The Not-So-Good

I promised to tell you about life in the north, both the good and the not-so-good, and this week we have experienced some of the not-so-good.  It pains me to have to write about this but this is part of our lives up here, so I feel compelled to do so.

Bullying.  I know, it's everywhere.  Some of you were surprised to hear that there were drugs up here, and so some of you may be shocked to hear how badly kids, adults and indeed whole families are bullied up here!  Many of you have probably heard and read about kids who were bullied so badly that they attempted or actually went through with suicide. Some problems are universal, even in remote corners of the world.  In fact, I would argue that bullying may be even more of an issue in smaller towns because if everyone knows everybody's business, then there are more people to target the victim.  In a major city, there is a lot more anonymity. You can walk down a street without every single pair of eyes knowing almost everything about you, both that which is public knowledge as well as your extremely private and confidential information, too.  Of course, this is just my opinion.  I am not backed up by facts and statistics.

All of us have been the victims of bullying at one point of another up here, some of us more than others.  Some of us handle it better than others or just refuse to allow the bully to pounce, and others are down and depressed about it.  As parents, it is heartbreaking to find out that your son or daughter is the victim of some unfeeling, mean and dysfunctional kid, and the feelings of helplessness are terrible, and guilt inducing.  This is the first time we have had to deal with this kind of thing on behalf of our children and we are overwhelmed and distraught that it is happening.  That said, we are extremely proud of our children for being brave enough to tell us about it so that Greg and I can act on their behalf and put a stop to it.

When we first arrived in Tuk, our children were considered somewhat of a novelty.  Not many teachers 'from outside' as it is called, are married let alone have children!  The fact that Greg arrived up here with his supply teacher wife and three kids was practically unheard of with relation to the school.  It happens more frequently with the RCMP, whose wives and family follow them everywhere, and every few years they move from post to post.  In September, we had lots of kids knocking on our door asking our kids to go 'play out' (the Tuk expression for going outside to play or hang out).  Our kids were happy enough to comply since they were all anxious to make friends.  The kids up here are very direct and blunt with their question asking, and as a result, our kids were heavily questioned about where they came from, why they are here, and what they like to do.  Things were looking promising for all three of them and we were thrilled that they were so easily and readily welcomed here.

As time went on, the number of kids coming through our home after school and on weekends dwindled, as did the spirits of particular children in our family.  By early October,  Patrick and Charlotte were spending their weekends with each other, and James had one friend who shared the same love of video games, and played all the same games.  When questioned, we were told the same thing by all three kids.  "We don't want to be friends with kids up here.  They are mean, rude to the teachers and each other!".

The majority of the bullying seems to be centred around Patrick.  Patrick is a sweet kid with a big heart and a strong sense of who he is, even as an 11-year-old.  He has hit puberty hard and as a result, is sporting a darkening and thickening line of hair that I would not yet call a moustache but he does.  Despite my begging for him to shave it off, he loves it and insists that he doesn't care what others think of a kid in Grade 6 sporting facial hair.  He also has a speech issue, which has gotten considerably worse since we arrived here, probably due to the emotional turmoil he has been experiencing, and it is doubtful that the weekly speech therapy that should have been well arranged and in place now via satellite from Yellowknife will happen at all.  As a result, Patrick is a major target for the bullies in his class.

And his class has some major bullies.  These kids come from broken homes where they are bullied and abused by their own families and/or neighbours.  Some of them have parents who are hardly ever in Tuk, having chosen other priorities in their lives outside of the community, leaving their children on their own, or whose parents refuse to believe that their precious darlings are capable of such atrocities.  Some kids are also from families who have been bullying other families up here for years, and so those kids can do what they want and get away with it.  It's pathetic and enraging all at the same time.

Patrick's teacher has been amazing about keeping what she calls "the pack of wolves" away from our son in the classroom, but all it takes is for her to turn her back for a second to grab some handouts or to work one-on-one with another student and then the wolves attack, leaving my son hurting and loosing faith in humanity, one insult at a time.  Patrick did do something about it, and told Greg and I and his teacher and the principal all about the names he is being called, the comments about his appearance and his speech, and the pranks they pull on him, such as dumping garbage  and stealing items out of his desk.  The verbal abuse has been the worst of it, though.  When those kids were spoken to about bullying Patrick, they got mad and chased him home from school that day.

Patrick bore this pretty well, although we began to notice that the wonderful spark in our son's eye had gone.  He had come to me several times crying and saying he was homesick, and there was a time when we were all terribly homesick, but this ran deeper.  We noticed that Patrick was not participating in family events, choosing instead to read in his bedroom, where he could escape into his imagination and enjoy some time away from the nightmare he has to call reality.  We were all so relieved about getting out of Tuk to go home to our family and friends for the Christmas Holidays, that we never thought for a moment of what would happen when it was time to go back to Tuk.

Patrick kept it all inside until Monday, January 5th, the first day back to school.  On our way out the door he started panicking.  He freaked out, and he would NOT set foot in his classroom!  He just couldn't make himself do it, and when we realized the extent of his suffering, we didn't push him.  Emergency meetings with his teacher and the principal and commitment from Greg and I to Patrick's education has allowed us to completely remove our son from his classroom.  He is working on Independent Study now, and he doesn't have contact with his classmates any longer.

And it's not just Patrick.  James told us tearfully the other day that the bullies in Patrick's class were making nasty comments to him, too during gym class.  Grade 6 and Grade 7 have a combined gym class, so James and Patrick are together.

Charlotte and I watched a bully viciously attack another boy on the playground at recess the other day.  She saw the bulging eyes of the boy who was being attacked and realized that the bully had his gloved hand over the mouth and nose of the kid, suffocating him.  She started screaming at him to stop and when that didn't work after a few seconds she started pummelling him on the back.  Once that kid was hauled off his victim, he said that he was mad at Charlotte for hitting him.  Since this kid is a notorious bully, Charlotte panicked, and refused to go back to school that afternoon and the day afterward.  She was convinced this kid would come after her because that's what he has done in the past with other kids, and due to an incident at lunchtime where her hat and mittens were taken from her coat and thrown up and down the hallway, she is convinced it was him and freaked out.

Steps have been taken with all the teachers and all the administration of the school to ensure our children's safety, but I understand why they are still extremely nervous and now approach a school day with anxiety.  Now I do, too.

Oh yeah, and both Greg and I have been in situations where people have tried to bully us.  We have both been able to laugh and walk away, but we were well aware of what it was.

Where are the kids learning this bullying behaviour?  From their siblings and the people who bully them, from their parents, and their grandparents, and their great-grandparents.  There are generations of bullies, and it is well known that those who are bullied by others will often bully others.  This is very much the case with the boys who bully Patrick.  There are families up here who bully each other.  I have heard grown adults say that it was okay that their kid beat another kid up because he was a _____________(insert last name here).  There is a pecking order of families up here, and it all goes by your last name.  In Tuk, and indeed many northern communities, bullying has reached epidemic proportions.

We are fighting back, or we are trying.  We are protecting our children as best we can, and we are encouraging them to find their voice so that they can speak out against what is happening here.  And perhaps that is why I am writing this blog.  It has to stop.  Now.

I Saw the Sun!!

(This photo by Krista Cudmore. She teaches Gym at the school.)

Today it happened!  The sun rose and stayed above the horizon for a little while! It was glorious and heartwarming all at the same time.  You know how sometimes you experience something and all you can do is smile a huge goofy grin while you are in the middle of it all?  Well, here I was at noon today driving home from school for the afternoon, husband by my side and three happy kids in the back because school was closed for the afternoon due to a funeral in the gymnasium.  We saw the glorious sunrise and decided to go out to the airport where it was relatively flat and we took some pictures of God's majesty, as you can see.

Later on, about half an hour later, I saw this light reflecting off the neighbour's window and I couldn't figure out what it was.  It was light out - full daylight, and I looked out the window toward the right/east and there it was - a pinkish orange globe all 360 degrees of it, above the horizon and shining just for me, or at least that was what it felt like at the time.  I greeted the sun with my second goofy awe-inspired grin of the day, and said a prayer of thanks for daylight, the glorious sunrise and the sun itself.  What a sense of peace and happiness I felt coursing through me, and my heart was full of gratitude.

A brief glimpse of the sun in early November.

It has been a long haul.  At first it was interesting to watch the sun rise at 10:15 while the kids were outside for morning recess.  The following week, morning recess was in the dark.  After another few weeks, afternoon recess was in the dark, too.  It was
fascinating, and we kind of liked it....for a while. I noticed the increasing darkness more during the days I wasn't teaching, having to keep table lamps on 24 hours in the living room, and overhead lighting in the kitchen.  It was easy to lose track of time, too.  We'd be all snug and cozy in the house, each of us doing our own thing, when either Greg or I would look at the time and realize it was past the kids' bedtime.

The extent of the sun by the end of November.

Since I am awaiting knee surgery, I am not walking very far these days, so I did not see much of the night sky outside, and with the extreme cold temperatures below -40C, I am not really all that interested in it either!  However, every now and then I had a moment when I would look up and just take a moment to note the time and the shade of darkness I was experiencing at that moment.

Yes, I said shades of darkness.  Sometimes the sky was so black it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of you, especially on cloudy or snowy nights.  When it snowed (the very little it has) I almost felt claustrophobic with the low, heavy clouds and the darkness all around.  Sometimes on a clear night the sky lights up with the Northern Lights, and then we saw (and still see) the orange, yellow, green, pink, blue and purple lights dancing.  Greg and I laughed because we are living so far north, we realized that we had to look in the southern sky to see them!  On clear nights, the stars and the moon were incredibly bright, especially when approaching a full moon, and the lights reflecting off the snow made it feel like the dawn before a glorious summer day, only about about 65 degrees cooler.

Hello sun!!

My favourite, however, was the indigo sky.  That was the closest colour to daylight that we saw for several weeks, when the darkness lightens, but there is no trace of sun or daylight at all.  This colour is intense and full and it filled the entire sky, a promise of lighter and brighter days to come.  The sky used to turn this colour for a short time in the afternoon, but now, a few months later, it is happening in the late morning, leading to a noontime sunrise.  Before long, it will be happening in the morning and we will back to 'normal' until things begin to sway the other way.  The days are going to get longer and longer, until, around June 21st the sun won't set.  Sure, it may get a little dusky, but the sun will not leave the sky.  We look forward to that with immense curiosity too!

Up here, there is a great issue with attendance at school.  There are kids who hardly ever show up in the mornings for school.  They come waltzing in after lunch, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and you find out that they didn't go to bed, or get put to bed, until 3 am, and therefore slept until 11, got up, had brunch, and headed to school.  At first I was quick to blame the parents.  I mean, what parent would send their kid to bed at 3am?  Then I took a step back.  Really and truly, it is so easy to lose track of time, and when the outside looks the same around the clock and there is no sun to signal the daylight and night time, who am I to judge?  Also, I have experienced that feeling now.  The oh-my-goodness-do-you-know-the-time look that Greg and I have exchanged in reference to our kids, who may very well know the time but of course aren't saying anything!  Why do we have to have school during typical 'daylight' hours?  Why can't we have school from noon to 6 or 7 pm?  It would definitely accommodate a lot of families!

Regardless, the sun is a welcome sight up here.  We did enjoy blue skies and sunlight over the Christmas holidays when we were back in Ontario for three weeks, and I admit it was difficult to be plunged back into darkness again, but today sure did give me hope and a sense of wild and utter delight that the days of darkness are soon to be behind us. Ask me in May how I feel about the sunlight when I have to use blinds to block the sun so we can sleep - but that is a blog for another sunny day down the road.

Our New Addition!

We have a new addition to our family!

Technically he's not 'new' per say.  This new addition was acquired about three years ago, but we weren't able to make him an official member of our family until Christmas, and he traveled back to Tuk with us all snug in his box, surrounded with woolly socks and clean underwear (as opposed to dirty, which would just have been unfair to the poor guy). Last summer, when we moved from London to Parry Sound, he came along and spent a brief span of time with us there, but shortly before we moved to Tuk, we thought it would be better for him to spend some time in Orillia, rather than take him with us right away.  He really needed that time to become more socially acceptable.  We had a family meeting over Christmas to discuss his name, and we decided on "Francis".  I think he really likes it and seems to be answering to it, too, in his own bizarre way.

I am sure by now that you are intensely curious as to the identity of our new family member, and we are very excited to introduce him to all of you.  After all we are pleased as punch that we have adopted Francis into our home.  Francis is pleased too.  You can tell by the expression on his face.  You know the expression "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck?"  Well, Francis doesn't walk or talk like a duck any longer, but in his earlier days he most certainly did!

 Francis is a drake (thus his first name) from Walpole Island, Ontario, which is just south of Sarnia.  More specifically, he is a Green-Winged Teal.  The First Nations Organization for which Greg worked in London prior to our move up here, promoted regular cultural training with all non-native staff members.  One day three years ago, Greg found himself crouched in a blind early in the morning with his First Nations boss, Bruce, and a few other co-workers, in the middle of the bush with a view of the lake close by.  Greg had gone along on this cultural training expedition rather reluctantly as a member of a film crew recording the event for educational purposes.

It was early - stupid early; the kind of early where only those who have to make it to the airport or those who go hunting are actually awake.  Greg had spent the night at his boss's house along with the other members of the hunting party and those who would be filming it.  The organization for which Greg worked believed in filming cultural events to show the students in the band-run private schools all about the traditional ways of life for their respective Nation.  Since hunting with guns in blinds around dawn is considered to be an important means of survival and carrying on tradition, there was Greg, the token White Guy without a hunting license, amongst a gaggle of First Nations colleagues all dressed in camouflage and fluorescent orange, about to go hunting for the first time in his life to film his colleagues while doing so.

So there he was, out in the marshy wilderness surrounded by reeds, crouched down in the blind, filming the events of the morning.  Like any traditional hunting event would shake down, somebody brought Tim Horton's donuts and coffee so Greg munched on an apple fritter, and sipped on a coffee he didn't enjoy but drank to be polite, all the while holding the video camera in his hand.

It was a still and quiet morning in early November on the southern end of Walpole Island, where the St. Clair River empties into Lake St. Clair.  Since it's a small river delta with many feeding opportunities, it is a favourite stop for a wide variety of migratory animals, ducks included, and where there are ducks, there are hunters.  There was not a breeze nor a cloud in the sky and no snow on the ground. It wasn't an especially cold morning, which Greg considered a blessing.  Since there was no wind, the water was still so the decoys were not moving like regular ducks flapping their wings and diving in the water, which made the other ducks suspicious I guess.  Regardless, the ducks were not flying, and this made for some mighty slim pickings in terms of actually shooting one.  They had been there for about two hours, and Greg had been sitting there quietly, shooting film, munching on donuts and listening to the quiet banter in the blind.

Finally, they realized after a few failed shots that they were not going to be successful that day, and Greg's boss turned the shot gun over to Greg and said, "Have a go.".  Greg waited.  He watched two ducks land on the lake and begin paddling toward the decoys. He lined one up and squeezed the trigger.  Sure enough, the token White Guy was the only one to have shot a duck the entire morning!  The prize was retrieved, and that was the first time Greg laid eyes on Francis the Green-Winged Teal.

Later on that day when Greg returned home from his hunting expedition, he handed me a plastic bag and said, "Look inside."  I opened the bag, took one look at the webbed feet and feathery mass I held in my hand, shrieked and dropped it, my body practically convulsing with shivers. Greg pulled Francis out of the bag and proudly shared the tale of poor Francis' demise, which was actually Greg's glory story.  After the kids had had a good look and were appropriately impressed, Greg placed the bird in the freezer, where he said it would be preserved until he could take it to a taxidermist, which is what he was being encouraged to do; after which it would sit as a trophy and important part of the First Nations decor in the office.

Years passed.  We filled and emptied the freezer in our apartment numerous times, and often I would reach into it to grab what I thought was a package of frozen vegetables and instead pull out that plastic grocery bag which contained Francis.  Of course, every time I did this I got the heebie-jeebies, and stuffed (excuse the pun) the darn duck back into the freezer.  From time to time, Greg had to pull Francis out of the freezer in order to play the Freezer Strategy Game, which involves the planning and organization of several items that in no possible way, shape or form will fit into your freezer yet somehow do, and Francis was always carefully considered into the equation.  Really, it was only the right thing to do.

More time slipped by, and, as one thing led to another, the funding for the organization for which Greg had spent five years disappeared, and since they couldn't pay him, he was laid off.  We realized that there were some major events and adventures looming on the horizon for us, so we gave notice on our apartment and began the preparations for our move.

On the day we moved out, we were busy packing, giving directions to the movers, and cleaning like crazy. Everything had been removed from the freezer but Francis, who, three years later, was still wrapped in his grocery bag and frozen solid.  Greg had saved a cooler, the size of which would fit a six pack, and one of the last things he did before we vacated our apartment was grab Francis and put him into his new carrying case.

Francis rode with us in our van in his case on the floor of the passenger seat between my feet all the way from London to Parry Sound.  When we arrived, the still frozen solid Francis was gently removed from his carrier and placed in Gramma Wilson's freezer.  A few days later, Greg took Francis out of the freezer and proudly displayed him to our niece and nephew, who were also appropriately impressed.  He was placed back into his carrying case, and the five of us took him for a drive to Orillia to the taxidermist, which would be his temporary home until we could come back for him.

Greg had looked into having Francis stuffed before, but he required a hunting licence in which to do so, and that was never on his mind or in the scope of his radar, seeing as he does not make a regular habit of shooting guns or hunting, so he forgot.  Every now and then he'd be reminded by me, when he heard my shriek of disgust and horror when I realized the bag which I held in my hand did not contain the aforementioned frozen vegetables.  Nevertheless, the day came when Greg proudly handed the still frozen solid Francis over to Brain the taxidermist. No, that is not a typo.  The taxidermist's name is Brain, and, incidentally, this is the coolest name for a taxidermist ever.

Brain got very excited!  Apparently, our Francis the Green-Winged Teal drake is a very difficult duck in which to shoot because it feeds from the surface of the lake, rather than diving or tipping under the water.  They are indigenous to most parts of Canada, and, like typical snowbirds, winter in the southern parts of the United States and Mexico.  Brain said he was really looking forward to working with Francis since it was such a treat to do so and after Greg paid the $300, part of which included the hunting license fee, Greg left the taxidermist promising to return at Christmastime to collect him.

Again, more time went on.  We moved to Tuk and our adventure in the north began.  Before we knew it, we were on a plane headed south and east to spend Christmas in the bosom of our family, and during that time, Greg and Francis were reunited, this time not be separated again.  When the time came to leave, Francis was packed up in his very own box, there being no need for a cooler now as Francis had been thawed and um, well-preserved in other ways.  Greg lovingly placed thermal socks and the aforementioned clean underwear around him to prevent his shifting during the long flight he would be making with us, although his poor wings would no longer get him anywhere, seeing as they are now permanently arranged in a manner which most aptly displays his plumage.

Now that we have arrived back in Tuk, Greg has proudly displayed Francis the Green-Winged Teal on the wall above the computer on which I type to you now, mounted on a small piece of wood, his neck and head positioned so that he is looking toward the front door.  Every time I enter the house now I see Francis checking me out with his dull eyes, reminding me of the times I shrieked in horror, rejecting him and his poor frozen body.  I admit that I am still creeped out by Francis, but Greg is proud of his prize, and thinks he is quite ingenious for displaying him in what he calls "a place of honour".

From his humble beginnings in a nest in the marsh of the St. Clair, to his fateful demise at the hand of Greg, to his long distance travel that did not involve the use of his own wings, and finally to his eternal resting spot on what I am sure will be one of many walls along our family's journey, Francis has found his way into our family.  It has been suggested by my immediate family that I make amends with Francis, and perhaps this blog entry is my own way of 'stuffing' my feelings deep inside me, 'plucking' up my courage, and 'mounting' them online for all posterity.

Welcome to the family, Francis!

Buddy and The Bullies

When the kids and I left the Northwest Territories to come home to Ontario for our 3 week Christmas break, we had an unexpected addition to our party from Inuvik to Edmonton.  While we were eating at Cloud 9, the restaurant at the Inuvik Airport, we were approached by some familiar faces from Tuk.

Kayla approached us hesitantly and said, "I am in a desperate situation and I am so stuck.  Do you think you could do me a favour?".  This peaked my interest.

"Um...sure.  If I can.  What's up?" I replied.

"Well....it's a long story, but here goes...." and Kayla proceeded to describe the following scenario:

Kayla and Chad were moving back to Nova Scotia after working 4 months at the Northern Store up here.  They had gotten married in Nova Scotia just prior to moving to Tuk and due to conflicting schedules at work, they weren't getting any time to spend together, not even weekends or evenings, and as a result, they decided they were going to return home.  They had also recently become quite attached to an 8-week old puppy who was one of a litter of puppies that had been turned out into the cold by a group of unfeeling people who don't spay/neuter their animals and then kill the puppies by sending them out into the brutal polar temperatures.

Chad had found this Husky/Shepherd mix outside the Northern Store, and it followed him home.  He decided to feed it and give it some water since it looked so little and cold and malnourished.  Well, one thing led to another, and before either Chad nor Kayla knew it, this dog had wormed his way into their house, their bed, and most importantly, their affections.  They knew they were going to be leaving Tuk, so when they called to book their airline flights through Expedia, they booked not only themselves but also passage for their puppy.

When booking small dogs or cats on an airline, you may bring them into the cabin with you provided that they are 1.  under 20 lbs; 2 in an appropriate kennel/container that is airline approved; 3. that you don't remove the animal from its carrying case throughout the entirety of the flight; and 4.  that you book passage for the animal because there are only two animals allowed in-cabin per flight.  Given that, when Chad and Kayla booked their flight, they mentioned to the customer service rep from Expedia that they had a dog, and the CSR said right there on the phone that both people and the dog's passage had been booked the entire way from Inuvik, NWT to Halifax, NS.  All was well.

Or so they thought.  When they arrived at the airport the morning of the flight, the airline representative was surprised to hear they had a dog.  On further investigation, not only was the dog not booked on this leg of their trip, but it hadn't been scheduled for any of their flights across Canada! No problem, right?  They just hopped on the phone to Expedia because there must have been some kind of misunderstanding.  Wrong!!  Not only did the people at Expedia insist that they had never booked passage for the dog, but they said that they could not rebook their trip or cancel any part of it.  The Airline Attendant checked and he could get the dog on every leg of their journey to Halifax except the Inuvik to Edmonton part because when the plane stopped in Yellowknife, there were two in-cabin animals boarding from Yellowknife to Edmonton. The trip had been prepaid on a credit card and they would not reimburse any part of their tickets so they could re-book on a flight that could accommodate their beloved puppy.  Expedia was going to make them eat the price of two cross-country tickets and rebook at last minute fares to include the dog.  They were devastated!

This is why Kayla approached us at Cloud 9 and asked us if we could take the puppy with us.  There are two airlines that fly out of Inuvik to Edmonton; Canadian North and First Air.  We were flying with First Air and they were on the Canadian North flight.  We checked with the First Air ticket agent, paid the $50 passage for the dog, and we were good to go.  By this point we had about 15 minutes before the flight was called and so we got loads of last minute puppy instructions, and before we knew it, out we went across the tarmac to our giant plane, up the stairs and on board with a 3-month-old puppy as yet un-named, although Buddy seemed to be what they were calling him for now.

Before I continue, I would like to mention that we owed the universe a debt of humanity.  Our beloved 8-year old kitties, Orlando and Florida, do not travel well to say the least, and there was no way that they would have made it across the country, let alone across London, to be re-homed/fostered to another family while we are going to be out of province.  Anyway, we tried everything we could think of and enlisted loads of help in trying to foster our kitties.  The thing is, who wants two persnickety adult cats?  Nobody.  Things were getting desperate when, thanks to our former Cat Sitter, Rhonda, a foster home was found for Orlando and Florida.  I was so relieved and grateful!  We owed the universe big time, and Rhonda said the only thing she asked in return was that we pay it forward.  This is why, with no prior knowledge of dogs, we found ourselves boarding a flight to Edmonton by way of Norman Wells and Yellowknife with a 3-month-old puppy.

When we boarded the plane, Buddy (as we will call him from here on in....) was asleep on his back spread eagle, or spread puppy, whichever the case may be, with his limbs all stretched out. The Flight Attendant took the case from me and carried it up to our seats for me, and all the while she was saying, "Is he alive?  I am poking at him and he's not waking up!  Is it normal for him to be asleep like that?"  I assumed it was, and we stowed the adorable sleeping puppy down by our feet.  He slept the whole way to Yellowknife.

Here is the where things get creative.  When southbound flights arrive in Yellowknife from Inuvik and other smaller airports in the North, everyone must disembark the plane with all their personal effects, descend the stairs to the tarmac, walk outside in the cold and wind from the plane to the airport door, and go through security, since there are no security measures in place in Inuvik.  When you think about it, who would care if terrorists blew up a plane up here, just so long as it is not close to populated areas, like Yellowknife, which is so far south in the Northwest Territories, it may as well be in Alberta.

This meant putting on our sweaters, coats, and outside accessories, picking up the backpacks, computer bags, my purse AND Buddy the dog in his carrier, disembarking the plane, limping across the slippery and snow-covered tarmac to the airport, praying all the while I didn't slip. We made it inside, and an airport attendant saw me limping and asked if I would like a wheelchair because there was a rather long line for security.  Thank goodness our checked bags did not have to be claimed and re-checked!  By the time we got the wheelchair, let the puppy have a quick bathroom break outside the front of the airport, and got in line for security, another plane had landed and the lineup was about 30 minutes long.  We had been in line about 15 minutes when we heard our flight called for boarding!  I alerted an airport attendant about it and she said, "Oh don't worry!  This happens all the time!  They'll hold the flight for you."  A few minutes later another attendant came by and mentioned that we were the final passengers for the flight to Edmonton and the flight was being held for us.  Would they help us to bump the line? No, not necessary.  So, we waited with Buddy the puppy on his leash in the carrying case so we could pull him out and walk him through the security screening.

You would think that we have gone through enough security lines that we would know what we were doing by now, but each time it's like a whole new experience, depending on the temperament of the security guards working at the time.  Since security had been swamped, they had pulled the janitor of the airport to run the x-ray machine so the rest of the guards could do more specific duties that only they are certified to do.  There I was sitting in my wheelchair getting the kids to put our coats, hats, mittens and scarves into bins, plus backpacks and the computer bag and then this particular security guard wanted us to remove sweaters and shoes too.  I also had one particularly grouchy woman demand passports from me, but not boarding passes, which she threw at me because they were all loaded into the passports, each boarding pass in its appropriate passport, and another separate person yelling at me to give them our boarding passes at the same time as the passports, and when I couldn't produce James' boarding pass because they had been thrown at me by this rude woman I must have dropped one, which couldn't be found.  At this point, they had pulled James and were manhandling him, and I had to step up and tell them to get their hands off my son.  There was no reason to treat him that way, and James was visibly upset by what was happening to him, and then in the middle of all this chaos, the x-ray machine started beeping loudly.  We had forgotten to take the laptop out of the computer bag.  The janitor then started yelling at us, telling me how irresponsible of me it was to have left the computer in the bag and how now it had to go back through the machine and did I know how much time I was wasting?

To recap, I had one person demanding passports from me, another rudely pressuring me for the boarding passes which the other had literally flung at me seconds earlier, all our stuff going through security plus I had to direct the kids to take their extra clothes off and Patrick, who was overwhelmed by the situation, started walking back and forth retreating into his imagination which sparked more controversy, James was being manhandled, the laptop went through the x-ray machine, and while all this was going on, I looked over and saw the dog in his case going through the x-ray machine, which is a huge no-no.  I ignored everybody at that point, struggled out of the wheelchair, and lunged over to the machine, but it was too late.  Buddy had had a total body x-ray.  The janitor then stopped the machine, backed him up  through it, and yelled at me some more about putting a live animal through the machine.  At this point, I just stood there and burst into tears.

At this point I heard somebody say very sternly, "Stop!".  All the security staff stopped and stood back.  Then this wonderful woman, who was not wearing a security uniform, stepped in and took the boarding passes from the one woman and our passports from the other and put them together neat as a pin, just as I had had them arranged when I entered security.  She instructed one of the guards to print James a new boarding pass and she had James returned to our family.  She let me attend to Patrick, and the two of us took the computer out of the bag.  When we tried to take Buddy out of his bag, this wonderful woman laughed and joked, "We know he's safe.  If you ever need x-rays of the poor pup, call us!".  She got other staff to help the kids assemble our belongings and even to help hold our sweaters and coats open for us so we could get back into our winter gear.  She stayed right beside me the whole time giving me a squeeze, and then she personally wheeled me outside to the waiting plane.  We boarded and prepared for take-off.

The plane wasn't even half full, and the flight attendants were able to chat a bit, and one of them said to me, "The security people in this airport are notorious bullies.  They are rude and flaunt their authority like they work in a major US city.  When we realized you hadn't boarded the flight yet and we got word that you were being held up by security, we figured that you were being bullied by them.  They target those in wheelchairs, single parents traveling with a group of kids, and those with a lot of items, all of which you had, including an in-cabin dog.  As you left, we figured it would be your family who had to go through it all, and you did.  At this point, I burst into tears again.  Why would they do that?  To be targeted like that?  At this point, the kids were listening and James started telling the flight staff how he was being treated when I couldn't produce a boarding pass for him which I had had just a few seconds before.  He was still visibly upset by it all, and Charlotte said, "You mean we were being bullied?" and she started crying.  Even Patrick, who had had to retreat during the whole thing, mentioned that it was pretty overwhelming.  When we told the flight staff about Buddy the dog's x-ray, they weren't surprised either.

The good news is, when you are traveling northbound from Edmonton to Inuvik, you go through security at the Edmonton airport so we didn't even has to deplane in Yellowknife when we landed to board more passengers.  Whew!

I am happy to report that after his x-ray, Buddy the dog made it uneventfully to Edmonton, whereupon we waited for a few hours in the baggage claim area for Kayla and Chad to make it to Edmonton on their flight.  Charlotte and Patrick played poor Buddy into oblivion, and a few minutes before Kayla and Chad arrived to claim their puppy, Buddy had curled up into a ball between my feet and fallen asleep.  After a few minutes, he stood up and staggered his way into his carrier, which was all soft and snug, and lay down, zonked in deep puppy sleep.  I zipped up his carrier and when his ecstatic owners arrived, all they had to do was add the carrier to their cart of luggage, and we went our separate ways.

So, Rhonda and the universe.....it has been paid forward.  Kayla and Chad, the only thing I ask of you is that one day, and you'll know when it's right, that you share the love and pay it forward too.

The 'Key' to Life in the North....

When I woke up in Edmonton on Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m. preparing to head to the airport to board our flight to Inuvik, I never thought that the following chain of events was about to unfold...

To begin, I woke up early so I could enjoy my last unlimited hot shower for the foreseeable future. I had only slept about 30 minutes all night because I was having anxiety about making sure the alarm went off so we could make it to the airport on time.  The previous night in Toronto had been spent pretty much the same way, as we were up and moving at 3:30 that morning for a 6:00 flight.  Needless to say, I was tired.

While we were waiting at the gate at the Edmonton airport and I was enjoying my last Timmy's  double double for a while, Greg decided to get the van key out of his black computer bag.  Two weeks previous, I had watched Greg deposit the key into his computer bag (which we jokingly call his purse because he keeps his wallet and keys in there) because as he triumphantly declared, "I am not going to need this for two glorious weeks!!".  When he went to retrieve it from its said location, there was no key to be found.  Hmm.  That's weird.  Maybe it slipped into the main compartment of the bag.  No luck.  The next thing to happen was a full out, dumping of the bag, which produced a laptop, pens, iPad charging connections, iPads, 3DSs, various wires and cords, and some other unexpected junk, but no key.  Oh oh.

Before I continue, I should mention that Greg had driven our van down the ice road from Tuk to Inuvik on the morning of Friday, December 19th, where he parked at the airport in long-term parking before his flight home for Christmas.  This worked out well because when we all returned back to the Frozen North after our Christmas Break, we could load our bags in the van and head back to Tuk on the ice road.  (Incidentally, Greg had to pay $10 for the entire two weeks he parked at the airport, and it would have been free except that he plugged the van in to keep it warm and was charged for the electricity.  Eat your heart out all of you who pay through the nose for park'n'fly rates at Pearson!).

Anyway, our flight was called and we boarded.  All the while, I could tell Greg's wheels were turning.  What could have happened to the key?  He knows for certain that he never took the key out himself, as do I and all the kids.  It must have become entangled in some cords when he pulled the laptop out in any of about a dozen various locations we have stayed over the holidays.  It was Greg's laptop too, which the boys don't use for gaming.  I could see him thinking of all the hotels and houses in which we visited.....and he began to look ill.  Even more oh oh.

The plane took off and I was in full out panic mode.  NOW what?  MY keys were in the hands of our landlord and lady, who were going to be replacing the living room floor after the Great Flood of 2014.  Those keys were 3 hours and a $100 taxi drive one way per person up the ice road from Inuvik to Tuk. Oh dear.

Shortly before we landed in Yellowknife to take on more passengers, we decided we had better call our landlord to make sure that they were going to be home when Greg arrived in town to collect the keys.  Greg called their cell phone only to discover that they were in Florida.  Things were going from bad to worse.  Luckily, the landlord called us back and said that she would contact the person staying in her house to leave the doors open and my keys on their kitchen table so we could collect them. Now, if only we could figure out a way to get those keys to us.

The plane took off and again, all cell phones and electronic devices were placed into airplane mode.  We brainstormed various ideas....maybe we could call CAA and find out if they could hot wire our van provided we showed proof of ownership?  What about calling a locksmith in Inuvik and asking him if he had any ideas?  What about seeing if there are any flights headed from Tuk to Inuvik that day?  Fortunately, the woman sitting in front of us turned around, and said with typical Northern thinking, "Why don't you see if someone from Tuk is coming down the ice road to Inuvik and can drop the keys off at the airport?".  Eureka!!

As soon as the plane landed in Norman Wells, we called our Everything Tuk Person, Audrey, and she suggested that she could ask on the community Facebook page to see if anybody was making the trip down to Inuvik later that day.  Perfect!  She posted, and then it was time for the plane to take off again, this time onward to Inuvik.

When we arrived in Inuvik, we prepared for the fact that Greg was going to withdraw $200 to use for cab fare to collect our keys, although we were going to put a final phone call in to Audrey to see if somebody had answered the request....but GUESS WHAT?  Our landlord's son-in-law's mother was on the same flight as us and he had come to the airport in Inuvik to pick her up!  He handed Greg the keys.  It was like the heavens had opened up and shone their light down on us!!  I found my philosopher husband standing motionless with the keys in his outstretched hand, jaw dropped, and what eventually became a huge grin on his face.  All he said to me was, "Whaddaya' know?!".  

This is one of those incidents where it is plain to see that life in the north somehow comes with its own brand of thinking.  We are used to the anonymous living of a populated south where we don't even know the names of our next door neighbours, and wouldn't dream of asking anybody to drive anything we own 3 hours down the road to us!  It just isn't done!  Many of you have told me how you are amazed time and again at how the Wilsons hatch plans, which can be complicated and incredible all at the same time.  I have realized that this is because my father-in-law, Jim, possesses a Northern, almost pioneer mentality of how to help and look out for people due to his childhood and adolescence spent living in Northern Ontario in isolated railroad communities.  Greg and I have been party to some pretty amazing Wilson family thinking but when that key was dropped into Greg's hand, he was dumbfounded!  We were so grateful and humbled.....and all that was expected in return was a simple "Thank you.".  

A complicated and potentially messy (not to mention expensive) situation had a very simple ending, and when the time comes, we will pay it forward. 

Thank you Robin.

Happy New Year!!!

Hello and Happy New Year Dear Friends and Family!

I have taken a deliberate hiatus from this blog over the last while, and it's high time I started back reporting about my family's adventures in the North.

A New Year's Resolution of mine is to report to you on a regular basis about the good, the bad and the ugly of life in Tuk.  The thing is, there are a lot of sad realities to life up here both for us and the community as a whole, that can really affect our attitudes and our emotions, and I didn't know how to reflect those attitudes and emotions without offending the people who live and/or teach up here who read my blog.  In many ways, this blog had become a political arena, or at least I was looking at it this way.  What if people disagree with what I wrote, or are offended?  Another reality of small town life is that people talk, and that can cause huge problems!

I promised when I began writing that I would not sugar coat our life up here for you.  I hate sugar coating things...unless it's chocolate on something sweet or salty.  Sugar coating is not for blogs, though, and I was concerned that my blog was turning into a donut - although yummy on the outside, it can wreak havoc within!  With all this said and understood.....I stopped writing.  I made a few half-hearted attempts at entries for you.  I have an entry that is all about our house - but it sounded too fake, and too 'roses and sunshine' compared to what we were facing at the time, so I didn't publish it.  In many ways, I felt like a group of women in Victorian times who were uncomfortable talking about a particular subject so they blathered on at length about the weather.  Well, for me, it was all about how dark or cold it is and/or comments about pictures of our house or about town.  You probably would have enjoyed them, but as an author, I felt fake when the issues were brimming at the surface or overflowing all around us, and I was scared to say anything about it for fear of repercussion.

Well, that stops.  Now.  From now on, I am going to speak about what we are experiencing as a family - the good, of which there is lots, the bad, of which there is an equal amount, and the ugly, which happens from time to time.  It is my hope that the people who know and understand Tuk will be professional and understanding that these are my observations as they affect myself and my family, and they are in no way, shape or form meant to offend anyone.  I would also hope that if anybody has a problem with any comments I make, that they would come to me in a calm and professional manner to discuss them.  As I have in the past,  I do not name names in most circumstances, and I do not post pics or name names of kids in the classroom for privacy and protection of the students.  We may live north of the Arctic Circle, but it's a global world we live in folks, and the internet is everywhere.

That being said, here is a quick update of life up here thus far......

When we left Tuk, the kids had just received their report cards and we had some great parent teacher interviews with our kids' teachers.  Up here, our kids are functioning way above what is considered grade level in almost all their subjects.  In fact, Patrick and Charlotte often complain that they are bored.  This issue has been dealt with and the kids are getting more challenging work in order to feel more motivated to attend school, which was becoming a problem for our children, something that had never happened before.  Since Greg teaches James some of his subjects, he has already been modifying expectations to meet James' ability level and so has the other teacher who is involved with James on a daily basis.  This has made the kids feel much better, as it also has us as parents.

Patrick was being bullied because of his speech issue.  Sadly, bullying is everywhere, but this is the first time Patrick has ever experienced this sort of thing, since the kids who were in his previous classes at St. Thomas More in London knew about his speech issues and were nothing but kind to him, and accepting of the fact that it takes him a little longer to say what he wants to, but that it will be worthwhile to hear once it comes out.  This was definitely not the case here, and Patrick reacted to this constant harassment by retreating into his own little world in the form of what ever book he was currently reading.  He brought his book with him everywhere, and when he was stressed or upset about a situation, he pulled out his book and read, blocking out everything (and everyone) around him.  I have to admit, I admire Patrick for being able to do this, but as parents we had to step up and work with the other adults to ensure that school, and as far as possible, the community, is a safe place for our son.  This is not an easy feat, considering that as soon as his teacher turns her back on the class for a nanosecond, those kids are on Patrick.  We have been able to work with several people and have developed some great strategies which are Patrick approved that are going to help keep him out of his classroom as much as possible and doing work that is appropriate and challenging to him.

Our house was freezing cold due to the floor being torn up after the Great Flood, and at least one window in the living room which desperately needed to be sealed.  I am happy to report that our house has been all fixed up and we are snug and cozy, which is great because it's going to be a long and cold winter!

Greg had spent the autumn months really struggling with settling back into teaching as well as having a spirited bunch of students.  Greg feels as though he has his gotten his groove back and that slowly, the students are coming around.  The intermediate grades are difficult years for both the students and the adults around them, so one just has to go with the flow, celebrating the good days but understanding that one good day, nor two or three or four, does not a trend make!

I felt the same way when I was teaching these students at the beginning of the year.  It's not just the kids up here, thankfully.  This is a universal thing.  Students up here are also affected by drugs, alcohol, abuse, peer pressure, tobacco, bullying, and all the other aspects of adolescent life.  Sometimes it can be worse for them because the community is so small.  People I have talked to in the South laugh and ask how there could possibly be drugs so far in the north, but, just like the internet, drugs are everywhere.  So are abusive parents who are affected by alcohol, drugs and who are abused themselves.

As for me, well, I am dealing with the day-to-day pain of a torn meniscus, which makes walking, standing and mobility difficult.  Hopefully, I will be seeing an orthopedic surgeon in Yellowknife fairly soon and will be able to have surgery.  I am gaining an immeasurable amount of experience substitute teaching, which is helping me to gain both on a professional and personal level.

So....these are some of the things with which we have been grappling this fall, and this is only the mild version.  I don't feel like going too deep because right now because I am concentrating on the positive, knowing that we have tried our best to work out some new strategies and ideas to make life up here for ALL of us a better and happier one.

It wasn't difficult for Greg and I to return to the darkness in Tuktoyaktuk after the break, because we knew what we were going back to.  It is pretty scary when you leave the comfort of what you know and love to venture off into the Great Unknown, especially when the little of what you were led to believe was reality up here was, in fact NOT.  However, we forgive those people and are more prepared now to focus on what our positions are up here as teachers, colleagues, parents, and followers of God.