily lives so that they never feel disregarded and left out of the conversations that take place within my classroom. I want my students to be able to feel that their values, their roots and where they come from are validated and have a place of value in what they are learning.
I am not quite sure when it hit me.
It might have been after the dozenth time I had to explain where I was from, an explanation that usually consisted of an elaborate and detailed description of every region and community east of Hope to provide people with some points of reference with which to orient themselves while searching for my hidden community; at times it was like trying to help people find the Land of Oz.
It might have been when people, scrambling for something concrete from their knowledge of the world remembered our identity as the origins of Kokanee Beer as well as our proximity to Bountiful, British Columbia.
It also could have been when I encountered countless numbers of people who fondly remembered Creston as this beautiful place that they passed through (maybe stopping for coffee along the way) while they were travelling to some place much more important.
It might have even been in my first year of my English degree when I did a literature review of literature from and about Creston, finding that most of it in the form of historical documents that identified the Creston Valley (before it was called as such) as this wild wilderness that was the bane of existence of many colonists who would try to settle the area, along with a few novels and biographies by people who also recognized Creston as this isolated place of "otherness" that was far away from the comforts and realities of civilization; it was also when I was working on this project that I realized how little of Creston's history I actually knew or had been taught in school. All of my history classes were about far away places (the closest being passing references to Vancouver and Victoria) and all the books and poems we read in our English classes were written by authors who were not even Canadian and certainly had no Canadian content.
The accumulation of all these experiences could have made me feel small, insignificant, and discouraged, considering how small I was in the greater scheme of things.
But it didn't.
I was angry and furious that my voice and experiences seemed to be so disregarded among the policy makers and the big movers and shakers of the world (many of which who would probably fail to find Creston on a map). I matter. My experiences and ideas have worth and I will not be silenced.
It is from this experience of being "othered" that a number of my teaching philosophies are inspired. As an English teacher, I feel that it is my responsibility to help my students create and develop their own sense of voice and expression so that their ideas can be heard and experienced by whatever audience they choose. I want to make sure that my students are able to make connections between what they learn in my class and their daily lives so that they never feel disregarded and left out of the conversations that take place within my classroom. I want my students to be able to feel that their values, their roots and where they come from are validated and have a place of value in what they are learning.
Connection to the Land
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As longs as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.” - Anne Frank
I am a farm girl and Creston is primarily a community of farmers. Creston is also home to the Creston Valley Wildlife Management Area which is a protected area that is the habitat of many migratory birds and other wildlife that call the wetlands home. So much of the social fabric of the community has a direct connection to the land and nature. Two of the largest community gatherings of the year are the Fall Fair and the Blossom Festival which are both occasions of pride and celebration of Creston's blessings and bounty of locally grown food.
One of the First Peoples' Principles of Learning is that (in part) "Learning is...focused on connectedness, on reciprocal relationships, and a sense of place." I feel that this is always something that I have felt (but maybe was not aware of) when I was growing up. There are fewer things that can bring a person closer to the land then being able to not only identify where your food came from but also shake the hand of the person who grew it and congratulate them on a job well done.
As an educator, I feel that it is important to provide my students with every opportunity possible to be truly grounded in what they are learning. Sometimes that can mean connecting to the land in a direct way, or even just simply framing the content so that it is rooted in their own experiences according to where they are and what they are doing right now.
I am a farm girl and Creston is primarily a community of farmers. Creston is also home to the Creston Valley Wildlife Management Area which is a protected area that is the habitat of many migratory birds and other wildlife that call the wetlands home. So much of the social fabric of the community has a direct connection to the land and nature. Two of the largest community gatherings of the year are the Fall Fair and the Blossom Festival which are both occasions of pride and celebration of Creston's blessings and bounty of locally grown food.
One of the First Peoples' Principles of Learning is that (in part) "Learning is...focused on connectedness, on reciprocal relationships, and a sense of place." I feel that this is always something that I have felt (but maybe was not aware of) when I was growing up. There are fewer things that can bring a person closer to the land then being able to not only identify where your food came from but also shake the hand of the person who grew it and congratulate them on a job well done.
As an educator, I feel that it is important to provide my students with every opportunity possible to be truly grounded in what they are learning. Sometimes that can mean connecting to the land in a direct way, or even just simply framing the content so that it is rooted in their own experiences according to where they are and what they are doing right now.
Sense of Community
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken. - Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
Creston is an interesting sort of community in that it is so small (15,000 people if you include all the little farming communities outside of the town limits; 6,000 if you don't) yet it is home to over ten different faith communities (including the Ktunaxa First Nation as well as various Christian denominations). While not as culturally diverse as a major metropolitan centre like Vancouver, it is still a very diverse group of people to live within such close proximity to each other. In spite of these differences, I have personally witnessed very little animosity between the members of our community. In fact, I believe that Creston serves as a testimony of a community that exists not only in spite of these differences, but because of them. There are so many community services, charities, and festivals and functions that exist as a result of setting religious differences aside in the name of the greater good. This includes the Christmas Hampers, the Blossom Valley Singers, community sponsorship of refugees, the Blossom Festival Interdenominational Worship Service, the yearly PowPow (where all community members are invited to attend, First Nations and otherwise), the Community Carol Festival, Positive Productions (an amateur community theatre company that donates all proceeds from the shows to charity), and I'm sure there are many others that I have neglected to mention. This sense of community cooperation and unity did not strike me as unique until I had moved away and observed how divided larger communities seemed to be. It is something that has troubled me and I cannot seem to find a way to explain why everything is so different here in the "big city."
Maybe it is because the big city is so...big. In communities that are so large and where the distance between people are even greater, maybe people have decided that they do not need each other as much as they might if they lived someplace smaller where one can identify each person on the street by name and some sort of personal community connection.
I do not want my students to think of themselves as isolated islands. I want to teach them how to foster positive working relationships with their teachers and colleagues and value themselves as members of a community of learners which includes students as well as teachers who should strive to be livelong learners.
Creston is an interesting sort of community in that it is so small (15,000 people if you include all the little farming communities outside of the town limits; 6,000 if you don't) yet it is home to over ten different faith communities (including the Ktunaxa First Nation as well as various Christian denominations). While not as culturally diverse as a major metropolitan centre like Vancouver, it is still a very diverse group of people to live within such close proximity to each other. In spite of these differences, I have personally witnessed very little animosity between the members of our community. In fact, I believe that Creston serves as a testimony of a community that exists not only in spite of these differences, but because of them. There are so many community services, charities, and festivals and functions that exist as a result of setting religious differences aside in the name of the greater good. This includes the Christmas Hampers, the Blossom Valley Singers, community sponsorship of refugees, the Blossom Festival Interdenominational Worship Service, the yearly PowPow (where all community members are invited to attend, First Nations and otherwise), the Community Carol Festival, Positive Productions (an amateur community theatre company that donates all proceeds from the shows to charity), and I'm sure there are many others that I have neglected to mention. This sense of community cooperation and unity did not strike me as unique until I had moved away and observed how divided larger communities seemed to be. It is something that has troubled me and I cannot seem to find a way to explain why everything is so different here in the "big city."
Maybe it is because the big city is so...big. In communities that are so large and where the distance between people are even greater, maybe people have decided that they do not need each other as much as they might if they lived someplace smaller where one can identify each person on the street by name and some sort of personal community connection.
I do not want my students to think of themselves as isolated islands. I want to teach them how to foster positive working relationships with their teachers and colleagues and value themselves as members of a community of learners which includes students as well as teachers who should strive to be livelong learners.
My Journey in Teaching and Learning
“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
-Eleanor Roosevelt
-Eleanor Roosevelt
Hedonism and Ambition
My early experiences as a learner can easily be described as hedonistic and ambitious. I do not necessarily mean that is a bad thing, but to understand who I am as an educator and why I chose to become a teacher, one has to understand my learning experiences when I was young.
The peak of this period of my life was probably when I was in Grade 8. The reason why I say this is because of the kind of life I was leading during that time. This is an extensive list of the kinds of activities I was involved in while still maintaining an Honour Roll status in my first year of high school:
--Dance: twice a week, Jazz and Lyrical; at this time, I was also choreographing my own solos and performing them at recitals and dance competitions.
--Band: twice a week, Junior concert band (which was a course I was enrolled in) and my cadet band (where I was learning how to play the bagpipes).
--Confirmation Class: once a week. More/less the Christian equivalent of a bat mitzvah, it involved attending classes once a week where I engaged in bible study along with other aspects of the Christian faith.
--Cadets: once a week (plus extra volunteer activities that usually took place after school or on the weekends).
--Fall Fair Baking: this year I chose to not only enter the adult baking categories, but also as many categories as I could, including cookies, pies, breads, rolls, cakes, muffins, and probably others that I have forgotten.
--Science Fair: I was a science fair participant since I was in Grade 1. The project for that year was to observe how playing music affected the growth of bean plants
While I did pretty well in these various activities, I will be the first to admit that I was a "jack of all trades, master of none" when it came to many of these activities. If I wanted to pin-point just what I was thinking back then, I think it would be that I just wanted to try and experience everything. This has also inspired in me a passion for learning new things. I took many courses in high school that I knew I was never going to use (Calculus, for example) for the challenge and the thrill of something different; I didn't necessarily excel in any of these courses (although I never got lower than a C+ in any class, and that didn't happen often), but I took them anyway. If I had extra time before school started, and I didn't have any extra homework to do, I would sit at the back of the library and read encyclopedia articles on completely random topics, just so I could have that satisfying experience of learning something new.
This has impacted my teaching practice because connection-building is still a major factor in the approaches that I take to my teaching. I also believe that every person is born with love and willingness to learn; it just needs to be introduced in the right way so students feel that they are engaged and involved in what they learn and how they learn it.
The peak of this period of my life was probably when I was in Grade 8. The reason why I say this is because of the kind of life I was leading during that time. This is an extensive list of the kinds of activities I was involved in while still maintaining an Honour Roll status in my first year of high school:
--Dance: twice a week, Jazz and Lyrical; at this time, I was also choreographing my own solos and performing them at recitals and dance competitions.
--Band: twice a week, Junior concert band (which was a course I was enrolled in) and my cadet band (where I was learning how to play the bagpipes).
--Confirmation Class: once a week. More/less the Christian equivalent of a bat mitzvah, it involved attending classes once a week where I engaged in bible study along with other aspects of the Christian faith.
--Cadets: once a week (plus extra volunteer activities that usually took place after school or on the weekends).
--Fall Fair Baking: this year I chose to not only enter the adult baking categories, but also as many categories as I could, including cookies, pies, breads, rolls, cakes, muffins, and probably others that I have forgotten.
--Science Fair: I was a science fair participant since I was in Grade 1. The project for that year was to observe how playing music affected the growth of bean plants
While I did pretty well in these various activities, I will be the first to admit that I was a "jack of all trades, master of none" when it came to many of these activities. If I wanted to pin-point just what I was thinking back then, I think it would be that I just wanted to try and experience everything. This has also inspired in me a passion for learning new things. I took many courses in high school that I knew I was never going to use (Calculus, for example) for the challenge and the thrill of something different; I didn't necessarily excel in any of these courses (although I never got lower than a C+ in any class, and that didn't happen often), but I took them anyway. If I had extra time before school started, and I didn't have any extra homework to do, I would sit at the back of the library and read encyclopedia articles on completely random topics, just so I could have that satisfying experience of learning something new.
This has impacted my teaching practice because connection-building is still a major factor in the approaches that I take to my teaching. I also believe that every person is born with love and willingness to learn; it just needs to be introduced in the right way so students feel that they are engaged and involved in what they learn and how they learn it.
Falling in Love With Teaching
As I mentioned earlier, I was involved in local and regional Science Fairs from a young age. This was because I not only had a love of learning, but I also had a passion for sharing what I learned with others. I started to apply this passion for the exchange of knowledge in a more formal teaching practice when I was a cadet.
As I progressed through the ranks of the cadet program, I eventually took on various leadership roles. I became the Pipe Sergeant (the primary instructor for the pipers in our band) when I was fourteen and then took over a Pipe Major (the director of the band) when I was sixteen. At this time, I was also a leader of my own section and was teaching and planning lessons on a regular basis at least once a week. I was put in charge of training when I was seventeen; this meant that in addition to teaching the occasional lesson myself, I also planned the training schedule and assigned lessons to be taught by others (which meant providing support and opportunities for professional development for those who were less experienced than I was). My last year as a cadet, when I was eighteen, I was appointed as the Regimental Sergeant Major of my corps, the most senior position that a cadet could occupy; this put me in charge of most of the day-to-day operations of the corps, and I continued to be a source of professional support for the other cadets if they needed it. For five years during the summer (two years as a staff cadet and three years as an adult instructor) I also taught music as the Vernon Army Cadet Summer Training Centre.
My teaching experience as a cadet was interesting largely because I was usually thrown head-first into many of these leadership positions with little warning or training so I often had to learn as I went. It was also interesting because I was often teaching students and giving "orders" to people who were only a couple of years younger than me (if I was lucky). It forced me to form a relationship of mutual respect with the people whom I was teaching (because no one is going to tolerate being bossed around by someone who they view as their peer...at least not for long, anyway). I ended up doing this kind of work for about eight years so it should come to no surprise that this was where I was bitten by the "teaching bug."
As I progressed through the ranks of the cadet program, I eventually took on various leadership roles. I became the Pipe Sergeant (the primary instructor for the pipers in our band) when I was fourteen and then took over a Pipe Major (the director of the band) when I was sixteen. At this time, I was also a leader of my own section and was teaching and planning lessons on a regular basis at least once a week. I was put in charge of training when I was seventeen; this meant that in addition to teaching the occasional lesson myself, I also planned the training schedule and assigned lessons to be taught by others (which meant providing support and opportunities for professional development for those who were less experienced than I was). My last year as a cadet, when I was eighteen, I was appointed as the Regimental Sergeant Major of my corps, the most senior position that a cadet could occupy; this put me in charge of most of the day-to-day operations of the corps, and I continued to be a source of professional support for the other cadets if they needed it. For five years during the summer (two years as a staff cadet and three years as an adult instructor) I also taught music as the Vernon Army Cadet Summer Training Centre.
My teaching experience as a cadet was interesting largely because I was usually thrown head-first into many of these leadership positions with little warning or training so I often had to learn as I went. It was also interesting because I was often teaching students and giving "orders" to people who were only a couple of years younger than me (if I was lucky). It forced me to form a relationship of mutual respect with the people whom I was teaching (because no one is going to tolerate being bossed around by someone who they view as their peer...at least not for long, anyway). I ended up doing this kind of work for about eight years so it should come to no surprise that this was where I was bitten by the "teaching bug."
But Why English?
You may have noticed that my initial formal teaching experience was in music. As as result, a question that I get asked frequently is why I'm teaching English now instead of Music. The answer to that question is one that is somewhat difficult and complicated to explain.
Part of the reason has to do with how I experienced music education in high school. I had fabulous music teachers who were all lovely people and they were great at what they did. What frustrated me was that Creston is a very vibrant and artistic community and there is music EVERYWHERE; in spite of all this support for the arts, the music department in my high school was not as strong as I felt it should have been. I loved music but I often felt disengaged with what we were learning in our music classes. We would rehearse music (which was way below my playing level), we would perform the music, and I would do a playing test at the end of the term (which, again, was below my playing level); I would hand in a forged copy of my "practice record" (I never actually practiced because the music was so easy that I didn't need to) and that was the extent of my engagement in music when I was in high school. We hardly studied any theory or music history and the music that we were playing was often performed without any sense of context or deeper meaning; we just played one song and then we were on to the next one. The value of our music program often felt determined by the concerts that we played at the end of term, and the program never grew or developed beyond those superficial aspects because there was no money. No one outside of the music department (all of one person) saw any reason for that to change.
The second part of the reason has to do with my experience in the academia of music education. I studied classical flute for two years at Vancouver Island University and Music Education at the University of Victoria for two years before I finally had to come to terms with how disillusioned I was with the whole idea. I was expecting the most progressive, cutting-edge music education pedagogy and all I got was the same tired, bored, stale teaching practices that left me disengaged in high school. Any suggestion of breaking beyond that mold and doing anything different was met with resistance and suspicion and I felt very uncomfortable and unwelcomed. I should point out that this isn't intended to be a criticism of any particular program or university (because there is a lot of things that are done right and very well in both schools); this is just an explanation of how I came to the realization that being in a system that valued music education in that way wasn't a good fit for me and my talents as a teacher and artist.
In the mean time, I was taking English courses as my second "teachable." The openness and critical conversations I wished I was having in my music education classes I was having consistently in my English classes. The first time I had EVER learned anything of substance about the history of "English music" was actually in an English class. In my music history classes, I was simply told that "nothing was happening" in terms of musical innovation in English-speaking world (before Jazz and the Beatles anyways); in my English classes, I was told that every respectable household had a piano in it and every person worth their salt at least knew how to play it a little (enough to impress their friends, families, and possible suitors, anyways). Not a whole lot of "innovation" might have been going on, but this is a musical history of a people who largely dominate the music scene today in developed countries and dictate how music is valued. Why was I learning and discussing these concepts in an English class but not in my Music or Music Education classes? It was at this moment that I felt like I had made my final decision on this matter.
In conclusion, I will say that I am still passionate about music, music education, and I will always be an advocate for music and arts education in our public schools; music teachers in our province have a difficult job and I have all the respect in the world for what they give to their students. It just isn't the right fit for me now. In the meantime, I will always look for opportunities to bring my knowledge and love of music into my classroom whenever I can.
Part of the reason has to do with how I experienced music education in high school. I had fabulous music teachers who were all lovely people and they were great at what they did. What frustrated me was that Creston is a very vibrant and artistic community and there is music EVERYWHERE; in spite of all this support for the arts, the music department in my high school was not as strong as I felt it should have been. I loved music but I often felt disengaged with what we were learning in our music classes. We would rehearse music (which was way below my playing level), we would perform the music, and I would do a playing test at the end of the term (which, again, was below my playing level); I would hand in a forged copy of my "practice record" (I never actually practiced because the music was so easy that I didn't need to) and that was the extent of my engagement in music when I was in high school. We hardly studied any theory or music history and the music that we were playing was often performed without any sense of context or deeper meaning; we just played one song and then we were on to the next one. The value of our music program often felt determined by the concerts that we played at the end of term, and the program never grew or developed beyond those superficial aspects because there was no money. No one outside of the music department (all of one person) saw any reason for that to change.
The second part of the reason has to do with my experience in the academia of music education. I studied classical flute for two years at Vancouver Island University and Music Education at the University of Victoria for two years before I finally had to come to terms with how disillusioned I was with the whole idea. I was expecting the most progressive, cutting-edge music education pedagogy and all I got was the same tired, bored, stale teaching practices that left me disengaged in high school. Any suggestion of breaking beyond that mold and doing anything different was met with resistance and suspicion and I felt very uncomfortable and unwelcomed. I should point out that this isn't intended to be a criticism of any particular program or university (because there is a lot of things that are done right and very well in both schools); this is just an explanation of how I came to the realization that being in a system that valued music education in that way wasn't a good fit for me and my talents as a teacher and artist.
In the mean time, I was taking English courses as my second "teachable." The openness and critical conversations I wished I was having in my music education classes I was having consistently in my English classes. The first time I had EVER learned anything of substance about the history of "English music" was actually in an English class. In my music history classes, I was simply told that "nothing was happening" in terms of musical innovation in English-speaking world (before Jazz and the Beatles anyways); in my English classes, I was told that every respectable household had a piano in it and every person worth their salt at least knew how to play it a little (enough to impress their friends, families, and possible suitors, anyways). Not a whole lot of "innovation" might have been going on, but this is a musical history of a people who largely dominate the music scene today in developed countries and dictate how music is valued. Why was I learning and discussing these concepts in an English class but not in my Music or Music Education classes? It was at this moment that I felt like I had made my final decision on this matter.
In conclusion, I will say that I am still passionate about music, music education, and I will always be an advocate for music and arts education in our public schools; music teachers in our province have a difficult job and I have all the respect in the world for what they give to their students. It just isn't the right fit for me now. In the meantime, I will always look for opportunities to bring my knowledge and love of music into my classroom whenever I can.