Oh great. Here’s an idea for school reform so bad it’s bound to prevail. Get rid of summer vacation. Yup. There’s a winner in the anti-fun, make-life-dismal sweepstakes. Coming soon to a faculty of education near you.
Monday’s Globe and Mail says more than two million U.S. students already attend schools with a year-round calendar, a.k.a. “balanced” or “modified,” in which instead of getting most of their vacation in one big happy summery chunk, they get it in monotonous dribs and drabs throughout the year. Thus far it’s only been adopted in a few schools in B.C., Alberta and Ontario. But just you wait. The Globe quoted the head of the department of educational studies (a bad start, folks) at UBC, “I always say, ‘We’ve got a 150-year-old compromise.’ Everything else in society has changed. Maybe it’s time to change the school calendar. People are nervous because they don’t know anything else.” Well, I always say, “I don’t fear change; I fear stupidity.” If we had real school choice there wouldn’t be just one calendar but since we don’t, we should fight this idea.
The esteemed educationist is right about the compromise; the reason we have long summer vacations is the government wanted to put kids in school all the time and parents wanted them around to help on the farm and they split the difference. And it’s true that most people no longer need their kids pitching hay into the barn on a July day (although seeing pale rickety kids lurking endlessly in the basement playing video games, I could hand them a pitchfork). But “everything else in society” hasn’t changed; Aristotle’s advice to “Bring your desires down to your present means; increase them only when your increased means permit” has paradoxically become more true as we have grown richer and more indebted. (And money still can’t buy happiness, but people won’t stop trying.) Continue reading
Our government is weighing its options with regard to Iran. Against a feather, I suspect.
It’s not necessarily an indictment of our foreign policy. There are some 200 nations in the world and they can’t all be important. Besides, Iran is heavily armed and far away, so even if we had maintained a more robust military capability and a more assertive role in the western alliance we might not be able to do anything in this case anyway. But we did not. Instead, we threw away our guns and pushed away our allies.
Worse, we didn’t do it knowing it meant becoming geopolitical bystanders. Instead we, and by we I mean they, that elitist, well-connected group of academics, public servants and politicians the press calls the “foreign policy community,” convinced themselves that in the last decade our influence in the world increased enormously, from middle power to moral superpower. Not, it appears, if you measure influence by capacity to achieve results. Rudyard Kipling said if you go into the jungle you must know what size beast you are. And David Warren wrote recently, “Canada’s own ‘angry gerbil’ response to the insulting handling of the (Zahra) Kazemi trial is, obviously, not going to influence Iranian behaviour.” Perhaps nothing would. But why were we so unprepared? Continue reading
He’s not a politician solving Canada’s health-care crisis, but he’s going to play one on TV. Yes, that’s right. It’s Paul Martin, whose latest brain wave is to summon Canada’s premiers to a historic health summit starting Sept. 13 and televise the proceedings to discourage posturing and spin and encourage frank discussion of the real situation and of the possible need for hard choices. It dices, it slices, it … Sorry.
Mr. Martin apparently can’t tell public relations from public policy but thinks he has a divine right to be prime minister whether or not he can command a majority in that silly old Parliament because he is a Liberal. And he doesn’t seem to realize health care is constitutionally a provincial responsibility. If he can nevertheless play doctor on TV, it seems to me that you and I can play Hollywood scriptwriter even if our day jobs involve the hospitality industry. So let’s try to conjure up some of the dialogue likely to result as the politicians gaze earnestly into the camera and hold a “frank” discussion of what’s wrong with the health-care system, who caused it and how to fix it.
The PM: Gosh, fellows, I’m so glad you were all able to come here to work with us to devise a historic, co-operative, forward-looking, win-win solution to the health-care problem that will indeed be historic. Continue reading
On the surface Bytown’s a friendly, peaceful, normal kind of place. The sort of burg where you’d settle down, raise a couple of taxes, keep your dog away from the water and license your cat. But behind the facade of white picket fences, language squabbles and carefully maintained balls of red tape there’s a dark underside of corruption and decay, where self-indulgence is a way of life, respect for the law a bad joke, and the smell of mulch all too familiar.
That’s my world. I’m Leif Branch, twig detective. I work for the Surface Operations branch, or SOP. Most folks don’t give us a second thought as they go about their business. But without us their placid suburban lives would become a hell of dandelion stalks, loose branches and grass clippings. Especially grass clippings.
Yeah, grass is bigger in this town than at Woodstock. And not just hippies. You see these suburbanites gathered round their barbecues picking grubs out of their pesticide-free lawns while discussing LeBreton Flats and you’d never in a million years guess, but half the time they’re reeling from the sensuous fumes of newly-mown grass. They’re hauling sacks of the stuff around in their Volvo station wagons. Continue reading
Across a misty Avalon lake a barge glides gently over dark waters though no wind stirs its sails. Within, in shimmering armour, lies King Arthur, fatally wounded by a movie camera. On shore, three knights discuss his fate.
“Gad, ’tis passing sad the great Arthur should have come to this,” observed Sir Prisde. “And passing strange.”
“That it is. There, almost unrecognizable, lies the greatest and most moving figure in all of British folklore, the once and future king,” responded Sir Perceiving. Continue reading