Math with a Story

 I think that a few of my high school friends will be pleased to find out that for the past week and a half I’ve been a Physics teacher. Covering one on a Leave of Absence, anyway. So I’ve been teaching Physics. And not just y9 or y10 astronomy or light diffracting through prisms. Senior level, university-preparation Physics. So after 2 years of scoffing at my friends in Phy classes, calling it “math with a story”, I am now properly repentant. If I’d taken physics, I’d be more useful to the students now studying for their exams on their own without my assistance. ‘Course, I wouldn’t have had space for history if I’d taken all 3 sciences. So I’m not repentant. Just wishing I’d had more time, I guess.

This is the mid-ish point of the second very full week of work we’ve had. Somehow or other, there has always been a day off, interruption, or sick day somewhere in the first few weeks of our European teaching adventure, but this is a full 5 day week for both of us. Being a normal person with a full time job and keeping house is a lot. It eats up the time and energy and collapsing into bed at the end of the day seems to always feel well-earned. I don’t mention all this for a pity party because we don’t deserve one; everyone has a busy life. If your life isn’t busy enough, then you need a new hobby or two. And I can appreciate that every adult, family-life person we know has full-time work, either in an office or at home or on a construction site or something. Such is the nature of being all-grown-up. I don’t even mean it as an excuse for the longer-than-hoped-for gaps between updates and posts.

We’re coming up on the final stretch towards Christmas holidays here; they get a full week off before the big weekend. It’ll be nice to relax, go to some Christmas markets and festivals in town, etc. but it would have been nice to get paid, too. The students are antsy and so are the teachers. The school year here is broken up into 3 terms: autumn, spring and summer – and this is the last week of autumn term. So exams, tests, and final summative tasks are in full swing, as well as a horde of seasonally-inspired extra-curriculars that make it a very interesting time indeed to be strangers in the school.

We’re getting pretty pumped, too. We haven’t decorated yet or even done much shopping, but we’re enjoying seeing the lights up everywhere. Commercialism reigns here nearly as strongly as back home. Which I understand, I think. Church has been great, though, for helping us get our heads in good space for Christmas. No one does seasons of the church calendar like Anglicans. We’ve been going through a good advent study, well-chosen prayers and the like. Alyssa and I even joined the choir for the upcoming carol service this Sunday. I was the only guy at the first rehearsal, and complained a bit this weekend at a couple targeted individuals, and now there are three of us. Which is nice. I had really missed singing in church. It was a big part of my childhood that I had somewhat put on hold for a couple years, minus a brief stint at the Greenwood choir. I'm jealously hoping a little snow will fall in the next couple of days; just enough to dust the ground, to make the whole place seem a mite more festive.

At this moment, I am sitting in an empty classroom waiting for my second batch of 6th-formers to show up so I can not-help them study for tomorrow's exam. I haven't actually met any of this group of students; each time they are scheduled to be in my classroom, they all skip. They know it'll be a waste of their time and they don't come in. Which, to my mind is dumb since they need to keep up good attendance scores, but at age 17 I refuse to be anyone's mother. I've warned, followed-up and notified other teachers every time, like I will today. They are quite late now, and I'm confident that this has become an extra-long lunch break for me, since I have lunch next. I don't like wasting my employers' money out of principle, but a teacher does need to be here in case any of them show up to mark them late instead of absent. I've never enjoyed being paid to sit on my bum and waste time. But I am happy enough to take advantage of the peace and solitude of an empty room and a working computer.

Tonight's laundry night, tomorrow's home group, and so I've tentatively planned to try some photo-uploading on thursday, since I need to go to the pub to do it. Of course, maybe I can just bring the camera to work and do it during the day? I'll have to think about that one.

As always, we are grateful for your thoughts and prayers. Drop us a line/email or something to let us know what's up in Canada; we're just as hungry for news from home as I'm sure some of you are for news from away. Even if it's dull, that's cool. We're becoming English now; dullness is carving out a special place in our hearts.

More news from Away

It's been far too long and for this I apologize. I want to confess, right off the mark; no pictures still this post. I'm in a break right now at work and no camera to upload, and our usage limits at home wouldn't handle it, so it's a take-the-mac-to-the-pub thing and we've scarcely been going since we got wired in.

Church:
We're getting good and plugged in. We've been to our new home group twice now and love it. There's something massively grown-up about it. We're figuring out that we are close to the younger end of the people in our church; the demographic seems to be young and young-ish working professionals. There are hardly any children or youth to speak of. Sunday evenings have been awesome, though we have as-of-yet resisted the urge to join the church after-party at the local pub, mainly because church already runs close to too late for us to get a good night's sleep for Monday morning. We're planning to go the weekend holidays start when we won't have work the next morning to regret the late night. Tonight, I (John) am going to some kind of men's dinner fellowship thing which should be really cool, and in lieu of home groups this week there's a big prayer meeting with all the groups at the church. Very excited about that, too. So we're getting plugged in and involved, step-by-step, even in the more social components of being in a new church family.
For example, we were invited(along with half the church) to a fancy dress champagne and Christmas tree decorating party by a couple of the only other Canadians in the church (from Calgary). Lots of fun, that, and a good excuse to memorize a few more names. Every person we meet is one more person we won't feel awkward sitting beside on Sundays, and that's going to be nice.

Work:
Alyssa had another interview, similarly far away and similarly job offer-free, which is totally cool. That's two or three interviews more than I've gotten. Probably 'cause she's prettier than me. We're both booked out into stable commitments until Christmas now, which is really cool. Going to the same school rather than a fresh one each day has helped us feel a lot less drained every evening. I'm covering a Physics specialist, though, which means that if I want to be useful to these students I may have to do some aggressive googling in my off-hours.

Life
We're learning some new things about living in our neighbourhood. For one, produce is more cost effective from the corner vegetable vendors than packaged up in a dozen layers of plastic at the grocer. And eating in, even a pre-fab frozen meal, is always cheaper than takeaway and usually almost as good.
We are very nearly out of TV episodes I have on my computer. When we hit the season finale of BSG S2 (which will be in five days at current rate of consumption estimates), the only thing to watch left will be a very dweeby anime series and Alyssa's not excited about it. So maybe we'll be spending more time at the library.

Travel
For those we haven't told, we did a big busy travel day a couple weekends ago; a bus tour that was going to take us to Windsor Castle, Stonehenge and Bath. We really ought to have expected it to feel rushed, but we did it anyway. Despite the hurried and frantic nature of the day, it was really cool to see a couple more of the biggest and most interesting places in England.
Windsor Castle, for those who don't know, is where the Queen lives. It's about an hour or so out of London. It was built about 1000 years ago by William the Conqueror and it is a gorgeous, quintessential kind of castle, The Queen was even there, though we didn't see her. We spent most of our time at the castle chapel, which aside from being gorgeous is also where King George VI and the late Queen mother, as well as King Henry VIII are buried. I actually almost stepped on Henry VIII without noticing. And it's the closest thing the British monarchy has to a home church, which is pretty cool. Then we practically ran through the State Apartments (where the royals actually live) before jumping back on the bus.
Everyone who's been has told me that Stonehenge is mildly underwhelming and they're right. Unless you're super-curious, doing the prescribed walk around the perimeter was enough for me. But worth going to see anyway. Because it's Stonehenge! One of the great wonders of the ancient world. I don't think you can get away with not seeing it. And compared to Windsor, cheap admission.
Finally, we ended the day with a stint in Bath, principally to see the Roman Baths and gaze on the Georgian architecture as we drove in and out. The baths were really crowded, and the whole museum complex they built around it would have kept us enthralled for a whole day ifwe weren't already tired and hungry. So we kinda sped through it and then roamed about until our pickup time looking for dinner. There was a big Christmas festival with german wooden shacks in town and so that whole corner of the town was a zoo, but a really cool atmosphere. If we're looking for a day trip or more even in the springtime, we may try to come back and give it another go. The buildings and the town were gorgeous, and we pulled out on our way back to London just before the sun went down,so we got a great panoramic view of a truly stunning little city.
In sum, we don't like bus tours, and in the future we'll plan and do our own thing, but the nice thing about a prescribed tour is it shows you stuff you wouldn't bother to plan to see, and that was really cool.

I hope I've been sufficiently lengthy to placate any readers' hurt feelings and I will endeavour to be much more regular in posting. Pictures coming soon. Thank you for your prayers and good wishes.

For Richer, For Poorer - Nov 22

Hello all!

Good news: Alyssa survived her trial day. Everything went pretty good and they didn't even make her work hard as a cover teacher either; she mostly TA'd and shadowed a couple other teachers. She said it seemed like a pretty strict place, but that has its advantages. And the group of academies to which this school belongs looks, from our perfunctory research, to be kinda prestigious so it would follow that it ought to attract a certain kind of student. One drawback is that the school is really massively far from the house; If you imagine the central part of London as a kind of squashed lemon shape with the squiggle of the Thames running across it, we're at the top of it and this school is right on the bottom. It took her a lot of time and a hefty transit fare to get there and back today. With the right transit pass and a good book, that won't be such a problem, but it may mean that I'll be the primary dinner-cooker. That's not so bad, at least if she doesn't mind a pretty simple rotation of grilled cheese, bangers and mash, and whatever-frozen-thing-at-the-store-looked-good-today. We don't know if she'll be offered the job or not, but the odds aren't bad and if she does get the offer we'll need to make a pretty quick decision about whether it's worth it for us or not. So if you want to pray for something, that's a bit of discernment we have ongoing. 

Also good news: We have internet in the flat! I was still sick this morning so I stayed home. But after sleeping until lunchtime, I was feeling a lot better and so I nipped off to the shopping centre and got a dongle for us. Only one of us can go online at a time, and we're restricted to text-ish stuff so we don't eat all our data. I like to think of it as a phone plan with data minus the phone part. In fact, the dongle works using a SIM card. Which is good news; the stick will work anywhere that we'd get cell reception. And so far nothing but full bars in the flat. In spite of my plans as of last post, we didn't swap phone plans yet. There's a couple wrinkles; unlocking the phones, porting over our old numbers, etc, so we're taking a minute to second-guess. Also, my long distance rewards on my phone just rolled over again so I kinda want to eat through my 200 minutes or so of calling back home before dumping that SIM in the trash. 

We're learning to do something very fun together: budgeting. Laugh and giggle and facepalm all you want, but we're doing the whole cash-in-envelopes thing now until we get a bit of a better bearing on what is a normal grocery budget, transportation budget, etc. It feels like all the money managing skills we developed when we were single are less transferable, though, and not just because we're shopping for two. Something about a strange currency has certainly made me feel a couple times like I'm reinventing the wheel. We're doing fine; teachers make pretty good money even if they are sick a day or two, and we're so far enjoying the challenge of living frugally. 

Even more good news: tomorrow we go to our first small group meeting with this new little church we've been going to. Now that I mention it, I don't know if I've said much about this church. It's technically Church of England, but it's not very liturgical. Looks like the story behind it was that a bunch of young people from the local parish wanted to to a plant and they bought an old pub and renovated it into a worship space. On Sunday evenings a couple dozen people gather on a busy street corner just a 5min walk from our flat for worship and some really challenging (and theologically solid; don't worry all you evangel-y friends of ours) teaching. The little bits of the liturgy have been enough to make me feel like I'm at home without alienating my lovely Pentecostal wife, and it's been really refreshing to hear worship music we both recognize; if we'd kept going to Hillsong we were worried we'd need to buy their latest CD just to recognize and sing along in worship. The people are really nice and pass out tea and biscuits after the service, and enthusiastically invite you out to the pub afterwards. We haven't gone yet; usually 'cause it's late and we have a hard enough time waking up Mondays as it is without a residual pint buzzing around in there, but we'll probably have to take them up on it sometime in the next week or two. ANYWAY, we're going to small group tomorrow! Which is super-exciting. We're really itching to start making some friends, and a small group of brothers and sisters is exactly the kind of people we're looking for. I am hugely stoked about it. 

Now that we're online; drop us an email! We'd love to hear from our friends and family and know what's going on in your less English but equally exciting lives.

In SIckness and in Health - Nov 21

Hello friends and family,

We have some not-too-bad news. Both of us have fallen a bit ill. With colds. Nothing very serious, but it's given each of us a couple days out of work to sleep and think and, in my case, compose a short blog entry. We did it a bit staggered; Alyssa got sick last week and missed a couple days. I picked it up over the weekend and so I spent today at home although I've got my fingers crossed that I'll be passing for better enough to discreetly cough my way through a day of work tomorrow. But I'm letting my wonderful nursemaid of a wife tell me if I'm being stupid so far so if she says stay I'll probably stay. You can say a lot of things about me, but I'm a pretty good patient.

We have some good news, though. We priced some things out and we're probably going to pick up one of those mobile internet dongles to get broadband; our install date for home internet has been delayed and indefinitely postponed a second time and this way will actually probably save us money. One unfortunate consequence, however, is that it has some pretty steep use limitations. We'll mostly be confined to the web activities we'd already been doing, but in the comfort of home and as long as we want; emailing, blogging, etc. downloads and streaming are out (so no internet tv; shucks) and skype is completely not-supported. But we also looked into some new phone plans now that we're figuring out what our usage patterns are like, and we'll probably get one with enough US and Canada minutes to call home about 30 min a week each. And there's not much stopping us from doing the skype thing in more public places like, for example, the pub. Although I'm trying to picture what that would look like and I don't like the face the imaginary bartender is giving the imaginary me with headphones talking to himself. That'll probably get sorted out in the next day or two, depending on if I'm still sick and if my wife lets me go out of the house while I'm sick.

This past weekend we wanted to take it easy 'cause we were both feeling a bit pokey so we canned our planned trip out of London and went to Buckingham palace again to see the changing of the guard. We got some nice photos, but I have to confess to being a bit underwhelmed. I guess I expected something on a grander scale. There was a long boring bit we couldn't see because we'd gotten spots on top of the Victoria monument to see them march in and out from the high ground but couldn't see past the crammed pack of people by the gates. It didn't make our top 5 list, anyway, and for the time investment (2 or 3 hours by the time it's all finished) I wouldn't build a day of sightseeing around it. There's probably cooler stuff to do. 

Other bit of news; we booked our flights to Paris over the Christmas break, and we're getting super-excited. We've been poring over the chapters on Paris we've got in the travel books we have already and we may start scouring the library soon for other ideas on things we want to put on our to-see list. It's going to be a lot of fun.

I think that about wraps things up. Please be in prayer about sickness, as well as some job stuff. Alyssa has a trial lesson for a potential full-time position starting in January tomorrow. She'll be doing a day of cover, except one lesson will be a maths one she's prepped and will be observed for. Seems to me like trials happen even before interviews here, and the impression we're getting is the school is quite keen on her, so we're hopeful. 

Cheers!

News - 17 November

Hello friends and family. It's been a long time since an upate graced this site and the principle reason is that we're both working! Quite a bit.
The first week or so was pretty good; we got a combined 7 days of work which is buot enough to survive. We've both been to a couple really nice schools and we've both been to one or two much more challenging ones. This week we were both working every day until Alyssa came down with a pretty sharp cold. I'm home today bolstering my immune system and trying to be a good nurse. But there's some big stuff on the horizon. Alyssa has a trial day booked on Monday at a school that might hire her on for Maths from January to July. So prayer will be very much appreciated. I don't have anything like that lined up, but I am getting pretty steady supply work and for the time being that's pretty good.
Supply teaching is a little bit like having a job interview every day, though. we want so badly to make a good impression, we don't know anyone, we often don't recognize the schools we're going into. Or rather, it's like the first day of a new job every day. You want to impress your supervisors and make them happy to have brought you in, but you'll be in a brand new place tomorrow with a whole new st of people you want to impress.
Eventually, people tell us, we'll be able to more pick-and-choose the schools we go to because they'll know us and ask for us. But so far I think we're hungry enough for any work that we'd be pretty hard-pressed to turn down a day even at a school that was tricky once before.
In the evenings, we're slowly polishing off the very small library of movies and tv shows I have on my computer as we continue to wait for internet in our flat (should be sometime near the end of this month). The big news is what we do on the weekends (sorry about no pictures again, but I'm on a library computer).
Last weekend we had planned to get down to do another round of museums but we only got to one of them (The Victoria and Albert Museum - which, btw, should be the first museum you go to in London. We liked it muh better than the British Museum). We got sidetracked by a couple of the royal parks in London which were very nice to walk through in the warmish autumn breeze. In between Trafalgar Sq, St. James' Park and Green Park, we half-stumbled on Buckingham Palace. We've vowed to go back for a changing of the guard, perhaps this saturday, but there wasn't one when we arrived. The building is gorgeous, and we got a kick out of peering at the Canada gates on one side of the courtyard; they are on the north side of the roundabout where the Mall meets the palace gates and they're big, impressive, and have the coats of arms of the Canadian provinces built into them. The gates at the opposite end were the Australia gates, which were a bit less interesting to us but still quite nifty.
The other big higlight was Speaker's Corner on th northwest end on Hyde Park where it meets the Marble Arch. On Sunday afternoons this place bursts into a platform for grassroots political speaking. People come with soapboxes or stepladders and posters and start declaring their opinions while curious onlookers gather to be harangued. What struck us, though, was that the big stuff bing talked about the most wasn't politics; it was religion. Namely, a kind of strange conflicting debate between Christianity and Islam. We're a bit sad to report that we didn't feel very well-represented by the speakers waving scripture around like a cudgel and we left before long because the spectacle made us increasingly uncomfortable. Still, it seemed like a more interesting spectacle than the little video booth ''speaker's corner'' that used to be in Toronto.
I should run and tend to my sick wife. Please be praying for us and especially her congested self the next couple of days. Thank you for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers.

News from Away - November 3rd

Greetings all,

So things have settled down, although I say that in a bit of a qualified way.

For example: work. Neither of us have done it yet. I know I said Alyssa would be working on Wednesday but that fell through a couple hours after I so triumphantly posted it. So we both waited by the phone the next morning, and this morning, to no avail. Ah, the life of supply teachers. It's not just that there isn't work, though. We've had a couple rather short conversations with the folks at the agency about readiness and process and the like. And we've been getting calls and leads on some more permanent teaching jobs that could start in January. Not to mention taking down phone numbers for a few different agencies.  So we're waiting, a little tensely, to see what God will do. He didn't pull us over here and smooth everything out before us to let us starve. We'll be fine.

As for church, we're thinking about visiting a new one this Sunday. We had plans to go to a small group thing through Hillsong tonight but it's been since Sunday that we signed up and nobody's called or emailed us to tell us where to go. And we've found something just around the corner that looks quite promising. We'll see. Maybe we'll double-dip, at least for this weekend.

Right now we're sitting in a McDonalds about a 20 minute walk from our flat, since we didn't feel like paying for beer just to not insult the folks at the pub with net access. And we're being good, even though it's lunchtime, and not buying American fast food in the UK (again) because we've got bagged lunches waiting for us at home.

In general, I find myself remarkably less worried than I thought I might be. Much less than this time last week. God has proved himself and His provision so much recently and so ham-handedly that I can't help but look for blessing around every corner. Which, I'll maintain, is a much more sanctified way to live than looking for burdens instead. Your prayers over our work situation are always welcome, and if there are things we can pray for you for, email one of us. We're finding that, with all this waiting by the phone, we're getting a lot more time than we're used to for reading our bibles and praying.

Incidentally, we signed up for library cards today at our local Islington public library. So were pretty committed.

Cheers!

Gratefulness

Hello all from overcast-but-so-far-not-as-rainy-as-people-led-us-to-expect London!

Biggest news: Alyssa's working tomorrow! She's got a spot at a school in central London for the next three weeks sitting in the back of a room supervising a practice teacher. Not a bad warm-up gig, eh?

Right now we're sitting in our neighbourhood pub, the Kennedy, listening to horse races on the telly and sweating by the open fire, our stomachs full of reasonably-priced ale and our Macbooks humming with free wireless internet. The place looks a little dodgy from the outside, but it's really nice in here. Clean booths, friendly barkeep, nice high open ceilings.

It's a good thing we like it, because we'll probably be coming here for all our internet needs for the next month. Getting the net in our flat is proving to be difficult and after some phone wrangling today, we found out there really is no fast way to get connected. So this afternoon we did what normal people do; check out the different companies, compare rates, and make a decision. but the engineer won't be around to hook us up until November 29th, so the blog posts won't be spilling out in a flood until we're live at home. Until that day, we'll function largely by phone, text and briefly-spaced internet access. Which means that, regrettably, there are not a lot of ways to get in instant contact with us if you need it.

Better news, though, is that we got Alyssa's mobile phone yesterday which has a really good international calling rate, so we'll be able to make brief phone calls across the pond to parents and other worthy recipients.

The title of today's entry, however, is in reference to yesterday. We got down to church yesterday morning to find a surprise: the great crowd that had been outside the Dominion Theatre (where the church meets) on our first week was gone. We were a bit early so we went for a walk a bit, and then moseyed our way back into the theatre. As we entered, we discovered that the service was full. We had a very confused conversation with the usher, who then seated us as the speaker began to preach on gratefulness. It wasn't until ten minutes into the sermon that I figured it out; we'd missed daylight savings time. We hadn't fallen an hour back, and were now crashing the 9:30 service rather than the 11:30 we'd been planning on getting in early for. And an hour, conveniently, was about how much church we'd missed. The music part at the beginning. We stuck around for the second service's music.

The pastor, a preacher from North Carolina on tour here, reminded me of something. Gratefulness isn't a suggestion. It should be the foundation of our relating to God. We ought to "enter his gates with thanksgiving in our heart". The beginning of our conversation of God is thanks and gratefulness. And Alyssa and I have so much to be grateful for. Not just our flat, jobs, and groceries, although those are a real blessing. But we remember grace, and life, and breath, and it's all someone can do not to break down under the weight of His underserved mercy. So even though stuff is still busy and we're still living pretty spartan, we can rest confidently and gratefully in His provision. He's good. All the time.

On a bit of a side note, it's Halloween. From what I can tell, it's not so big a deal here, although one little costumed witch just came into the pub with her granddad to solicit cash from the patrons. I assume it's for charity, like the unicef boxes the kids carry back home, but I don't really know. It's certainly not as commercially overblow here, from the look of the stores.

'Til next time, Cheers!

Starting to Settle

I want to start with the biggest news first, so here it is: We have our flat! We move in tomorrow!  

The less-abridged story follows:

We were in a bit of a predicament. As I think I may have already written here, when we first went to look at flats, we had a lead at one agency that ended up a bust. We tried a few others that happened, strangely, to be all over the main street in that neighbourhood, more out of convenience and single-mindedness than any special affection for the borough (although Islington really is lovely). We finally arrived at one with one studio flat just barely in our price range only a couple minutes' walk away. She took us to see it. It was gorgeous. Pictures are coming soon. We mean it!

We had to make a decision quickly. This place was a bit of a diamond in the rough and another couple had a viewing scheduled for an hour and a half. We had to put a holding deposit on the thing to cancel the other couple's viewing. But we had a slight problem. We didn't have a UK bank account, and we only had about a hundred pounds cash in our pockets. We needed to put down at least two hundred to call keepsies on the flat. So I ran outside to a bank machine. It turns out there was one practically right next door, sticking out of the wall, with free debit withdrawals that actually accepted my Canadian card. And guess what the daily cash withdrawal limit is? Yep. 200 pounds. 

God 1, Worries 0

We were instantly presented with a bit of a new problem. We couldn't actually move in without paying a deposit, admin fee, first month's rent and a couple other little costs, and there was no way I was going to be able to get that much cash out of the corner cash machine. We needed to set up a bank account. No worries, we thought, since that was already on our to-do list that day. We went downtown, first to meet the employers and fill out some paperwork, talk about teaching (I had almost forgotten that we'll eventually be working here), and then to the bank. We hunted for an HSBC where I thought I'd seen one on Google Maps the evening previous (and I thought this would be smart, since they're in Canada too. Maybe they could expedite the money-sending process). But it was gone, and we ended up at a Lloyds TSB (a big British bank; they're everywhere) just in time to be told we'd have to make an appointment. By the time the day was over, I was genuinely concerned, since I didn't know when we would be able to get at our money to move in. I was concerned we'd have to stay at the hotel indefinitely, and that would get expensive, never mind inconvenient for the hotel, since they were undoubtedly planning on having someone other than us in our room eventually.

Worries 1?

Well, not exactly. We confirmed we could stay at the hotel until Friday, and then went to our bank account appointment on Tuesday with a lot of uncertainty and questions. Our banker was a very nice man named Eric who got our account set up very quickly and without a lot of hassle, which I was quite surprised by, considering we're immigrants without a house or income. 

God 2

When we asked him how to get our money over, he told us our initial plan of writing ourselves a check was a really bad idea, since it could take weeks for a check to clear internationally for lots of money. And it may never clear, what with money laundering laws and things like that. So much for our plan. But he said our bank could probably just wire-transfer it in 1-5 working days. 5 is a lot of working days. That would have taken us to the following Tuesday. If it took that long, we would need to find somewhere other than the hotel to stay, and we were really uninterested in shlepping all our bags out to Dartford, Kent to crash at our only friend's house. We went back to the hotel, called PC and got it set up. He told us 2-5 days.

Worries 2

Wednesday we had nothing to do and so we did it. We walked, napped, played cards and watched TV. After a crazy week and a half, we needed a break. 

Today it was with great fear and trepidation I checked our online bank balance at Lloyds. But when I opened it up, the balance was quite a bit more than the paltry opening-cash we'd put in on Tuesday. The money had transferred. We had English money to use! 

God 3 Worries 1

So we hustled to the bank and made a really scary cash withdrawal, and then tore back to the realtor people to give it all to them. With some paperwork signed, we're booked in to pick up our keys tomorrow. Aside from being the beginning of living in our flat, the added bonus is that our checkout time here at the hotel lines up almost perfectly with picking up the keys at our flat! So no scary lack of roofs over our heads!

God 4 Worries 0

To make a very long story short (WAY too late!), We (especially John) have been freaking out and very unhappy worrying about getting settled, only to watch God do it His way far better than we could have planned. He's systematically knocked each barrier down one by one, and has done it in such a way that we know it's had nothing to do with any great feat of planning, savvy, or cleverness on our part. He's put us in a more beautiful part of the city more smoothly than we would have and more quickly than we could have. He's poured grace upon grace on us. It's hard to wrap our heads around why, but we're determined to praise Him and enjoy this time of reaping, and let it strengthen us for whatever time of sowing will come later. We're so grateful that He's helping us keep Him at the centre of our season of plenty, since we know how easy it is to forget God in harvest time and then cry out to him in seasons of trial.

London Calling

It's hard to imagine that we're only two days here in London. Today, since everything we needed (banks, housing rental companies, our teaching agency) is closed on Sundays, we opted to go to church and then relax. We were feeling pretty tired in the morning after a long and fitful night filled with loud noises. The hotel is a lot more full than our honeymoon resort was, and they all decided to raise a great cacophony of slamming doors and crying children at about midnight. Anyway, it was about all we could do to wrench ourselves out of bed and onto the tube to get to an 11:30 service downtown.

So, we had a thought about church-hunting. It goes like this: We should try big honking mega-churches with young-ish congregations first, because they promise a cool Sunday experience and we can get plugged in right away to whatever young adult or small group ministry they have going on. We've heard of 2 in London: a Hillsong church and the Alpha church. We thought to try Hillsong first. Hillsong's church meets in a large theatre near-ish the West End, which is the London theatre district. Not so West End as to be seedy and disreputable, but just West End-y enough to be flashy and impressive. This is the theatre, which apparently showcases the Queen musical when it's not being used for worship:

 Church was great. Not only did the music sound like Hillsong (just like all the CDs: cool!) But the place was packed with young people. That kind of thing, with smoke and lights, sometimes irks me a bit and makes us worry about being too showy. But it was paired with some really solid and biblical teaching and a really enthusiastic and charismatic atmosphere. Definitely worth a second visit, especially since it's really centrally located, too. After church we felt like exploring so we walked about. We were feeling a little homesick after pub food on night one and the traditional english breakfast (which did not agree with one of us), and we found a subway. We make no apologies. We wanted to taste something homey.

And then, because the weather was so good and we were feeling so much better after worship and we couldn't do anything yet about being homeless and unemployed, we decided to be tourists. We hopped on the tube to Westminster to hit some of the big sites off our list. 

First up is Big Ben, which we've been told is not the name of the tower or the clock, but the bell inside. Big Ben is attached to the Houses of Parliament, which are equally striking and beautiful.











 My favourite part, though, was Westminster Abbey. We weren't allowed into the Nave or the main part of the abbey because services were going on (the kind of services where men in red robe-things tell people to leave, apparently) but we did get to poke around the cloisters. We found some really cool memorials, including Halley (as in Halley's Comet) and Cpt James Cook (as in the famous explorer, not Peter Pan's nemesis).














  We strolled about and saw the London Eye and the Thames, although our feet were getting a bit sore for walking across the bridge to pay too much money to ride a very slow Ferris wheel. After a coffee at the feet of Big Ben and a poke around some really gorgeous back-streets, we tubed again to Piccadilly Circus, where we briefly passed by Ripley's to gaze at the wildlife, as well as a much more colourful corner of the West End. We ate dinner at McDonalds (which was half budget decision, half exploring how different it isn't, and half continued homesickness). While we ate, we noticed just outside a runway-type thing being set up for a British film festival. We stuck around for as long as we could stand (allegedly Madonna may have been coming there) and then left through the crowds and made our way slowly back to the hotel. After an eventful and picture-happy day (many more pics were taken than those posted), we're both feeling better about the whole adventure than we did this morning. We miss home, and waves of Canadian fever will probably ebb and flow. But we see the provision, comfort and opportunities that God is laying out left, right and centre for us. We thank Him for being so faithful to us and helping us to feel more confident with our decision to follow His promptings here.










Vallieres in London: Day 1

Hello family, friends, and blog-surfers,

We have arrived in sunny London, England. I say sunny because our first day was. We're aware that this is quite the anomaly, but considering how much time we spent heel-toe-ing it around town, I am very grateful that the Lord decided to send sunshine London's way this weekend. Our flight over and pseudo-settling in was safe but not uneventful:

We arrived at the airport with my parents on Friday evening, sat, chatted, expressed mutual concern over the state of my back (which had started to tweak and stab during dinner) and then said our goodbyes. Alyssa and I went through security completely without incident, and it didn't take long to find our gate, either. I picked up some fiendishly expensive water and juice for us while we waited and we settled in for a long sit before boarding a plane for an even longer sit.

God provides. And He often provides without us asking. We weren't sitting for very long before I recognized someone, which I thought was extraordinary considering how many people shuffle through the airport and how big a place it is. It was a friend of mine from Nipissing named Kyle. Kyle had been involved with student government at Nip for a while, and when that was done he did his teacher's college and left. I had known, through short articles he'd written for overseas teachers in the student newspaper, that he'd gone to the UK for a couple years. And I had expected that would be the last I heard of or saw him. But he recognized me, came and sat down and we got to talking. Turns out, Kyle had some excellent ideas about why the train we were going to take from the airport was a bad idea, why we needed a cell phone in the UK before anything else, and a number of other things that have really significantly helped our first day in London-town. He even offered us a place to crash, and if house-hunting doesn't go as quickly as we'd hoped, we're very seriously thinking about taking him up on the offer. We had time to chat about all of this because he was on our plane.

The flight itself was a little uninteresting. We tried to sleep. Alyssa was moderately more successful at it than I was. They served us dinner at 10:00pm, Canada-time, which was weird. And then breakfast only 5 hours later. I ate both, but I'll confess to my internal clock feeling a little odd by the time we touched down.

The airport in England and train ride into town is all a blur, and not just because Kyle is a very fast talker. We all hopped on a train together and then said our goodbyes at London Bridge station, before Alyssa and I man-handled our bags onto the tube to Islington in North London where our hotel was hidden. AFter a final gruelling ten-minute baggage haul to the hotel and up the stairs, we were done. And we slept. For an hour or so.

One of the things we wanted to try was to get to a flat-renting agency in Kensington to try and get a flat as soon as possible. We never want to carry all those bags again. So after resting up we hopped on the tube again and tried to find our way to that end of town. What we didn't do was figure out in advance exactly where the place was. So we walked along Kensington High Street for the better part of an hour or so until discovering that there really was no Abingdon Rd. to be found. At least no such apparent road. Moderately content (likely by God's providence rather than any dram of graciousness left in our own hearts), we sat down, defeated but unbroken in Kensington Park, which is the western end of that big green patch in the middle of London. It was gorgeous. We hadn't brought a camera with which to sully the moment, so we simply soaked. And when we got tired and a little chilly from sitting there, we found a pub on the far end for our first British supper: FIsh and chips and beer. Alyssa opted for a cold and carbonated beer like a North American wuss (who still is beautiful and wonderful, if less ale-adventurous) while I picked up some warm flat ale. It was terrific, and after a long day of walking, a big mound of starchy, greasy fish and potato was a sight for sore stomachs. Our hunger sated and our feet sore, we retired to the tube and then the hotel, collapsing to an early 7:30pm sleep. Which, if you're quick on your time zone conversions, you'll know is actually the reverse of normal jet-lag. Not sure how we accomplished that. A couple late nights and we'll normalize our internal clocks easily enough. 

God provides, and we are immeasurably grateful to Him for making the road thus far smooth. We are likewise grateful for your prayers. Pictures and touristy stuff will be coming soon!

Trip minus 2 days

Packing is nearly complete, and spoke with a man from our teaching agency on the phone today. I think he might have been Australian, though I have to admit I don't always find it easy to distinguish between the accents. Especially when it's a mild accent.
Besides that, there isn't a lot of news. We get on a plane on Friday. It's only really starting to sink in for me. For some reason I can't entirely articulate, I can imagine being on the plane, but I can't really imagine being in the city. That either has a lot to do with the relative uncertainty of some of our details over there, or it's because I've been on a plane before but I haven't been in London before. Maybe column B is a shade more plausible.
We look eagerly forward to when there are lots of new and interesting things to report. Until then, we pack and sort and logistic-ify-icate in anticipation. Thanks for your support.

Trip minus 3 days

So we're almost there.

Oh, btw: being married is awesome. Totally worth it. In case anyone is curious. Also, the previous comment is an egregious understatement.

As I was saying, in 3 days we take off and fly to London. We have the plane tickets and hotel all set up now, and almost all the packing done. We're quickly running out of ducks to line up in a row.

As soon as I can get things up and running, my hope is that we can get this blog as our central photo posting, story-telling and news-spreading vehicle. We'll be putting in the time into emails and facebook but our best efforts are certain to fall short nonetheless. So a central repository of up-to-date(ish) news of John and Alyssa is, we're thinking, the best way to do it. At least until we have a better idea.

Your prayers as we get the last few things sorted will be much appreciated.

News - October 3, 2011

So... been a while since I darkened anybody's subscription or RSS feed. Stuff has been kinda busy.
The big news: It is now T minus 5 days. On Saturday Alyssa and I will be married. Which makes me very happy. A little busy, but happy. I think one of the reasons it's been so long since I wrote was I felt this strange pressure to feel something on command, but my actual processing hasn't really followed the schedule of when people have expected me to be excited/nervous/overwhelmed/existential. It's a bit like an extension of this other feel-on-command thing I've noticed happening: people will come up to me and say, "Wow: only 5 days!" and then look at me expectantly. And this isn't like family or Alyssa or best friends. It's people the next-circle outward. People I don't talk to every day or week. People know I'm going through a period of great significance that is profound and yet still highly relatable. And they want to be in on it. But I feel like sometimes my actual state of anticipation doesn't line up with the expected schedule.
For example: right now I actually feel pretty firm-footed. Stable. Lots of other people might be freaking out. I'm either past it or not there yet or both. But I feel almost guilty when people ask me how I'm feeling and if I'm nervous. It makes me feel like I'm supposed to feel differently than I do; like I'm breaking some kind of pre-groom convention. And not only does that make me feel a bit defensive, but it seems like that's an emotional weight I don't really have time for. I have lots of other things to think about.
Maybe I'm naive or I'm a special case or I'm only 48 hours from my own meltdown, but I don't understand grooms freaking out pre-wedding. If I wasn't ready, in the fullest sense, to say "I do", I wouldn't have got down on one knee in the first place. I know that extra bit of discernment cost my bride a bit of anxiety as she waited for me to pop the question. But I think the time was well spent investing the certainty and security of purpose up front so that I really can quite comfortably rest on it now. I don't think I would have felt good about myself if I'd asked before I knew what my answer was.
Of course, we've had a pretty short engagement, and so there hasn't bene much time for new facts/circumstances to develop. But marriage is a covenant that persists regardless of circumstance, and so that doesn't even seem like a good reason for uncertainty to exist either. Maybe I can afford to stand on my soapbox by virtue of an inclination to be rather definite anyway, but I think that doubt or questioning at this stage of the game is a symptom of either lack of forethought or fickleness. Neither of which I think are particularly admirable qualities in a husband.
To summarize: yes, the wedding's only 5 days away. Yes I'm very excited. No, I'm not really nervous.

As for other news, pretty much everything is all set for the trip to the UK, for which I have high hopes as the renaissance of this blog: when it becomes my favourite communication medium with Canada, I hope I'll update it far more regularly.

A random bit of news-news, since I still have some ranting energy left I'd like to work out of my system: The past several days some articles have been published in the Toronto Star about bad teachers in Ontario schools. It makes me sad. And angry. And not a little bit irritated that unions protect incompetent and even abusive and inappropriate teachers while so many of my very competent, professional and driven friends can't get teaching work in this province. The Star's chief target, at least in the first article, seemed to be the OCT (in layman's terms: the licensing and policing association responsible for making sure teachers are qualified and skilled and professional). The author, who I won't call a journalist even though he wrote for a newspaper, seemed to be constructing a case that the OCT has been protecting some of these extremely bad teachers and shuffling many cases of teacher misconduct into settlements and un-publicized arbitrations so that bad teachers end up back in schools with no or little professional consequences. The case wasn't bad, although I think all the wiki-conditioning I'm getting makes me wish there were footnotes for everything the author claimed in the article.
The real axe I have to grind with the article, however, is the premise and goal. I certainly would never stand up and defend the teachers who have been "outed" by this reporter. If anything, the paucity of teaching jobs should mean that the OCT should feel more free to revoke teachers' licenses for far less than they do now. Maybe the consequences should be much more draconian. But the case the author makes against the OCT is ridiculous and sensationalist and just straightforward enough in appearance to convince the average reader that the OCT is some evil organization trying to get children molested. Which really couldn't be further from the truth. Of particular demerit was the third case treated in the first article: a former panel member who was severely disciplined for leaking information about classified OCT hearings to CTV news. The author of this essay-article made it look like the harshest punishments fall on people to try and shut them up. Which is dumb. The member in question was in violation of confidentiality agreements, the standards of professional practice, and acted in a way calculated to degrade the reputation of the teaching profession. If he got slapped with a fine and a reprimand I call it mercy. Breach of contract is a serious crime. And as a member of an OCT panel, he should have had the interests of teachers and teaching first. That is, after all, what the OCT is for. I know that people unacquainted with the political intricacies of education in this province may be tempted to let the demagoguery of this article have them looking around corners for OCT illuminati, and that bugs me. A lot. Because people, for reasons I don't understand, trust the Star to be a newspaper. A News Paper. We might be used to this sensationalist and partisan crap from Rosie Dimanno, but I wish there was a line that even the Star wouldn't cross. I wish that newspapers were about journalism and not money. And I wish that, if that wasn't possible, that at least people would read them critically.
Of course, if we keep riling people up in paranoia over their teachers, then we teachers will never get a chance to teach your kids how to read critically in the first place.

News - August 14th

Here's a very brief update, since I've noticed it's been a while since the last one.

Wedding plans are coming along quickly, which is good since now the big day is only 55 days away. I wouldn't necessarily say the remaining details are minor, but they're manageable. I'm going up to North Bay tomorrow for a week to do some plans and things like that up there. Which ought to be pretty cool. Invitations went out in the mail, so if you got one then please send your RSVP very soon! And remember that everyone will be more than welcome at the ceremony. We just have a bit of tight-numbers-itis we have to nail down.

Today's my last day of work. I've been enjoying the students more and more this week and so it's bittersweet, but still mostly in a sweet way. I'm pretty tired and I could use the time to really focus on some other things. I'm glad I got to do some teaching this summer because I think it's helped get me in better headspace for working this fall. I got a bit of a psychological head-start on some of the new teacher panics this way. It's going to be a slow day today probably, but that's alright. They'll be tired out from yesterday anyway.

Plans for the UK are coming together. I will confess to being thrown for a bit of a loop the more I hear about the rioting in London. I still haven't managed to touch base with my consultant about his recommendations, but I'm also cautious about taking these riots more seriously than they ought. It's a G20 and Vancouver hockey riot thing all over again. There was an issue at least at the start, but now it's about watching the world burn. Between the royal wedding, the olympics next summer and this, London's been pretty far in the forefront of the global media consciousness, so I'm not surprised if some people are looking at that as a convenient stage for some anarchic nonsense. The police will shut it down quite swiftly and historians will grumble about whether or not the government went too far just like they do here today about Trudeau and the FLQ. This is how democracies respond to terror and intimidation and violence in their countries. And history shows it works.
Notwithstanding, it'll be worth talking to the consultant and our families about so we can all still feel OK booking a flight there in 2 months.

And...that's about it. Keep your stick on the ice

Pensees apres Les Miserables

I have just finished reading Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables". Or, rather, I finished listening to it on CD. For a while, when I've been talking to people about it, I've felt like I was cheating by not picking up the book itself to read. But to be entirely honest, I have performed the mental task of reading almost precisely without the customary accompanying ocular task. I think there is nothing cheap or easy about listening to an audiobook. It's often more difficult. And it was infinitely more convenient to 'read' it in the car this way.
I've been thinking how best to summarize this book for people familiar with neither it nor the play based almost faithfully thereupon. Principally it is the story of an ex-convict in 19th-century France named Jean Valjean, through whose redemption and restoration to humanity we see possibility and hope for the downtrodden, desperate and untouchable people of our society; those Hugo calls "les miserables". The story begins with his release from prison and ends on his deathbed.
The problem with a really good book is that once it's finished it's difficult to really say one big thing about it. This book has given me cause to reflect on the redemption and transformation of a human soul through grace, but it has also given me a lens into fatherhood and sacrificial love. It has painted a robust and interesting contrast between paternalistic love and romantic. And it's been a humbling examination of the condition, both material and spiritual, of the poor in all ages and places. There's simply too much to say, and I'm not surprised it's been in print so long.
What I will say now though is on the subject of the one man in the story. I've been growing increasingly of the opinion that biography is perhaps the most beautiful and honest tool of history. That it most effectively accomplishes all that I want when I read any story: imagined or real. At its core, I think Hugo intended this to be more than just the story of Valjean, but the more I read the more I found myself bound up in this character. Valjean begins his story as a wretch. A freed galley-slave with no prospects, turned out of doors and ostracized. He is quickly embittered towards the whole of society. The weight of his guilt, even though his crime is paid-for, haunts him in every step. Eventually he finds himself directed to the house of a bishop, who hears Jean Valjean's whole deplorable story and every reason why he ought to be cast back out of doors. Then, the bishop feeds him, warms him by the fire, and puts him in a bed for as long as he needs.
It gets better. Valjean, chastening under the burden of the man's grace, seizes upon the dark opportunity that night to burgle the bishop's silver candlesticks and escape. When he is shortly thereafter apprehended and brought before the bishop, instead of condemnation, the bishop tells the police to let him go, that the silver was a gift but that Valjean forgot to take it all and presents him with still more. Grace upon grace. Forgiveness upon forgiveness.
The example of the bishop is beautiful. It shows us the costliness of grace. Forgiveness, if it's really transformative, can be tremendously painful. God's forgiveness of our iniquities costs Him something too. not a hurt that in any way diminishes his power, but a hurt that grieves Him nonetheless.
The rest of the novel, however, is a chronicle of the power in that work of grace. Valjean commits one more evil and is then so repulsed by that black taint in his soul that he never goes back. He assumes a new name to escape the law and his past, he makes his fortune, he gives out of his abundance of wealth and spirit to those broken people around him all the rest of his days. And his dogged need to give of self instead of taking costs him much. He has to confess to his crimes and then escape the police (which doesn't sound noble the way I said it, but I don't have energy to explain the extenuating circumstances), he takes in an orphaned desperate child, he lives as an outlaw assuming multiple names, and he even drags a hated young man his ersatz daughter eventually grows up to love on his back through 4 miles of sewer because her happiness is more precious to him than his own or even his life. The man is all gift and no receipt. All righteousness and no blot. And the best part is he's not impossibly good. He is good in the sense that a very good man can be. Imperfect, but recognizing his faults and allowing the grace he's been shown to work out his redemption over all of his days.
Reading this story I have been humbled and convicted and inspired. This is probably the most important story I have heard in quite some time. I highly recommend it - in whichever medium best fits your schedule - to anyone. The tale now immortalized by musical theatre in all its literary richness is something truly spectacular, and I hope you make a chance someday to discover it for yourself.

PS - Short disclaimer: there's a bit of French in it. Mostly names of people and places. If you're really Franco-phobic, maybe it's not such a great idea. Just watch the movie or something, then.

You were there

For every high and every low

Every mountain top, crisp cool breeze and 1st-place finish

Every darkened valley, tumble, stench and wound

Every morning on the porch sipping orange juice and listening to the birds sing

Every late night of humiliation, hatred, anger, and sleepless conviction

Every win

Every fail

You were there

Through every tossing sea, rolling wave and storm cloud

Every clear blue sky, sandy beach and safe warm embrace

Every tear, sob and grief

Every laugh and hyperventilated guffaw

Every tearful joy

Every joyful tear

Every headache, knee-buckling and minor laceration

Every soothing, healing mist

You were there

In every still small voice as it whispered softly on the warm whisps of wind

In every crackling peal of thunder as it split the sky in noise and colour

In every chuckle

In every shame

In every minute

hour

day

week

month

year

and decade

In every moment

instant

breath

heartbeat

You were there

When I fell off my bike and scraped all the skin off both my knees and hobbled bleeding back to the campsite

When I fell on my knees at 3am convinced there was no way out of my shame and self-loathing

When I watched the rain fall on my left and not on my right and was reminded of Your hands

When I stood in a storm while the drops from heaven mingled with my own hot and salty ones and ran, diluted and washed, to the ground

You

Were

There

You were always there.

6 words, reprise

Candlelight, fine imported wine, and Fudgee-Os

Macbeth, Demon Wolves and Thai Food

Last night I went to see a production of Shakespeare's Macbeth put on by the illustrious Rep21 theatre group at Theatre Passe Muraille in Toronto. I've seen enough Canadore Theatre Arts plays, now, that I almost feel as if I know the actors and members of the company, when in actuality I think I've met two or three and only really know one. My friend Dave, however, was in the lead role and so I could hardly pass up the chance to grab a couple friends and make an evening out of it. 

At the intermission, I walked up to one of my friends, who isn't very familiar with the story, and remarked that "I had forgotten how dark this play is." It's been a long time since I read Macbeth in grade 10. The opening scene was quite shockingly occult-ish and intimidating, which I can tell was the director's intent. There is a lot of hyper-sexualized occult activity and violence in this play. And some fore-warned "strong language, Shakespeare-style". I'm not one of those Christians who rejects violence and evil in our art because it's evil. The function of art is as a reflection of humanity and construction of meaning. And I found myself given much to meditate on, spiritually, after experiencing this play. I don't think I could have been the one on stage, but then God hasn't gifted me with the actor's craft of separation of self, and I don't mind Him withholding it.  Suffice to say, that when I tell you it's rough around the edges, it's not as a word of condemnation, but mostly a caveat against bringing the whole family. Just because Shakespeare is a classic doesn't make him safe for the kids.

After sleeping (a couple hours) on it, I find myself thinking about the character of Macbeth. I suppose charting his course is a main purpose of the play. Although the director's interpretation of the play put most of the agency for the evil decisions that are made into the hands of witches, we see from the very first the tiny seeds of murderous ambition in Macbeth's character. It doesn't take much. Somehow, when I first read the play, I felt like it was the story of the greedy Lady Macbeth cajoling, seducing and bullying her husband into becoming more ruthless, and then gradually losing control of the monster she's created. That's certainly still part of the story, but the seed of evil was in Macbeth's heart from the word go. I think this is important, not only to make playing the transformation of Macbeth less stupefyingly sharp, but also because I recognize the seed. His is strong enough to vocalize itself when he's speaking with the witches. But I recognize the vaulting ambition and murderous intent, nestled capable but mercifully dormant in my own heart. We're all capable of it. One of the things a year and a half ago that my history class examined was the transformation of Nazis and other Germans who participated in the Holocaust. Were they really ordinary men who did unspeakable evil? Yes and no. They were a bit special, and there were a lot of mitigating factors. But they were also pretty normal guys. Wives, children, mortgages. Every mass murderer was a baby once. Was cute and adorable and maybe even nice to his/her playmates once. My uncle once said that everybody has a story that will break your heart. I think it's true, but I think the reverse is true, too. Everybody has had at least one story to restore your heart, even the most evil and most heinous our species has produced. 

It is because of all this that I found myself watching Macbeth's descent into depravity, ruthlessness and also genuine madness as a lens for the ease with which this transformation could happen to anyone. Shakespeare has hit, I think, upon a key component of what makes us human: massive potential for ill. Now, if I had been director of this particular play I think I would have made some different choices, because we're given the increasing notion that the witches, as puppet-masters, have orchestrated all of this to happen to serve some dark purpose. I know there are malevolent powers in this world and that they do hold some influence over men's hearts and minds. But the transfer of blame from Macbeth and Lady Macbeth to their arcane puppeteers is too easy. It was a bit too heavy-handed for my taste. The seed of murder and greed and ambition rests in our nature, but we make conscious decision to water it and cultivate it. Only after this Macbeth had been led along by the hand, even physically embodied to do the deed, did we begin to see him take the slightest bit of evil initiative. We almost can't blame him for killing Duncan because he's some kind of spirit proxy for the "wolf demon". And this I think is a valid artistic choice, but one with which I would contend. When I do ill, and I do it often enough to know, I'm not the plaything of some demonic force. I make a choice. I know what God requires of me and His heart. I see the consequences of my disobedience, and I choose to value something else higher than His love. If my sin were the dalliances of a puppet, I could not be held accountable for the blood on my hands and the cross would have no purpose. It is a common enough thing, I think, to believe as this director believes, but I think it's cheap. It's easy morality. I would have preferred a reluctant but eventually-willing participant Macbeth. 

This of course, is by no means an indictment of anything other than the director's interpretation of the play. I thought the spirit-seizing scenes where particularly chilling, and my complements to David Johnson, Amy Allyn, and the rest of the cast on some captivating acting. Especially because I know Dave, this was such a rapturing transformation from what he usually plays and I know this process must have been very trying on him mentally, physically (lots of open-shirt scenes. Awoo-ga!), and spiritually.

Oh, I only had one other criticism, which was that the not-so-subtle homosexuality subtext between Seyton and Macbeth was thoroughly irrelevant. I think I understand why it's there, but it was distracting and never sufficiently explored so as to matter in the rest of the play. I think we could have done without it. And that way, they could have dressed Seyton in a less strikingly-foxish black leather outfit. And less eye makeup, too.

By far the epic moment of the play was the claymore sword fight, and even if you're not liking the super-Scottish aesthetic of the play, the blue paint and big broadswords make up for it at the end. I thought one of the actors or even audience members was going to die! Those swords were really big and heavy for such a small stage. 

In all, I had quite an experience at the theatre last night; well worth the gas, parking and ticket (oh and dinner at a nice thai place right there, but I've never written a restaurant review and don't feel like trying right now). I think my friends, who've never met Dave, might have gotten the wrong idea of the kind of guy he really is, but the play was very enjoyable and, as you can see, gave me lots to think about. I think Rep21's run is pretty much wrapped up now, and I congratulate all the members of the company on a wonderful set of shows that I think are themselves fitting reward for so much hard work over the past several months. 

English

I used to think I had a pretty big vocabulary. For a guy my age, anyway. Considering I spent a lot more time video-gaming and TV-watching than the more typical bookworm, it's a wonder my "verbiage veers most verbose" as it does (credit to "V for Vendetta").

Of course, now I teach ESL.

No better sense of the contrast between the guarded, slow, low-vocab way of speaking necessary for my students' understanding and my other life can be given then the day last week when I went downtown with my maiden faire to see an open-air Shakespeare performance. I used to drink in the bard on first reading. I've never read or seen Twelfth Night, and so maybe that was part of the problem, but it took me until the second act before I was properly following the dialogue. Oy vey. By the second act, it's hard to follow the play because you've missed the setup for the story. Thankfully, one of the older actors, playing Sir Toby, spoke appallingly slowly and unnaturally so I had brain-time, in some of his longer speeches, to background-process what I'd seen before.

Of course, the next morning I was now restraining not only the usual three-syllable words that usually flow quite pleasingly off the tongue, but also a host of shan'ts, doths, wherefores and dosts.

I think however, the art of speaking at an understandable hearing level is much like the art of speaking with an accent that is not your own. Start with a caricature and work with it until it becomes more natural. It makes the transition sharper, and thus easier to delineate. So today I've started *much* slower and simpler. I say everything two or three times. It's a price I'm willing to pay so that I can come home and read Asimov. Or watch the news. Anderson Cooper or Piers Morgan; watching Fox would be like being back at work.

Ultimately, however, I'm confronted daily with the inevitable conclusion that this language we speak is exceedingly silly. It follows none of its own rules, its subtleties of implication are almost impossible to spot in the naked grammar, and there are just so many more words in it than we ought to need. I know it must seem rich, coming from me, but English is too darned complicated. It's a real shame that the language of international business and government isn't something more straightforward like Spanish or Japanese.

The thing I think has affected me the most so far is an odd sense of humbling. These kids have come/been sent from all over the world, literally. They're here to learn my language. The main thing that makes me capable of teaching them is the accident of history that I was born in a place that speaks it. Something over which I've had little control. Certainly, I didn't have to be well-spoken or literate if I hadn't worked at it. I didn't have to be a qualified teacher except that I pursued it and had opportunity to go to school. But why my language? Why didn't I go to Mexico or Korea to learn from them? I know there are a number of sensible, logical reasons, but I don't think it's a sensible problem. Or question, anyway. I'm not losing sleep over it.

Lunchbreak is just about over, so the post is too. Time enough now to readjust and speak with care and great tact. Enjoy the words, I suppose they're the ones we've got

News - July 21st

It's been too long. But, such is the first-sentence lament of too many bloggers in the web-o-sphere, so I shan't importune you, dear reader, any further on the subject.
Wedding planning has taken off furiously. For those of you who haven't had the joy of sitting in on one of our sessions, we hit the ground running. Hall, church, pastor, cake, dress, wedding party, preliminary guest list, decorations, invitations, menu and a number of other things are pretty much worked out. And so far with minimal bloodshed. Although, the two of us did have a proper fight the other day because I was appallingly stupid about something. We sorted it out, and I for one am actually a bit more excited now that we got a good test run of our conflict-resolution rhythms. We'll be ok. But I think that's sufficiently personal for the anonymous web.
This past weekend, we were making a pile of comparative notes at my sister's wedding, and she's now happily honeymooning in the tropical sun. It being so hot up here, I can't imagine what it's like closer to the equator. The wedding was gorgeous and everything fell into place nicely. I got a nice reminder about relaxing and not "thriving on chaos" at the reception, when the servers at the hall began to go off the itinerary I had been given. I was frantically reorganizing things and worrying about being behind schedule. The dj, who has more experience at this sort of thing than I do, recommended I relax and let people enjoy themselves. A reception isn't a classroom, it's a social function. With a little background music and beverages, people can fill dead air all by themselves and have a good time doing it. After that first little hump I found I was relaxing again, and though we were a *whopping* 15min behind at one point, everything came together ok by the end.
Work is work. There's a reason they call it labour. The worst part is the morning, before I've spoken to the students and I'm worrying about the plans I've put together. Once the kids arrive, it's ok. I rememeber why I'm a teacher. I remember that I'm not too bad at this job. I remember that I still know something they don't, and can help them understand it. Also, I'm about half-done, which isn't something many teachers can say after only 3 weeks. The camp thing is a pretty good gig, all things considered. Might be worth looking into some day between my summers being packed with AQs and later packed with family vacations.
So much for macro-news. In terms of micro (or perhaps nano) news, I realize now that the lunch I packed is almost entirely bread products. 2 muffins, 2 sandwiches. If I'd brought beer and a dinner roll, I'd be bringing home another pound or two of John then when I left. Maybe I don't really need to eat the muffins. Right away.
Aside from the wedding, and work, there's not much to report, I don't think...
Oh! For people who didn't come to the concert on the 9th but want a CD, track me or my illustrious homonymic counterpart to purchase one. If you buy one from me, the price has gone down to $5. Message/Email/Call/Carrier pigeon to confirm availability. The fundraiser that weekend was a big success, but mostly from admission and beverages; we still had a big stack of CDs there at the end of the night. So if you're inclined at all to hear the dulcet tones of your favourite Jo(H)n on beautifully edited (if slightly buggy) CD, or you want to hear me sing, too, then give a Jo(H)n a call. Or email. Or pigeon.
The last thing I can think to mention is that I'm making progress on my novel. Chapter 12 is done (in *very* rough) and I'm mildly stuck. I have two equally interesting and important directions in which my heroes are meant to go and I can't decide which can logically follow the other. I've suspected that passing the problem on to them in the book could be a sneaky way to avoid worrying about it, except that they aren't really real people and so thus, can't solve the issue without me first solving it for myself. I don't have a lot of natural sympathy for artists or authors who talk about their work as if it is a thing independant of themselves. Art, at best, is a mirror or lens of the person's inmost. It isn't a person itself anymore than a reflection, shadow, or photograph. Of course, I made that sound all definite when I'm actually quite open to being persuaded otherwise. I'm trying to cut back on starting off definite with a big fat opinion and later backing down. It gets me into trouble sometimes.

Well, that's the news that's fit to post, and then some other stuff. Enjoy your Thursday!

News - June 24th

Update:

She said yes!

In other news,
...
...
nope. can't think of much else worthy of reporting.

6 words, take 3

Can't sleep when sheep are screaming

Ill-fitting Canadiana

Last night the Vancouver Canucks were defeated in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. They were shut out by a supremely talented goalie and solid defenders. And they simply didn't play as well as the Bruins did. The Yanks deserved to win the cup. In fact, when the cup goes on tour to players' hometowns, it'll spend more time in Canada than it would have if Vancouver had won because there are a lot of Canadians who play for Boston.
Hardly soothes the sting of losing, though. The team that quite literally bears the name of the entire nation, the city that was our face in the Olympics - in the moment where it counted they couldn't bring it. Maybe next year. Worked for the Penguins.
I watched something today that hurt me more than watching the yellow-and black clad crushers of a national dream skate jubilantly around our ice rink carrying Lord Stanley's cup. Today I read the news and watched the videos of the riots downtown after the game.
I am ashamed of being Canadian. It's not even as easy as saying that those were some stupid drunk guys who took this too seriously. As a nation, we would have owned the victory. We would have owned the celebration and communal spirit. We would have owned the party. It behooves us to own the shame of this moment. Like it or not, these people represented us to the world and the image sticks.
I think sometimes we become too willing to distance ourselves from people we are associated with the moment they do something that's hugely inappropriate. We decide that they were never really part of the group. That way, the polluting image of their wrongdoing can seem like it settles more distantly from us. I run into this same problem every time some nutjob preacher in the South goes postal and starts burning Korans or protesting at grave sites or sleeping with prostitutes. It is too easy to say that he doesn't represent me. He does! He waves the same flag and calls himself the same name. It ought to break my heart and upset me that people misrepresent Christians that way. And it ought to break our heart; it ought to matter that Canada was so crudely misrepresented last night.
Here's the big newsflash, of course: it's not like it's the first time I've been ashamed of the maple leaf. I've been ashamed of this country, and I don't think it makes me less of a patriot to say so. I have been ashamed of this country when they ignored their own history and political system and re-elected criminals into our highest political offices. I have been ashamed of this country when it sat idly by and did nothing to ease the suffering of victims of war and turmoil in sub-Saharan Africa but jumped at the chance to be dragged into the Afghan quagmire. I was ashamed when I learned about the ongoing every-day injustices visited on our First Peoples by our governments' continuing unwillingness to follow our own laws and fulfill our own legal treaties. I was ashamed to learn that Canada was the only western non-communist nation in the UN to not ratify the UN Declaration of Human Rights when it came out this century. I was ashamed when Habs fans booed the American national anthem when they played against Boston a couple years ago in the playoffs. I was ashamed when the videos and interviews of one of our Olympic gold medalists revolved around a massive party and an equally massive stein of ale. Canadians are not good people just because they're Canadians. In fact, being Canadian may make you "peaceful" or friendly, but only because Canadians are apathetic. Canada is one of the most difficult and infertile places for the spread of the gospel. No one in this country actually cares about anything. And that is shameful. We own that.
On July 1st I'll be wearing my Canada t-shirt and waving my flag and singing along with Stompin' Tom Connors like the rest of us. But I'll do so knowing that this present shame is partly mine for waving the same flag as the ignorant and indulgent morons who lit cars on fire yesterday. The same maple syrup flows through my veins. Maybe it's about time everybody stopped trying to distance themselves from the stupid people and started wondering whether we might be taking our sports so seriously because we choose to not care about things that matter.

6 words, take 2

Attempt # 2 at a 6-word memoir:

Feet bound, staring down the sunrise

Six Words

I was just speaking with my Mum about a book she lent to me entitled "I Can't Keep My Own Secrets". It's a collection of 6-word memoirs written by a host of teenagers, some of them famous. I was initially a little sceptical, although the one they chose for the title is really interesting. The editor claims that the inspiration came from a contest Earnest Hemingway contributed to for 6-word novels. He wrote: "For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn."
I know. Epic.
The book is filled with really fantastic memoirs that just scream out so much more story behind their words. Some of my favourites are:
Met online; love before first sight.
My art was better than me.
Hair's pink to piss you off.
I drank sweet tea and cried.

So I thought it might be cool to try it. The 6 word memoir. Except the problem is I don't know where I'd start with encapsulating the whole story in 6 words. I'd rather try one story at a time and work my way up to it. So I think I'll throw one out here every now and again, as I catch the muse, to try and sum up at least the story that's on my mind that day.

Here goes:

23 years old. Grey like Dad.

Let me know what you think

News - June 9th

Hello webodrome!

Been a while. Here's the big stories, in a nutshell:

Graduation - Just got back last night from mine and Alyssa's BEd Grad. It was an OK ceremony, but I was quite profoundly upset by the honorary degree recipient's speech. Actually, to qualify that: I was upset by the introduction to the honorary degree recipient's speech. The actual guy, a certain Grand Chief of the local first nations people in the area, had some very provocative and encouraging things to say, even if my natural inclination is to urge people making a speech at a grad ceremony to not just seize upon the microphone as a license to extoll their mandate. It wasn't that bad. No, but the local area chief who introduced him did not just take as long as the recipients speech, but read the program aloud to an audience roasting in their chairs and also told a number of stories only barely describing his character and at least one of which being massively offensive and inappropriate, no matter the public function.
But I digress. Crossing the stage is cool and it was nice to get a handshake from the President again. Mostly it was nice to get the piece of paper. it looks nice on my shelf next to the undergrad. If anyone knows how to do degree framing that's classy but inexpensive, drop me a line or comment or something.

Work - I'm not doing much of it right now, though I have solid leads for supply teaching in summer school as well as maybe a little part time census enumerator work. So one way or another I'll keep myself busy in July. It wouldn't be very professional of me to comment on my current tutoring client's progress, but since exams are on the rather imminent horizon I'm sure anyone would expect tension levels to be high.

Love - She's far away and I miss her. Even though I saw her yesterday.

Hobbies - My novel has completely failed to progress so far this spring despite my most earnest expectations of it growing in leaps and bounds. I know I'm more than half-way, but I haven't really planned out the next few chapters in much detail and so I feel more improvisational than normal whenever I open it up to poke at it. I rode my bike a bit today. Or, rather, I stumbled off my bike, walked it to the gas station to fill up the very flat tires, got back on, rode to the bank, discovering that the tires were not by far the biggest problem, and walked it most of the way back from the drugstore internally debating whether or not I'll need it that much this summer anyway. It's probably worth the bother to tighten things up, but I can only go cap in hand to my Dad to ask him to help me fix things before I begin to feel anemic and incompetent. Which, to be fair, I am if I can't even fix my own bicycle.

The Excellent Adventure Preparation - is continuing well. I am given to understand that most of my papers are in good order, and short of finding a flat to live in (which at this time of year would be impractical even if I were only moving to Mississauga) I'm well on my way to moving successfully.

Film Review: Planet of the Apes. There are a lot of primates in this movie and many of them talk. The ones that don't talk can fly spaceships. Riddle me that one, Batman. I only made it halfway through but my initial reactions are not good, and I begin to suspect that I ought to have watched this when it first came out and not so many years after the fact.

This about concludes the news thus far. 'Til the next time I manage to muster my creative faculties, Ciao!

News - May 17th

I think I intended to be updating this blog, or at least the news segments, somewhat more frequently. However, things are progressing at a reasonably manageable pace, and so I figure I don't have quite as much exciting news to report.
This past weekend was a blast though, and deserves some review and reflection. My BEd teachers would be proud.

I learned a few new things this weekend:
- I can do long-distance driving more comfortably and longer than before. The Soo is really far enough away to be a pain in the neck. And other places, more literally
- I really do like wedding ceremonies better than receptions, though receptions are cool. The ceremony this weekend was beautiful, God-honouring, centred, rooted, and genuine. I thought that it was simply wonderful. I spent most of the service fighting back tears.
- The airport in the Soo is a long way from St. Joseph island

All told it was a really nice weekend, but now I feel like I have the next few weekdays not so much to be productive or to get work done as to recover. Such is the life of a barely-employed university-educated bum living in his Mom's house.

Self-Flagellation

The literal practice of self-flagellation is old as civilization itself. From the ancient prophets of Baal whipping and cutting themselves on Mount Carmel to the medieval monks of Monty Python striking themselves with thick, hard-cover books to the cilice belt on that ominous Da Vinci Code villain today. And even men and women of faith scourge themselves in less damaging or violent ways all the time.

Let me be clear when I say that this can be and usually is a component of healthy spirituality. Maybe not cutting or whipping, but remorse. Regret. Fasting. The whole season of Lent is meant to bring us into fuller dependance on God and clearer spiritual focus so we can grieve with every iota of our soul on Good Friday. We need to mourn on Good Friday and we need to do it properly if we want a chance to properly rejoice on Easter morning.

But I know I tend too heavily in this direction too often, and especially so when I am in a state of conviction over sin. When I have screwed up and deliberately violated God, I withdraw. Rather than run broken to His arms, I hide my nakedness like Adam before me. I feel like I need to really properly realize the magnitude of my mistake before I can be restored. This usually lands me in the very uncomfortable position of spending several days end-to-end feeling awful and doing nothing about it.

Today I saw a model, however, of what Jesus would have me do instead. A beloved but estranged family member was restored to us today. I watched my Mom accept his return quickly and move straight to consoling and restoring relationship. We didn't hash out how bad the hurt was. And the hurt, believe me, was bad. There were all kinds of fancy sub-hurts and awful barbs in this one. It didn't look like it was going to turn out OK. Have we all talked out all the bits and pieces? No. Will we? No. Ought we? Not if we see the example Jesus gives us:

 ¹¹ Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons.¹² The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.

   ¹³ “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. ¹⁴ After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. ¹⁵ So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. ¹⁶ He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

   ¹⁷ “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! ¹⁸ I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. ¹⁹ I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ ²⁰ So he got up and went to his father.

   “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

   ²¹ “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

   ²² “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. ²³ Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. ²⁴ For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

What is the loving father's reaction to the reprehensible, inexcusable, manipulative son who has returned? While he is still a long way off, his father runs to him! He throws his arms around a physically and spiritually unclean thing, embracing filth and dishonour and evil because of unrestrained grace. This kind of grace defies human expectations and even human senses of justice. This father has humiliated himself, defiled himself, and thrown good money after bad on this ill-intentioned young man who is not even properly repentant.

This is love. This is grace. And that grace doesn't wait for us to be sorry for ourselves before we can take hold of it. God only asks we begin the journey back to Him so that He can see us coming and do 99% of the meeting halfway for us. 

Self-flagellation, emotional as damaging as physical, can be useful but it's not a pre-requisite. Just repentance. I hesitate to jump too far and rush to the empty tomb before sitting at the foot of the cross. It's important and necessary for us to reflect on our sinfulness and to be repentant and remorseful, of course. But the desert of conviction is not the place to try and work out our impurities. First return to the father's house! He will dress you in new robes and crown you with new honours. There the ongoing work of sanctification can take place unimpeded by our guilt and sinfulness.