Apropos of nothing in particular

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Rick Steves is in Vancouver. We could catch the elevator with him, but he’s going down, and the auditorium is up. He’s eating a sandwich that smells of onions, and his face is clearly saying, “Please don’t get on the elevator with me.” So we don’t.

He’s taller than he looks on TV. A veritable giant. And his belly is bigger than the camera shows, he being in the full flush of middle age.

He sits cross-legged at the side of the stage while the KCTS9 Public Television director (or president or whatever high position she holds) offers a lengthy introduction. He rolls his neck, his prep (I presume) for his presentation. He’s in jeans and sports jacket, pretty much in line with the khakis and sports shirt of his TV shows. His hair is Ken-doll perfect, even though he has just self-tousled; it never changes: it doesn’t grow, and he doesn’t visit the barber. He is one of my heroes, alongside David Suzuki and Joni Mitchell and a couple of poets whose names don’t come to mind at the moment.

His talk is on the topic of his latest book, “Travel as a Political Act”. I am up for any heightening of the reasons for travel, so I’m all ears. He aims his comments at an American audience, and he apologises for that, well aware of the cultural differences between our two countries despite superficial similarities. He talks about the importance of broadening perspectives by travel, then bringing those new perspectives home. He compares European values with American values, European economy with American economy, Iranian fundamentalism with American fundamentalism, European drug laws with American drug laws. He is a master of not explicitly committing to opinion on what is better (though his opinion is clear), but stating over and over: ours is not the only way, and ours is not the better way—we need to consider alternatives. He complains about ethnocentrism and the policy of fear-mongering and the corporate motive that drives the American Way. He plugs public television at several junctures in his talk (public TV, of course, is paying his way here), calling it the thinking man’s alternative to the hysterical news coverage of commercial stations.

It was hard to go out on a Thursday night; we were tired beyond tired. But it’s a wonderful evening, gathered with a bunch of other aging PBS supporters cheering for liberal thinking. The talk is free, incidentally, but open only to donors.

This is apropos of nothing.

So.

Tonight I’m eating Purdy’s chocolates. Or, rather, tasting them. Most of them I don’t like. I’m of the “don’t eat calories you don’t absolutely adore” school, and I’m fussy about my chocolate. So I take a bite of something promising and if it’s full of some kind of fruity, too-sweet, creamy substance, I spit it out. I do not feel guilty about it. I have a pile, now, of a good half-dozen rejects. I’ve actually eaten two. I’m fed up with chocolate, and I return to my Minervois, an ever-smoother red wine from the southwest of France. Mmm Friday.

And this, too, is apropos of nothing.

Today was a Pro-D day. Professional Development. A requirement, as it should be. After twenty years of teaching, much of Pro-D seems a waste of time. Call me stuck in my ways or arrogantly presumptuous of my own creativity, I don’t care. Today, however, was stellar, as far as Pro-D days go. There were two one-to-two-hour workshops, a free lunch, and some meeting time.

The first workshop was given by an occupational therapist who works (on contract to the school board, I think) with a number of students in the school. She taught us about two types of exercise breaks for kids, one which engages the vestibular system and stimulates or energizes kids (and other humans) and another which engages the so-called proprioceptive system, and which help to calm and organize kids (and other humans), neurologically speaking. The vestibular system is located in the inner ear, those little hairs responsible for hearing and balance, and proprioception is about awareness of where parts of the body are in space, such as is tested by roadside cops when they ask you to touch your nose. We were led through a few exercises by the O.T., who was a thoroughly likeable presenter with good credentials. At the end we were asked to talk with our table-mates about how we might implement the exercises in our classrooms, while said O.T. circulated.

I asked her about the research that backed the information she conveyed. She admitted there wasn’t any, that there was a dearth of studies, that the evidence was pretty much anecdotal. I was not surprised, but I did appreciate her candor and that she was not offended by my question. Meanwhile, I have some googling to do—there must be SOMETHING, for god’s sake. Meanwhile, I am feeling smug about being a good skeptic.

Our team meeting was interesting, peppered with controversy. I love controversy, as long as it’s not personal, but others emerged from the meeting with adrenalin come-down, upset and wasted. Mine is the challenge to sort out a way to satisfy everyone. Not that that is possible.

The afternoon workshop was about a new and potentially extremely useful technological initiative in the district. Exciting.

I went shopping and bitching with Susan this evening. Can’t get enough of her. Now I’m blogging, apparently, while watching Discovery Channel, An Idiot Abroad.

And all this is apropos of nothing.



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