Tapestry

When I was four years old, I started school in Edmonton. Queen Alexandra is a beautiful brick school in Old Strathcona . I don't know if everyone recalls their first days of school with the same clarity I do, but I guarantee that every child has a distinct impression of school that has roots in their first experiences. I never questioned the value of getting an education, so it is no surprise that I chose to spend the rest of my life in school.

A month into grade 1, my family moved out of the city to an acreage. I left Queen Alexandra and transferred to Wye Elementary School. Wye served a growing and reasonably affluent acreage community just east of Sherwood Park. In my youth, "The Park" was a hamlet, a true bedroom community to Edmonton that was surrounded by acreages. In my first week of school, I wore a pair of burgundy cord pants and was informed "we don't wear red pants at our school." In spite of the rocky start, I grew to love Wye School. I liked most of my teachers, I developed strong friendships, and I did well academically.

I faced plenty of social speed bumps as a kid. In grade 2, I was sent to the principal's office for trying to hit grade 1 students with my belt. After all, they were trying to go down the grade 2 slide. I did odd things and got into trouble with my teachers for being a smartass. The pecking order of the playground meant that I had my fair share of pushing matches, disagreements, and fist fights. I was in combined classes for three of my elementary years, which meant that I socialized with a different group of kids than most of the kids I played sports with. I did not have a perfect school experience. I made mistakes, failed tests, wished I could fit in, got bullied and was unkind to some of my classmates. Overall, though, I survived and thrived because my parents and teachers believed in me. They let me make mistakes and find myself, even when it must have been very difficult to let me fail and mess up.

By the time I was in grade six and ready to leave Wye, things evolved remarkably. My best friend moved to another school and I had to redefine and reconnect. My best friend from hockey transferred to Wye that year and my social circle moved towards the kids I played hockey with. I was still tight with my circle of friends from the combined classes, but I had a broader group of friends than ever. In junior high school, high school and university, I continued to fill a variety of roles. Academic. Class clown. Athlete. Party animal. The more I think about it, the more I realize how pivotal my first six years of school were for me.

I'm inspired to write this post for a few reasons. First and foremost, I attended my 25th high school reunion over the past weekend. It was a very fun night. Even better, it was very well attended by my classmates from Wye Elementary. Chris, Corinne, Ed, Kevin, Holly, Linda, Lorinda, Melissa, Rich, Rob, Taylor, Terry, Tracy, Todd, Warren. There are almost as many people, who were not in attendance, that I have kept track of over the years. The more I think about it, the more amazed I am  by the connections we develop when we are in elementary school. There is no doubt that I have developed life-long friendships in every stage of my life, but few of them are stronger than the ones I developed when I attended Wye Elementary.

I'm extra pensive right now because I am about to turn the page on a new chapter in my professional career. I am leaving the school district I have worked in for twenty years to become the principal of a K-12 school in a neighbouring community. Since I entered school administration, I have always believed I would become a principal. Now, it is a reality and I could not be more excited. I spent the afternoon at my new school last Friday and left the building brimming with hope. From there, I went to the grade eight leaving ceremony for our feeder school. It was a wonderful evening that reminded me of my days at Wye. My time in both buildings last Friday started a literal trip down memory lane (in this case, Alberta's Highway 21). I spent the weekend surrounded by my elementary classmates and I realized how important schools really are to people. The chance to be part of a place that will evoke lifetime memories for a generations of children is equally special and compelling.

During the final days prior to our reunion, I discovered that one of my elementary classmates has ALS. Carrie was always one of the prettiest and most popular girls in our little school. I distinctly remember rewording songs from the Grease soundtrack that substituted her name for Sandy, the female lead of the Grease story. As we grew up, I always felt like Carrie was a friend and we shared a bond because we had so many shared memories at Wye. In junior high and high school, Carrie continued to be a popular girl and we generally ran in the same circles, attended the same events. When I was in University, I ran into Carrie a few times and always enjoyed the opportunity to visit with her. She was genuinely kind and I think we always had a measure of mutual respect. There was always a little piece of me that had a crush on Carrie and the older we got, it was much more than a "she's cute" crush. I liked Carrie because of how genuine and friendly she was. When my wife told me about Carrie, I couldn't hold back the tears. I haven't seen her for 20 years, but I can't stop thinking about her, her family, and the awful situation they are facing.

The multiple threads of this reminiscence form a tapestry that will inform and remind me as I move forward. As people, it is important to remember where we come from. As educators, it is equally important to remember where our students are going. We need to give kids the skills to weave their own life stories.

People on the Edges of Your Life

We all have people on the edges of our lives. They are people we know, people we like, people we have spent time with. Usually, we connect with these people intermittently. We know who they are, we know their life story, and we genuinely enjoy their company. To draw a fishing analogy, we get swept up in the main current of our lives, so we miss connecting with these people because they live in the eddies and side channels. As any good fisherman (and Robert Frost) knows, it is important to explore beyond the main current. Often, the most pleasant surprises can be found on the path less travelled.

These people may be co-workers, people we don't know despite spending most of our day with them . Sometimes, they are people we meet through teams, groups, school, or our children. They might be neighbours, colleagues or friends of a friend. Sometimes, they are the siblings of close friends. They could be people you meet on a trip or a weekend getaway. We all have people like this in our lives and when something happens to them, it has a distinct impact. One of my lifelong friends lost his brother last week and pushed me to think deeply about the connections we make with the people who move in and out of our lives.

I knew Darren as long as I knew his brother, Warren. We grew up in the same places - Fultonvale Arena, Ardrossan Arena, the Moyer Recreation Center at Josephburg, and Wye Elementary School. Darren, Warren, Jackie and Gary Williams are a huge part of my best childhood memories. As a classmate, teammate, and lifelong friend of Warren's, it seems obvious to say that Dee was my friend's younger brother. Somehow, though, that is an inadequate description. He was much more than a little brother.

I have so many great memories of Darren. Thanks to hockey, we travelled across Canada together. Dee was one of those rare people who are impossible to dislike. He was friendly, outgoing and selfless. Dee was always kind to me and called me Bun, a nickname the persists with many of my closest and dearest friends. I always admired his passion for vehicles and having a good time. In lots of ways, he reminded me of a child's favourite stuffed animal - larger than life, easy to talk to and always there when you needed him. We crossed paths on a fairly regular basis because Warren's house is where our group of friends meets every year, usually at Christmas. Darren is the same age as my sister, so when we were younger, he could often  be found at the same parties and social events. In over thirty years, I never met a person who had anything  bad to say about Darren Williams.

One memory stands out from the rest. One of our friends got married at a golf course in Edmonton. When we went to leave the wedding, it seemed like a good idea to blast a few golf  balls into the pond near the parking lot. It was late and our swings were hampered by dress shoes, the dark and possibly the open bar at the wedding. It was a lot of fun, though, and as usual, Dee was in the thick of it. We were so into it that we got left behind and had to call a cab to catch up with the post-wedding party crowd. As we waited for the cab, we had a great conversation and reminisced about the good times we shared as kids. When the cab arrived, I realized I had no cash, but Darren paid with his usual "no problem" approach.

I can say with certainty that Darren was a good friend, a loyal brother, a loved uncle and everything a parent could ask for in a son. I am very sad that I cannot be there to celebrate his life due to a family vacation. It seems unreal that he won't be there the next time our friends gather for Christmas. I missed the last gathering because I was caught in the rush of my life and kids' activities, and I recognize that I missed a last chance to have my yearly conversation with Darren, whose company I genuinely enjoyed. My heart aches for those who were close to him.

In the coming months, I am going to try harder to slow down and pull myself out of the main current. Hopefully, I will get the chance to spend more time with people on the edges of my life.