quick thoughts and a long blurb about passion

Jesse and I are somewhere around 44 days away from being married. That's just over a month, really. The closer we get to the date, the more real it feels. It also feels daunting, but I'm sure things will come together.

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Teaching land is going well. I got a chance to attend the Circle of Light conference put on by the Ministry of Education this week. It was for Aboriginal education, to bring light to all of us about what the challenges and successes are in teaching Aboriginal content, teaching Aboriginal students, and more. While there I found myself often bored with too much sitting and listening, or annoyed with the pretentiousness of the Fairmont Royal York hotel and it's ridiculously exspensive nature (ie. $4.50 for a half can of Pringles, $8 Blue Light, $15.95 for the use of internet...), I came home with so much on my mind. There were a few really good sessions, like Susan Aglukark and Joseph Boyden's keynote speaking, listening to a man share his story in discovering he was "Indian", learning about how we are all Treaty people, and especially the student panel. They should make an entire conference by students to educators. That would be the most informative. Policy schmolicy rhetoric, rhetoric. Blah. What's actually going on in students' lives? What do they care about? That's what's important.

I got to meet a few street youth during a night off on Tuesday. There they were at Queen and Spadina, asking for money, and being heckled by some half-drunk man. He was telling them they should get a job and that he knows someone who can give them a job. The youth, who have been offered many jobs without any follow through, were pissed about this man's insisting. Their loud arguing was what attracted me to them.

When the girl of the trio saw me approach, she came to me. We greeted each other and I offered them some fruit and granola bars that I'd taken from the conference - I'd been hoarding some excess food and realized I could give it to people who really needed it... I felt like Robin Hood. Anyway, the three youth were happy to take my food and I decided to chat with them for a bit. Years ago I might have tried to bang them over the head with my Bible-thumping ways; this time I just had a conversation. I listened. They asked me questions about my life. I told them I was a high school teacher. One told me he graduated with A's. One said he dropped out, but if I was his teacher, he'd come every day! Cute. We talked about lots of things. Smiles and laughter were exchanged. I think I've grown up a bit. Finally.

The youth reminded me of my life in my early teens, somewhat directionless, but happy, no proud, to seem rebellious, rough and on the edge of society. They reminded me of my own students, some of whom have lived on the streets themselves or have been very close to it. What's more, they reminded me of what I want in life, and that's to keep working with kids like them. There's something so real, so genuine, so beautiful about youth who are sick of how life's treated them, who throw their fists - and middle fingers - up to and at society.

Sure, I could teach in a sparkling clean school with lots of funding and well-behaved over-achievers, but what would I get out of it? A few smirks behind my back and perhaps the feeling of accomplishment through the so-called bettering of society through sending students to university to be doctors, lawyers and economists?

That's not what I want. I don't want the gossip behind my back; I want the attitude to my face. It's not easy, but it's real. I want to see kids who fear the world, to start trusting people. How do they begin to trust? When they see that you're genuine. One of the speakers at the conference said, "kids will see through your bullshit" (I loved that he said that to a bunch of suits!). People just want to know that they're loved, that they're liked, and that they can be safe to be themselves. I want to be that teacher who helps kids, who no one else gives a shit about, realize how wonderfully fantastic they are and that they've got more to live for.

My conversation with those three street youth on Tuesday night wasn't all positive and inspirational. They admitted to being drunk, to being alcoholics, and to choosing this life on the street. There were some topics brought up that I wish I hadn't engaged in, and I most certainly don't think I changed their lives - nor was I trying to. I think that while maybe they appreciated my apples, smiles and conversation, they may well have woken the next morning a little hung over with no memory of me whatsoever.

What this conversation did do, however, was give some kids on the fringes of society at least a few minutes of dignity. What's more, my encounter with those youth reminded me of who I am and what I'm here for: I'm built for life on the street. I don't mean literally, but in the sense of working with the class level in which society has pegged these kids. They're "at risk", if you will, and I will proudly take the risk in loving kids like them, so that they feel loved, so that they can love others, too. I say all this not because I feel better than them. Honestly, I sometimes wonder what I can even offer to them! But it doesn't matter. What I know is in my gut, a deep longing exists to see at-risk youth find themselves.

On Tuesday night, after two long days with professionals in suits and gourmet food fit for a king, I stood on the streets of downtown Toronto sharing a few moments of reality with three young, vibrant, tattoo'd, pierced and somewhat stinky youth. They brought me joy like no other that day. I felt invigorated and uplifted - by street kids. Who knew?!

Walking back to the frivolous hotel, I had a huge grin on my face. I needed that boost. Those kids in black and boots brought light to my night. I rested well.