Tag Archives: Children

Reading to You

Hello young kids.  I sat in a rocking chair this morning as five waves of you came my way.  And to each of your classes, from Kindergarten to Grade 3, I read Stanley at School.  You sat on the carpet.  You laughed.  You got scared.  Some of you were silent.  Others gasped and squealed.  It was fun finding out what Stanley had up his sleeve.

Every day, Stanley the dog watched all the children in his neighborhood walk down his street and into their school, where they stayed until the afternoon.  And every day he got more and more curious.  “What did the kids do in that school all day?”  His dog friends at the park didn’t know any more than he did.  So they decided to find out, and together they made their way to the bottom of the stairs in front of the school.  And that’s when Stanley got an idea.  A big idea.  A bold idea!  An idea so daring, it made his fur stand up.  “Why don’t we go inside?”

And so they did.  I turned on my various voices, and I think you liked it.  A doggie whisper of wonder.  A nervous little mutt afraid to walk through the human doors.  A faceless custodian yelling “Bad dogs!”  A soothing principal cooing “There, there, there” as she petted canine heads.

You and I discovered that dogs really run well in school and that kids’ lunches are downright delicious, right down to the last pickle.  You guessed if the next page would be good stuff or bad.  You told me how the story would end.  And most of your eyes were very wide indeed.

I had fun.  I think you did too.  And isn’t that just the best?

No Go

When those two kids approached me about riding the Tour du Canada, I thought about lots of things, none of which included how the leadership of the Tour might react.  The next day, it weighed on my mind.

The Tour is owned by Cycle Canada, a company led by Bud and Margot.  I e-mailed them about having two 13-year-olds join me in 2018.  Not many hours later, I had an answer.  Margot recalled a 13-year-old girl who set off from Vancouver with her mom on a tandem bicycle.  Soon it became clear that the girl didn’t want to ride the whole time.  She was bored.  Sometimes she took the bus while her mother rode the tandem alone.  Not good.

Margot also brought up the possibility that at some point both kids couldn’t ride.  There are only two extra seats in the truck and I’d have to be in there too to look out for my young friends.

Margot’s response to me was well thought out and reasonable.

But I sighed.  Is the dream dashed even before parents start considering the situation?  I decided to write her back.

What if in the future I could provide training logs to show that the students were committed to be fit enough to cross the country?  And Margot, Bud, the kids, their parents and I could Skype to talk it all out.  I wondered if there was any wiggle room.

Also I mentioned a book – the only one I’ve read three times.  Hey, Mom, Can I Ride My Bike Across America?

Margot replied.  No wiggle room.  The American kids had flexibility in their schedule.  They could take an extra day if need be.  But the Tour du Canada is tied to a firm schedule, with details such as campground reservations and ferry schedules to be considered.  Plus everyone in that truck has to have a seatbelt or the government would shut the trip down.

Sigh again.  I don’t feel that I’m right and Margot’s wrong.  Both sides have their good points.  But I’m sad.

Yesterday I told the class about the decision.  The whole discussion would be academic if no children and their parents step forward down the road.  I asked them to think of some creative ways that interested kids could go on far shorter rides with me in 2017.  I’ll see what if anything come of that when I return from my meditation retreat in early March.

Life is often a big curve ball, I do believe.  But I still love being in the game.

 

 

Road Of Dreams

I was so excited Thursday morning.  I was going to ask 27 Grade 6 kids for help.  I had let my dream fade and maybe they could get me back on track.  I want to ride my bicycle across Canada in 2018.  It’ll be about twenty of us embracing the Tour du Canada – taking 70 days to pedal 7600 kilometres from Vancouver, B.C. to St. John’s, Newfoundland (a bit more if I start in Victoria).

I started by asking the kids if they have a goal which so far they hadn’t achieved.  After one young man responded, I told them about the Tour.  It seemed like there was a collective drawing in of breath as I launched into my story.  Tiffany, their teacher, said that here was an opportunity to bring school closer to real life.  Indeed.  She handed out huge pieces of paper and groups of students charted ideas for me.

As the kids hummed along in their work, one girl came up to me and asked “What colour are your eyes?”  (Huh?)  Turns out that she was drawing a picture of me on the paper and wanted to get my eyes right.

And then the presentations.  No more junk food.  Ride my bike every day.  Find someone to train with.  Write encouraging letters to myself between now and June, 2018, and open them on the ride when I’m having a hard day.  Write a blog as I cross the country so folks can find out how I’m doing.  Thanks, kids!  Tiffany will be marking their posters and then I get to take them home for inspiration.

After all was said and done, two girls came up to me (separately) and said that they want to do the ride with me.  Whoa!  I mentioned that a lot of thinking had to be done, parents had to be totally on board, and the training would be intense.  Inside, I was churning.

Have you ever read a book three times?  I have.  The title is Hey Mom, Can I Ride My Bike Across America?  A teacher and his wife rode with five 12- and 13-year-olds from Washington, D.C. to Santa Barbara, California.  It took four months.

Yes, I’ve dreamed of doing the Tour du Canada for many years.  Sitting right beside that dream was another: to include a couple of kids on the adventure.  I only have two regrets in life – that Jody died so young and we didn’t have children.  I think I would have been a good dad.  Wouldn’t it be cool if I could be a sort-of-dad for two months and share the wonders of Canada with fine young Canadians?

Now, a few days after speaking my heart, I try to put myself in the parent’s chair.  It’s not too likely that mom and dad would let their daughter or son travel with me for ten weeks.  It’s  a long ways.  Hills.  Bad weather.  Possible illness and injury.  Maybe a few unsavoury characters discovered along the way.  If it was my child, would I let them go?  Well … yes.  If I trusted the person to keep my dear one safe.  Roots and wings.

Here I sit, not knowing if some Grade 6 kids will accompany me.  Maybe there are parents out there who will say yes.  First of all, of course, maybe there are a couple of children in that class who truly want to do this and are willing to put in the work to make it happen.

Oh my
The weight of reason suggests that this part of my dream won’t happen
But you never know

How Sweet It Is

There is such a thing as a Belmont Santa Claus Parade and I got to experience it a couple of days ago.  The night was dark and I was Charles Dickens – top hat, scarf, trenchcoat … and moustache!

I live at the north end of Belmont and the parade was to start at the south end, on the grounds of the farm supply company.  Forty-five minutes before the great beginning, I strolled down Main Street.  To the few passersby I encountered I said “What’s going on in town tonight?”  Some smiled.  Some stared.  Oh well.

Basically there were hardly any spectators positioning themselves.  Here I thought the Belmont parade was a big deal.  Guess I was wrong.

I found my Belmont Diner float and loaded my Christmas bag with tons of candy.  Then I wandered among the other floats, chatting with some and sundry.  I sought Santa, hoping that he would come through with the red Lamborghini I had promised myself decades ago.  But he must have been doing some last minute gift wrapping.  And then it was time to get rolling.

I told the Grade 6 kids at South Dorchester School that I’d be handing out candy beside the Diner float, and if they wanted to see me they should be on the east side of the street.

The float and I turned right out of the parking lot onto Main Street.  Oh my God!  The sidewalks were packed two and three deep, and were well populated with short folks.  Christal, the Diner’s owner, told me “One candy only to each kid.  Otherwise you’ll run out by the bridge.” (about one-third of the way along the route).  Okay, so be it.

I made eye contact with every child I could find.  “Merry Christmas!” was interspersed with “I don’t see any kids.”  (Cue frantic waving) and “You look like a broccoli and lettuce kind of guy, not the candy type.”  (Cue yelps of “Candy!” and outstretched hands)   Great fun.

About five of the Grade 6s rushed up to say hi.  And I got to meet a few parents.  I think they’re glad I show up in their child’s class.  Being there makes me happy.

Occasionally I glanced up from the sea of young faces to see my float fading into the future.  Ouch – that’s my source of candy replenishment!  So a decision was needed.  Should I zoom forward to refill my bag or continue to see each youngster?  Practicality gave way to relationship.  More eyes to behold.  Dwindling supplies be darned.

I got to chanting “Adult, adult, adult … kid!” and gave the next small human a gigantis smile.  Another candy safely delivered.  Laughing went from sidewalk to street and back again.

Up Main Street we journeyed, past the Barking Cat (pub), the Diner, The Post Office and Jody’s bench, the Belmont Dairystore, the library and the Town Restaurant.  When at Church Street, one block from the end of the parade, what to my wondering eyes should appear but only twenty candies lying in my bag.  Between Church and Washburn, another flurry of children bounced on the sidewalk.  What to do?  I mentioned my dilemma to a number of parents.

Guess what happened?

Maybe eight or ten adults poured handfuls of candies into my bag. “For the kids up ahead.”  And how many of the children associated with said adults complained?  That’s right – zero.  Immensely sweet.

Thank you, Belmontonians.  You made my year.

Grade 6 and Me

It’s been a long time since I’ve had kids in my life.  I went on short term disability in November, 2013 to care for my dear wife Jody.  That was it.  Now I’m retired.

On Monday, I received word from the Ontario Provincial Police that my fingerprints were fine.  I had passed the criminal check.  So on to volunteering at an elementary school near Belmont.

On Tuesday afternoon, I started with Grade 6’s, led by a lovely teacher whom I’ll call Nicole.  “Would you like to read to the students?”  Of course.

The class was devouring Matilda, a book by Roald Dahl.  It’s the story of a remarkable 5-year-old girl, gifted in math, literature and tipping over water glasses with her mind.  Matilda becomes fast friends with her teacher, Miss Honey, and fast enemies with the school principal, Miss Trunchbull.  Here’s a taste of what Matilda had to overcome:

“You are a vile, repulsive, repellent, malicious little brute!” the Trunchbull was shouting.  “You are not fit to be in this school!  You ought to be behind bars, that’s where you ought to be!  I shall have you drummed out of this establishment in utter disgrace!”

Head down into the words, I launched myself into the roles, having entered the story midway.  I love reading out loud and I gave the Trunchbull all the nastiness I could muster.  Never once did I look up to see how the kids were reacting but I sensed they were having a grand old time.  Later Nicole told me so.

What an opportunity I have, to influence children once more.  May I help them see the gifts that they are.  Matilda had almost magical powers, probably beyond anything that the Grade 6 kids, Nicole or I can bring forth.  But every one of us has our own way of moving others, and may we discover that unique richness in each other’s company.

Kids Again

Earlier today, I was sitting comfy-like in the Belmont Library, a happy ten minute walk from my condo.  How marvelous that I can walk to all these places – the Belmont Town Restaurant, the Dairystore convenience store, my massage therapist, Jody’s bench at the post office, the Belmont Diner, the gorgeous village park with pond and fountain, and the Barking Cat pub.  Wow!

But today was the library.  I wrote a blog post and was tickled pink to send it into the cyber universe.  As I revelled in my deed, a boy walked in, seeking a book on hold.  I looked at him.  I thought he was young enough to be going to South Dorchester Elementary School, where I’m hoping to volunteer.

Do I leave him alone or ask him the question?  Feeling fairly intrusive, I asked if he went to South Dorchester.  Yes.  “Do you like your school?”  Yes again.  And the conversation evolved.  Just him and me talking level – nothing about adult and child.  He told me there were no men at the school and that he hoped I’ll show up there.  Me too.

The young man communicated beautifully, and my love of conversation with kids flooded back.  He spoke with soul, so wondrous coming from a young person.  One of his comments, however, sounded like a stereotype and I mentioned that.  In response, he didn’t grump – he listened.  So fine.

I’m happy.  I get to be with kids again.  Maybe I can set up a floor hockey league.  Maybe I can help them with their reading and math.  But the content doesn’t matter.  The context does.

Be with

 

 

 

Missing Kids

I’m a retired teacher.  Jody and I didn’t have any children.  I miss kids.

In May, when I knew I was moving to Belmont, I imagined myself volunteering at the  elementary school in town.  Except there isn’t one.  Some local human, sitting with me around the Diner lunch counter, told me that Belmont kids go to school at South Dorchester Elementary, on a country road a few kilometres south of the village.

Six months later, I hadn’t made any move towards being a presence at the school.  And still I was missing kids.  So yesterday I ventured along the beauty of Crossley-Hunter Line.  And there on my left was my beige brick destination.  It was lunch recess.

As I walked into the office, I sure hoped the principal would welcome another volunteer.  I talked to the secretary (Trish?) for a few minutes.  She seemed nice.  And then I asked to speak to the principal.  Lynn told me a bit about the school.  It was a small place – just 200 students.  Perfect.  She said I’d have to go through a police check at the station in nearby St. Thomas.  Did I know where it was?  In the spirit of winning friends and influencing people, I said “Oh yes.  I’ve made use of their luxurious accommodations many a time.”  Lynn smiled.

As we wandered through Lynn’s “ten cent tour”, I asked if the staff were intelligent (or maybe if they were nice people).  All this within earshot of two teachers chatting near their classrooms.  “Definitely.”  More smiles.

I suppose I should have been more discreet on first meeting, given that I wanted to become a part of the school.  Oh well.  Discretion is not my middle name.

Up next was the OPP station (Ontario Provincial Police).  Fill in the form, sit down and wait for the response.  And it was “You need to be fingerprinted.”  Ouch.  I’ve done lots of fingerpainting but never the printing stuff.  I’m pretty sure I’m not a hardened criminal.  But that’s okay.  My ink session is next Thursday.

I’m hoping that by the first of December I’ll be accepted sufficiently at South Dorchester to do my usual Christmas schtick … reciting Twas The Night Before Christmas.  I love doing that.

Yesterday evening I went to a fish fry at the Belmont Arena.  The girl plunking a bun on my plate looked to be elementary-aged.  So I asked her about the school and she said the teachers are great.  Yay!  A character reference.  Later I asked three other kids the same question.  Their mom smiled and the children pondered.  They like it, and I got that their responses were genuine, not just mouthing stuff that would please an adult.

So … my educational future beckons.  May there be a place for me.

 

Day Twenty-One … Kids!

Since Jody got sick in November, 2013, I haven’t had kids in my life.  During the years that I taught blind children, I got to know and love many of the child’s classmates.  We had some great discussions – 1-1 and in groups.  Long ago, I’d visit my nieces and nephew through my marriage to Rita and we’d be silly.  More recently, it’s been fun with my nephews through my marriage to Jody.  But not much contact with children for the last two years.

But then – as in Monday – Rita’s husband Dave arrived on the train from Edmonton, with his son Rocky and his granddaughters Hannah and Josie.  They’re elementary school-aged kids.  Off the train they bounced (even after 24 hours of travel) and gave Grandma Rita big hugs.  I’m standing in the background watching.  Then I was introduced.  I stepped forward and shook their unsure hands.

We crammed into Rita’s car.  Dave, Josie, Hannah and I were wedged together in the back.  As we cruised the Vancouver streets, Dave turned into a tour guide, showing the kids this and that.  They were tired but looked like they were enjoying grandpa’s enthusiastic descriptions.  Hannah kept mentioning that she wanted to go to a restaurant like the cool pork ribs place back home.  I just loved being there with everyone.  It felt like family, even though I’m not officially a member of Rita’s family anymore.

At one point, I said to Hannah, “I hear you’re an artist.”  She smiled a wee smile.  “You did a drawing of Rita and Dave for their wedding.  I liked it.”  Smile a mite bigger.  The framed black-on-white line drawing hangs proudly on the wall.

Then we were home.  After a bit of hustle and some bustle of the house tour type, we were all in the kitchen.  I thought “Why not?  I know I’m out of season but give it a go.”

“Do you girls like the poem ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas’?  Or is it a so-so?”

Hannah: “So-so.”

Bruce: “I’ve learned to say it in a special way.  May I recite the poem to you?”

Josie and Hannah: “Okay.”

And I was off, attempting the land speed record for reciting “Twas” really fast.  Eyes widened.  Mouths curled up, especially Josie’s.  I got lost halfway through and paused for effect, but soon I was pouring out the syllables again.  I finished with a flourish, arms in the air.  Enthusiastic applause greeted me from all sides.  It’s such a fun way to make kids happy.  The adults didn’t seem to mind either.

I wonder if I’ll meet other kids on this road trip.  I hope so.

Small Bodies, Large Souls

It’s time to let the kids do the talking.

There’s a Grade 5/6 class at St. Jude’s School in London who have done a lot of praying for Jody and me.  They sent love to two people they’d never met.  They also sent me a book – The Fall of Freddie the Leaf – along with messages of caring.  So lovely.  I visited the students yesterday and told them how special their love is.  Of course they love their moms, dads, brothers and sisters, and their friends, but to reach beyond, out into the world with their sweetness … oh my.  What the world needs now …

Here’s what they had to say:

I know the loss of your wife Jody has planted sadness into your life.  Don’t let that stop you from being who you are.

Life is like a spirograph.  Once one line ends another starts.

Just remember that Jody in a good place and will always remember you.

Get well soon from your loss.

I know its hard to lose someone close.  Jody was probably a really sweet person.

Keep going and keep your wife in your prayers forever and keep her in your heart with all your strenght and your love.

You need to be strong and not to have a heavy heart, because Jody loved you and even though she died, she is actually living everlasting life with you, right by your side.  So don’t just sit there and weep.  Sit by Jody’s tree and fell her spirit in you.

I have a good song to sing that might cheer you up.  It is the song Happy.  So keep that in mind and you will hopefully feel better.  She was probably a very special lady to you.

I hope thease leaves cheer you up.  Hopfully you can recover from this.

Jody is in a better place now.

Mr. Kerr I am so sad to hear of the loss of your wife Jody and hope that she goes to heaven.

Daniel always helped Freddie through rough times just like you helped Jody through her tough times.

Jody may be gone but you still have your special memories just like the special tree you and your wife share.

One day my moms couisim had cancer.  She had it for a year.  That year pasted by and now she is still alive.

You must struggle but I will always keep you and Jody in my prayers.

Mr. Kerr, we hope you feel better and you always know that she is in your heart.

I know how you feel.  Papa died from cancer.  He is very nice when I see his grave and my grandma.  It reminds me of him.

Bruce, we will keep you in our thoughts and prayers.

I had experienced a horrible, sad story too.  She was a little girl who’s name was Adison.  She was a very close friend of mine and she passed away from a car crash at Costco.

I am very sorry for your loss but we all die when it is our time.

Well I hope this letter cheered you up a bit and that soon all their leaf letters will too.

I hope you can overcome your loss just like me and my family did.  I know it’s hard not to think about your wife, but just think of all the things that you can still do.  Good luck!

(Crying)

Thank you, kids

Our Children

On one level of existence, we don’t have any young’uns.  But hey, why stick with just one version of life?  After we got married in 1988, Jody and I decided that we wouldn’t have any kids.  Instead we would do a lot of travelling.  But I can’t help imagining how it could have been …

Fifteen years ago, our reality snapped, and lo and behold, we were parents.  I don’t know how it happened.  Divine introspection perhaps.  Jody and I were blessed to welcome our son Dollop to the planet.  Such a fine lad, and he’s grown to be a quality dishwasher and lawn cutter.

Just before Dollop was born, I remember thinking that having one child was just the right amount.

Two years later, along came our darling Puce.  A brother needs a sister, right? She was so sweet, and still is.  From Barbies to boys, it’s been a long road, and such a pleasant one.  Someday, I’m going to walk her down the aisle.

Just before Puce was born, friends and neighbours told us they were green with envy that we were about to have a daughter.

In 2010, we were both super busy, but gosh – there’s always time for childbirth.  I was holding Jody’s hand in the delivery room as Inkling emerged into the world.  Soon red hair and a fiery personality joined us at the breakfast table.  One of a kind you are, my dear.

Just before Inkling was born, I had an idea that there was a princess on the way.

With the foundation of a really good housekeeping team in place, Jody and I were delighted that Squirm decided to join us … out of the blue.  Unexpected but not neglected, we loved her to bits.  A very active child, she’s always enjoyed life’s twists and turns.  Lovely.

Just before Squirm was born, I remember feeling really antsy.  How would we cope with four kids?  As it’s turned out, no problemo.

We both thought that was it.  For years the Kerrs were a scintillating sixsome.  And then just last week, Santa, the Easter Bunny or maybe David Letterman plopped a new being in our laps.  Imagine – Jody at 54 and me at 65!  Thank you, Somersault.  Seven of us.  Aren’t we a lucky family?  And who knows what this young boy will become?

Just before Somersault was born, I woke up in the middle of the night, absolutely flipping out.  I’ve calmed down since.

So there you have it, folks.  We’re very proud.  I’ll send you a photo sometime.