I’m thinking of poverty today.  I see these great masses of people with no education with very specific skill sets who find themselves in incredible financial difficulty.  Some are creative- they garden, they craft, they volunteer, and so their quality of life leaves them quite content despite a lack of funds.  They learn what is a want and what is a need, and they’re able to make comfortable lives for themselves.

There are also those who are constantly confused about their poverty.  The cause and effects are lost on them.  Perhaps it is no fault of their own, but money falls through their banks due to foolish decisions, unscrupulous advice, or plain bad luck.  I’ve learned that there is a line that makes it very difficult for a family to dig itself out of poverty- like if they’ve fallen behind in ICBC payments, for example, the insurance is cut off, and the poor person can no longer be on a monthly payment plan.  Without that option, many can never afford to put their vehicle on the road, and then how do they get to a job or the less expensive groceries when transit systems are poor or non-existent?   It becomes a downward spiral.

It seems to me that people without addictions who are holding jobs should not be forced into poverty in Canada.  If their health is an issue (either mental or physical) there should be supports in place to help them remain secure.  What kind of programs or systems need to be in place to support  families to get the skills training or the financial training or micro-credit to help them get ahead?  Do you have any ideas?

People  ask me, “What do you like best about your job?” and I answer,

“Students.”

People ask me, “What do you like least about your job?” and I answer,

“Students.”

I’m being a little bit facetious.  Boring meetings and report cards (especially Middle School report cards!) are certainly not fun parts of my job, but truly, a determined student can make my job really awful.

Two weeks ago, I’d discovered, much to my astonishment, that I really liked teaching in the Middle School.  I really liked my students (even the little rebels and the mouthy ones) and enjoyed heading to work every day.  Then some little monster decided to steal my iPod Touch out of my purse (and unless s/he pickpocketed it while I was carrying the purse, from a locked cabinet as well).  I like them a whole lot less now. 

Isn’t it sad how one rotten apple can spoil everything?  Now I look around the room and I wonder who is a sneaky, lying thief.  I wonder who has so little respect for her/himself and for me that s/he is willing to go to that effort.  I am saddened that after 18 years, someone stole from my personal property in such a callous and ignorant way. 

I wonder, is the thief is a pathetic kid from a crappy broken home who doesn’t know any better? or a kid from a wealthy home who just wants to see if s/he can do it?  was it a dare? or an impulse? 

What happens next?  Is s/he afraid to return it? is it hidden somewhere?

I know a couple of boys who at that age ‘accidentally’ stole things.  They didn’t really mean to, but the impulse urged an action, and then they had stolen goods in their hands and were too afraid to return them, fearing greater consequence.   I suspect that is what happened in my classroom.  I think it was a bit of a challenge, and then the thief didn’t know what to do.

Well, I’ll help you out.  This is what you need to do to avoid a lifetime of guilt  and bad kharma: 

Put the iPod in  an envelope.  Label it “Mrs Bird.  Carlin”    Take it to any SD83 school or to the board office and have them put it in the school mail.   It will arrive in my hands a few days later.  Your guilt will be absolved, and I will send you some good kharma for making a good decision.

Seriously.  You don’t want bad kharma.  The last kid who stole from me ended up as a drug addict for a $5 theft.  You don’t want that multiplied 100 times.  You’ll end up rotting in a hundred pieces in a tar pit or something.  The universe looks after this sort of thing in a big way.  Save yourself the agony! Return the iPod!

A little acrostic offering:

.

Sureness, hope and wonder now

approve necessary decisions.

Journeying over horizons nestled

Beautifully in rapturous days.

Freed, our restlessness entrances.  Voices endlessly reassure.

As a kid, I’d go each year to the cenotaph with my dad to remember his friends who were killed in the war.  What a powerful thing.

At our school assembly this year, I was brought to tears by the class who as they were leaving, went up to the vet who’d been our special speaker and shook his hand.  Every kid.  The next class wanted to as well.  The kids forged a connection to the veteran, and the veteran was  so astonished and so happy I am sure he’ll be sharing the story for years.

I’m so thankful that my former student Drew came home from Afghanistan.  I tensed every time they came on the news to report another casualty.  Not all friends and families were so lucky.

Every year I like to spend some time with the Eric Bogle tune Green Fields of France.  I usually play it on my harp, singing the words rather tearfully every Nov 11.  Have a listen:

If you value your freedom, thank a veteran.  They’re the ones who bought it for you.