Teaching Young Americans about Canada

Last Friday I took the ferry to Staten Island to visit PS 57, a public elementary school. I was scheduled to meet with two groups of kids in the after-school program, ranging from Grade 1 through 5. I had spent a lot of time preparing my presentation. I was going to tell them how Canada got its name, and discuss how important the beaver was to early trade. I'd gloss over the bits about colonialism, exploitation and how the beaver was killed for its pelts. I would tell them about hockey and lacrosse - a sport invented by the First Nations peoples, didja know? I planned to teach them Frere Jacques in English and French, and pass around loonies and twoonies while telling them how Canadians used to get a kick out of popping the centre out of the twoonie, and how the loonie has been considered lucky ever since someone placed one under the ice at the 2002 Olympic games, and the men's and the women's team won gold. So many stories! Well, it turned out that I prepared way too much material, because the kids were interested in other things. Like, do we have pizza in Canada? How about hamburgers? How long does it take to walk there? How do you get maple syrup from trees? (Luckily I had looked into this, just in case it came up. I also told them that kids in Canada pour sap on fresh snow and eat it; does anyone remember doing that?) The kids were a bit rowdy, as might be expected at 4.30 on a Friday afternoon, and erupted continously in chaotic chatter. Their supervisors were a bit ambivalent, and spent more time on their cellphones than paying attention to the kids, so it was left to me to commander their attention with hoarse calls of "Don't you want me to tell you something about CANADA?" But, it was a lot of fun, and the kids were pretty enthusiastic. The best part was how gung-ho they were about answering questions. Every single kid clamored to be called on, even if they had absolutely nothing to say once I chose them. One kid in particular shot his hand high up into the air after every question. I called on him a couple of times and couldn't figure out why he just smiled beatifically. The other kids let me in on the deal. "Carlos doesn't speak ANY English," they said witheringly. You still have to admire the spirit. Another kid was obviously very bright and asked me tough questions about Canada's relationship with Britain and past struggles over territory. I hadn't Wikapedia'ed that stuff! Two other kids slept the entire time. But, it was a real blast and I hope I get to do it again before I move back home. I'll pepper my spiel with stories about poutine and cartoons so I'll be sure to be a hit.

My Brush with a Psycho

On Saturday night Lyndsay and I had a party. It was awesome! A ton of people came and it was very pleasant. There was an added benefit - the guys who run the barbershop next door, Don Juan, were hosting a street party in honour of the de la Hoya boxing match. Two parties in one! They projected the fight onto the wall of Fine Fare, the grocery store across the street. It was just like being in Zoran's basement, but outside! There were about a hundred people gathered on the street, watching the fight, boozing and cheering. I headed downstairs to survey the mayhem, and I took a couple of photos of the projected fight. As I was taking a picture, this enormous man walked into the frame, and freaked out. "That's a federal offense!" he screamed (it's perfectly legal to take photos of people in public space, by the way). "Delete it! Delete it!" So, of course I deleted it. But he wasn't satisfied, and he flashed this totally phony badge that said "Tactical...something". A federal agent, apparently! I wasn't quite sure how to read the situation; I wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Then he forcibly took my camera from my hands, and gave it to his friend, who started going through my pictures. I thought they were going to steal my camera. The guy couldn't figure out how to delete the photos, so the psycho took my camera and took out the memory card. "Take the photos off the camera!" he demanded. "They're on the memory card, which is in your hand," I explained. Try explaining how digital cameras work to a psycho. He was convinced that the photos were not only on the card but in the camera itself. He demanded to see my ID, which I didn't have and wouldn't have shown him anyway. So, then he held up his cell phone and took a photo of ME! I would have appreciated the irony if I wasn't so unsettled by the whole experience. As he took my photo he said, "I'm going to do biometrics on this", meaning that since I refused to show him ID he would find out who I was through biometrics! Sinister! So I started laughing because that was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Imagine scanning my pupils from that cell phone pic and hunting me down. But, then he started yelling, "you think that's funny? That's not funny!" So I got my camera back (thank god!) and ran upstairs. It was a very bizarre situation but at least it made a good story for the party.

On a more positive note, I went to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden this weekend to see the blossoming cherry trees. This garden has the most cherry trees outside of Japan. It was amazing. I'll post some pics as soon as Joseph comes to New York to fix my computer this weekend. Til then, stay safe!