The final furlong

Horse racing has little or no profile in Canada, but back in the UK it was Grand National day yesterday, and whilst I have never been the greatest of gamblers I always enjoyed a bet on the National. Some years I would study the form and make the whole thing a very scientific process, some years I would just go by the horses' names; I even dreamt the winner one year and yes, it won! As you may have guessed though, I didn't put much money on that year - I always went by the adage of 'never gamble more than you can afford to lose', which kind of defeats the whole purpose of gambling really, but there you go - and consequently here I am, still eking out an honest living.

The way I make that living, and where I make it, is all about to change though. Although nothing is signed, sealed and delivered just yet, it would seem that a new career at King's Town School beckons, and consequently, after four years in the North, I've now entered what looks like being my final four weeks here. There are going to be many instances of 'doing something for the last time syndrome' over the coming month and, who knows, I may well have done some things for the last time already.

Whilst working in the North has brought with it many frustrations, I have by and large enjoyed my experience. I have seen and done things that I would not have seen and done otherwise, and I have met people the like of who I would never have had the chance to meet in my normal walk of life. Since leaving the UK some five years ago the North has very much become 'my Canada', and I know that my outlook on many things in this life of ours has been changed as a result. Without wishing to sound pretentious I think I am a better person for it all or, at the very least, a different person; perhaps it's best left up to others to decide on whether different is actually better.

For everything there is a season though - it's normally winter up here - and, for a number of reasons, I think the time is now right for change. A full five years after moving to Canada it would seem that enough dues have now been paid to have earned Melanie and I the opportunity to be living and, hopefully, working together again, and whilst I have always been very much aware of my 'geographical impotence' up here, a series of recent, unfortunate events in the lives of my friends and family has done much to bring that awareness into even sharper focus. As I said at the start of this post, I have never been much of a gambler. Any move, be it career or physical, is always going to be something of a gamble, and I am about to do both. On this occasion I'm happy to roll the dice though, and I'm prepared to deal with the outcome, whatever it may be.

Bare faced cheek

Continuing the bear/bare theme that has unwittingly bestowed itself on the blog this week, I just had to share this with you. It would seem that a banker in Australia was having a quiet day in the office earlier this week and decided to alleviate the boredom by perusing some, shall we say, alternative figures (try 34DD) on his computer screen. On a normal day he would have probably got away with it; trouble was, one of his colleagues was being interviewed at the time - on live TV.

Keep your eye on the guy behind the speaker's right shoulder...



That was one hell of a boob (or two)!

What's mine is yours

We had an unexpected visit from representatives of the Raglan Mine yesterday, which eased the boredom of what would otherwise have been a mundane, regulation (but far from manic) Monday. Raglan is a huge nickel mine northwest of here, and as one of the larger employers in Nunavik they regularly send teams around the schools to pass on information about the work opportunities there. At the moment only 17% of the workforce is Inuit, but the aim of the mine's owners is to increase this figure to 20% in the near future.

The mine operates a profit-sharing initiative with Nunavimmiut (people of Nunavik), and last year $6.8 million was distributed amongst the 14 communities here. This sounds like a lot of money - and it is - but it is only about a fifth of the $32.4 million that was handed out in 2007. It seems that the bottom has fallen out of the nickel market in the past twelve months, a state of affairs that wasn't mentioned in the presentation at school, but despite this drop in profitability there is still a great deal of money floating around, and each community has its own method of using their share of the pie.

Salluit and Kangiqsujuaq receive the lion's share, being the nearest communities to the mine geographically, and here in Kangiqsujuaq much of the money is pooled and we now have a beautiful new community gym (the building where the Bowhead Feast was held earlier in the year) as a result. Some communities simply distribute their entire share on a purely individual basis though, and as a result, in the words of one of my students, it is often drunk away in a very short period of time. Many Inuit travel to Montreal in order to spend their windfall, and they are increasingly being targeted by local thieves who know that they have money to spend; the results are sometimes tragic, and you can read more here.

Consequently, the role of Raglan is a matter for constant debate in these parts, centering mainly on the level of Inuit employment there and the use of its profits, and with the mine having around fifty further years of potential use left in it, the debate is unlikely to be concluded any time soon.

One year on

It's actually a year now since I started this blog, and lo and behold we're still going strong, or at least still going. This time last year I had no idea how much longer I was going to be working in the North, and when you fast forward to the present day I am still none the wiser. Yesterday Melanie started her new job as principal at King's Town School in Kingston, so you never know, I might be able to work for her next year! Until then though I am committed to the North, and although I really enjoy the teaching job I have here, it would be rather wonderful to be able to work alongside Melanie again, or at the very least live in the same house on a regular basis.

This is now my fifth year of living and working in Canada, and for four of those five years Melanie and I have had to live and work apart, sometimes on different continents. At least we are now back in the same time zone though and who knows, perhaps next year we will be in the same postal code. For now though we will continue to rely on the wonders of modern telephony to keep in touch, and the blog will continue to serve as a window into my world up here.

Here's to the next year!

Sex, Lies and Red Tape (without the sex and lies)

Gosh, I hadn't realised that it had been a week since my last post. Sad, lonely person that I am, I've hardly left the apartment in the last seven days, but looking back quite a lot has still managed to happen in that time.

Firstly, the fact that I conducted the interview I was telling you about last time in my pyjamas obviously didn't count against me, as I was offered the job! It was a teaching post with the Gitxaala Nation and would have seen me working in the small community on Dolphin Island, near Prince Rupert in British Columbia. I say would have because I actually turned down the offer, since there would not also be a job for Melanie there. It would have been an interesting experience, but at least I don't now need to change the title of the blog, and I don't need to go through the laborious process of applying for a teaching permit in B.C.

Now, I love living in Canada, but the way the education system is run over here continues to be one of my great frustrations. Education is run provincially, rather than federally, and is a perfect example of how Canada, whilst technically a single entity, is in reality a collection of thirteen independent nations, each with their own identity and approach. This provincial structure should not in itself be a problem, but the provinces simply do not talk to each other, and what is already a bloated and overly-bureaucratic process consequently becomes all the more frustrating.

I could just about handle the fact that my thirteen years of teaching experience in the UK counted for very little when I first came over to Canada. I was new to the country and, despite having the same queen on our currency, I had to prove to the Ontario College of Teachers (OCT) that I had the qualifications I claimed I had. I had to provide proof that I had the 'O' and 'A' levels that I said I had, I had to provide original transcripts from my universities to prove that I'd passed my degrees and I then had to provide proof that I was actually a certified and registered teacher, which of course I couldn't be in the first place without having passed all the exams which I'd already had to prove I'd passed!

Then, I had to apply to another, entirely separate, body - the Qualifications Evaluation Council of Ontario (QECO) - who would decide what pay scale I would be on when, and if, I found gainful employment. They needed much of the same information that I'd already sent to the OCT, but do the two organizations communicate with each other? Of course not! I had to submit everything again myself. Eventually, QECO decides how much you will be paid, and you are then finally able to start teaching properly if, as an 'outsider', you can actually force your way into the virtual closed shop that is run by the school boards, but that's a story for another time.

However, that's not the end of it, because as I mentioned earlier, the provinces don't talk to each other. Each province has their own equivalent of the OCT and QECO, and if you want to work in a different province, YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH THE SAME PROCESS AGAIN! Did you notice that I wrote that last bit in capitals? That's because I'm frustrated. I can see absolutely no logic behind this process, and if anyone actually can then I'd love them to explain it to me.

OK, sorry about that; rant over now. I was also going to write about how the cable guy came round this week - not Jim Carey, but a real cable guy - and how Michael Jackson's death must have really annoyed the backroom staff in the newsrooms who had spent days preparing tribute reels for Farrah Fawcett, but there isn't time now. The concluding part of Impact is about to start, and Earth only has 39 days left before the Moon crashes into it. Of course, that is unless a crack group of scientists, led by the unlikely, yet robust, figure of Natasha Henstridge, can come up with a plan.

For the Earth's sake, I just hope they don't need to get their qualifications ratified first.

Taking care of business

Hope you enjoyed the Catchphrase clip from yesterday - poor Marita really doesn't know what's going on, does she? - but I should warn you that some of the links that are presented at the end are pretty explicit. Sorry if you've already viewed any of them and got a bit of a surprise as a result, but I wonder how many of you are now going to go back in order to see what you missed? My warning is obviously lost on people like you, a bit like the red triangle that Channel 4 used to display in the corner of the screen to alert any unsuspecting viewers that the program they were watching contained 'adult' content. Now, how many extra viewers did that attract?...

But I digest.

It was the longest day today, and after a few long days of my own at the storage unit I have now officially given up on sorting it out until Melanie arrives next month. I've told her to bring some extra storage unit fairies on the plane with her, but apparently they're not good flyers - ironic, given that they have wings - so they probably won't make the trip.

I'm still keeping busy though. Later this week I should be receiving my contract offer for next year's work, and it's 99% certain now that the course will be moved to Kangirsujuaq, as I hinted at last month. Last year I had to wait until the end of August until I received my contract offer so it's good to be getting it all sorted out early this time, but I've learnt that I will have to return North by August 17th, which is almost three weeks earlier than I anticipated. Now, before you raise your eyebrows in indignation over the fact that I will still have had a three month holiday, going back so soon almost halves the time that Melanie and I will have together once she gets here, which is most disappointing.

However, this situation could still change as there may yet be a further twist in the path that the forthcoming year might take. Melanie and I applied for jobs at a number of schools earlier this year, mainly in the spirit of keeping irons in the fire, but having heard nothing back from any of them we both assumed that the fire had gone out. There must have been a few glowing embers remaining though, because one of these schools contacted us out of the blue on Friday, and this morning I had a telephone interview with them.

I can't really say too much at this stage as I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but I can reveal that this was the first ever interview I've done in my pyjamas (very Canadian; pyjamas are seen as legitimate everyday clothing over here), and I will tease you with the information that if we were offered posts at this school (and accepted them), I'd have to change the title of the blog to Life in a Western Town, or something similar. Intrigued? I'll give you more news when I can, but I have to go now as a show called Impact is about to start on TV. It's 'a two part sci-fi drama about the moon on a collision course with Earth' which, as those of you who know me well will realise, is a show with my name written all over it. Now, which national monument is going to get it first?