Calgary Public Board's Chief Supe just got some flack for a trip she took to New Zealand to learn something about education. Hmm.  The Chairperson defended her, somewhat inarticulately, but she deserved the criticism.

First off, I know that Finland is getting lots of recognition for excellence in education, New Zealand not so much.  Finland has no beaches, though.  More, admin travel is a bit questionable when schools are cutting teaching staff.  After all, these are times of conference calls and TED talks, neither of which include hotel rooms nor airplane ticket. And, although there is no room service in the CBE office elephant, there must surely be one flunkey in that over-bloated bureaucracy who could be sent to fetch a coffee and a donut.

The worst outcome would be if the Chief actually came back with an idea that she wanted to implement.  The cost of that would be disastrous for classrooms across the city. A couple of administrations ago, the then Chief wanted the CBE to be known as a leader in education in the English speaking world, so she invented "Quality Learning" and hosted a convention-like event to promote it.  The first one seemed a success.  There were the usual array of ed celebs. Rex Murphy spoke at his wordy best.  There was much patting of sycophantic backs at the debrief dinner.  And there was  smattering of applause for the student journalists and their teachers who wrote the daily newsletters that became the only evidence that something had happened.  It was a quality learning experience for those young writers, for sure.

The second Quality Learning Conference was a financial disaster.  There were fine speakers, a classy venue, and lots of glossy promotion.  Few registered.  To fill the seats, teachers were offered several incentives.  Few registered.  Money was found to subsidize registrations, and in the final tally, although the attendance as less than stellar, it was face saving.  But the cost . . . A new group of student journalists did an amazing job of reporting on the variety of speakers on a daily basis.  Thus, there was some actual quality learning that took place. The loss of money was appalling, and pretty soon, the CBE had a new Chief Supe.

He went to a conference in Seattle and there heard about Pathways to Success, or some such edubabble phrase, and determined that Calgary Public ought to take that trail.  He presented the idea and told the bureaucracy and school administrators to do it.  Just figure it out and do it.  And they did, and it cost another pot full of money.  It also alienated much of the teaching staff (who were really very interested in teaching their classes) and almost every student.  The young people resented the time taken away from their learning.  Wow!  Now maybe there was something in that quality learning notion after all. (sarcasm, in case you missed it, or I missed it)  After many attempts at restructuring and even re-naming, Pathways turned right into oblivion, and CBE got a new Chief.

Now, I am no longer in the ed biz, so I won't feel the pain should Chief Johnson get buzzed by some sheep shearing notion from Middle Earth. However, I think Calgary students would be better served if the Board kept her at home and monitored her emails for silly and expensive education innovations.

Bibbing with Beppi

Today, I got my first week-end edition of the Globe and Mail.  Foolish I may be, but after I had fired the Globe when they endorsed Stephen Harper, I have now succumbed to the blandishment of a cut-rate two-month offer.  We'll see if their editorial position shows regret at past stupidity.

In any event, I note that the Globe shows an increased concern with Toronna's claim to world-classism.  The Globe Style section includes, along with many suggestions as to how readers can dispose of their income, a Wine & Spirits column by Beppi Crosariol. Well, I am dazzled.

After many words in a language I can scarcely understand, Beppi tells me that Beaujolais goes well with burgers - or at least he "sides with" Rajat Parr, the wine director of San Francisco's RN74 (wowee) in that choice.  I don't know whether Beppi is just worried about making a clumsy recommendation or if he is name dropping.

In rural Saskatchewan in the 1960s, I learned about wine - what we called "porch-climber." So, my tastes are simple: give me a Calona Red Dry in a gallon jug that I can drink over the crook of my arm.  That goes well with anything.

So, when Beppi describes one of his choices for the week (I guess), I am quite surprised.  "this cabernet -led red Bordeaux shows a supple texture and great purity of fruit, leaning toward black currant and cherry, along with chocolate, lively spice and a funky barnyard note."

Most of that makes no sense whatsoever to me.  My wine was made from grapes, not other fruit.  If we were offered dandelion wine, we knew what it was going in.  There was no sneaking other weeds into the jug.  As for chocolate and spices . . . well, drinking chocolate was mixed with milk in good old Vico, and spice was what my mom never used in her cooking.  "Supple" reminds me of the girls of my youth.

But that funky barnyard note?  Well Beppi, old son, you could maybe convince me about that other stuff in the bottle, but there is no way I am going to drink shit.

I wonder about Harper.  He surely serves it.

Grand boy

His parents call him (e)Xavier; I call him Xavier (pronounced in French) or Xavi (with the Z); he says, "My name is Savier," and for me, there is much truth in that.  He saves me from all sorts of daily miseries.

Last night, Mom and Dad went to the new Star Trek movie, and Xavier stayed home to take care of Poppa. After an hour of watching bits of The Phantom Menace that was frequently interrupted by fingerprints and scratches, he brought the banana tree from the kitchen and gave it to Poppa. Then he climbed up, snuggled in, ate his bedtime banana, and shared the peel.  Outside, Bruin barked, so Poppa said, "Let Bruin in, please." When they came back, Xavi climbed up, laid his head on Poppa's shoulder and went right to sleep.

Everyone thinks he is a beautiful child, and that may be so. For me, it's when he takes my hand as we walk the dog, or when he climbs up to snuggle, that his beauty is most clear.

Shirl loved him, it seemed, from the moment of his conception.  She was an amazing grandma, "Grandmom," he called her.  She was forever putting him in my arms or setting him on my lap, making me feed him and change his diaper. Knowing my nature as an observer, she dragged me out of my sitting back and into pitching in.  She reminded me once again (necessary redundancy as I am a slow learner) that love is totally hands-on living. When I am missing her the most, his "I love you Poppa" is the only salve for my broken heart.

Is enough enough?

Listening to the scandal about SNC Lavalin and bribery on CBCF this morning reminded me of the old story about the Spartan boy and the stolen kit. The boy let the fox he had stolen for lunch and hidden under his garment claw out his guts rather than be caught for theft. Perhaps, then, Lavalin’s crime is not the bribery itself but rather the clumsiness in getting caught doing it.  And so the company will be punished, perhaps even with death.

It is not so radical to suggest that getting caught is capitalism’s greatest crime, at least according to its practices.  Countries all over the world are suffering collapsing economies because capitalism will not accept responsibility for the greed driven errors that caused incipient bankruptcy to financial institutions everywhere.  Rather than suffer the ignominy of being caught, the creators of the crisis have laid the blame on populations of countries with horrendous sovereign debt.  In the case of the Greeks, we were told to blame a culture of entitlement amongst people to lazy to work for their living.  (Few cared that Greeks had the longest average workweek of any capitalist work force.)  Then there were the PIGS countries, also no doubt the victims of lazy people.  Now France is in recession again.  England is crushing the working class with severe austerity.  I guess they are a bunch of bums with their hands out for the dole.

The Russians are besotted with vodka, so they don’t count.  The numberless Chinese will soon choke in their own pollution.  Or so we seem to think.  Thank God for the good old USA, where capitalism reigns supreme and all is well . . . or not.  Unemployment is high, and new jobs are in the low-paying service sector.  Manufacturing, except in armaments, continues to decline, exported elsewhere to low-wage regimes.  It seems that the focus on economic growth has once again proven to be chimerical, pie in the sky, as it were.

  Now may be the time for economies of enough.  The economies of more have indeed led to more—more misery for more people.  Perhaps at last will wonder about just where that “lost” money has gone.  Could it be hidden in the numbered accounts of the people who control the IMF and the World Bank?  The taxman calls that “Capital Gain,” but because it is hidden, there is no way that he can claim a share for the general good.  Still, we may not yet be miserable enough to complain about our lot.  Like Edgar in King Lear, we may think, “The worst is not/ So long as we can say ‘This is the worst.’”