Old and Tough

The long morning walk on the trail was finished and we headed back to the car, me thinking of coffee and toast, Abby thinking of her breakfast. 

As we passed the gas station, the car in sight, I heard a dog bark across the road to my left. Of course,  Abby responded. Ferociously as usual. 

It was a German Shepherd, the pretty kind with the mostly black face, and I just knew it was going to be a male. I didn't notice if he was intact because I was focused on the fact he was likely going to cross what is normally a busy road. Thankfully, early on a cold, cloudy Sunday morning, even Tim Horton's wasn't that busy -- so he was able to cross safely to check out Abby. 

She endured thirty seconds of his sniffing her backend, then she told him off. I heard him yip, and we sent him home with blood on his nose. 

That'll teach him. 

This is the second time in six months that Abby and I have been "greeted" by a loose male dog, and both times, when I started to insist we ALL cross the road to return him home, she told him off. Put him in his place. And both times, the male backed off and respected her authority. Her dominance. 

Abby! My girl. 

She learned this from Stella, my old girl who died in 2015 and who was with me through a lot of upheaval from the time I picked her up as a puppy in 2002. A couple of years ago, I read in a book that if you have issues with your current dog, you might not want to get a puppy because the older dog will simply teach those issues to the young dog. 

As soon as I read that, I knew that had happened. That Abby's protectiveness and barking was taught to her by Stella, who was exactly the same. Given the emotional rollercoaster I was on for much of Stella's life, I guess she felt I needed protection; but it's not the same with Abby. 

But seeing her in action, watching her "put the boots" to a friendly but forward, and unknown, male dog, I'm grateful for her strong protective streak. I appreciate her taking control of the situation. After all, neither male dog was listening to me; they were much more interested in sniffing Abby's backside. So she helped us get rid the nuisance, motivated by the fact we needed to get home for breakfast. 

My girl! 

Screen Time

 

I just finished this book -- What Happened to You? Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing -- by Dr. Bruce Perry, a child psychologist and neuroscientist, and Oprah Winfrey. It took me several months simply because I was working so much, but also because it was a lot of information. 

Not densely written; it's easy to read. It's fascinating, actually. The brain is remarkable, and does so much more than we realize, if we aren't reading books by neuroscientists. A lot of the information impacts me as a teacher; this knowledge about trauma and how what happens to children manifests itself in behaviour -- and how we treat those symptoms rather than look deeper at what happened to them -- that will make me a better teacher. Especially as we try to get students "back on track" in school when we finally exit the pandemic. 

There is far too much information to share here, but if you are interested in how the brain works and how it governs us (there is so much we don't realize goes on all the time!), I recommend it. It's $40 hardcover so you may want to wait for the softcover or request it from the library. 

In the spirit of this blog -- about rural life -- I want to highlight something that Dr. Perry wrote near the end of the book: 

"At home, at work, at school, we spend hours and hours in front of a screen -- on average, over 11 hours a day." 

His data is American but I think we can assume Canadians do the same: On average, we spend almost half a day in front of a screen -- a phone, a laptop, a computer, a television. 

Dr. Perry goes on to say: "The art of storytelling and the capacity to listen are on the decline. The result is a more self-absorbed, more anxious, more depressed -- and less resilient -- population." 

Absolutely. And the pandemic, with its lockdowns and isolation, has more this worse, has deepened our obsession with and immersion in our screens. 

I wondered, though, how it was possible to spend more than 11 hours a day in front of a screen -- until I overheard a woman say that as soon as her alarm goes off in the morning, she lies in bed and scrolls through her phone. 

Whereas, I get up and boil water and do yoga or walk the dog. I'll go two hours in the morning before I turn on my phone. When I go for my weekend walks with the dog, I don't even turn my phone on, until I decide I need to take a photo for Instagram! 

I think an important part of resilience -- of surviving and thriving in a world that is slowly unravelling -- is being outside in nature as often as possible. Looking up at the sky, gazing out over the sea (or lake or river), walking a trail through the woods, digging in the dirt, cleaning out the chicken coop, riding a horse around a field. Moving the body, filling the brain with sights and sounds and textures and tastes. Using all the senses to interact with the world around me. 

My favourite moment during my teaching term this fall? The one day we had rain and therefore an indoor recess at lunch? Not one student got out a laptop to play computer games. They played with the dinosaurs and the kitchen toys and the blocks and the race cars. Why is this significant? Because looking at a screen uses one sense predominantly: sight. Our senses, especially touch and smell, can't be involved. So we create a deficit in ourselves, in our children, when we neglect to engage all our senses in what we are doing. My student playing with dinosaurs and fake food and little cars? They were using all their senses, as well as their language, their imagination AND their social skills. 

Using technology in classrooms is expected now. I have no problem with that. I love an interactive whiteboard. I use the projector and the document camera. I play videos of books. But to see 11 five, six and seven year olds engage in unstructured play for 40 minutes -- what a wonderful antidote to the data about 11 hours of screen time a day. 

Fall Back Into Routine

A photo on my photo doesn't capture how eye-catching this was

My two-month term teaching position has ended, and I have today off. 

It feels weird to be back in my "old" life again, yet very familiar -- too familiar! Falling back into that routine of only subbing a few days a week is not the new routine, even if drinking coffee and reading at eight o'clock this morning was really, really nice. I didn't book this day off, there were no jobs on offer, but I'm using it gladly to catch up on emails and blogs and maybe even write something unrelated to teaching! 

One of the unexpected joys of my busy days, getting out the door at seven a.m. and not leaving school until 5 p.m., was the light. The sunrise as I headed east, the afternoon sunshine as I headed home. I'd time my drives to catch the national news at the top of the hour then usually drive the rest of the way in quiet; it helped to calm me after a day of being "on the floor" as I refer to teaching: standing in front of the class and moving around a lot. I think of it as being "on the floor" also as a way of differentiating it from other teaching jobs. I filled in for a resource teacher yesterday and while that's a great sub job, I couldn't do it every day. It's a lot of sitting and listening to students read. Necessary work but not active enough for me. Even with all the planning and prepping that goes into teaching those primary grades, I'd rather be "on the floor" than sitting at a table all day. 

The one thing I do miss about my "old" life and the familiar routine is the daily walk. I made sure the dog and I got out every Saturday and Sunday morning -- even under threat of rain -- for a long, hilly walk. It meant getting up and dressed and heading out in the car, just like every day during the week, but my back and legs and lungs thanked me for it. It helped to clear my head, even during the hardest, most despairing days (which happened at the midway point, a natural shifting point from the easy days of back to school to the settling in of teaching and planning). As much as I miss the consistency and security of knowing where I am going every day and who I am dealing with, I will enjoy the shorter  work days and planning-free weekends of substitute teaching for awhile.

Can you believe it's only seven weeks until Christmas? 

Hiking along the TransCanada Trail in Oxford