Some of my latest Youtube uploads

I've gotten into recycling old songs. I wrote this years ago and recorded it a couple of years ago when I was putting together a CD of original compositions which I offered as a gift to family and friends. I realized that I hadn't uploaded it to my Youtube channel. So I did just that.

Last spring Remy Shand offered some original music and sent out an invitation for collaborations. I'd been tempted back then but did nothing. While the house was quiet for about an hour a coouple of Sundays ago, I decided to start fiddling with his music. Some lyrics poured out and this is what I came up with.

I direct messaged Remy Shand with a link. He actually retweeted my version of his tune and added to his playlist on his Youtube channel. I'm glad that I dared.

My books on Librarything

Flickr

When trying to create a Flickr account, I realized that I have a Flickr account, but I'd forgotten and wasn't using it.
 Click here if you would like a peek!

Daring greatly

I did it. I sat out on the patio and wrote and doodled what I'd learned from reading Brené Brown's Daring Greatly. Her writing speaks to me.

I love swimming at the Château Montebello pool so much, I wrote a poem

The importance of breathing 
by 
Julia Nadon

I back dive into the deep end

The coolness shocks my body

Why do I this again?

 The first lap always feels awkward

I flip and turn and push off the wall

Back and forth I swim

Reaching further with each stroke

My body turns into an efficient machine

My mind rushes like a movie screen

Playing clips of conversations and

Scenes from my life

Back and forth I swim

I become the observer

My worries blow away

Like clouds across the sky

Sitting meditation won't do it for me

In this pool, my body slices through the water

My mind slows down

I become aware of each and every breath

Lest I drown 

I've been swimming at this pool since I was little. My brother was a lifeguard there so of course anything he did I wanted to do (except for driving trucks for a living). I lifeguarded there when I was still in school and when I chose to come back to live here, one of the first things I did was start swimming here again. I've swum in pools in many places. None has the same calming effect. I hope to swim here until I die.

I can't capture all of the beauty

I've been going on artist dates with myself lately à la Julia Cameron. In the last week, I've been to the city to walk along one street. I've had a massage. I've swum which is also how I meditate.

 I refilled the bird feeders and bird baths and watched my yard come back to life with chickadees, finches and a lone squirrel. I've listened to random music on my mp3 player. I've played the guitar just for fun. I've biked for fitness, for escape and for errands in the village. I've listened to a TedTalk.

This morning as I walked through the woods on my way back from breakfast, I kept whipping my camera out of my purse to capture cliffs, streams, mushrooms, footbridges, moss, slugs and dragonflies. Photo after photo, I tried to capture what I was seeing all around me and I thought to myself that I'll never be able to capture all of the beauty around me. For some reason I felt grateful in my defeat. I'm glad that I'll never be able to capture it all. There will always be something to go after. I also wondered how is it that we can capture images, sounds and movement, but we still can't record smells, tastes, the warmth of the morning sun on our shoulders or the feel of the breeze on my face.

I finished reading Brené Brown's Daring Greatly while having breakfast overlooking the golf course. I copied so many passages into my journal. I'm thinking of organizing them somehow through mindmapping, at least I'm going to try.

End of the school year

Have  I mentioned anywhere on this blog that my day job is being a grade 6 teacher in a small francophone village in the Outaouais in Quebec? I teach all subjects except art and phys. ed. in French which is the first language here. I've always wrestled with my own linguistic identity, but that's another blog post.

The last day of school was Friday and I officially said goodbye to 16 awesome kids who, for the most part, have spent 7 years in our school, the last 2 being in my classroom. The poor babies. With similar mixed emotions as when I raise monarchs from eggs and caterpillars and must release them for their 4000 kilometer trek down to Mexico in the fall, I must let these chickies to fly off to high school.
 

I've been silently grieving their departure since early spring. I go through this grieving process every year but I've found that every 7 or 8 years, I get a group of kids whose personalities combine to make a wholesome and creative dynamic within the confines of the classroom which in turn, allows us to break down the walls of our confinement and soar beyond. These kids were curious, eloquent, many were well-read, some were well-traveled, and if not, at least willing to open themselves to new ideas and possibilities. Now, what could any teacher wish for beyond that?

I used my discipline system once or twice for a couple of kids...in March when we were all getting tired and needed a break. Besides that, the kids basically managed themselves. Any conflicts were resolved in cooperative meetings on Fridays.

I figure that I will retire in 8 or 9 years. I might get another similar cohort before then. If not, well, that's fine, too. I have found that while some years have been tougher to get through, I come out at the other end stronger and having learned how to deal with each child with more compassion. I find myself mellowing with each year. I no longer entertain battles of wills. Adults are often on the losing end with kids and when we do win, it can be at the expense of someone's ego. I don't want to chip away at anyone's self-esteem. Heaven forbid that I should do or say something that would hurt one of my charges.

As I wrap up report cards and face long lazy days to rejuvenate, I am thankful for this school year and eagerly await the next bunch of kids who will teach me a lot more than I have to teach them. 

I am most fortunate to live in a tiny village of 978 souls. I get to see many of my students grow up, go off to study, find jobs that they love, and sometimes come back to start families of their own.