Self-Taught (SOTC 228/365)

I am part of a photography meet-up group called the Edmonton Shutterbugs. Over the last five years, I have participated in countless photo walks, as well as some unique lesson-style opportunities to practice new photography techniques in the company of other like-minded individuals.

For 2017, the group decided to host a 52-week photography challenge. Each week, the organizer posts a single word around which we are to create our image. I've had the right mix of inspiration and free time for about half the weekly challenges so far, including this week's.

This week's challenge word is "learning." I visualized my image so quickly that I'm not sure it's fair to call this particular submission a 'challenge,' lol.

Most of my photography skills are self-taught. I've owned a camera for the last thirty years or so, but it has only been in the last ten that I've taken my natural affinity for the art and built upon it with some intentionality--book by book; an article here, a YouTube tutorial there; and by looking at a lot of photographs taken by other people. If I am not out actually taking photos, I'm generally learning about the art in some capacity.

So some days, learning looks like this.

Other days, it looks like this:

Train School (SOTC 163/365)

My photography club had a meet-up at the Alberta Railway Museum last weekend. I hadn't even known this place existed until the event was planned. I am not one of those people who loves trains, but after spending a couple hours at the museum, I could start to get a sense of why there are some who are those people.

In my brain, I generally envision four kinds of train cars: engines, cabooses, passenger cars, and freight cars. It doesn't even cross my mind that of course there must be other types of cars to hold the people that keep a train running. At the museum, I moved in and out of all sorts of train cars that I'd never thought about or known existed: kitchen cars, bunker cars for train workers, cars for animals, office-type cars, and the medic/first aid car.

But this.



I stepped in the back entry, and before I even came to the full realization of what I was looking at, I loved this car.

It's the instructional car.

Teaching happens here.

True, not the teaching of K-12 students. Workers would receive their training in this car. Which makes sense. Those of us who work in offices have board rooms, or attend conferences in hotels, to receive training. But if you're working on the Canadian National Railway, ever-moving across the country, where else would you go!?

I think part of the reason I love this car so much is that it's evidence of learning. I realized, in discovering this car, that I held some negative connotations towards the working environment of train employees--probably because of the way some of those who were employed to build railways were historically treated. I viewed working on the rails like working in mines--dirty, dangerous, underpaid, with uneducated employees.

Clearly that is not the case--at least here.

I stood in a space where learning happened, and my heart smiled.

In Loco Parentis

Several years ago (how is it several already?), N&S took then-infant A with them to the Angelman Syndrome conference in Whistler, BC, leaving me in charge of P&S for five days. I had the help of other respite providers and grandparents, but I was the main provider during N&S's time away.

I learned a lot of things about myself as a care provider that week. Respite in it's overnight, more long-term form is qualitatively different than short shifts a couple times per week, or even the natural routines I participate in now when I visit for an Aunty Gina weekend.

This past week, the other 'aunty', C, and I hung out with P in Saskatoon, providing respite, while the rest of the family took a much-deserved holiday in Maui*. I was very excited to spend my holiday time with my niece in this capacity.

The week was such a delight in so many ways.

• I enjoyed knowing that I had become so comfortable and familiar with Saskatoon--my second-home-city--that I could navigate to many spots without the aid of Google Maps. And as N said, "you know a place is starting to feel like home when you're running errands in it."
• I loved sitting out in "the Oasis" that is their back yard, sipping my morning coffee on the deck swing, and listening to the fountain trickle down into the koi pond. Don't get me wrong, I love my own back yard to bits, but theirs is no ordinary back yard.
• I loved having uninterrupted time with P. S&A are a delight to my heart, but it sometimes means that P becomes relegated to the background of activities.
• The weather--for the most part--was gorgeous. It meant sunny strolls, outdoor swims and water slides, bubbles in the back yard paddling pool, and many a meal in the late afternoon sun. Summer bliss.
• P's laughter is contagious like nothing else.
• My partner in crime this week, C, is a close friend, but we often have differing schedules that limit the time we get to hang out in Edmonton. So it was great to have uninterrupted time with her, as well. Plus, we make a great caregiving team together.

The week has also been a powerful learning experience, yet again. Among the sunshiney bliss of summer activities with my favourite twelve-year-old, this week has:

• Affirmed the value of two-parent families. By this, I don't mean to say that single-parenting isn't valuable or doesn't work--I am not undermining that dynamic at all. Quite the opposite, actually. Raising children is quite the task. Several times, C and I talked in awe of how N does it on her own when S is out of town on business for up to a week at a time. Where's the other adult to talk to? To share the load? To share the giggles? To give you a break? To help keep a sense of humour and a level head on the days when the diaper explodes, the child has pulled your hair half a dozen times, is refusing breakfast, and two loads of laundry have been washed and dried, all before 9:30am?** Single parents--especially those of children with disabilities--are my new heroes. I'm sure I could have done this week on my own. But certainly not as well. And I wouldn't have really wanted to.
• Re-iterated the necessity of subsidized respite for parents of children with special needs. Between home care and respite, N&S had something like 90hrs of funded care per month for P when they lived in Alberta, where respite hours are based on need.*** In Saskatchewan, respite is based on income. Given the relative affluence afforded by S's job, the family does not qualify for funded respite hours. While I appreciate that this approach attempts to ensure that families who struggle financially can still receive the care they need for their child, I have also worked with enough families to know that just because you make more money does not mean you need less help; nor does it mean you have the ability to pay out of pocket for the full amount of help you actually need.
• Made me appreciate even more this time of being single. Somewhere in the last couple of years, I recognized that I really am at true peace with being single in a world where marriage-house-children is still the expected path for women in their pre and peri-thirties. Perhaps I will be single for another year, another decade, or the rest of my life. I am okay with any and all of that. I have enough trouble brushing my own teeth every day. Perhaps I don't need to be responsible for brushing someone else's.
• Given me pause to consider the honour of being trusted to care for a child in this capacity. There are only so many people in a parent's world who they would consider to care for their child for a week. I feel as if that circle of people is narrowed when the child has a disability. I know I am aunty. I know I am considered family. But that doesn't mean I am not humbled yet again that I was trusted with one of their most precious people.

P often involves a lot of physical work and intuitive guessing. Paired with the right person, the right activities, and a space to balance that activity with rest, it makes for a lovely week--one I would do again in a heart beat.

* For those of you whose spidey inclusion senses are tingling as you read that, please put your judgement away. This family's story means that leaving P in Saskatoon on this particular vacation was a more meaningfully inclusive decision for the whole family than taking her with.
** That was Day 5.
*** The term 'need' sometimes being assessed a bit too conservatively by individuals unable to step into parents' shoes, but by 'need' nevertheless...

Going Old School OR SOTC 15/365

I am part of a photography meet-up group, and we found ourselves out and about today at the Stony Plain & Parkland Pioneer Museum. A small historical museum, this little place was quiet and just the perfect size to spend an afternoon behind the lens.

I meandered in and out of several buildings, but my favourite was the school house. The bookshelf lined with old novels and readers; the amazing natural light coming in through the tall windows; the nice, neat rows of desks. Clearly, I am an educator.

As I moved around the small school house snapping photos, I also thought a bit about what it meant to be a teacher back in the early 1900's (and earlier, even). One teacher in a school house of about twenty children, ranging in age from 6-16. Thinking about the dynamic that would come out of that, I almost wonder if early 20th century schools had a better understanding and practice of differentiated instruction than some of our present-day classrooms have.

The teacher in 1900 would have be teaching at several different levels throughout the day. With one child, she would be demonstrating simple addition and subtraction, while with the teenager at the back, be working on algebra. Teaching the six-year-old to print his name, and the nine-year-old to do the same in cursive writing. She needed to know where each student was at in his/her learning, and support that level of readiness, whatever it was. I'm also guessing that older students were responsible for helping the younger ones with their learning from time to time, as well as caring for them in general.

Somewhere along the way, we lost that individualized learning, and started to present the set curricula in a set way to students. That being said, in the last several years, we have started to realize that differentiated instruction--teaching a subject in a variety of modalities to meet the unique learning styles of each student in the class--produces more successful students. We also recognize that peers can be powerful teachers, too. Peer-mediated instruction can be especially helpful for students with special learning needs.

Sounds a lot to me like what was old has become new again.

Now, don't hear me wrong. I don't think we're headed for mixed-age classrooms and abandoning a formal curriculum; nor do I think that's necessarily a good idea. But just the concept of the teacher being intentional about taking each person's learning needs into account when presenting material, and establishing a class culture where everyone works together to support each other's learning and take care of each other a little bit... I think those are quite foundational characteristics for student success in the classroom.

And clearly, some have known this all along...

A Project Complete OR 365/365

Wow! A whole year has come and gone; my 365 photography project is complete! The original goal of this project was simply to give myself a reasonable challenge doing something I enjoy; and enhance my overall skills as a result. Of course, I have learned so much more than what I originally set out to achieve—and I don’t just mean in photography skills. I have learned new technical skills, for sure, but I've also learned a lot about how I feel towards certain processes in photography. And I have also learned quite a bit about myself.

For example, I quickly learned that I do NOT like taking my photo in the first hour between when I wake up and when I leave the house in the morning. I’m just NOT a morning person, and it shows. There were a couple exceptions to this—they usually involved pictures of me in bed, and thus my eyes were closed or I had slept in and didn’t look like I’d just been jarred into consciousness for the day.

I also learned that the iPhone begets laziness! I only acquired my iPhone in April--I was already 244 days into the project. That being said, the ratio of mobile phone images to camera images is much higher in the days after acquiring my iPhone than in the 244 days preceding it. In many instances, the iPhone takes fairly good photos. Pair that with not wanting to pack a camera around some days, or the ease of file transfer via iCloud, and you've got a simple way out of having to set up a dSLR shot. Oh, technology!

In 365 days, I only missed taking my picture three times (oops, oops, and huh?). Nevertheless, between a leap year bonus day, and a perfect summer Saturday where I posted two extra pictures, I’ve still ended up with the original goal of 365. I have to tell you, though, some days, this project was really quite challenging! It is easy to take photos of special events, or regular events in special places. But slogging through the fall and winter often left me sighing in apathy or exasperation at the end of the day, wondering what on earth was exciting enough to warrant a photograph.

75% of my photos were self-taken (i.e. I hand-held the camera myself, or put it onto a tripod and used a timer/remote). And I have to tell ya, it takes a lot of UN-natural to get natural-looking poses. I took anywhere from 2-20 shots each day. Occasionally even more. Sometimes, it was just because I needed to position myself slightly differently in front of the camera. I often tweaked my original vision. Occasionally, I changed my vision entirely. (On the plus side, I found myself Photoshopping less.) Only very occasionally did I get the shot in just one take.

Thankfully, 22% of my photos were taken by friends and acquaintances, which provided some images that were a little more true-to-the-moment. My friends are so gracious. I cannot even count the number of times I would get together with friends for the evening, and announce, “at some point, I need someone to take my picture.” Only one or two of my friends were comfortable enough with my camera to 'fire at will', so to speak. Often times, if I was handing my camera to a friend, I got the sense that they wanted to take two or three shots, and give the scary black box back to me as quickly as possible. I learned over time that people were more willing to take the picture when they could use cameras they were familiar and comfortable with (I know, it seems obvious, doesn't it).

And yes, several photos were taken by complete strangers. They generally didn’t turn out to be the greatest composition, but hey, they’re authentic!

Most (93%) of my photos were taken using my own cameras. This included my dSLR, my compact digital camera, my Polaroid, my mobile phone cameras, and Macbook webcam. Oh, and my scanner. The remaining 7% were obviously taken using other people’s cameras—the office camera or those of friends. …Or the studio at Victoria's Secret.

71% of my photos were taken indoors, and 28% outdoors. This is about in line with the percentage of the year we spend in winter vs. summer. Hmm…

Only a mere 15% of my photos purposely included other people. I really am an introvert.

These stats are interesting.

And yet, despite taking 365 different photos, I sill notice patterns throughout, clearly indicative of my particular ‘style’ (whatever that is). For example, I really like to focus right in on my main subject, using a shallow depth-of-field to blur out the rest of the image. I love that effect. Also, if only a part of me was in the photo, it tended to be my hands more often than any other part. Finally, I really just don’t care to get overly artistic with my photos. I had fun with a few different camera techniques or Photoshop tricks, but outside of those, I really just like to capture life as it is. I always knew this--that I tend to keep my photography pretty realistic--but I think I’ve come to know it even more through this project. For example, I tried to put together one very conceptual shot, and I have to admit, I don’t really like it. I’m just not that right-brained enough to do a good job of it. Which I’ve come to accept is okay—I don’t need to be that photographer. There are plenty of those individuals out there already. I need to be me, and take the photos my brain was designed to take.

I have had a lot of fun with this project--even on those dreary winter days! Aside from being yet another way to visually chronicle daily events over time, it has made for great conversation, worthwhile skill enhancement, and inspiration for future photography projects (oh yes, there will be more!).

A hearty thanks to those who participated in and supported my project by taking pictures, being in pictures, or simply by following along on the blog. It has made the whole process that much more fun and memorable.

Harvest to Harvest; done and done!

323/365

This was today. Celebration of children, families, staff, and learning at our year-end luncheon. My partner and I work closely with a group of mentors, who help us "train up" newer staff, and are always the first to eagerly step in to any volunteer role around the office. They are great. I feel the photo loses a bit of its impact without all the lovely faces. But it IS the internet, and I DON'T have permission. That being said, I left my partner's face, because she's amazing, and I just had to share her :)

141/365

Exploring the tree
its first year...

Several times throughout the Christmas season, I find a cat under my tree. (Though there were days when I would find a cat in the tree). It's a cozy place to sleep, on the soft tree skirt, hidden amongst the presents.

Things are definitely comfier UNDER the tree!

This evening, Princess reminded me of how, as a child, I would sometimes lie under the tree. It was generally when Mom or Dad were watching something uninteresting on TV, and my brother was either already in bed or doing his own thing. I would steal away to the quiet of the living room, where our [painfully artificial but nevertheless a] Christmas tree stood, basked in the soft glow of coloured lights. If there were already presents underneath, I would slide them just out of the way. Then I would lay underneath, usually at the back where the tree started to meet up with the living room window, out of one's obvious vision.

I can't remember, now, exactly, what it was that I enjoyed about being under the tree. I know it was not some magical sparkly Christmas feeling--that's never really been my style. ...I would guess that the perspective was visually appealing. Warm, glowing colours peeking through thick green branches and garland strands of gold. My reflection looking back at me from one of Mom's antique ornaments.

Outside of that, I think it was just a nice place for a child to take some solitude during the holidays. To just let my thoughts wander... maybe hum Christmas carols to myself. I didn't come to own my introverted temperament until somewhere in junior high, and even then, I would not know the term 'introvert' until late high school. I've always known I was quiet. I've always known that I've kinda been... socially against the grain, so to speak (to greater or lesser degrees depending on the point in time). But as a child, I couldn't have possibly told you that it was because of the way my introvert brain processes the world around me, and how I use my social energy.

Every now and then, I have a memory of some behaviour or habit from childhood, that I now recognize probably existed to enhance my own learning, or to maintain social competence before I knew why interacting with people was physiologically exerting. ...I think lying under the Christmas tree was one of those things... After a full day of school--the routine of which we all know goes out the window around the holidays--plus extra concerts, parties and holiday events, and visits with family friends... quietly tucking away under the Christmas tree sounds kind of appealing.

Twenty years later, the perspective is just as visually lovely, though it's a little tight getting under there now. But I'm sure if the cat came up to cuddle, I could be convinced to stay there for five more minutes and just... be.

Toilet Training OR 134/365

So here's the story:

1. My toilet's flapper valve wasn't sealing properly, thus wasting water.
2. In replacing it, the toilet tank got cracked.
3. The old toilet tank got replaced with a new-style, dual-flush tank.
4. Except my dual-flush tank doesn't flush all that great... thus wasting water.

After a bit of research, a website informed me that fancy shmancy dual-flush tanks aren't really meant for regular ol' toilet bowls.

Great.

One of those household lessons learned the hard way, I guess. On the plus side, the flush valve doesn't leak...

I am hesitant to replace the entire toilet, because, well, the dual-flush tank was at no cost to me (as I was not the one who broke it). And it was enough of a process as it was to get it replaced. It was not fun to have to use the basement toilet while the main toilet was in the process of being fixed (especially first thing in the morning--it's chilly down there!!!).

That being said, as I've pondered the basement toilet, I've started to wonder if perhaps I can just switch tanks... The toilet downstairs is used so infrequently that if it takes an extra flush on the rare occasion someone uses it, it will not drain the entire North Saskatchewan River like I feel I've been doing this past week.

I want to research and fiddle bit more, though; sometimes the toilet actually flushes on the first try. And I want to figure out why this is. If I have exhausted my learning and have still come to the conclusion that I can't improve my toilet's flush quality, then I will pull out the big guns once again.

........I can't believe I just blogged about my toilet.

My Job Matters

I realize that the title of my blog post could come off sounding arrogant--as if to say, "my job matters, and yours doesn't." Not the intention at all. I really just want to emphasize that my job matters, period.

I work with children with disabilities. Really, my role is quite a bit more complex and varied than that, but that's the simplest way to outline it.

And my job matters.

I help give kids without verbal speech a way to communicate effectively.
     That matters.
I help parents learn how to advocate for their child's needs.
     That matters.
I make learning fun.
     That matters.
I watch children, whose parents are told they would never walk, take their first steps.
     That matters.
I teach children how to play.
     That matters.
I teach others how to modify activities so their child/student can be successful.
     That matters.
I make sure children are fully included with their peers in school.
     That really matters.

Our new premier has already given due attention to education cuts that have were made in this province previously. I hope this decision is contagious among other provincial decision-makers, and that funding for children with special needs--which has been frozen the last few years--will thaw. After all, inclusion means supporting all students.

In the mean time, The GRIT Program does everything in its power to meet the needs of the children and families it serves. It takes a village to raise a child. We are so thankful for the community partnerships we have formed that help keep GRIT providing quality service to families. That matters.

"...we don't know a child's full potential,

so we will assume it's limitless."

-- Barb Reid

http://www.edmontonexaminer.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?e=3339494

79/365

Gettin' me some PD; day two of two.

When in Reggio OR 68/365

Because The GRIT Program (where I work) is a family-centred educational program, we work in family's homes, as well as neighbourhood preschools and kindergartens. We don't have a classroom of our own. We do, however, have a playroom, and run a small playgroup a few times each month for the kids in our program.

As we always try to adhere to current research and best practice for child development and education, we are presently trying to adopt many aspects of the Reggio Emilia Approach in our playroom. One of the most salient changes we are making is to the decor and 'ambience' of the environment.

On a tight budget, my partner and I have been brainstorming the little things we can change in the classroom--for little or no cost--to make it more conducive to learning through play and discovery. Knowing some of the benefits of plants, we placed a few in the classroom last month--each originally a cutting from a plant or two in our homes. They are thriving quite nicely. I also managed to obtain some fish for free, and they have drawn interest from some of the kids over the last few weeks. We have also gathered some natural materials (namely, sticks and pebbles) for the children to play with and explore in the different centre areas.

We also know that when we display the children's art work, it will 'pop' more if the playroom isn't busy with the primary colours (vibrant red, yellow, green and blue) so traditional of preschool and kindergarten classrooms and equipment. While there is nothing wrong with these vibrant colours, per se (after all, they're generally the first colours children learn developmentally), they're certainly not easy on the eyes. And sometimes there can be too much colour in one's learning space. So this weekend, I undertook Project: Ikea Meets Reggio.

For several years, the Play Doh Table has been a bright green and yellow Ikea table. My partner and I felt no guilt in covering it over with a few coats of paint (sorry, Ikea!). We were given some paint by a colleague in a natural taupe and chocolate brown. Perfect. With the long weekend at hand, I knew I would have ample time to prime and paint new life into the table.

So it was that on a Friday evening, I found myself dismantling the legs from the top (thank you, Ikea!), and applying two coats of primer over the bright, glossy colours. It looks better already.