tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33682785356158720312024-03-12T16:44:56.212-07:00Starting TeacherIn August 2007 I began as a teacher at Jimmy Sandy Memorial School in Schefferville, Quebec. As I start my second year I have committed myself to trying new experiences in a community which still has much to teach me. To family and friends... I hope it provides you with a small insight to my life. To all others, I hope it proves to provide a glimpse into the unique experiences that have led to my return.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-15789741929798629572008-05-13T18:55:00.001-07:002008-05-13T19:17:36.071-07:00The Flood<div style="text-align: left;">During my recent Goose Break I had a chance to visit Fredericton and help with a little of the clean-up. First, here is a picture of the house that I used to live in. It is a decent walk from the river so I was no concerned. But I got an e-mail that the power was shut off and Jaz (who still lives their) had to evacuate. She told me that the flooding was not directly from the river, but instead was the result of the drainage system backing-up. This flooding occurred within hours.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xOxPBhHDTajIXj-BlK0Vq2XOkqQyLttNTqpw38BeLDA1CaxiBdS5gjDcCHNYHHRGj50oA0Yb9YrzA7wD1gpYyxLhpOGkvbf7NSgwBhQt_7qGxPMcT0kItOjmy2j4-2NU1LHiJpG6GsP8/s1600-h/Drain.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xOxPBhHDTajIXj-BlK0Vq2XOkqQyLttNTqpw38BeLDA1CaxiBdS5gjDcCHNYHHRGj50oA0Yb9YrzA7wD1gpYyxLhpOGkvbf7NSgwBhQt_7qGxPMcT0kItOjmy2j4-2NU1LHiJpG6GsP8/s200/Drain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200048164146950450" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUfpa5nbwZx0qY3be4zWHF8P2WPQoIhXwfZjLjU2zB2MylNUwgst-T66BRaPrODHz0mwmI4uwWZxfskrbdMnBbR9ez63RDwHSdEogWfO8Y5yVVDmtVeVo0j2kcZRZJGV1p6wiMUeK3Wx8/s1600-h/House.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUfpa5nbwZx0qY3be4zWHF8P2WPQoIhXwfZjLjU2zB2MylNUwgst-T66BRaPrODHz0mwmI4uwWZxfskrbdMnBbR9ez63RDwHSdEogWfO8Y5yVVDmtVeVo0j2kcZRZJGV1p6wiMUeK3Wx8/s200/House.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200048546399039810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Next are just some interesting photos that I've come across.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF_OcUFkwl9F_k_kvxgb59koCkLvAQQiObSZ4AtI7RsB0lHlnSixW6OgbYJ_4cwY_BTR1M4IpRvT1tnsSdQjaITj1S9XTyaJIXWpOgZ8HJEM_SDxHl_b5OrrwXCAbkGAGUF1Ui-mOE2yj/s1600-h/n843700130_2843193_7332.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF_OcUFkwl9F_k_kvxgb59koCkLvAQQiObSZ4AtI7RsB0lHlnSixW6OgbYJ_4cwY_BTR1M4IpRvT1tnsSdQjaITj1S9XTyaJIXWpOgZ8HJEM_SDxHl_b5OrrwXCAbkGAGUF1Ui-mOE2yj/s200/n843700130_2843193_7332.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200049242183741842" border="0" /></a>First are some pics of Officer's Square.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7dhy3g49xj4Tj6el0yTgcM-Imz-kPho4sxQopoK1tkOh469AAuSL1fK_LKV2vTnk6YCNKz58RpvBVRdPnIUTHsR1h0mscgfA3bTBw-CFdmjteMq6m3U0AcwLgMAyCFVeXUSryThVWNNt1/s1600-h/n690685050_2873300_5956.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7dhy3g49xj4Tj6el0yTgcM-Imz-kPho4sxQopoK1tkOh469AAuSL1fK_LKV2vTnk6YCNKz58RpvBVRdPnIUTHsR1h0mscgfA3bTBw-CFdmjteMq6m3U0AcwLgMAyCFVeXUSryThVWNNt1/s200/n690685050_2873300_5956.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200049237888774498" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Next, the attempts to evacuate the cattle that were stranded on the small strip of road that remained after the river flooded the fields through the drainage ditches.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcD4Qx_wOIsuQkqWZEi8oZf6MmKF8kKEkuN3b4cUdkbBE1tLQavVuaChQBoosEp-MIGG5_wKVB20O41SynMV4PtjMrwZn22rFPJqwXvdDdTkurC5aLLeCpLsgCEVmsgEyq9xhxQQWXh6m/s1600-h/n843180400_2869960_9149.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 85px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcD4Qx_wOIsuQkqWZEi8oZf6MmKF8kKEkuN3b4cUdkbBE1tLQavVuaChQBoosEp-MIGG5_wKVB20O41SynMV4PtjMrwZn22rFPJqwXvdDdTkurC5aLLeCpLsgCEVmsgEyq9xhxQQWXh6m/s200/n843180400_2869960_9149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200049242183741826" border="0" /></a><br />Then, last but not least, the on ramp to the bridge that spans from the North to the South side.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrBuK9huhf23lVnW8O2OFMvIcXez7jXNUcxwcFkgNAFo29j7srb35GUaQw2YVqeAAkxx8dq2LZksB4eGGNOU7wZ7X0hQml2F74_C5dlpy1Fk2QZFIxlvdKMovzrWERjN7jYnm2QwITcPa/s1600-h/n512912881_561122_2730.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrBuK9huhf23lVnW8O2OFMvIcXez7jXNUcxwcFkgNAFo29j7srb35GUaQw2YVqeAAkxx8dq2LZksB4eGGNOU7wZ7X0hQml2F74_C5dlpy1Fk2QZFIxlvdKMovzrWERjN7jYnm2QwITcPa/s200/n512912881_561122_2730.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200049233593807186" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The flooding created quite the mess. But the community has come together. The Red Cross was using the university residences to house and feed those evacuated from their homes. The city has a hot-line available to schedule the pickup of damaged materials. And city crews have managed to return public areas to some state of normalcy. It will be interesting to see how things progress from now to the time I get home for the summer in 6 weeks.<br /></div></div></div></div></div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-43556396308648979812008-05-04T19:41:00.000-07:002008-05-04T20:16:54.959-07:00Goose Break<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuCZ02eAvhiB1FGXKwLr-5kI0VCD5JHoxZ08s7pbXqeLZfBDZRfrRGxAtBDNC_ADUyKbnxENUwbyWMu14woSY4ZL6uVMZi9ti2hT1UqGCQBi5743FQzwWOne9Wjhhlb_FWm6C1CcAK7Ps/s1600-h/goose.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuCZ02eAvhiB1FGXKwLr-5kI0VCD5JHoxZ08s7pbXqeLZfBDZRfrRGxAtBDNC_ADUyKbnxENUwbyWMu14woSY4ZL6uVMZi9ti2hT1UqGCQBi5743FQzwWOne9Wjhhlb_FWm6C1CcAK7Ps/s200/goose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196727412957454690" border="0" /></a>Well, I'm home... finally. The epic began two days before goose break began. Their was an avalanche (or mud slide based on who you ask) and so their was no more train. The primary mode of transportation for people and goods was not working and would be down for at least 2 weeks. So the military was said to be prepared to deliver food through plane.<br /><br />Goose break is a time when teachers, most of whom do not hunt, get a last break before the last 6 weeks of school. Those teachers who had booked train tickets paniced, and scrambled for flights. The Newfies were kind enough to leave a day early and spend the night in Wabush so that teachers could leave Friday.<br /><br />We arrived Friday, ready for chaos, but the place was dead. I got to the counter and was informed that the flight would be 2 hours late. Then had to split the cost of my flight between my ATM card (max. of 1000$, even though it was supposed to be unlimited) and my Visa (same limit). So suddenly I had the 200$ in my pocket, and two cards that were useless, and now a flight that will be 2 hours late. And I began to think... well if I had 2 hours and 30 minutes to wait in Montreal... and the flight is now going to be 2 hours late... that isn't enough time to get my boarding pass. So I paniced and called air canada. I had to try almost every option in order to speak to a person, and I was informed that I could pre-board and print my pass... well, this is nice to know. So we rushed to a near by home, and printed the pass, went to lunch and got on the plane.<br /><br />I had a few mini-bottles of wine, and tried to relax. Since there is no security in Schefferville, we had to exit the plane in Quebec city, and go through security, eating more time. We talked about my need to rush to the gate... and realized that we lost another 35 minutes in security. The flight attendant, having overheard us, told me to rush (this is key later). So we land and I rush through the Montreal air port, the gate at the opposite end of the building (of course), I slipped down a flight of stairs to the gasps of the people around me... and got to the gate. The door closed, and plane gone. I found the teachers that I was flying with, and they told me that the flight attendant ,the one that told me to rush, said that if I had of asked she could have asked the plane to wait... yes, another thing that would be nice to have known.<br /><br />So I rebooked the flight for the morning, and was offered a discounted hotel room by air canada (thank you), for 75$. I board the shuttle, and was rushed through the city to the Holiday Inn. The man at the counter, seeing my exhaustion, instantly sympathized and asked for my credit card. My heart sank, and I asked if I could pay with cash (figuring that I was over my limit), and was told that if I did I would have to pay a damage deposit. Figuring that I had nothing to loose I handed over the card and gave him a gentle warning that it may not work. He came back as I overheard the guy next to my making an appointment for the shuttle in the morning, the clerk had a smile, and told me it worked (thank gebus). I went to my room and tried to call home... my parents phone doesn't take collect calls, I couldn't charge the call to my phone (said I was in a different country???) and finally tried the credit card, which was now done for the day. I pulled out the computer and luckily was able to e-mail my pleas. I managed to get on the plane the next morning without incident, and have been home for just over a day.<br /><br />It seems like every time I want to leave it becomes a hassle. I have to figure out time travel thing. Hope I manage to get back in one piece. Only 6 weeks left.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-4212809759423496762008-03-28T05:08:00.000-07:002008-03-28T05:38:36.323-07:00March Break: Some PicsOne Wednesday Francois and I went ski-dooing with Seasi and her husband, who happens to be an outfitter (takes people into the bush hunting).<br /><br />First up... a photo of my glove which has several small holes in it... I accidentally shot it when it was left near our targets.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLbkLB4N1EMMf1aYdMxbmtaRum6LVwumkOmHpbjzooBznKHjGfqWIDAXdqlD2nSzVIgEvrdGGpfu2q9Q1hG-Kp2-iXKN_XJykPvsp1a3V_U9PND5gsBQu9spzpwn2ow4KO6IIIIIQKfke/s1600-h/HPIM1207.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 76px; height: 57px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLbkLB4N1EMMf1aYdMxbmtaRum6LVwumkOmHpbjzooBznKHjGfqWIDAXdqlD2nSzVIgEvrdGGpfu2q9Q1hG-Kp2-iXKN_XJykPvsp1a3V_U9PND5gsBQu9spzpwn2ow4KO6IIIIIQKfke/s200/HPIM1207.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182765296379538098" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgedsH_gRufQ8PKHx5CxK3Lml8a_58X4dPbq8Wot5RSCMn9IhEW82URtcOCp2jhCqlXWIrSqkgA6iF9G3hcnu3WyV5THhmZxsFRx9shg_ATvJzlylGzNEW_-59IwbcBvjr4ANBg884P5p/s1600-h/HPIM1206.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 77px; height: 58px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgedsH_gRufQ8PKHx5CxK3Lml8a_58X4dPbq8Wot5RSCMn9IhEW82URtcOCp2jhCqlXWIrSqkgA6iF9G3hcnu3WyV5THhmZxsFRx9shg_ATvJzlylGzNEW_-59IwbcBvjr4ANBg884P5p/s200/HPIM1206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182765287789603490" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Next. Francois on his ski-doo. Note the size of the skis. The ski-doo that I borrowed has thin skis and a narrow track which equals very bad. I sink like a rock. And what makes it worse... the machine is liquid cooled... so the extra contraption adds ALOT of weight which is a really bad thing when two tiny guys are trying to lift the bloody thing out of four feet of light snow. The hole you see is only small compared to some others. But at least the scenery is beautiful.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCJ2P9YXkwHiAtRSe-vlr4vxTt901aXylNv4KOsFj0nFVo_6TVgCMZDxWys5jhKUcScwjuJ4cW5cxzTSc2xRnWpnGusn_qYBXPoDoH1VFehtEOQ_Wowckl03wisoaPq38r-gr5NH_VVJf/s1600-h/HPIM1209.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCJ2P9YXkwHiAtRSe-vlr4vxTt901aXylNv4KOsFj0nFVo_6TVgCMZDxWys5jhKUcScwjuJ4cW5cxzTSc2xRnWpnGusn_qYBXPoDoH1VFehtEOQ_Wowckl03wisoaPq38r-gr5NH_VVJf/s200/HPIM1209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182767237704755906" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGgzEaP7Y9pCYumyEvaebrkvopq7mWx6-G5ZBbs_fBs3FuluEch76z8vA530jG1hAojAEqBY0eJrQ6sf9kyYwtFStLQVCUOH8gpHw2KZcwT6kaSNan8RusztDhXquH7eREZqtSKu4DCJE/s1600-h/HPIM1210.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGgzEaP7Y9pCYumyEvaebrkvopq7mWx6-G5ZBbs_fBs3FuluEch76z8vA530jG1hAojAEqBY0eJrQ6sf9kyYwtFStLQVCUOH8gpHw2KZcwT6kaSNan8RusztDhXquH7eREZqtSKu4DCJE/s200/HPIM1210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182767241999723218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlybAhr3Zs3_EvpaeGe6A7JDjXGCq9KULzKd9-y3ckxBvtFQRlAl4kDPrjYVuoiUVkIQuyneCC8wRptqCUuwjU823aaXtOAfATiY5IjMk05lDVYWDUOkD_daaJZEs0LMqMQNoeX5v-8ul/s1600-h/HPIM1216.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlybAhr3Zs3_EvpaeGe6A7JDjXGCq9KULzKd9-y3ckxBvtFQRlAl4kDPrjYVuoiUVkIQuyneCC8wRptqCUuwjU823aaXtOAfATiY5IjMk05lDVYWDUOkD_daaJZEs0LMqMQNoeX5v-8ul/s200/HPIM1216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182767250589657826" border="0" /></a><br /></div>The last set of photos are of the ptarmigans we saw, and the Outfitter hunted down. Seasi was able to pluck the little birds in like a minute sending feathers flying. They only pluck them at first (the outfitter told us) because they usually freeze on the way back, and if you let the animal freeze unplucked then the feathers become very difficult to remove. To see the little guys in the first picture look at the branches in the foreground (you can see the face and see how close you can get). Then Seasi cleaning the bird. The mess left behind. Then a photo of three birds near a tree (one trying to get away).<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8mf4RIzbvcDOExJxZXiDIe7ewcmKKJx1euyfTEuUgRhBHge7FvzMotAfVqpINpPtbmyrM9mAK3L8BQTXdIm3__Fjw0hYAFWcOOfDUXxLAGOA8AllwoznS9Qt-Z1PXZRPvi0HqaZdqszA/s1600-h/HPIM1219.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 79px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8mf4RIzbvcDOExJxZXiDIe7ewcmKKJx1euyfTEuUgRhBHge7FvzMotAfVqpINpPtbmyrM9mAK3L8BQTXdIm3__Fjw0hYAFWcOOfDUXxLAGOA8AllwoznS9Qt-Z1PXZRPvi0HqaZdqszA/s200/HPIM1219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182770145397615346" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOKDZnACY1dCVI0_0Cxh0rB2h0hKCbKCkmhJvb3ACkvUsnPHvc6Golj2DVYtp-ogNDN06NVKm9j7adbhpC9e2dhgDlASSPc9cXIWK-ZYWmjfR_yuj_vUneggrQufF71YTOkcOiTa6j1Ka/s1600-h/HPIM1222.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 78px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOKDZnACY1dCVI0_0Cxh0rB2h0hKCbKCkmhJvb3ACkvUsnPHvc6Golj2DVYtp-ogNDN06NVKm9j7adbhpC9e2dhgDlASSPc9cXIWK-ZYWmjfR_yuj_vUneggrQufF71YTOkcOiTa6j1Ka/s200/HPIM1222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182770153987549954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKh4x_UBz8pC4w9zkc2Jtv1ucRSGAnNKPN146iFdAA176sGdnyw3m6FbOy-SCPYFA8kG5i40IDkUD3jWGGpP_emnau9fxN8S5i_4KBfV9Eq7Yt_RcsKCk_IMLvBCg5y6X3a98AV-mD7Uny/s1600-h/HPIM1223.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 77px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKh4x_UBz8pC4w9zkc2Jtv1ucRSGAnNKPN146iFdAA176sGdnyw3m6FbOy-SCPYFA8kG5i40IDkUD3jWGGpP_emnau9fxN8S5i_4KBfV9Eq7Yt_RcsKCk_IMLvBCg5y6X3a98AV-mD7Uny/s200/HPIM1223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182770162577484562" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5VYJiJijAjXxPS8OF7Pp8IhMfxLzjUqHrBAIFjNUx1LIRUPcMQqAa7E8ki-ZlpU13d7ByJKi4RH6r8KVIrhsLxzaDfmSh292iDVakgSKzfYuJF9IJnkwlPfuIeX9WMfapOLobp4dTU8B/s1600-h/HPIM1225.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 76px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5VYJiJijAjXxPS8OF7Pp8IhMfxLzjUqHrBAIFjNUx1LIRUPcMQqAa7E8ki-ZlpU13d7ByJKi4RH6r8KVIrhsLxzaDfmSh292iDVakgSKzfYuJF9IJnkwlPfuIeX9WMfapOLobp4dTU8B/s200/HPIM1225.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182770166872451874" border="0" /></a><br /></div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-60142022029486602362008-03-20T19:15:00.000-07:002008-03-22T23:05:01.420-07:00March Break: A Time of FirstsTo begin with, Monday, one of Gene’s students had caught several (68) ptarmigan, so he passed a few on to his secondary III teachers. Gene made a stew with the meat, and may I say… it was enjoyable, like a savory turkey. I have yet to see a living ptarmigan (cross between a chicken and a pigeon), but I should see one this week as I’ll be skidooing often.<p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPR8jkwXT3OqTnUUT2m21aggp_kaQQeit4dlBDeTvwFd_kCMn0sqP-7bN45BZQaLKsGmIGOCykUqf3evXHWTGNUQffPupSneUUGczqAPoo8aruEzQBXD6BMNQ2LtuvgK2UrJUDbgPWhn1/s1600-h/ptarmigan.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 91px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPR8jkwXT3OqTnUUT2m21aggp_kaQQeit4dlBDeTvwFd_kCMn0sqP-7bN45BZQaLKsGmIGOCykUqf3evXHWTGNUQffPupSneUUGczqAPoo8aruEzQBXD6BMNQ2LtuvgK2UrJUDbgPWhn1/s200/ptarmigan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180013386278939218" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Next, my mommy will be proud, because last week we (the teachers and several classes) were asked to fold crosses for Palm Sunday. So I sat for over an hour folding and teaching my students to create small crosses out of the aging palm leaves.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTXP5ZDJoHFEPo8CWU1hhxMr7-lVsP9DIYq_qe2nZq-hEDXilmGZnY-aqOQntpLOYphDbjxhcr-jzwGpMW2yli1clEgr_-pyxbU5T2exKbUk9w_1PGFfk_8syBghebS81Jt7NBAsovw7j/s1600-h/HPIM1181.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 92px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTXP5ZDJoHFEPo8CWU1hhxMr7-lVsP9DIYq_qe2nZq-hEDXilmGZnY-aqOQntpLOYphDbjxhcr-jzwGpMW2yli1clEgr_-pyxbU5T2exKbUk9w_1PGFfk_8syBghebS81Jt7NBAsovw7j/s200/HPIM1181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180014193732790882" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well, we just started our March Break today and already I have had several firsts. It began yesterday as Francois and I (the teachers staying behind) helped a group of teachers to the airport. Several had garbage in their homes that they wanted taken out, so as they plane took off we headed to their homes and on to the dump. I had not yet been to the dump; a football sized parking lot, were all matter of things were discarded and burned (including several caribou carcasses). This gave Francois the great idea of having a barbecue. We got into the truck, heading to the Northern for hamburger ingredients, when he looked at me and said “you don’t know how to drive a standard, do you?” I had never driven a standard, but we switched places and off we went. I have no idea what people complain about, the only real difference would be the fact that there is no stress here… I didn’t see a car between the dump and the Northern. The barbecue was moved outside and may have made some of the most delicious burgers I had.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today, we met at 9:30 and headed to Rita’s Restaurant for breakfast. The “complete” breakfast has fried eggs, bacon, 3 slices of taste, fried baloney sticks (I had never see before), and “coc-crush” (I think?) I guess it’s a big thing in <st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">Quebec</st1:state></st1:place> (like jam). It is like a salty meat paste. So I tried it… it was eatable, and then passed it on to Francois.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We headed out to skidoo, but opted to return home because visibility was low due to the snow. We settled in and watched some movies and when the weather passed we decided to try some shooting practice with a 33 cal. that belongs to one of the teachers. We grabbed some cans and bottles and headed out to the iron mines. This is another first, for I have never shot a gun (well air rifles, but they don’t count), or seen the mines. There was no kick (from the gun), and my aim was fairly good. But I was surprised to find that the buck shots were not strong enough to break a stoneware plate we brought because it had a chip in it. Then on the way back I hit a patch of sold ice (otherwise known as a bare piece of road) and the skidoo fish tailed. It was exciting… in that scary kind of way. But no worries… I borrowed a helmet from the principal mom.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Next, I did something my mom told me never to do... I, for the fi</span><span style="">rst time, cut my own hair. It's idiot proof when you have hair clippers with a guide.<br /></span></p> Three more photos. The first was the sign from the recent winter carnival. It became a topic for an English class on grammar (It reads "3rd Kawawa winter carnival").<br /><br />Next a picture of the sun rising behind my house.<br /><br />Lastly, this is a photo of one of the dogs that we have been feeding at the school. He is the wildest looking one of the group, almost wolf like... kinda interesting...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdo9XISA3gJaoK8Bq1_8FQS9NltxzCrwdqY5o_OICZb05BmobuyhEwjCtjJlg4PDjwTJiWcwDPjHboMbjjmrpoAejTC0lqxpDC5OdbD3lY-SCWRzm0qIVsm2VwMRzwfVhyXLi7hjJOny4/s1600-h/HPIM1173.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdo9XISA3gJaoK8Bq1_8FQS9NltxzCrwdqY5o_OICZb05BmobuyhEwjCtjJlg4PDjwTJiWcwDPjHboMbjjmrpoAejTC0lqxpDC5OdbD3lY-SCWRzm0qIVsm2VwMRzwfVhyXLi7hjJOny4/s200/HPIM1173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180019326218709618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J4mXM6j4Ed2OA4Q79Hww4DT3HUjHdBXGeeLeycrZxt41AdUKF8w5DCzYd7nJXEiQxbw1R5e0KCw8u2wzb48IQwFi77jxjbtkb6hMOmHcJzLe8aIZMCdVR5AhQyFZetG0xVZ8fYzMhxrp/s1600-h/HPIM1183.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J4mXM6j4Ed2OA4Q79Hww4DT3HUjHdBXGeeLeycrZxt41AdUKF8w5DCzYd7nJXEiQxbw1R5e0KCw8u2wzb48IQwFi77jxjbtkb6hMOmHcJzLe8aIZMCdVR5AhQyFZetG0xVZ8fYzMhxrp/s200/HPIM1183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180020464385043074" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQlejHe0pJUXedOVRpP7EBy2TYOvLAid4AwLdEofXbEPSgnCWjZcqENdPoDS7VyGALMG_Gpg3Ykb5-G2kk3OIuoU-vsTRWvTffRQLJJeqil4ScBh4pGLWSfsClA5CWOELoUP7U7ihyphenhyphenKhF/s1600-h/HPIM1189.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQlejHe0pJUXedOVRpP7EBy2TYOvLAid4AwLdEofXbEPSgnCWjZcqENdPoDS7VyGALMG_Gpg3Ykb5-G2kk3OIuoU-vsTRWvTffRQLJJeqil4ScBh4pGLWSfsClA5CWOELoUP7U7ihyphenhyphenKhF/s200/HPIM1189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180020472974977682" border="0" /></a>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-81727997277233564872008-03-07T10:14:00.002-08:002008-03-07T11:12:55.290-08:003rd Annual Kawawachikamach Winter Carnival<div>The Carnival opened Wednesday afternoon with a parade.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52pYcp7sLum92GG3zBgUEj8vMvt8043A7CPsOYmurOHiQ1CFbKk3AwfVXJCVNNHBZ2WuSjG_RhINhusfOoh5Os14XYh3p2UkvoAO5m7wQlK7ofnjlPqjqSstddFI4HHsA6jUTa0HE75kn/s1600-h/Mar06-08+048.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175065947254222274" style="CURSOR: hand" height="109" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52pYcp7sLum92GG3zBgUEj8vMvt8043A7CPsOYmurOHiQ1CFbKk3AwfVXJCVNNHBZ2WuSjG_RhINhusfOoh5Os14XYh3p2UkvoAO5m7wQlK7ofnjlPqjqSstddFI4HHsA6jUTa0HE75kn/s200/Mar06-08+048.jpg" width="124" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii179X4rwSHWtK92kd4pqJzn-snE9rrSje2zUkHC-8wiTm2kuL4DSYR_pAJC6vD0_Ygfm7GKLkSRPF0MyLf7ZWoiv1OkaPDQ56jZerqOmoSI_-ly3jGavMBltafa9A8JMyvwHnKil6jzEJ/s1600-h/Mar06-08+051.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175065955844156882" style="CURSOR: hand" height="109" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii179X4rwSHWtK92kd4pqJzn-snE9rrSje2zUkHC-8wiTm2kuL4DSYR_pAJC6vD0_Ygfm7GKLkSRPF0MyLf7ZWoiv1OkaPDQ56jZerqOmoSI_-ly3jGavMBltafa9A8JMyvwHnKil6jzEJ/s200/Mar06-08+051.jpg" width="141" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N4fumbSCaDb_E60ibgki4zEEuOlsm3q6rQsxq6mGDsdiwUPxDiA3dq1uFmG2om04WrAWeXCc77PDqiUm3KYIzgotetlna-8FoqbO_2fOl4V8kn45TmkcV3aRTwSYBqd-MYm8oY6vovjW/s1600-h/Mar06-08+058.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175065964434091490" style="CURSOR: hand" height="110" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N4fumbSCaDb_E60ibgki4zEEuOlsm3q6rQsxq6mGDsdiwUPxDiA3dq1uFmG2om04WrAWeXCc77PDqiUm3KYIzgotetlna-8FoqbO_2fOl4V8kn45TmkcV3aRTwSYBqd-MYm8oY6vovjW/s200/Mar06-08+058.jpg" width="138" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br />The cars met at the Manikin (corner store) and paraded the duchesses through the town on the way to the NCC (Naskapi Community Center) where the activities were going to start.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwOr_9SxR-w1lCXpnmbUoLxyCH0pnSnOW8B1RoLUyV0lsZ6HbHcEMUxIebQx9CC5yAmVq4optCBIptjiclzjQjdN1eY4nKh-2eEr8-y7sh6V2JaC0cSCFhaSkvMTnt707IDBJcxlE2dj8/s1600-h/Mar06-08+065.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175066913621863922" style="WIDTH: 147px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="106" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwOr_9SxR-w1lCXpnmbUoLxyCH0pnSnOW8B1RoLUyV0lsZ6HbHcEMUxIebQx9CC5yAmVq4optCBIptjiclzjQjdN1eY4nKh-2eEr8-y7sh6V2JaC0cSCFhaSkvMTnt707IDBJcxlE2dj8/s200/Mar06-08+065.jpg" width="110" border="0" /></a></p><br />Here are the duchesses with the Chief (in the brown) and Bonhomme (the Quebec winter carnival mascot). The duchesses are in a small competition... they sell tickets and the one that sells the greatest number becomes "queen". She wins cash (over 500$) and big prizes (like a flat screen tv).<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6AvMbMCIxTpGnpRrGnPYwjrnHseKUsiDsREj8L1TfnWLacszjB9vJJY1B936TUjJhEAlYK-tHNROjLjUFu-6eZ_psoVAcpB-WNec_e6N9zp55ERn2TQab9Fi-LheWCcpM6uAVsMCyK9j/s1600-h/Mar06-08+054.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175066926506765826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6AvMbMCIxTpGnpRrGnPYwjrnHseKUsiDsREj8L1TfnWLacszjB9vJJY1B936TUjJhEAlYK-tHNROjLjUFu-6eZ_psoVAcpB-WNec_e6N9zp55ERn2TQab9Fi-LheWCcpM6uAVsMCyK9j/s200/Mar06-08+054.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br />The teachers came out in full numbers to show our support for the school duchess Susan (our secretary- in the green).<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d8fraEEG0495dLXpY7HGgKys5H7K31TqoVj5xQBPMTF5IbNgHv0atF_CGQfiia7dmO7erdSKRv2_oJf6wr8RLNRTWL697mV1YEN1R78vLbxg0vLdpqtRzY8_Po4BU2qf0TKu8ry2Qcx8/s1600-h/Mar06-08+079.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175077298852785682" style="CURSOR: hand" height="88" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7d8fraEEG0495dLXpY7HGgKys5H7K31TqoVj5xQBPMTF5IbNgHv0atF_CGQfiia7dmO7erdSKRv2_oJf6wr8RLNRTWL697mV1YEN1R78vLbxg0vLdpqtRzY8_Po4BU2qf0TKu8ry2Qcx8/s200/Mar06-08+079.jpg" width="105" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BYhJ65s2W_MW8YifSR1NFiE9gEutI0YT7qdGOyyjaRB7O5ORMok4VJmR-DLJR3shrjqr8Tn0dUQqZerGD8MToKSOQfnzjqOGjXUZIEH850zj142VUOZYRoj9ApLZSHgliwcHhsVR1za8/s1600-h/Mar06-08+082.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175077307442720290" style="WIDTH: 111px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" height="105" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BYhJ65s2W_MW8YifSR1NFiE9gEutI0YT7qdGOyyjaRB7O5ORMok4VJmR-DLJR3shrjqr8Tn0dUQqZerGD8MToKSOQfnzjqOGjXUZIEH850zj142VUOZYRoj9ApLZSHgliwcHhsVR1za8/s200/Mar06-08+082.jpg" width="111" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImRcx7vD3IKr0ifizrhBBGeXkoU-GPnYx_PLvCAFNr2GmpIXLUUJheoA34fev6rzFAupBeHXpaQeVO5tEOfABI7PSVCmIzpSM2gw2YMLt9vTGABEvfpZt7zAXBqHGO0zlaHKZsFhGFjYK/s1600-h/Mar06-08+080.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175077316032654898" style="CURSOR: hand" height="91" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImRcx7vD3IKr0ifizrhBBGeXkoU-GPnYx_PLvCAFNr2GmpIXLUUJheoA34fev6rzFAupBeHXpaQeVO5tEOfABI7PSVCmIzpSM2gw2YMLt9vTGABEvfpZt7zAXBqHGO0zlaHKZsFhGFjYK/s200/Mar06-08+080.jpg" width="112" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Here are some of the activities; each had a cash prize: the egg toss, snow shoe race and log sawing (100$ prize). It was -23 that afternoon, so after freezing my toes (because I forgot to wear wool socks) and smelling up my cloths with the tamarac smoke from the fire (about two hours worth) I went inside for some hot chocolate.<br /><br /><p align="left">Activities go on into next week and include: hockey (last night my kids were up till 1am), a dance and feast, <em>youth</em> and adult poker (the youth win prizes like an ipod touch and flat screen tvs). Then members of the community place bets to guess who is dressed up as Bonhomme. Its a nice break from the monotony of the white winter.</p><br /><p align="center">Now some nice photos. Ashley and Dan in the wigwam. The teachers at lunch playing badminton. Some of the pups that we feed from the adult ed. window. And a photo of an adult ed. studnet and her very cute baby (me in the background researching guidance stuff for her).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XvrPYOtGBslosdMidJ_eWa_pivXMO3cPowrCralFKW-nRY-7dPIgCXDyzR6SZvsG8f5hC_xzwTG3WAaUPeODLf24_EGdE02UyqbTfR-m8BwcbR_-RfTnVzAuqIvEVZJ4bLL-pciVF4ie/s1600-h/Mar06-08+072.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175077324622589506" style="CURSOR: hand" height="103" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XvrPYOtGBslosdMidJ_eWa_pivXMO3cPowrCralFKW-nRY-7dPIgCXDyzR6SZvsG8f5hC_xzwTG3WAaUPeODLf24_EGdE02UyqbTfR-m8BwcbR_-RfTnVzAuqIvEVZJ4bLL-pciVF4ie/s200/Mar06-08+072.jpg" width="112" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9tKRruCF9JaQ6Y3zCn1lcHj5ciNsN_z23ixhSpoPrW2em65mLW2nCwYPI7YwHx0wW0U-tZtPhlNd6UZEqRMq4puD43CNuu_QF838g3Vs0bxmM0-2xOCivY3Onbci_zmvXkj-mgs99Ajj/s1600-h/Mar06-08+045.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175077333212524114" style="CURSOR: hand" height="104" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9tKRruCF9JaQ6Y3zCn1lcHj5ciNsN_z23ixhSpoPrW2em65mLW2nCwYPI7YwHx0wW0U-tZtPhlNd6UZEqRMq4puD43CNuu_QF838g3Vs0bxmM0-2xOCivY3Onbci_zmvXkj-mgs99Ajj/s200/Mar06-08+045.jpg" width="103" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwrnxe_cNfPi9CfU9xP2MvCIYfG5lt_lIi_A4NLEDG4lLxISGu8RQqK4HlcRgj7fnG6-rcHzaC7WLHS4_5S6vwUsBFjpqh35ccGo_yks8UO7rmFib88Y9RRqfsEGgA1IFI9oP_mCdb03B/s1600-h/Mar06-08+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175078123486506594" style="CURSOR: hand" height="106" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwrnxe_cNfPi9CfU9xP2MvCIYfG5lt_lIi_A4NLEDG4lLxISGu8RQqK4HlcRgj7fnG6-rcHzaC7WLHS4_5S6vwUsBFjpqh35ccGo_yks8UO7rmFib88Y9RRqfsEGgA1IFI9oP_mCdb03B/s200/Mar06-08+016.jpg" width="130" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gTdswfx_b5rKiRiAIJq2TjsmXT1Kn2lU5pWgp5YqizFumd4sj5nFDSxqTKfsdI0gJn0jR5uCcY_b6Xo3AoBlQXOtUpdwdFOcbwzmhCzs0763u-yd-B9hbVKYX2qgJUf1N5VMw1byDM-l/s1600-h/Mar06-08+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175079725509308018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gTdswfx_b5rKiRiAIJq2TjsmXT1Kn2lU5pWgp5YqizFumd4sj5nFDSxqTKfsdI0gJn0jR5uCcY_b6Xo3AoBlQXOtUpdwdFOcbwzmhCzs0763u-yd-B9hbVKYX2qgJUf1N5VMw1byDM-l/s200/Mar06-08+007.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksEbXdXCU_MG_XqkX9UhenO7Hfpkt7mWFdht4w1sfBDlaDAsBQpzGzuHlBOj6hHI92Q9hei_GrLLKuYvmyt946pFNjqFOJ2NUnX_4BRAhgXq7XFGH7Qu1mHrYFUKyBoEVAnCA5VvgjKGD/s1600-h/Pup+at+the+window!+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175079734099242626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksEbXdXCU_MG_XqkX9UhenO7Hfpkt7mWFdht4w1sfBDlaDAsBQpzGzuHlBOj6hHI92Q9hei_GrLLKuYvmyt946pFNjqFOJ2NUnX_4BRAhgXq7XFGH7Qu1mHrYFUKyBoEVAnCA5VvgjKGD/s200/Pup+at+the+window!+001.jpg" border="0" /></a></p></div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-65611377050678007822008-02-13T09:55:00.000-08:002008-02-13T10:20:28.381-08:00The End Seems Near…<p class="MsoNormal">I love teaching secondary. Ends are on everyone’s mind. The end of school seems nearer with the last term beginning in March. Graduation seems to be nearing with fundraising started and staff and administration scrambling to calculate credits achieved and needed and conferencing with students to give them that final push. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">For weeks I have tried to help one of my Sec. V English students apply for CEGEP (college/ pre-university), but thanks to Canada post not recognizing our postal code, and the on-line application not recognizing the school, we had a great deal of frustration. She opted to apply to Dawson College yesterday; sound familiar, and I had to reassure her that lightning rarely strikes twice. Only come to find out that she could apply to her preferred school at the same time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today we had a woman visit from the Sept Iles CEGEP. My students didn’t say much, or even feel comfortable enough to nod their heads in response to her open questions, but the moment she left we continued the conversation, using what I know about the students as examples, and think I got some of the gears turning. I’m making an effort to do some guidance counseling, considering that the school can’t find anyone willing to take the job up here, and think that I may have talked one person into applying for a music program.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Our other two unconfirmed graduates have applied to the military. They recently completed the second phase of the entrance requirements. I now want to talk to them about applying to do training through the armed forces, but first I have to do some research on the programs.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The students have really started to open up, and now I get to see some of their personalities. It makes things seem more worth it. Now if I can just continue to motivate them into coming and participating we may have four or more graduate.</p><p class="MsoNormal">P.S. still no reliable internet at home, going to try again this week and if it works I'll post some of my recent photos<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </p>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-55032803507050204522008-02-04T12:28:00.000-08:002008-02-04T12:48:19.613-08:00Winter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKNI4C1Su-heKDk89UFEXnEgY7Y5Jr8vfkMPnq4DIXYqzRbAmGbG0FVpoa03jFnBj8zpsXaLenHdDJVNQVUDewabG3w2i11lluhunvL0FPJ48a6rqH-xPH2uZ-pFRZAQ7gSz8MyriCKtf/s1600-h/winter_trees_sc125.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163229598686045202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKNI4C1Su-heKDk89UFEXnEgY7Y5Jr8vfkMPnq4DIXYqzRbAmGbG0FVpoa03jFnBj8zpsXaLenHdDJVNQVUDewabG3w2i11lluhunvL0FPJ48a6rqH-xPH2uZ-pFRZAQ7gSz8MyriCKtf/s200/winter_trees_sc125.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Well, it’s that time of year. I'm sick of the cold, the snow, and just the winter season. The floors of the apartment are uncomfortably cool on occasion. The apartment door has a build-up of ice that has crept through the key holes. I hate hitting the wall of cold that separates me from my classroom heater. And mostly it is the white. Snow is everywhere. The benefit of living here is that it looks clean. There is no brown slush. The road (if you could call it a road) is made of ice that by now is certainly a foot thick. I walk outside my door and know that I'm at least 3 feet away from the soil because of the build-up of Styrofoam like snow.<br /><br />I dream of sun and grass and the fresh smells of the changing season. I won’t get that here. The snow in the mountains will still be there when I leave for the summer. I won’t see grass till mid-May.<br /><br />I look forward to the summer… I never have liked winter, just call me Sam McGee. I am making the most of the conditions with some talk of starting a teacher running club (inside on treadmills), playing badminton during lunch hours and the potential of attending a ptarmigan hunt.<br /><br />Fingers still crossed that the global warming thing kicks in…</div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-79249730939101999912008-02-01T11:58:00.000-08:002008-02-01T12:10:21.096-08:00I little news...Well, the internet is still not working properly, so this is actually the second time I have had to write this. The weather has been uncooperative- pushing past 40km/h. One of the windows in my living room cracked from the combination of cold on the outside, heat on the inside and the pressure of the wind.<br /><br />Some good has come from the weather. Yesterday the wind was so strong that there was no visibility in the morning, so teachers did not have to go in until 11:30. Then the students didn’t have to come in at all. Today the weather was still bad, so I got an extra hour of sleep and the students didn’t have to come in until 12. And then they shut the water off in the community, so classes ended at 2:00.<br /><br />Last week was exam week. I had to give two provincial exams in history and English. I had 2 students write the English exam, and 1 passed. I had 17 write the history exam, and 67% passed. That definitely beats the track record of the last two years. Only 30% passed last year, and on one passed the year before. So as a result I have been getting some positive comments. Now we wait to see how the ministry calculates the grades- I hear that they tend to make grade fit the curve, so some of the students may still fail (fingers crossed that that is not the case), I should know next week.<br /><br />The new term has me teaching economics. My 3 students are starting a small business of making cupcakes. The profits will go towards graduation.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-52552548764987443242008-01-21T12:42:00.000-08:002008-01-21T12:43:20.555-08:00It's a little cold...Today I experienced the coldest temperature so far... -50 with the wind chill.<br />The Sec. 4 and 5 exiting exams started today (hence a large reason why I have been a shut in). Because of the temperature, classes were delayed an hour for all students except those with exams. Today was French (am and pm) so the only class I would have had to have taught would have been Sec. 1 art, but afternoon classes were then canceled because the weather hadn't warmed up. But still the poor Secondary 4 and 5 students had to make their way back here to take their 5-7 minute French oral exam.<br /><br />What this has actually meant is that I have the time I need to plan a new term of English and Economics (which includes learning economics). Things are going okay. My early worries lied with the fact the we are writing our exams a week behind the ministry. That means I have to mark 10 short answer and an essay for each history student, then record their grades on a scantron sheet with the answers to their multiple choice questions and send them in to be scanned and calculated. The English exams consist of two essays (total 1200 words) and a response, which also have to be marked by the end of the week and results sent in. There are no turn around days... so the new term starts Thursday, so classes and term plans have to me planned and ready to go.<br /><br />The best news is that the temperatures are to be like this all week. I have to give the English exam tomorrow and history Wednesday (fingers crossed) I may get to finish planning.<br />TTFNJ. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-50889999767588018472007-12-16T19:26:00.000-08:002007-12-16T20:15:07.748-08:00Christmas<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspqRx64zVxDj7UueIQ7Ss2YttLZHXjWfhyphenhyphenYwXKpyDVb6JqT2ndh3RyoTFtYuLS7M37hzT7txEewPufB2KGbn9CphVjfo8SVMjXWRQbiT5vGKEdAakWjR9F0dW8MUCqS2lDo4tbZbyNESJ/s1600-h/HPIM1085.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 96px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspqRx64zVxDj7UueIQ7Ss2YttLZHXjWfhyphenhyphenYwXKpyDVb6JqT2ndh3RyoTFtYuLS7M37hzT7txEewPufB2KGbn9CphVjfo8SVMjXWRQbiT5vGKEdAakWjR9F0dW8MUCqS2lDo4tbZbyNESJ/s200/HPIM1085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144785156116598370" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicipoT1PaQyc4SFwlNrJQ95lsfTpBRm8Dii-Ak7ZrTLdYx0Ay-XcLH9xiZt0cP82pGUhBNKXG4XaQjHdiFd8b3Za571uTomZykWsuOA0EwgjjDloawyUaxacViF1jUkmUx1RJ1dmBFCggu/s1600-h/HPIM1088.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 93px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicipoT1PaQyc4SFwlNrJQ95lsfTpBRm8Dii-Ak7ZrTLdYx0Ay-XcLH9xiZt0cP82pGUhBNKXG4XaQjHdiFd8b3Za571uTomZykWsuOA0EwgjjDloawyUaxacViF1jUkmUx1RJ1dmBFCggu/s200/HPIM1088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144785147526663762" border="0" /></a><br /></div>The holidays are big in Kawawachikamach. In the first week of December one of the Naskapi teachers held her annual potluck dinner. The dishes that were brought periled in comparison to the dishes that were made by the host. It was a Chinese buffet of caribou meat. Caribou meat is very flexible- there were egg rolls, honey garlic ribs, spicy meat balls, and the light meat was used for "Hawaiian chicken". It was delicious! I love caribou.<br /><br />The following day we had our staff x-mas party. Another potluck, the school had bought turkeys and had over 20 dishes to choose from. Needless to say it was easy to gain weight.<br /><br />For the kids it was decided on the final Wednesday to have a sing along. Below are a few pictures of us at the NCC (Native Community Center), and a sample of the grade 3 singing the 12 days of Christmas in Naskapi (sorry there was very little light.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='173' height='144' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwDV5GoTsRby0rDjTzFCCXRPhD16jtlSN67gJHilykhxtCBP2prdHehRtTNgaIEjEIzCQw-CMTB4UeRct49yA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='175' height='144' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyfAfjx_3voTfFAKTBl-KQFdxuHXbbqEijqI6gwgJJh64G5Ci8WTFNf0muQdCTNbAzqlNlY70T_ipAspOVy-w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /></div><br />Then, on Thursday we had class parties. The kids came in at 10am for two hours. The sec 4 and 5's decided that we would play games... aka poker. The morning went well, we cleaned our rooms, moved the desks and chairs and left for the holidays (Dec. 14- Jan 7 (but we work several Saturdays and start early).<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxgCXttMzPuJqFYaa2cFUbwjmhIMvPBZD40_cwH2mF_FwV628mJ3MEIPR54_4CrOQQj7OBeRTZR5anHnaN0-GelIh3lsNmSQ9VDRFpywp6cP5Yt70brIT-4DrbEgZ50hfP2MtGE-5rHhg/s1600-h/HPIM1101.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 92px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxgCXttMzPuJqFYaa2cFUbwjmhIMvPBZD40_cwH2mF_FwV628mJ3MEIPR54_4CrOQQj7OBeRTZR5anHnaN0-GelIh3lsNmSQ9VDRFpywp6cP5Yt70brIT-4DrbEgZ50hfP2MtGE-5rHhg/s200/HPIM1101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144790322962255474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3oO68k1mb_OdLne0v7GLAa0qoNZEPPl5x0N7q4J42ohBjDpIi-u9GNv4f2Gb5xBR_ndtgv6EHDTWkZgGLnJQBDjevSDh1WaMHddF5tPMxak_Lee_cadzEjpQuK_hrRk-fYBCm6BEnTbJ/s1600-h/HPIM1100.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 93px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3oO68k1mb_OdLne0v7GLAa0qoNZEPPl5x0N7q4J42ohBjDpIi-u9GNv4f2Gb5xBR_ndtgv6EHDTWkZgGLnJQBDjevSDh1WaMHddF5tPMxak_Lee_cadzEjpQuK_hrRk-fYBCm6BEnTbJ/s200/HPIM1100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144790327257222786" border="0" /></a></div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-58515507413343141612007-12-16T19:06:00.000-08:002007-12-16T20:11:17.846-08:00I'm HOME!!!And so I'm going to try to take the time to write down some of my various experiences while I have access to a reliable internet connection.<br /><br />First things first. From the moment I arrived I was taken aback by the many packs of dogs that wonder freely between Kawa and Schefferville.<br /><br />The issues with the dogs has become bothersome, pulling on my heart strings as the temperatures drop and food becomes increasingly rare. The first photo shows Andy providing food scraps to one of the packs. One point of interest is that a husky is always the pack leader, you can tell as he pushes his way into the window after the last of the scraps.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3XPBmtxfrTGkJniw2B-Q06DFmWvitu3bGO1aYrgmettcPQq5Eoj3Zot2eVUpf35gDZLsU1djD4oNfCVmL-hEnGJnwHKKJ7ZiPK1Q27lIkTDrZZSH4J9PbA-3xsLBthR_7S73KwG6OobE/s1600-h/HPIM1035.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3XPBmtxfrTGkJniw2B-Q06DFmWvitu3bGO1aYrgmettcPQq5Eoj3Zot2eVUpf35gDZLsU1djD4oNfCVmL-hEnGJnwHKKJ7ZiPK1Q27lIkTDrZZSH4J9PbA-3xsLBthR_7S73KwG6OobE/s200/HPIM1035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144776454512856626" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpvqDwlh4HNtcb1o8XOUPyYnRPxSYVrAX9za2zubXPI4wUhBfeORw9Ulds3D2fP0VuOAsmrabPjhfJkT8mbJ69SpBPsu9LAPOV5NkGDg4E7KNp4Mz-fQWG_Ha0TZZFsu9mCx0N4P4peBc/s1600-h/HPIM1038.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpvqDwlh4HNtcb1o8XOUPyYnRPxSYVrAX9za2zubXPI4wUhBfeORw9Ulds3D2fP0VuOAsmrabPjhfJkT8mbJ69SpBPsu9LAPOV5NkGDg4E7KNp4Mz-fQWG_Ha0TZZFsu9mCx0N4P4peBc/s200/HPIM1038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144776463102791234" border="0" /></a></div>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-20537345093391844382007-11-29T09:38:00.000-08:002007-11-29T09:52:27.487-08:00Will I never...Last Friday, the Newfies had arranged to play Christmas Carols (and Maritime music) at the local restaurant (Bla Bla). During the performance Gean commented that he had to hurry home soon because he had a heart in the oven... "It was from a mighty large chicken"... So I thought nothing of it, its common to hear nonsensical banter. So they finished and we returned to Gean's. And there was in fact a fine smell coming from the over, but it wasn't chicken. The smell was like that of a roast. He promptly turned down the oven and removed a roasting pan. He lifted the top, and I needed to have a seat. It was a heart, and I asked what it was from... a caribou. The round of dark crimson meat was the size of a deflated football. Gean then told the crowd that he had stuffed it will turkey stuffing, so he hoped that it tasted okay. I could not bring myself to try even a sliver, and had to take myself to the smoking room just to get distance between myself and the heart. <br /><br />The temperatures are dropping fast, its -26 today with the wind-chill, and you can feel it. The cold if different though, its light and dry which in some way makes it more bearable. But I've heard that it’s more dangerous. You don't feel the cold the same way and are more likely to under dress. A few of the Newfies got frostbite last year in only a few minutes while they were shoveling while wearing only thin gloves. <br /><br />Christmas is right a round the corner =)J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-10585726010191145572007-11-22T11:05:00.000-08:002007-11-22T11:16:38.744-08:00Newfies...When I agreed to come to this remote section of the world I knew that I would have to adjust to the culture of the Naskapi people. Lately these adaptations have included my desensitization to red snow. The caribou have arrived, and it is custom to go hunting in skidoo and throw your catch into a large sleigh that you drag behind. Of course these sleds develop holes and create smears of red bloody snow. But these quickly disappear as they are eaten local packs of dogs (no word of a lie, packs of dogs).<br /><br />But little did I expect that I would also have to become accustomed to the ways of the Newfie. The Newfies make up the majority of teachers in the school, and so they have become natural allies. In fact, it has become custom to meet on Fridays for a few beverages and live East coast music (guitar and accordion). This brings me to last Friday, when I arrived at 7:00, the boisterous Newfies were already three sheets to the wind, and one of the youngens had a little to much to fast. I quickly suggested that we get him some food. Agreeing with my diagnosis, the host sprang to work frying up what smelled like dark meet chicken. And so I sat and talked with the inebriated fellow, when the plate of food was sat before him.<br /><br />Smelling delicious, I took a gander at the plate to see what looked like oval meatballs in gravy on a slice of home made bread. My gut wrenched when one of the pieces rolled from atop the pile towards me and I noticed a ventricle. Closing my eyes, I quickly asked the Chief what he had prepared. His response was "Chicken Hearts!", and I broke into uncontrollable hysterics of laughter as I leapt to my feet and turned my back to the plate.<br /><br />I sat, claming my laughter and apologizing to the unphased crowd. The thought then stuck me, if I can bring myself to eat Caribou... why not? Before loosing my cool I asked "Can I try one?". Offering me a place, I had to reaffirm the ONE! But it was too late, the laughter and anxiousness had returned. I sat curled in a chair, and finally went for it. I popped the small, warm piece of meat into my mouth. It was firm and slightly fibrous. I concentrated on two things, chewing and not gagging. And it was down. It tasted like chicken, but the idea was haunting. Still, writing about it nearly a week later has caused my to loose my appetite.<br /><br />But it is strange how new experiences are all around us. The most recent is the insane obsession to cut my hair. It has been 9 weeks since my last haircut, and each day drives me a little closer to madness as the ends curl and shift independently. There had been a plan for a group of us to have our hair trimmed last week, but the<br />woman was a no show. Tomorrow brings yet another opportunity, that if unsuccessful, will drive me to the brink and cause me to take drastic action. The local store does not sell trimmers, so I fear that I will be forced to take scissors to my own head-- ever cautious of my inherited big ears.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-43883126406813628012007-11-12T09:42:00.000-08:002007-11-12T09:43:35.921-08:00Arrggg... Why me...Hello everyone,<br /><br />I know that it has been a long time, and I assure you that there is a reason. In the third week of October there was a major storm which blew the antennia that controlled the internet away (like it went missing in the snow). Anyway, the guy that controlled the thing found the antennia and put it back on the roof in the hope that all would be fixed… but it wasen’t. He then went on a trip to Sept-Iles (I guess as a vacation for having put the antennia back up), and was informed that the net was still not working. So he came back this week to find out that it is a problem with the server (I think that’s what I heard). Anyway, he isn’t sure if he can fix it, and the buisness doen’t do well, so I don’t think he is motivated enough to fix it. <br /><br />The luck thing (if you could say it), is that the net was a pay as you go system, and I needed to buy more hours before this started. But there are talks that he may be reimbursing some of the money (which means he has given up…).<br /><br />Unfortunitly, the only working connections are here at the school and they are super strick on usage (15 minutes each day plus lunch). I have wanted to update the blog on the snow, Halloween and my recent snowmobile trip, but have been unable to. I’m looking of a solution to my problem, but so far the best is to buy a 300$ satillite and pay 50$ a month… not something that I want to do if I only stay a year… That reminds me to mention that the place is growing on me. Now that the snow is falling, and I can’t see the garbage everywhere, the place looks nicer. The kids are a little better now that the really bad ones are kicked out, and some have been sent to jail or juvie.<br /><br />So, I figure that either the internet is fixed by Friday, or I start using a lunch hour a week to updat those that care… Fingers crossed that I can do this from home,<br />JWJ. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-42959178269306859562007-10-06T12:53:00.001-07:002007-10-06T12:54:56.490-07:00Frustration<p class="MsoNormal">That is the word that I would use to describe my experience thus far. I have been unable to accomplish my academic goals. My efforts to facilitate learning have flopped; my application of best practices are ineffective. And I have had to ask myself why.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Through conversation with fellow teachers with far greater experience, I have been told repeatedly that the students “don’t care”. Being an eternal optimist in the potential of students, I felt that perhaps I could motivate my students. Many refuse to talk; literally looking in a different direction and ignoring the fact that I call their names. I have to contort my body to find their eyes, which then roll as I’m asked “what”. I am used to the idea of difficult students. But my frustration is compounded by the fact that the difficult students represent a majority. I feel as though I live in the “Bizzaro world” described on an episode of Seinfeld. Last year I would have 1-3 students out of 25 fail my tests. I now have 1-3 pass. And the results are drastically different. 10-20% of the class get less than 30%. I have been told to be happy with these results (which I find appalling and depressing). Last year only 15% of students passed history. Many of those that failed are now in my class.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I continue to be optimistic, believing that as long as I follow what I know, I will see some results. Lisa Delpit in “teaching other peoples children” describes the need in First Nations Communities to connect to culture and ancestry. My students don’t respect their culture or ancestors and don’t know their history. Trying to teach them their history and culture (outside of the curriculum requirements) was met by the same response as all classes. Lecture is like talking to a wall. Questions are not answered, and asking specific students results in shrugs or being ignored. Students don’t read or talk for jigsaws, they don’t speak to one another in group discussions. They won’t create non-linguistic representations… the only thing they will do is take endless notes. But this is an ineffective means of learning, and I continue to try what I know will work through the hostility.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>I had my art classes create personal representations and the results, although creative, are disturbing as they were created by 11 and 12 year olds.</p>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-23191426868196567132007-09-13T17:10:00.000-07:002007-09-13T17:29:02.787-07:00---Update---<div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ2J0RrmR5wS2Dhj9DPu5AnuKvE37xVB9AT71nfE0G-5EpHSK6bcLLRnGhE7JCO5HRA86D6e4zibmtqYYXF8kMA0UpyRwbCKbebGz-n-SvUXNYmawZoctaODcQJGrXq4g_FOP3ej9RR47/s1600-h/HPIM0987.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ2J0RrmR5wS2Dhj9DPu5AnuKvE37xVB9AT71nfE0G-5EpHSK6bcLLRnGhE7JCO5HRA86D6e4zibmtqYYXF8kMA0UpyRwbCKbebGz-n-SvUXNYmawZoctaODcQJGrXq4g_FOP3ej9RR47/s200/HPIM0987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109850061667912818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimibyu4qup1Os4o7XEgI_TEkk3ATCxNOnCf_W2oNwb492jeNfyjiLgogih1AriBYmq1THyAFJ0Rd_KHjbeRuabz1NVQuTMvF4M7kqpKzvV4wgJQGTMjKT8fOPWqpjJlqWk3g_eEAoLcCQh/s1600-h/HPIM0985.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimibyu4qup1Os4o7XEgI_TEkk3ATCxNOnCf_W2oNwb492jeNfyjiLgogih1AriBYmq1THyAFJ0Rd_KHjbeRuabz1NVQuTMvF4M7kqpKzvV4wgJQGTMjKT8fOPWqpjJlqWk3g_eEAoLcCQh/s200/HPIM0985.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109850057372945506" border="0" /></a><br /></div>On the note of the road blockade, a group of supporters arrived on the train today to help and support.<br /><br />On a side note - This evening was meet the teacher, the school got only about 25 parents (between all grades). They came, had coffee, I spoke to the one couple who's son I taught. Of course he was one of the best students and was skipped ahead two years ago. Then the parents came to the gym, we say in a circle and all introduced ourselves. Then the secondary parents got a review of school policies and a plea to help us support these efforts (but they were the good parents). Next there was coffee and cookies, and a draw for 1 of 3 certificates for gas. In the past they gave out bingo cards to encourage parents to come, but we voted against the idea of supporting gambling.<br /><br />Anyway, that explains why I was at the school until 8:00pm. So on the way home, the blockade, was in full swing. They had about 15 men, a giant fire and huge cement blocks. They then stopped the bus (the short bus) and asked us what we were doing. Then let us through. It was strange, we waved on the way by to show our support. They are in fact blocking the outfitters from using the main road to the hunting grounds. But, as I found out, the outfitters have many other ways to get to the rounds. Oh well.<br /><br />Tomorrow is Caribou day. The teachers that dare to cross the area that is blocked can go hunt, while the rest of us have a PED day. They of course have to make the day up on a later Saturday, but still several are going. I wish them luck.<br /><br />On a lighter note, and I say that metaphorically, we got our first snowfall yesterday. The snow started falling on the drive home. I had a nap, and by 9:00pm we had about 5cm on the ground. Then this morning it was still snowing and looked like a winter wonderland. It was the 12th of September. I woke up and would have sworn it was December. Actually, one of the teachers from NFLD got on the bus and jokingly wished us all a Merry Christmas. It was very different.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-79164403952189467012007-09-10T15:16:00.000-07:002007-09-10T15:29:13.839-07:00???Two concerns.<br />1. The water in Kawawa is under a boil order. We were not told this until the beginning of school and so several of the teachers had already gotten their glass of water for first period and taken several mouthfuls. Others had tea or coffee that had not been boiled for the recommended 5 minutes. All of these teachers were feeling ill on the way home. I had been very upset that I had forgotten my water glass at home, but it wound up being a blessing in disguise. Have I mentioned that the school doesn't have substitutes. If a teacher is sick/ unavailable (like a doctors appointment) the students are sent home for the hour.<br /><br />2. There seems to be hostility brewing. The Montaigne (who live in Schefferville) have set up a barricade to prevent the outfitters, campers and outside hunters from getting to the major lake because in recent years they have been scaring off the Caribou. I got only part of the explanation on the way home, but it had something to do with the hunters coming in to the lake by water planes which scare the Caribou far into the bush. Some have said that the large (1.5mx 3m) cement slabs are just the beginning. They already have tents set up. A rumor suggests that they may try to block THE ROAD; that is the one road that connects us to the school. I hope all goes peacefully and quietly.<br />J.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-9945661469588244042007-09-02T16:56:00.000-07:002007-09-02T17:02:49.854-07:00I ate Rudolph...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe9icZUaMuONy6zqWM14GkYfFNj_ltleFDycNHWdZVxF9adHiIbKTARaREvZMuZPGn44rDeFDzdToXOKzJ5OlVDQ3bwHV9XnkzA_RKuGZfo8pDAEYwPP4COHqzoKhj3IPaufGTOQnlEbH/s1600-h/caribou.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe9icZUaMuONy6zqWM14GkYfFNj_ltleFDycNHWdZVxF9adHiIbKTARaREvZMuZPGn44rDeFDzdToXOKzJ5OlVDQ3bwHV9XnkzA_RKuGZfo8pDAEYwPP4COHqzoKhj3IPaufGTOQnlEbH/s200/caribou.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105761394456529058" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Well, I tried something new tonight. I went to Lyndon's, because he had been given a few caribou stakes by our fellow teachers. He cooked them up as a lovely meal for me, Francois himself and Atlas (the St Bernard).<br /><br />I was cautious, having seen the stakes in the vacuum packet bag, filled with dark red blood. But they looked similar to beef after being prepared. And, unlike moose, which has a seperate and distinct texture and taste, caribou is just like beef. In fact, the two would be indistinguishable.<br /><br />So for the record, I have eaten (and enjoyed) caribou. Also known as reindeer. Sorry Rudolph.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-76052437849361498582007-09-02T13:38:00.001-07:002007-09-02T13:39:52.025-07:00I hope I don't get sick...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH-zY14_RuHg85swYtTF_71OMj3q54YsRP1KwC5lb-iFf-AjyrU-EjZC1onGmx64-Ki_rOQ6C3GMMdRBTDzbWW5yqXQrZnF14o0h0JRQmqfdpIJb1K5kchs22xnIUiONslkbOqvwGxg8f/s1600-h/Beaver.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH-zY14_RuHg85swYtTF_71OMj3q54YsRP1KwC5lb-iFf-AjyrU-EjZC1onGmx64-Ki_rOQ6C3GMMdRBTDzbWW5yqXQrZnF14o0h0JRQmqfdpIJb1K5kchs22xnIUiONslkbOqvwGxg8f/s200/Beaver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105709137589438610" border="0" /></a><br /> </div><p class="MsoNormal">Last night as we gathered, a pair of teachers drove by the large viewing window of Lyndon’s living room, and saw our gathering. They came up only to say hi, because one of the teachers was sick. The older of the Naskapi women said that she would make some medicine for her that will help her heal quickly. She was asked what was in it, and told us that it was a secret, but that we probably didn’t want o know. This sufficed most peoples curiosity, but not mine or that of one other teacher that has been in the community for over 20 years. She asked if it was <st1:place st="on">Labrador</st1:place> tea, made by boiling a local plant rich in vitamin C. We were told that this was in the medicine, but was only part. The topic was changed but I still wanted to know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My chance came later in the evening when we moved to a local bar known as the Disco. There was no disco music, but there was a live band that sang Montagnais pop-rock. The older Naskapi woman was slightly inebriated by this point, and so I asked about the medicine again, and received an answer that I thought could not have been correct. To clarify, I asked “beaver’s paws?” which was replied to with “no, beaver’s balls”. Trying not to create an awkward silence I think I replied something stupid like “isn’t that interesting”. And I was told that the medicine has a variety of purposes. The woman has diabetes and will be going in for hip replacement surgery very soon, and swears that it keeps her blood sugar regular and helps the body heal quickly. Let me just say, I hope I don’t get sick, and if I do, I’ll be sticking to my Tylenol and Nightquil.</p>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-4368376433022508332007-09-02T09:09:00.001-07:002007-09-02T09:20:24.854-07:00The Northern Lights have seen...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0i3JdS05rzEceLSCBWz_kjpWPuC3zMJiMSa3HiurJ9CPLdvR83P3GDexGN0h7g1KAVCe8aj9-6Lcv060GPij9ZJ5mkU1MgVPpmOxCm77UOQYfkeKpFATDil1AxlLjWE__0S_Zk6Zz4CQ7/s1600-h/N.lights.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0i3JdS05rzEceLSCBWz_kjpWPuC3zMJiMSa3HiurJ9CPLdvR83P3GDexGN0h7g1KAVCe8aj9-6Lcv060GPij9ZJ5mkU1MgVPpmOxCm77UOQYfkeKpFATDil1AxlLjWE__0S_Zk6Zz4CQ7/s200/N.lights.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105642217703999618" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wa8Dbxyn9JAxzWKy1xDTn3tn0Ei7193ZGtdOk2jgQ1cXR-8d1V2bvWwYbM3fHlu5z-CBGHAPManBRSzss46k97jhVdNURz5wNI7pE-Z8f22KwmYNd0soeGx807YAyEE2MtPrwrJlAG4q/s1600-h/N.lights.jpg"></a></div><br /> After a shower, I decided at around 9:00 last night to settle in and read. That was until a knock came at the door. Lyndon, me neighbor and fellow teacher, was at the door with Francois. They told me that they were entertaining next door and that I had to come. So I quickly changed and went next door to find several of the Naskapi teachers from Kawawa (cow-wa). They wanted to show us the town as they knew it. So we jumped into a truck and drove into the middle of the woods in this middle of nowhere town. It was the caribou bar. A pub like establishment build to keep the hunting parties entertained. On the closest wall was the head of a stuffed caribou, the first I have ever seen, I resisted the peculiar urge to reach out and touch it. <br /><br /> The topic arose on how little information we are given about the region before me arrive. I asked (on a hunch) if we would get dark and light periods. The answer was yes. They said that sometimes it ill be dark when we come home from school (4:20pm) and that the sun has been known to rise at 2:00am. I was advised to cover my bedroom windows with tin foil (which must be why there is tape residue on all of my windows). We sat on the patio which overlooked a dark lake. One the lake were about a dozen water aircraft, tied to the dock like one expects to see ships. And we sat and had a drink, my single rum and coke cost $8.50. I was then told to turn around. It was strange, like waves of translucent silk, similar to the light green light given off by Christmas lights. The northern lights came upon the ski. It was beautiful and mesmerizing like a lava lamp. This is a beautiful part of the country. I’ve been told that it is still early in the season, and that the lights will get brighter. I will try to take a picture to post, but my cameras night ability is limited.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-80729359845918887672007-09-01T15:31:00.001-07:002007-09-01T15:44:52.568-07:00Fishing<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZt5r_9UvWZpGhGEb7XLTP4zAn-D2B0lvI1u7Ka8CrYeUf8F6sS_dZZeOzbKkmZpyn4Pp2Xcsseb7O1iMz2WXJv7epfIK1cM_BpjqL8jXAwk4J6NmUfcUjYO5vqscI0yH7iyGPdFYiNcQ/s1600-h/HPIM0965.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZt5r_9UvWZpGhGEb7XLTP4zAn-D2B0lvI1u7Ka8CrYeUf8F6sS_dZZeOzbKkmZpyn4Pp2Xcsseb7O1iMz2WXJv7epfIK1cM_BpjqL8jXAwk4J6NmUfcUjYO5vqscI0yH7iyGPdFYiNcQ/s200/HPIM0965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105367576020256802" border="0" /></a><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">On August 30<sup>th</sup>, following a full day of classes, I was invited to join a group of fellow teachers on a fishing trip. Without even having changed, I jumped into the back seat of a pick-up and we were off. Out first stop, the local corner store, for worms. Then off we went towards the cross, driving through a cove which lay between the mountainous walls. We stopped along the way to better affix a canoe which was tied to the roof of the vehicle. Along the drive I was assured that I didn’t need gear because we had borrowed the schools rods (yes, the school had rods). </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We hadn’t driven for very long when we came across one of the hundreds of pristine lakes that surround the town. We piled out, and untied the canoe. I was passed a bottle of bug spray and liberally dowsed myself in the nauseous spray, knowing that it was much better than the massive red bites I would otherwise have received from the small black flies that swarm in clouds around Schefferville.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We then walked through the dense brush to a small (2 x 2 meter) clearing which revealed a beautiful, monstrous lake of still dark water. Or at least it was almost still, with the exception of dozens of fish that continually slapped the waters surface with their tails looking to eat some of the millions of black flies.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5k-loRZ4HM_D4iT-kHq8fpZ0qKSuycasEnsROsP-zcTEzW26XyT-ujfQmV_ddBeAZF7YxRN-pVD8yvdJ7201RJyxtXnxdxa5RzrGImwGJlA2spTcCPjAuj8B4_jXLKx2feTCNsQbsdDk/s1600-h/HPIM0963.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 103px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5k-loRZ4HM_D4iT-kHq8fpZ0qKSuycasEnsROsP-zcTEzW26XyT-ujfQmV_ddBeAZF7YxRN-pVD8yvdJ7201RJyxtXnxdxa5RzrGImwGJlA2spTcCPjAuj8B4_jXLKx2feTCNsQbsdDk/s200/HPIM0963.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105367571725289490" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=""> </span>And so I was volunteered, being the newest to the lake, to a canoe tour. I piled in, and was lead around the edges of the water by Andy, one of the adult ed. Teachers, and one of the nicest Newfoundlanders you could possibly meet. This being his second year, he pointed out the large hill that lay behind us, and told me that it was the sight of a ski hill that existed in the 80’s. But that we would be back there this winter for a winter carnival where the children will slide down the former ski hill and we (the teachers) will prepare hotdogs and hot chocolate from the near by cabin. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Andy then told me that last year he often cross country skied though the clearings of the woods. That was until he was warned of wolf packs that were known to frequent the area.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk6RSMB784HYJU8rwXrAYDqoCs5RP48LrcNI1YpVIncZzPyLtLzwvC7_ZzhU6m2IxxlaR9QS96GtiEm2aUr-nbnt1YmypE4Stmols9IUo73rxrQhGcdwzGI4WBL87RRHeOah45IEMrHd8/s1600-h/HPIM0969.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk6RSMB784HYJU8rwXrAYDqoCs5RP48LrcNI1YpVIncZzPyLtLzwvC7_ZzhU6m2IxxlaR9QS96GtiEm2aUr-nbnt1YmypE4Stmols9IUo73rxrQhGcdwzGI4WBL87RRHeOah45IEMrHd8/s200/HPIM0969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105368688416786482" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We arrived back on shore, and I was passed a rod and a beer. Not being a beer drinker I took the rod and cast into the water. On my first case I felt that slight tug on the line, and gave a slight jerk. At once there was thrashing in the water and I brought in the 9 inch speckled trout. François, the French teacher, eagerly removed the fish (which I had hooked through the eye) and snapped its neck with several stomps of his foot onto the wet marshy shore. I had forgotten how it felt of fish, and how non-vegetarian it was.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">And so I continued to fish, left alone as some went in the boat, some waded out in their boots and some (using a hatchet) carved their way through the wilderness to create a new path. I again, in several minutes, managed to land another fish. I excitedly brought it in, and went to remove the hook as I had many times my childhood. The 12 inch rainbow trout reminded me of how slimy fish skin can be. The hook was well planted into the side of the animal’s mouth, which gaped as it wiggled. I firmly held onto the body and removed the hook with little difficulty, only to be covered in the watery blood. Rather than try to squish the fish to death, as François had done, I tried to slap its head against a rock. This proved difficult, and the fish slipped from my hand several times, and nearly wound back up in the water. I refused to let it go after such troubles. So I finally placed it of the ground, slapping around as fish out of water tend to do. I lifted my foot and brought it down with what I believed to be a sufficient force to cause death, but not create a fish mush beneath my shoe. To my surprise, the fish continued to look at me as it mouthed and flopped around. Determined, I tried again and again. Then I finally heard and felt in my toes, a SNAP. I lifted my foot, having finally killed the fish, and turned to the water to wash my hands. I felt no guilt, as one may think of a former vegetarian. Instead I felt somewhat nauseated by the prospect of having to clean, remove the head, and then eat the little fish. It reminded me of a pet beta I had owned only years before. I cast my line and began to feel yet more bites when, to my surprise, I heard a rustling come from behind. It was that cursed fish, come back to life, and thrashing around in the grass filled impression that had been left from my stopping on it. I pulled my line out and resolved to place a large stone on the fish, to keep it in place. And there it lay, continuing to struggle to move, but finally unable. It died without my knowing, becoming one of the pile that was accumulated by all of us.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LuFVB-q-JQc4B_U9W0M8yvxsSIWEthEdix7MLnpABgZOuunn0vAkJ6jE-Gu0LyuF99akAz5w_sy8SnwsV8hUfjQ_S8SGvZlCY3jpe3zi6brw3FQogB9Ny24RJ3adIaPjxnURMWUR87C-/s1600-h/HPIM0971.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LuFVB-q-JQc4B_U9W0M8yvxsSIWEthEdix7MLnpABgZOuunn0vAkJ6jE-Gu0LyuF99akAz5w_sy8SnwsV8hUfjQ_S8SGvZlCY3jpe3zi6brw3FQogB9Ny24RJ3adIaPjxnURMWUR87C-/s200/HPIM0971.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105368701301688386" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I continued fishing with minimal success as the sun began to set. My hands grew cold from their contact with the water as the in couching winds blew. The flies retreated with the chill. Then I felt the same feeling on my line, I jerked and wound in my line, which seemed drug down by the massive weight at the end. Only there was no thrashing. And so I looked down and saw, through the dark water, a massive piece of drift wood I had snagged as small fish nibbled at the worm. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The worms that were bought were unlike any I had ever seen. They were comparable to small snakes, with their girth close to that of my baby finger. One worm was enough from half a dozen casts. With the dexterity of my fingers minimized by the cold, I was forced to use the sharp, inner edge of a pair of pliers (intended for wire) cut the things into pieces. And as their wiggling bodies were threaded onto the hooks, white goop leaked from within.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Throughout the evening I managed to land four keep able trout; however, the last fish I hooked was no more than a few inches. I grindingly removed the hook from the little bleeding slimy body and gingerly placed it back into the water and watched it spring to life and swim off. By this time it was dark and cold. The canoe was on its way in, and a understanding was reached that our three hours were sufficient fun. We gathered our things and headed back to the truck. The sun was setting, as a small fire was lit, to warm our selves before tying on the canoe. The moon began to raise in the sky, nearly full, a deep shade of yellow.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8xj7HqoCHjX3ZdVZExaubnmj4icv0tZFqYxbn_p4h6CdeHsZhICwSsF-Sw-FEEM9AwcohmurVMSjPSCB6xwHgd7rpIvdLRT2HbBjNa4vgEjSBKb7Vc1grJ19fJCuLx2DqFVj7MWppaqd/s1600-h/HPIM0972.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 82px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8xj7HqoCHjX3ZdVZExaubnmj4icv0tZFqYxbn_p4h6CdeHsZhICwSsF-Sw-FEEM9AwcohmurVMSjPSCB6xwHgd7rpIvdLRT2HbBjNa4vgEjSBKb7Vc1grJ19fJCuLx2DqFVj7MWppaqd/s200/HPIM0972.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105369753568675922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLBVdCpkIDj6RrudWILB_ASQKdXN_quTOi6_OXM3pmRY1t9HafalUf2mW6lQsvLG4kJcW8AWsZxQaAa0UvALVkcXtLGgsxG7NQPm-piRtA5ywUIQzxGuGyMhfViBW9APlGktTG6aeIL8X/s1600-h/HPIM0974.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 108px; height: 81px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLBVdCpkIDj6RrudWILB_ASQKdXN_quTOi6_OXM3pmRY1t9HafalUf2mW6lQsvLG4kJcW8AWsZxQaAa0UvALVkcXtLGgsxG7NQPm-piRtA5ywUIQzxGuGyMhfViBW9APlGktTG6aeIL8X/s200/HPIM0974.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105369762158610530" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We returned the canoe to the teacher we had borrowed it from, and gladly offered up our catch to her and her guests, several research students from McGill. None of us had eaten since lunch (I had had a sandwich and apple), so we hurried home. I walked up the stairs, turned on the heat, and went to change. And only then did I truly realize how badly I smelled. Covered in bug spray and fish slim then fire ash I was sickened by myself. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">All and all, it was a wonderful experience that reminded me of simpler times. The people I work with are a barrel of laughs and will surly keep me sane for the next ten months. I have recently had many offers to try caribou, with none yet coming to fruition, but I’m sure it will only be a mater of time. I’ll keep you posted. My goodness... I'm getting long winded. <span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p>J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-17937107416266642222007-08-25T16:52:00.000-07:002007-08-25T17:03:59.867-07:00I see with me little eyes...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1XUB8drmmBxyapSuNuBopDjrnsiecCymHUKRxzur0uicVEHvFVoS_fot82o5karx7gJHwQ4UYbX3cmA7rSLBtZOaNkXsLxM-rn9xHI7BO3bpXmaKoRvbNehFPCgTRZOVj5TMHe6zeM6K/s1600-h/shrew.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1XUB8drmmBxyapSuNuBopDjrnsiecCymHUKRxzur0uicVEHvFVoS_fot82o5karx7gJHwQ4UYbX3cmA7rSLBtZOaNkXsLxM-rn9xHI7BO3bpXmaKoRvbNehFPCgTRZOVj5TMHe6zeM6K/s200/shrew.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102792979349506050" border="0" /></a><br />Well, the town is overrun my dogs. They are the constant. I have had dogs pawing at my classroom window as I try to work, and see gangs of them as I make my way to work. They always seem to be playing though, so they keep me happy.<br /><br />Then, on Friday, I saw my first first real signs of nature (well kinda). As I waited for the bus I noticed a little blackish rodent running around in the parking lot across from my place. Then it crossed the street, jumping cutely down the cement edges. I commented that I thought I was seeming a chubby little mouse, but was told it was a shrew (like from the episode of the Simpson's where Homer and Mr. Burns get buried in the cabin...).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbPwTnKGuwFPFMxVFEMuDY17R3wZ2C1U2mp1HcMSOz8U6Z7opF0j4baBndUkMXLOGlkTJfqcARhoUmWWfNrUkQSFLh2iHon7MOeXjgtcbvxfY8-l_Vs1g77wDUJ4D00vnj_u_3poX0Lwu/s1600-h/red_fox.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbPwTnKGuwFPFMxVFEMuDY17R3wZ2C1U2mp1HcMSOz8U6Z7opF0j4baBndUkMXLOGlkTJfqcARhoUmWWfNrUkQSFLh2iHon7MOeXjgtcbvxfY8-l_Vs1g77wDUJ4D00vnj_u_3poX0Lwu/s200/red_fox.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102792975054538738" border="0" /></a><br />Then, on the way home on the bus, we say a red fox (much like the one in the pic) that was jumping through the woods.<br /><br />Other than not seeing the Canadian flag regularly (like across the road from my old place, in Mr. Lee's window), I miss squirrels. There are no squirrels up here. It's strange. I have never lived in a place where I didn't see the occasional squirrel (Moncton has few, but some).J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-37464038771520921272007-08-25T11:48:00.000-07:002007-08-25T12:36:48.801-07:00Colourful Schefferville<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZG7bV7NgenqQMPJyVv2nWsbb-k6q_5BnzdKowIbs9GOs75RNLv6Sc2CVsqpqMhZifPhdiiYcW5Y7tYBnquunROyf_N1LSG9kEYqi2wJQDdseqxDO6s75fViOjJkiZxvIwJ9S04WZhzis/s1600-h/HPIM0945.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZG7bV7NgenqQMPJyVv2nWsbb-k6q_5BnzdKowIbs9GOs75RNLv6Sc2CVsqpqMhZifPhdiiYcW5Y7tYBnquunROyf_N1LSG9kEYqi2wJQDdseqxDO6s75fViOjJkiZxvIwJ9S04WZhzis/s200/HPIM0945.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102720355747497794" border="0" /></a><br />So, I decided to take a walk today with my camera so that I can better let you (my friends and family) where I am living. So, as I left my door (seen above) I remembered that I had forgotten to tell of the "gift" I received. On Tuesday morning, as I left for work I found a can of beer, left with some care, on my step. There were also several (about 6) empties. My neighbor let me know that several of the town drunks had been drinking behind "Bla Bla" the town restaurant on Monday afternoon- evening. We guessed that in their inebriation, as they walked all the way across the street, they must have gotten tired and thirsty and decided to stop for a refreshment. The most interesting part is that they were so out of it that they had forgotten their last beer.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8ExBkdDGTLLDRYVRqxXc9Rbic9MRy6kNZg42y_wKvuWkLbbpAjS8K2A0-QzJsGAqk64OzF4c80s4OfYfjNiVv2xzKUIbsUk80Ff53GmYG_wpbFqS2F7Lw4jHcNfqqY84Oyim6BGWYEb5/s1600-h/HPIM0946.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8ExBkdDGTLLDRYVRqxXc9Rbic9MRy6kNZg42y_wKvuWkLbbpAjS8K2A0-QzJsGAqk64OzF4c80s4OfYfjNiVv2xzKUIbsUk80Ff53GmYG_wpbFqS2F7Lw4jHcNfqqY84Oyim6BGWYEb5/s200/HPIM0946.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102720866848606034" border="0" /></a><br />Then I continued on my walk, and at the end of the street is the Northern. The town store. It is usually packed with smokers (age 10 and up) standing at the door, and even just inside. So as I walked by, at 3:00pm, I noticed one of the town drunks facing the side wall of the store. It was a few seconds before I realized that he was urinating on the building. I had to hold back from both laughing and taking a picture.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBBXexGnKs_Bwz7uE1WGHoubbQaVliKX7LSFcIeirJh0uY6yHUKKgbusRvUkfb5WD7vi11nh8GJJs2g8YjS4QMyHWye87nEpKRMq1ucEXGUqkYpdWBFwAzoi-9dnUCLNJStF718g-0r05/s1600-h/HPIM0948.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBBXexGnKs_Bwz7uE1WGHoubbQaVliKX7LSFcIeirJh0uY6yHUKKgbusRvUkfb5WD7vi11nh8GJJs2g8YjS4QMyHWye87nEpKRMq1ucEXGUqkYpdWBFwAzoi-9dnUCLNJStF718g-0r05/s200/HPIM0948.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102720871143573346" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zbPjGWBKC7rohTGSGFjBWfy9lTLRrQcYH9IVw98uz6Ze5FWBCGruHOj13xppJx2pkEFTUuf0K4wCsJe4tDMaHVGOv9DLRMmBz8QyE1PF3qEdajWvVm8konW8sew27pRibsL4L9nAS7n0/s1600-h/HPIM0950.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zbPjGWBKC7rohTGSGFjBWfy9lTLRrQcYH9IVw98uz6Ze5FWBCGruHOj13xppJx2pkEFTUuf0K4wCsJe4tDMaHVGOv9DLRMmBz8QyE1PF3qEdajWvVm8konW8sew27pRibsL4L9nAS7n0/s200/HPIM0950.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102720875438540658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoClXH-Mogr4E7tVWLAjk8-u4tqyDfTQk41mrOc0u-os5h_zau7fJSZ9r7dkNENMYlITh5LWrDV8y1lppdSMmnO8MzlfUwvLoQ5KdAFZZ5HtMI6PDRp-ctRAXanMqnsb8t26Vs8FKptR3Z/s1600-h/HPIM0952.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoClXH-Mogr4E7tVWLAjk8-u4tqyDfTQk41mrOc0u-os5h_zau7fJSZ9r7dkNENMYlITh5LWrDV8y1lppdSMmnO8MzlfUwvLoQ5KdAFZZ5HtMI6PDRp-ctRAXanMqnsb8t26Vs8FKptR3Z/s200/HPIM0952.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102722073734416258" border="0" /></a><br />Then I approached the back of the store, where there are two sculptures that the bus passes daily. And that represent some of the only art in the city. I noticed only yesterday that one was a miner (Schefferville has a long history as a mining town). I took my first photo, and realized and laughed about the anatomical correctness with which the sculpture was build. The second sculpture was, as usual, covered in children who have no park to play. The streets and lawns are so full of broken glass that this may be the safest place to play. Far from the street, homes and bar.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguamjlysE9YiVflJSouwStwlVSA1mT4-O7teOuRf8dukhBfw_xzSZU_Et5SRx1NSdqa5z4o8asdc7itUu1pRx_6QUJXFagqyQDHQFn3yn9Km3NJzRPK_uSU0brL11O8WIxPk9mkDUt4dcA/s1600-h/HPIM0953.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguamjlysE9YiVflJSouwStwlVSA1mT4-O7teOuRf8dukhBfw_xzSZU_Et5SRx1NSdqa5z4o8asdc7itUu1pRx_6QUJXFagqyQDHQFn3yn9Km3NJzRPK_uSU0brL11O8WIxPk9mkDUt4dcA/s200/HPIM0953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102722082324350866" border="0" /></a><br />Across the lake one can see what is left of the old train. Apparently it takes 12-14 hours to get from here to Sept Illes, and even longer to Montreal. I think I will take the train home on holiday's. The little 9 seat plane hit a lot of turbulence on the way here.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyU7rOvithHB131sba2xRoqOB48ngcIdf9VNhXhgjzrUrJhtOa9M2Fhhl4PwxEAB9BnYXRbqfyJhgElkqj6N1U4DzFL1l55lBeok74HojNelL1vMt4-p7w9J03PpmmJt1tfoKqe7TPr-4d/s1600-h/HPIM0954.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyU7rOvithHB131sba2xRoqOB48ngcIdf9VNhXhgjzrUrJhtOa9M2Fhhl4PwxEAB9BnYXRbqfyJhgElkqj6N1U4DzFL1l55lBeok74HojNelL1vMt4-p7w9J03PpmmJt1tfoKqe7TPr-4d/s200/HPIM0954.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102722086619318178" border="0" /></a><br />Next it the infamous cross, similar to that which used to keep me awake when I lived in the tailor park.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIdeBL4O3po1nmPElqQ3aOyErrXEV_ge_hzAydN6tYF8bIBFRjUPDi10E2I4l0NllIVI7mRKjo0gLrtzgbLSPI6OX5Di-fZUO4sPJZsj8o_Dz1M7CjqC6wBJc8Pm_igEicDsoNfhj6oLQ/s1600-h/HPIM0956.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIdeBL4O3po1nmPElqQ3aOyErrXEV_ge_hzAydN6tYF8bIBFRjUPDi10E2I4l0NllIVI7mRKjo0gLrtzgbLSPI6OX5Di-fZUO4sPJZsj8o_Dz1M7CjqC6wBJc8Pm_igEicDsoNfhj6oLQ/s200/HPIM0956.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102723018627221426" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtNIqGO79XKiYq7hbBJN5NSBDtzepjuB0tOQZOI5TJBM58P47i1kWKeKa1JeYH-Ragg9MObbEI_jSscBLShfsA7rpiDzvpm8QFbNlRUrMFAcClvsKrJaX7U62J0zik_2ycDNo07l8FShJ/s1600-h/HPIM0960.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtNIqGO79XKiYq7hbBJN5NSBDtzepjuB0tOQZOI5TJBM58P47i1kWKeKa1JeYH-Ragg9MObbEI_jSscBLShfsA7rpiDzvpm8QFbNlRUrMFAcClvsKrJaX7U62J0zik_2ycDNo07l8FShJ/s200/HPIM0960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102723379404474338" border="0" /></a><br />Next, the ever present reminder that I'm not in my home province. The blue and white flags outnumber even the Naskapi national flag. There are only two Canadian flags in the region. One on the restaurant, the other on the school. Something else I found interesting, there is no Oh Canada. Instead they play the lord's prayer in the morning, and it's in Naskapi. So I don't even get to understand it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWeUZhWQ4xYWSvi5UyzKWPLS43W8RE-HIWuZZKSNpNSmHuIAVE2oIjRkC35rmKhuvUTsEdaU3nqqxpa2JWFZ-7qIDUw5wScMslRlxhaVe-f6Avezc8XGASjMlcn1bvIqCadFhkIQY4GPG/s1600-h/HPIM0957.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWeUZhWQ4xYWSvi5UyzKWPLS43W8RE-HIWuZZKSNpNSmHuIAVE2oIjRkC35rmKhuvUTsEdaU3nqqxpa2JWFZ-7qIDUw5wScMslRlxhaVe-f6Avezc8XGASjMlcn1bvIqCadFhkIQY4GPG/s200/HPIM0957.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102723022922188738" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, then there is this piece, located at the end of my street. It has a very Austrian feel with the black and red bird, which reminds the town of the past riches it had while mining. Apparently, some talks are occurring between between a Newfoundland company and the Kawawa band. But not much is known.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_x-_7PpKLCr1X9Xaoqz4pj-uzOWZnR8t2fbWy4Kzm2x314FanK4n6U97Y7-hKNhZjvm81oRv60iWmXpJ2QtUCscH36wIOg6QcSt2Y8tCD6tVYWLIlcrDPxg4JN0Ha3ynnnDJUQim33OSV/s1600-h/HPIM0959.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 99px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_x-_7PpKLCr1X9Xaoqz4pj-uzOWZnR8t2fbWy4Kzm2x314FanK4n6U97Y7-hKNhZjvm81oRv60iWmXpJ2QtUCscH36wIOg6QcSt2Y8tCD6tVYWLIlcrDPxg4JN0Ha3ynnnDJUQim33OSV/s200/HPIM0959.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102723031512123346" border="0" /></a><br />Then to end the tour is the constant, even here in Schefferville, the CBC. Mind you that I had to create a makeshift antenna, but never the less it is coming in.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-65041733425966913492007-08-21T09:29:00.000-07:002007-08-21T15:07:07.075-07:00Hard work I tell ya...Today was the first day of classes. It was decided that it would only be a half day (go till lunch), so the students would only have three periods. Lucky me, I had preps for the first two classes. Then I had my secondary five English class third period. I had been nervous to prepare a room full of students to take the exiting exam, but figured I would do fine. The bell rang, and my first student walked through the door, had a seat, and started the questionnaire I had prepared for the class. Five minutes went by, and I found the principal in the hall and asked him where the rest of my students were (having expected 9-14). He said the lists still weren't ready, but that he would finish them now and try to get me more students. So I pulled up a chair and started to get to know my student. Faculty are called by first name, so it was kind of like being at ELP. About 35 minutes into the class the principle came back with a girl and said "that will be about it." Knowing that several students missed the day because they went shopping in Sept Illes I asked "how many more should there be?" The principals reply was "one". That's right! I have a class of three. So much for diverse, opinionated discussions or worrying about having enough books. Then the two students chattered back and forth in Naskapi. Which I am hearing far more than French, so who knows, I may pick it up.<br />Tomorrow will be another day I'm sure. I have sec. 4 history and art with the sec 2 a's. Which I'm told stands for academic (b for Bad). So right now I feel a little spoiled.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3368278535615872031.post-83913418921152067762007-08-19T15:04:00.000-07:002007-08-19T15:37:05.697-07:00Do you see it?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12l6avcRSSr35qCRi3Sj2EPYrytWUJO-1_UOpRDFwsJgUMxkZVZmD-16ueaghJOJEqtEbS8WVAT_G1O8nsb6D5E2su70TxZnk2LXK39fDRV_PGgXQZmm23G_etQ3S1I13SJJLuPQpRDx0/s1600-h/HPIM0944.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12l6avcRSSr35qCRi3Sj2EPYrytWUJO-1_UOpRDFwsJgUMxkZVZmD-16ueaghJOJEqtEbS8WVAT_G1O8nsb6D5E2su70TxZnk2LXK39fDRV_PGgXQZmm23G_etQ3S1I13SJJLuPQpRDx0/s200/HPIM0944.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100536794374211362" border="0" /></a><br />Well here is what I was talking about. The cross that lights up my living room at night. And the strangest thing is that the power went out last night, but the cross stayed on. Every light in every house was out, but the cross was light up. Go figure.J. Whelanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09178703166179277748noreply@blogger.com2