a peek inside the fishbowl

Snowy owl’s flight over icy Montreal captured by traffic camera https://t.co/ChNo7mA9jE pic.twitter.com/c8c2jGmKen

— The Globe and Mail (@globeandmail) January 7, 2016

• The top reasons people fail with money, theglobeandmail.com
• Guns and poses: Obama weeps, the NRA reload, cbc.ca
• How Being Cold Burns Calories, theatlantic.com
• The nine stages of Canadian cold, macleans.ca
• How U.S. gun ownership became a ‘right,’ and why it isn’t, theglobeandmail.com

You probably don’t know this about me, but I have a long and tortured history with math. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I eventually went into journalism.

It started in first grade. I was very proud to be The Smart Kid. I excelled at this. I was top of the class in everything: Group 1 for reading, Group 1 for writing, and… suddenly I found myself in Group 2 for arithmetic. I remember shyly sidling up the teacher’s desk to ask her about it right after the announcement. “I’m pretty sure I belong in group 1,” I said. She patted me on the head and told me I had to work harder. And so I did. I doubled down and eventually made it to the top group. (Not without some degree of pestering on my part either, although I now realize I may have been reallocated only because I bothered her about it so much.)

These were the years of group memorization of times tables, acres of work sheets, and struggling to figure out the right answer on the chalkboard in front of the whole class. Basically, things that didn’t work for my particular brain and introverted personality.

Fast forward to grade nine. I failed my first test, in math. I remember how awful it felt. It was a real punch in the gut for the Former Smart Kid. I struggled and studied and held on to record low grades. (Which for me, would have hovered in the 70% range at that time.)

Fast forward to grade ten. I was in the gifted math class (long story) and the teacher handed back our tests. He always wrote two numbers at the top of the page: one was your grade, and the other was your ranking in the class. I was always at the bottom, and everyone knew it. This was also the year of standardized testing. It was a multiple choice and I guessed at half of the questions. I can still remember my classmate’s faces when the teacher announced the student who placed first in the class, and me, who came in second. (!)

Fast forward to grade eleven. I can see myself sobbing at our dining room table while my father tried to show me his way of doing math. I felt like a huge idiot. How could I not understand the things he was trying to show me? He was patient explaining it, until he was impatient. I understand this better now.

It was around this time that the school guidance counsellor came into our math class to talk about planning for university. “YOU MIGHT NEED MATH,” he warned. “EVEN THOUGH YOU DON’T THINK YOU DO.” I was horrified. I hadn’t thought about this. He went on to give us examples e.g. if one of us wanted to be a forest ranger we’d need math to get into that program. Holy moly, I thought. No way. You needed math for tree patrol?!

I must have run to the library, sweating all the way. Journalism and English lit were the two degrees on my radar, WHAT IF THEY WOULDN’T TAKE ME because I’m a certified math idiot? Thankfully, I discovered I didn’t need math and I was able to avoid it completely in university. Afterwards, I sailed through life pretending I was confident in this area, when really, I am far from it.

Enter, the children. I promised myself that this was my second chance at learning math from the beginning, starting with (I am not even joking) the very early grades. Maybe this time I’d get it right. Well, what is it they say about good intentions? That was my plan but it never happened.

Where did the system fail me? It’s something I wonder about. Would I have turned out to be a different person if I’d had the right kind of support and instruction from the beginning? And what IS the right kind of math instruction? I talked to someone about it recently, and found out a few interesting things about how kids learn math skills – and confidence – to last a lifetime.

[Part two of this post is right here.]

I picked up a selfie stick at Mrs. Tiggy Winkle’s before Christmas. Maybe you got one in your stocking this year, or know someone who did?

Selfie sticks have been a hot item but they’ve also been getting a lot of flak. They’ve been banned from many places already – museums, roller coasters and zoos for example – and are generally considered to be a scourge on society.

Selfies themselves are not a very well respected form of photography. People generally don’t like the LOOK AT ME attitude that comes with the idea of the selfie – regardless of whether it’s intended that way or not. It’s considered narcissistic.

From what I’ve seen, the majority of selfies are artfully composed to show the best angles in the most flattering lighting and heavily edited afterwards to make sure no scars/pimples/blotchy skin is revealed. I personally don’t have an issue with selfies. I think most people don’t love photos of themselves, and this is a photography technique in which we can totally control the outcomes and end up with a great photo. And that’s not a bad thing.

So I found myself mulling over my purchase of a selfie stick, wondering if I would ever be brave enough to use it in public. I decided to buy it anyway. You see, photos taken with a selfie stick can offer a whole new perspective on whatever scene I am trying to capture. I wouldn’t mock a guy with a tripod, so how is this any different?

I decided to try it out in public while on the job. There was a charitable/shopping event happening in Wellington West so I thought I’d ask each participating store owner to snap a selfie using my new selfie stick. This was my first foray into the world with a selfie stick.

But first, I had to figure out how to use the thing. HOW HARD COULD IT BE? IT’S A CAMERA ON A STICK. Honestly, I should have done a test run at home before I left, because I accidentally took 200+ photos while trying to set it up and they all looked like this:

Then I handed it to each store owner, who, with good humour and a bit of patience, ended up with better results than I did with only a few boo boos along the way (and yes, that’s me, trying to get out of the way in the background):

My goal this year is to use the selfie stick for some family portraits (it’s hard to squeeze everyone in otherwise!) and maybe try a few more work-related adventures. But first I need a bit more practice. I have to admit, it will take me some time to get over the awkwardness of using it in public. Maybe it will get less weird the more often I do it.