Low impact teaching

I pride myself in running a tight ship when I teach my classes. Classes run on time, every time, and I use every available moment for instruction. My workbooks are concise, with no space within them for notes. Instead, I teach in an old school style, writing on the whiteboard, and I expect the students to take ownership of their own education by writing down what is important. Students cannot write on my exam documents, but write their machine answers on a single solution sheet, with their written response answers located on foolscap.

As such, there is very little waste. No waste of time, no waste of paper … very little overall impact. This is a great thing when it comes to preparing for a new semester, which I am presently doing, because honestly, there is not much that I have to do. It is almost relaxing … but please don’t tell my fellow teachers about this, or they will hurt me.

But as good as that all is, it has me thinking a little philosophically. Does this low impact approach also extend to my teaching?

The reason this question is pertinent is that I tend to be a rather distant teacher. I have a lecture style in the classroom, where I do a lot of the talking and the students do a lot of writing and thinking and solving. There is precious little interaction between us. Now this results in some pretty efficient classes, where I stay perfectly on schedule and finish all of the things that I have planned. There are no road blocks, no unexpected turns, and no surprises. Smooth.

But could this be deleterious to student learning? Does my tendency towards mechanical lessons that operate under some invisible clock, where I am sometimes more actor than teacher – saying my lines at the right moment in a scripted event – somehow hurt the whole process? I know that as a mechanic, I learn a heck of a lot when I get my hands dirty, when things get messy and not go according to plan. Is it the same with teaching?

I will leave this as a question. I receive some positive feedback for my teaching from students, and a high percentage of them do well on the major assessments of the course, but does this indicate success? I am getting to the age when such things matter, when I start contemplating weighty issues like deep impact and legacy. I think I will keep my eyes open for any signs of decay or ineffectiveness, for underlying weaknesses, for detached students and missed learning.

Let the second semester begin, and may I ever strive to be the best teacher I can be.

Facing the truth

I started using Facebook about a year ago. Hey, what can I say? I am a slow learner. I had to make sure that it was not a “flash in the pan” app, and I guess I also had to wait until it got into legal trouble. No such thing as bad publicity, right?

At first, I used it to stay in touch with other family members that were on this site. Let’s just call it FOMO, family edition. I mean, what are they talking about? Are they talking about me? Are things happening in the family that I am not even aware of? An enquiring mind wanted to know, and so I signed up. Before long, I was in the mix and soon discovered that most of the time, nothing of consequence was being shared. Cute pics, interesting videos, and the very rare pic of a vacation or memorable event (likely curtailed due to Covid restrictions). There was no need to fear. So, why was I here?

But then I realized that Facebook had a marketplace, and considering that I had started a bike repair business, this could give me access to a whole new clientele. And in fact, this turned out to be true. Kijiji was kind of a bust, overall, but Facebook connected me to a huge number of people, many of who were interested in getting their bikes repaired for a reasonable price. Cha ching. So, Facebook soon became a daily companion.

At times, especially when things got less busy, I would find myself on Facebook for extended periods of time and naturally, I began to look around and see what else this site had to offer. And I quickly discovered the “videos” section – which was not hard, considering there was this big red number right beside it, telling me how many videos were now available that were specifically designed for me.

How dare Facebook?? What audacity and presumption to think that they knew me this well, especially when I hadn’t yet watched a video on this site! So, naturally, I had to go check this location out, just to see how far off they really were. Sure enough, most of the videos were not for me, trying to take up my valuable time with MMA fighting, bloopers, and the latest Tik Tok offerings. Honestly, I did watch these things for a while, more out of curiosity than need. But my interest faded pretty quickly.

Now, I would have dropped these videos entirely if it wasn’t for the “search” option. Was it possible I could tailor this experience myself, finding things that interested me? Well, this was a different story. So, I searched mountain biking, bike repairs, and the like, and I even subscribed to a few channels that appealed to me. The subsequent videos were far more fascinating, and even the additional themes offered by Facebook – parkour, motor bike stunts, dance, and amazing gymnastic performances – appealed to me. Before long, these videos became a part of of each evening, adding more entertainment to my already interesting life.

But I have discovered that there is a serious danger to these videos. As I watch people accomplish amazing things on bikes, on trampolines, and with tools, it has become more and more apparent how ordinary I am in comparison. There had been days in my past when I have felt special, believing I was doing some things at an exceptional level. But those illusions are all gone, let me tell you! People be ridiculous, and they are accomplishing things that I would have thought impossible before Facebook came along.

I mean, when you see a bmx biker doing a triple back flip or a mechanic take apart the most complex apparatus and reassemble it so smoothly and perfectly, how can you not be completely depressed? I mean, really, I suck big time!! Those videos are like serious drugs. They make me feel good while I watch them, but the more I watch them, the worse I feel about myself.

Now, before I abandon these videos and vow to never watch them again, I think they may serve an important role for me. They will help me once again come to terms with who I am and to be happy with that. My eyes have been opened and I am seeing myself in a different light. Yes, I am not the best at anything that I do, and for most things, I am far from it. I mean, even 6 year old kids can likely do better than me. But, I need to still view my very ordinary self as valuable and worthy.

So, I will keep watching these videos, because these people are truly great and they deserve the accolades they get. And when I finish watching, I will look in the mirror and be happy with the person I am. I am living a good life, a life that is perfectly suited to who I am. I do not need to be the best in the world – I just need to be the best “me” possible.

Thank you Facebook for helping me “face” myself. And wow, is this couch ever comfortable!

Thorny old man

I had just finished pushing my fat bike up a long, steep hill, and although the bike was made of carbon, it was starting to feel like it was filled with cement and dragging about 32 anchors behind it. My legs were screaming in pain, and I was faint with exhaustion. I couldn’t have been happier, especially when I was graced with the most amazing view of bright blue skies, green trees, and pure white snow.

I mounted the bike, leaning up against a nearby tree, and I surveyed the trail before me. It had not been walked on all week, so there were a few inches of snow covering it. Much of the trail traversed the side of a steep hill, so the riding would be tricky. I took a deep breath, pushed off on the tree, and after quickly gaining my balance, I ventured forth and laid some very clear and deep tracks in the virgin snow.

I did very well in the first section, and whenever this happens, it gets me thinking I can clean the entire trail, never putting my foot on the ground. The challenge was on.

I was successful for much of its length, but then came the final corner before the descent. I came a bit too close to the tree on the left, and my rear tire slid in towards the trunk. I knew I was in trouble, and I tried so hard to extricate myself from this situation … but the tire lodged deeply into a rut and came to a stone cold stop. And physics took over, causing me to spill over to the left and fall down the embankment … right towards a collection of thorn trees that were piled there when the trail was first made.

I had no choice but to throw my hands out in front of me, or else I would have gone face first into razor sharp branches. I knew I risked damage to my wrist or shoulder, but fortunately for me, the landing was relatively soft and my arms were cushioned. But not so my right hand. It landed directly on a thorn tree, and one of those inch long thorns penetrated right through my glove and jabbed me in my palm.

I am writing this blog with an injured right hand – which is kind of heroic when you think of it – and on my unscathed fingers, I am counting my blessings. It could have gone a lot worse. I will live to ride another day, and who knows what kind of adventure is in store for me? All I know is that sometimes you are pinning it, and sometimes you are pricked.

Happily getting fat

I remember like it was just yesterday. A few years ago, I was riding the local trails on my mountain bike, and it was a really tough day for me right from the get-go. It had rained earlier and so the ground was still wet. Every off-camber section was a death chute off a cliff, and every exposed root was a banana peel waiting to be slipped on. Let’s just say that there were times when I did more walking than riding.

Then, along came a group of familiar cyclists riding these behemoths otherwise known as fat bikes. They hailed me with big smiles, but I could see that behind the mud-splattered well wishing, there were equal parts sympathy and condescension. (In truth, they are the best of guys, and I was simply projecting my frustrations onto them – or at least, that is what my expensive therapist told me as I lay on the suede leather couch recently.) After a bit of a chit chat, they invited me to ride with them for a while. I am normally a bit of a loner, but I figured that this would be a nice change of pace, especially considering the hellacious day I was having on the trails. So, I agreed.

I am a teacher by trade, but on this day, I was the one who was about to receive an education. While my bike was bucking around like a bronco on crack cocaine, with me holding on for dear life, those fat bikes were proceeding along those mucky trails like they were on dry tarmac highways. I was agog, I was aghast … not to mention all of the other fancy shocking emotions that Shakespeare has given us. Could it be that muddy trails do not have to be torturous, ego stripping, soul sucking instruments of evil?

The grand climax came when we got to a particularly challenging hill. I attempted the climb first, and when I got about a third of the way up, I met up with a tiny root, hardly bigger than a microscopic capillary, and my narrow tire spun out on that thing like it was an oil slick. I failed utterly, and when my toe dabbed on the battleground of a path, the silence of the other riders screamed loudly in my ears like tinnitus, a phantom mockery that made me feel like the worst rider on the planet. It did not help when the other guys proceeded to climb that hill with ease, rolling over the roots as if they were not even there. One right after the other, the riders blew by me until I was stranded on that hill, alone and miserable and wondering where I could sell my bike.

You know the adage: if you can’t beat them, then give up. Wait, that is not how it goes. Let me Google this and get right back to you …

Oh yes, what I meant to write was “If you can’t beat them, join them.” So, I inflated my bike collection by adding a metal steed with balloon tires. I swear that when I first got on that thing, I thought I was riding an ATV and was about to ride over water. Can something with tires this wide even ride at any speed other than turtle or sloth? Would I be riding at maximum effort, only to watch a nonagenarian amble right by me, giving me a wink as he swings his walker forward?

But a fat bike is much like a bumblebee. It looks far too large to move at all, yet when it spreads its wings, it can fly. And fly I did. In the succeeding coupe of years, I spent more time on the fat bike than on any other bike in my arsenal, partly because it is so versatile and partly because it makes me look so good on the trails. I could literally climb anything. I swear that I was able to climb a tall tree, only to do a track stand at the very top before I descended. Wait, I think that was a dream I had, so that might be a bit of an exaggeration.

But there is no doubt that gaining weight, by adding a fat bike in my life, has been a dream come true.

Harmonic pendulum

It is time for me to get off my high bike seat and come to terms with reality.

I have always been troubled with how governing bodies – like the Ministry of Education – tend to subscribe to the pendulum model when establishing policy. One year, the emphasis might be on assessment accuracy, where teachers should refrain from using subjective methods that rely on fallible teacher judgement to establish marks for students, and instead, they should incorporate objective systems such as exams and rubric-based observations. But then, when the wind switches direction, our Minister will deemphasize testing as being impersonal and distant, and instead, they will extol the virtue of personal knowledge and judgement when teachers form an accurate evaluation of a student’s knowledge and abilities. Alas, when marks ultimately get inflated and are revealed as being inaccurate, the pendulum will swing back to more objective treatments.

All the while, experienced educational campaigners like myself will be shaking their heads, (an interesting oscillatory motion of its own), castigating the system for being confused and unwisely extreme. The wise choice, apparent to us in the trenches, is to see the value in each approach and employ the optimal method at the appropriate time. Simple, right? Then why don’t they do this? Oh, feel the judgement!

But you know the saying – when you point the finger, there are three more pointing right back at you. (Due to the fact that my pinky fingers is always raised when I am sipping high tea, I cannot seem to close it into a fist any more.) Recently, I have discovered that I am culpable of the same kind of pendulum thinking when it comes to biking.

A long time ago, when winter season would come along, I would put my bikes into storage and do all of my riding on a stationary bike. Instead of watching scenery passing by, I would instead while away the hours by reading my favourite magazines, many of which were cycling magazines (go figure!). In this way, I would still be able to keep my fitness at a reasonable level, so that the transition back to outdoor riding would not be too much of a shock to my system (read, so that I would not curl up and die in a ditch after riding for 2 hours).

But then the fat bike came along and changed my life entirely. I discovered that I could ride a bike when it is wet and muddy (but only on paths that would be safe for such purposes, so that I do not ruin trails), when it is soft and sandy, and most importantly for this article, when it is cold and snowy. I began to venture out during the winter months, and I found that when I was dressed properly, I could have some amazing rides in the snow.

This evolution of riding caused by my fat bike led to a new philosophy: never use the stationary bike unless the weather conditions were dangerously extreme (under -35, lightning storms, tornadoes, plagues … all the worst parts of the Bible). As such, the stationary bike became a sort of exercise in failure, indicating an unwillingness to go forth out into the elements like a true athlete or adventurer.

For the most part, this has been a great decision, because I have done more biking in the past year than at any other year in my entire life. And being outside so much has been good for my health, in fitness as well as mental and psychological. But, lately, I have noticed a significant disadvantage to this outdoor exclusivity. When the temperatures plummeted to below -30, especially when the ground was covered in deep powder, I was just not getting enough exercise. I would come home exhilarated but untaxed.

So, recently, I have decided to pursue a certain fitness chi in my cycling routine. When the weather gets seriously cold and it proves impossible to ride at a high intensity for a sufficient period of time, then I seek a harmonious balance between outdoor and indoor riding. When indoor, I can focus on turning those pedals under tension for hour after hour until they turn to jelly, which is my ultimate goal for my workouts. Then, weather permitting, I go outdoors into the frigid wilderness and experience all that Father Winter can throw at me, working on my core for balance and benefiting from the fresh air that filters through my ice-encrusted mask.

So far, it has worked very well. I feel fitter, I feel healthier, and I have a greater appreciation of the benefits of all forms of cycling, including stationary. I will always prefer outdoor over indoor and therefore, I will more likely be out on the trails and roads. But now I know that the stationary will always be there for me, offering a simple, stable, and smooth ride that is a nice complement to my other rides.

The pendulum stops here and cycling harmony has been achieved.

A tale of two novels

I assure you, that in my half century of reading, I have been strictly monogamous. I will choose a book and remain dedicated to that one book until its conclusion. Certainly, there have been stories that have not held my attention and I have had to let them go. But for the most part, I have been a dedicated, exclusive kind of reader.

And yet, this has not been the case recently. I am currently reading a book, but against my own nature, I have felt the need to accompany this book with another. I have been duplicitous.

Now I know what you are thinking: I am not satisfied with the first book, it does not fully meet all of my demands of literature, and I am merely submitting to a temptation to fill in the gaps. Some kind of literary midlife crisis. But I assure you, this is not the case. In fact, it is exactly the opposite. Turns out, my present book is actually far too exciting and engrossing.

Allow me to explain. As I implied earlier in this blog, I am no longer a young man and as such, my body cannot survive the varied demands of the roles of father, husband, teacher, amateur mechanic, and recreational athlete without the refreshment offered by an afternoon or early evening nap. Now in order to ensure that I am fully relaxed while I sit on my Ikea chair, I will first read my book, sending my mind to a completely different world and shutting my mind off from any pressing concerns or issues in my own personal world. Typically, within about thirty minutes of this mental diversion, I will succumb to an overwhelming exhaustion and indulge in a short but magical slumber.

However, my current novel is The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay, a masterpiece of fiction that may very well be hailed as my favourite novel of all time. I have read this book at least ten times, and despite my familiarity with the text, I am still impacted by its poetic magnificence as if it was my first time.

And if you have put the pieces of the puzzle together, you will realize that this is the problem. When I read this novel on a weekend afternoon, after riding for hours upon hours on my metal steed, any traces of tiredness are quickly evaporated from the brilliance of this man’s writings. I laugh uproariously at the wit, I grin like a mischievous child at each stroke of genius, and I mentally applaud the intricately constructed plot. My exhaustion is sequestered in a small corner of my mind, not to be considered again.

Yet it is still there, needing to be addressed. And if it is not soon acknowledged, then it will make itself known later in the evening when I am trying to watch a movie with my family. I will be yawning uncontrollably, much to the irritation of the others around me, or even worse, I will fall right asleep, no matter how good the movie happens to be. This type of behaviour is absolutely not tolerated in my house.

So, my only solution is to introduce a second book into my reading regimen.. The second book must be a much more mundane and ordinary production, something sure to send me to the land of the Sandman. I will not mention which book that is, since I do not wish to cast any aspersions on any form of literature in my arsenal. It is still a quality read, but just not breathtakingly brilliant.

And who knows? There may be someone else out there in the world who suffers the same problem, and when they really need to go to sleep, then they might choose my blog as their secondary form of literature. That would be truly ironic.