Older...and Wiser?

Today I turned 23 in New Zealand…and tomorrow I turn 23 in Canada. Thanks to the efforts of staff, students, family, and friends, I felt surrounded by warm birthday wishes as I celebrated overseas. My students sang for me, and Anna brought delicious treats to the English department for all to enjoy. The “icing” on the cake was the delightful news that the year 9 form class that Anna and I share was recognized as an outstanding bunch of girls for their organization, effort, enthusiasm, and all-round positive attitudes and achievements. They’re having a movie afternoon with “nibbles,” goodies, and John Tucker.

In the early days of my twenty-third year I am reflecting on the things I’ve done to make it this far. I’ve only had twenty-three years…not much in the grand scheme of things -- I can’t imagine all that I’ll know by the time I’m 50!

When my brother was young he asked my mom what the dinosaurs were like. I still remember her reaction…partly adoration of her young son who couldn’t differentiate between Jurassic and present day, and partly hypersensitive to the number of wrinkles setting in on her skin. You see, the older people get the more reluctant they seem to reveal their age. They hide their embarrassment behind excuses like, “Oh, I’ve just dated myself,” or grunt their age under a muffled cough.

I’ve always taken umbrage with reactions such as these, mainly because age is something that we ought to be proud of. When we are young children we dream of being adults; when we are adults we yearn for the carefree state of youth; and when we reach the age of 65 and are eligible for the senior menu options or reduced rates at Norwich Union, it all of a sudden becomes cool to be old again. Funny how things come full-circle.

If we’re going to be ashamed of anything it ought to be our moral mistakes, not our position on the hill of life. We earn our wrinkles and gray hair, and just because I don’t have any yet I look forward to earning them as proof of a life lived. (That said, I’m not about to ditch my eye cream or collagen moisturizer!).

I am a young person and a young teacher. I’ve got a lot to learn and wrinkles and gray hairs to earn along the way. At the moment I am in New Zealand, teaching and learning from the people and the open road, actively adding to my repertoire of life experiences that will undoubtedly inform my teaching life for the rest of my career.

Thanks for reading,

L.

The Rest is Down Hill...

Our Great New Zealand Roadie has come to an official end. I feel we covered a lot of ground (2,298 km to be exact!) in a relatively short period of time, and I have a new-found appreciation for this country and its people. Plus, my geographical understanding has definitely benefited from all the navigating! New Zealand is such a wonderful place to be, and the Kiwi’s we encountered along the way were friendly and hospitable.

Highlights

- Kayaking along the coast of the Abel Tasman National Park
- Jumping out of an airplane at 13,000 feet!
- The “uplifting” feeling of the gale force winds atop the Kaitaki Inter-Island ferry across the Cook Strait;
- Cathedral Cove and the magnificent views from the Coromandel Peninsula;
- Driving down 90 Mile Beach (and having our driver sing me “Happy Birthday” in Maori);
- All the accumulated inside jokes that now exist between the four of us;
- Seeing things for the first time;

Lowlights
- the sketchy and cramped bus ride from Christchurch to Nelson
- the lingering pain in my feet after a 24km hike
- losing Chris to a “small” fire in his Christchurch apartment
- the outhouses in the national parks.
- wearing the same clothes for two weeks…with only one stop for laundry.

Travel and exploration have something to teach all of us. I have a slight suspicion that those of you who would identify yourselves as faithful blog readers have learned vicariously through my postings. Learning doesn’t stop when the plane lands or the car parks…and the good will inevitably mingle with the not-so-good, but the experiences and moments offer more depth and excitement to the fabric of my life.

Thanks for reading.

L.

Term Break in a Nutshell

Here are the "Coles Notes" for those of you short on time, but curious about where we've been and what we've seen.


Daily details from our New Zealand Term Break roadie!

Friday, April 6 (8:30am) - Depart Christchurch for Nelson. Arrive in Nelson after a LONG and WINDY bus ride.


Saturday, April 7 - Arrive in Marahau (in the Abel Tasman National Park) at "The Barn" backpackers. Slept in a tipi.


Sunday, April 8 - Marahau. Day-long Kayak along the Abel Tasman coast. 12km from Marahau to Anchorage Bay. Slept in a tipi.


Monday, April 9 - Marahau. Skydiving and relaxing. Slept in a cabin with a stellar sea view.


Tuesday, April 10 - Marahau. 24km hike along the Abel Tasman coast from Marahau to Torrent Bay. Again, slept in the sea view cottage.


Wednesday, April 11 - Crossed the Cook Strait on a ferry. Arrived in Wellington, picked up the rental car, and got settled in at the Downtown Backpackers. Very sketch.


Thursday, April 12 - Wellington. Spent the majority of the day at Te Papa (The Museum of New Zealand) and soaked up the rich flavours of culture and art.


Friday, April 13 - Lower Hutt/Lake Taupo.


Saturday, April 14 - Waitomo Caves/Rotorua. Staying at "Cactus Jacks" backpackers in a theme room!

Sunday, April 15 - Rotorua. Smelly thermal pools.


Monday, April 16 - Whitianga, Coromandel Peninsula.


Tuesday, April 17 - Whitianga, Coromandel Peninsula. Shakespeare's Cliff, Cooks Bay, Lone Kauri, Cathedral Cove, Hot Water Beach.


Wednesday, April 18 - 90 Mile Beach


Thursday, April 19 - Cape Reinga and 90 Mile Beach


Friday, April 20 - Auckland. Sky Tower and such.


Saturday, April 21 - Fly from Auckland to Chch.


Sunday, April 22 - Back in Christchurch, doing laundry.

100 Days Away from Home…it might have been otherwise

Looking East

Today the reading on the “Count Up Clock” caught me by surprise. It marked a moment in my life worth celebrating – 100 days away from the comforts and surroundings of home. I left Calgary on January 7, 2007, and 100 days later I am in the beautiful Coromandel Peninsula on the North Island of New Zealand.

Life could have been very different.

The thought of “what might have been” got me thinking about a poem I heard 3 years ago when I stepped into Brian Madill’s classroom at LTCHS in Red Deer. First, Brian is an awe-inspiring teacher who taught me more about teaching and learning in a 5-day practicum than I could have ever learned otherwise. He continues to be one of my muses.

The poem “Otherwise” was written by Jane Kenyon in 1996. It is a poem of gratitude about the simple pleasures in life and it stands as a strong of all the small fortunes we experience every day. Kenyon died several years ago of cancer.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Kenyon’s poem has carved a place in my personal life as well as my teaching life. I share this with students during studies of poetry and ask them to write their own “Otherwise” statements or poems. The results fit a broad spectrum -- humorous, silly, serious, poignant.

So on this 100th day I remind myself that things could have been otherwise. I could be sitting at my dorm desk in Lethbridge, listening to the howling wind and watching the snow fall as I cram last-minute details into my mind for one of many finals I would be preparing for as the semester winds down. I might be putting the finishing (or beginning!) touches on final essays. I might be watching “Prison Break” with Sam or Leah, or packing my things for a move back to Rimbey. I might have been out on the town for Tanner’s birthday, or recovering from Last-Class-Bash.

Today I was humbled by all the big things surrounding me – the huge passageway of Cathedral Cove; the vast and unbound Pacific Ocean; the colossal Kauri Tree that towered over me. At one point, while on the beach, I let some sand run through my fingers and I examined the last grain that remained in my palm. This triggered another poetic connection to my favourite poet, William Blake, who said “to see a world in a grain of sand…” and I was reminded of the fact that all these magnificent “big” things surrounding me are all made up of smaller fragments. Without all the little things there would be no beautiful beaches, no big trees, and no voluminous oceans.


A view of Lonely Bay from Shakespeare's Cliff

From inside Cathedral Cove

The Lone Kauri Tree -- look closer and you'll see me at the base.

My life would be very different if it were not for New Zealand. This opportunity has been so necessary in learning about myself and the world I live in…but more importantly each day is a reminder to appreciate the little things, and each breathtaking scene is like an alarm clock prompting me to appreciate the fact that I am currently in New Zealand, achieving goals and living a dream. It could have been otherwise.

We all play a small part in the bigger picture, and every person and place we meet with our eyes, mind, heart, and soul leaves an impression – big or small – and every encounter and experience adds more to our life story. It could be otherwise.

Thanks for reading,

L.

And then there were three...

Chris made a hasty departure from Rotorua this morning to return to Christchurch. His landlord contacted him to inform him of a “small fire” that broke out in the apartment next to his as a result of an electrical short. His wall is a bit scorched, and some things may or may not be melted beyond repair. In order to get all of the repairs complete in a hurry, Chris’s stuff had to be moved to a less-than-secure location. Needless to say, he was a bit concerned and decided to cut his road trip short. Or maybe it was his way of saying, “I’m tired of traveling with three girls, waiting for hair straighteners to heat-up and cool-down, hearing less-than-ladylike conversation, and seeing the darker side of females.” Don’t worry, Chris, we all think you deserve a medal.

Sadly, any group photos from this point on will make it seem like this was a girls-only road trip. We might have to experiment with PhotoShop.

On the bright side, there’s a bit more breathing room in the Toyota with one less body and luggage. Shannon and I had heaps of fun blaring the stereo and singing along to our homemade country CD on the way to pick Lindsay up in Thames.

The drive up to Whitianga on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula was really scenic -- and windy, with sharp shoulders and dangerous curves – definitely not for the faint of heart. This has been the most challenging stretch of road to this point, and we’ll be traveling it again on our way back to the main Auckland-bound highway. The twists and turns were worth is because the Coromandel Peninsula has been my favourite part of our trip.

Shannon might beg to differ. The road left her feeling a bit like a running shoe in a dryer. Her carsickness lasted a painful 24 hours, so she’s had to experience the Coromandel vicariously through the photographs Lindsay and I took on our tiki-tour along the coast.

So Chris is gone and the car is lighter, but our list of accomplishments is getting longer and the days ahead promise more good times on the open road.

Until the next exciting update,

L.

A Challenge for my Readers

What is unusual about this picture? Post your guesses by clicking the "Comments" section at the end of this entry. I'll post my own response soon.

L.

Crossing the Cook Strait

I’m writing from a reclining chair on the Kaitaki (“challenger”), one of the ferries in the Inter-Islander fleet. She is the largest, with room for 1600 passengers and 600 cars. There are heaps of luxuries aboard, including a cinema (playing new theatrical releases), cafes, food court, bars, live bands, TV lounges, video games, playgrounds -- and I just heard an announcement for an on-board magic show!



The Cook Strait, between the North and South Islands, is the main waterway between the mountain ranges of each island. It acts as a funnel for air flow onto the country and as a result is a particularly windy area. It takes approximately 3 hours to sail from Picton (South Island) to Wellington (North Island also the capital city of NZ). In adverse weather conditions the ride can take MUCH longer (someone mentioned 24 hours!). The narrowest part is about 19 kilometers wide.

The ship sails through sounds and points before it hits the open ocean. The scenery is stunning (we’re getting accustomed to the “wow” effect that hits us frequently). We passed:

1. Cook’s Lookout (marked with a monument commemorating the spot from which Captain Cook first sighted the stretch of water that was to bear his name);
2. Whekenui Bay (the place where, according to Maori legend, Kupe caught and killed the giant octopus he had pursued across the ocean to NZ);
3. Karori Rip (where two tides meet, making a noticeable rip. Rough even on calm days);
4. Sinclair Head (winter home from grey fur seals);
5. Red Rocks (notable result of volcanic activity, now a seal colony);
6. Pencarrow Head (site of the oldest lighthouse in NZ – 1859);
7. Matiu/Somes Island (used as an animal quarantine station until the 90s. During WWII it was used as a detention centre for ‘hostile aliens’ – people from enemy countries. It is not used as a recreation area).

There’s a lot to see and explore for this first-time ferry passenger. I’m off for more picture taking on the sun-deck where I will likely encounter gale-force winds as we steer towards Windy Wellington.

I have a very strong feeling that I’ll have a sway in my steps once I get on firm ground.

Thanks for reading,

L.

Gravity Works! Skydiving over the Abel Tasman…

When I woke up this morning I had no idea that I would be jumping out of a plane at 13,000 feet by 10:30a.m.

Shannon made arrangements to be picked up by a skydiving company in Motoeka and the three of us were tagging along to provide moral support and encouragement. We hopped in the van and were greeted by an enthusiastic employee and his dance tunes, and on the 25-minute ride from Marahau to Motueka we were entertained by his adventurous life stories. He assured Shannon that she’d have a life-changing experience diving with the best on an ideal day. All along the way I gazed out the window, soaking up all the scenery and subconsciously self-talking my way into a dive experience of my own.

We arrived at the dive school and I looked up at the cloudless sky. I pulled up a chair and watched a few people jump from the plane, dispatch their parachutes, float through the sky, and land on the field in front of me. It didn’t look so bad.




I stepped into the office and signed my life away. Shannon and I psyched ourselves up by plugging into our iPods and playing our favourite tunes while we waited for our call to suit up. At about 10am we slipped into our less-than-glamorous coverall suits, had a pro harness us into our gear, and climbed up into the 8-passenger (plus two pilots) plane.

There are no seats on a skydive plane. We were strategically seated in the order of jumping, which meant that when Shannon got in last she was to be the first one out the door. I was second to jump. We sat on the floor of the plane, curled into our professional tandem diver so that they could harness our gear together. When you “jump tandem,” you jump with a professional strapped to your back. They get the gear sorted, keep track of release times, and basically run the show. This is good because it avoids a lot of freaking out.











I figure I put my trust in professionals who have done this thousands of times. Bob, my tandem master, has successfully jumped more than 13,000 times so I felt pretty safe. All the hard work was done for us – basically, all we had to do was tilt our heads back, arch our backs and make a starfish-like pose. Oh, and jump. (But if we didn’t jump I’m sure we would have been pushed because when your legs are hanging out of an airplane you’re pretty much at the point of no return!).


Tandem Master Bob - 13,000 dives and going strong!

It is absolutely terrifying to look down at the world, knowing that you’re about to jump into the space between. The first 40 seconds are spent in a “free fall” in which you do just that – spiral and dive through the air, testing gravity and all the other physical laws of the planet. After those 40 seconds fly by (literally!), the chord is pulled and the parachute bursts open, pulling you back up and stopping all the noise in the world. For a few short minutes you float down, twisting and turning so that you can see all the scenery – mountains, ocean, rivers, roads, and people. But the most sublime part of the jump is the absolute silence that exists once the parachute opens. The world is so peacefully quiet – so silent that I could whisper and be heard. The vast world below is a solid reminder that we are all just a very small part of it all. A cool place to hang out, and a memory I will never forget.



Floating through a cloud on the way down was incredible. Paired with the silence, it was like traveling through a whiteout and losing complete sense of which way is up, down, left or right. When we broke through on the other side I could see Shannon as she prepared to land on the field.

The most hilarious part of the trip occurred after landing. Shannon and I reunited as successful skydivers and she confessed that as soon as she started falling through the air, the head cold she’s been dealing with over the last few days leaked out of her nose and across her face (and even onto her tandem partner). I laughed so hard as I watched her pick the line of dried snot off her cheeks!






In the end, I challenged myself and my comfort zone. I did something that I never thought I would actually do. I figure that the very short amount of time I gave myself to make the decision to jump prevented me from talking myself out of it. Plus, I knew that an opportunity like this would never happen – a beautiful day in NZ, surrounded by good friends and quality professionals. The whole thing rendered me speechless and reminded me that risks are worth taking.

So thanks, mom and dad, and grandma and grandpa, and grandma...you're birthday money was well spent!

Until the next adventure,

Larissa

On the Road Again

We are officially on Term Break here in NZ. All schools operate on a 4-term academic year, and each term ends with much-anticipated and much-appreciated school holiday. This is the first go round, and even though it feels like we just got started, it’s time to take off. We’ve got two weeks to zoom around the country and take in as much as we can.

Our plan is in pencil, not pen. Our main goals: see, explore, learn, adventure. We have an idea of places we want to see, and the approximate routes we may, but there is definitely some flexibility in how we spend our time. “Must Sees” include:
(South Island) Nelson and the Abel Tasman National Park
(North Island) Wellington, Lake Taupo, Rotorua, Coromandel Peninsula, 90 Mile Beach, and Auckland.

We’re going to give kayaking, tramping (hiking), museums, glowworms, tipis and much more a go. We’ll travel the South Island by bus, then catch the Inter-Islander ferry from Picton (South) to Wellington (North), and pick up our rental car in Wellington. We’re flying back to Christchurch from Auckland, via Wellington.

So much to see in so little time. Keep checking back for more details.

L.

BEWARE! LitterBugs at Avonside

Today I experienced another Avonside tradition: the Litter Assembly. This occurs when students forget that the grounds they enjoy during their interval (recess) and lunch are also the grounds that offer a first impression to visitors. Despite the fact that there are plenty of rubbish bins around, the girls still neglect to get their garbage into the bins. The punishment for this is a litter assembly.

During period 3 a runner comes around to all the classes with a piece of paper informing teachers that a litter assembly will be taking place during lunch. Period 3 teachers are to escort their current class to the Hall/Gym. The girls then sit in their designated rows, silently, and wait for an administrator to come around and pick random girls to put on rubber gloves and take a plastic rubbish bag out to the grounds to pick garbage off the lawn, out of the bushes, and off the pathways. The girls who remain in the hall are to be silent, and no one is granted permission to have lunch until admin is satisfied with the state of the grounds.

An open ear would hear the girls complaining about others who don’t do their part, and how they hate eating their lunch surrounded by rubbish. An open eye would see these same girls neglecting to get their banana peel into the bin on the following day. However, I did see and hear some girls getting after their friends and making sure that their eating area was clean before they left for class.

The most repulsive consequence of rubbish lingering on the grounds is the fact that the rats from the Avon River migrate from the banks to the school grounds – drawn by the alluring smells of food scraps. A rat was spotted on the grounds, and therefore the students have solid motivation to keep rubbish in the bins.

Until next time,

L.