Reframing for Our New Reality

Copyright 2020, Maurice Barry, Performance Rights Waived

Our spirits strong; our strength not deadened,
we somehow survived a snowmageddon.
But twenty-twenty sneered crying, “Here, you! Hold my beer!”
And now, locked in with this pandemic,
the issues are much more than academic.
One thing for certain is the challenge that is our next school year.

The change will happen across many layers
so please don’t listen to the sad nay-sayers
who think remote teaching is a wasted effort, a mere fool’s game.
For our young ones are far from feral
and their education won’t be in peril
so long as we are willing to let our world-views be reframed.

Yes, once we viewed a learning space
as a room where we gathered, face to face;
a thing; a structure that owed its existence to it’s physicality.
But in this time of social distance
we must create a new existence.
The virtual ties we build together will form our new reality.

New ways to be present; you’ve heard of Zoom?
Maybe Collaborate, Webex, even Messenger Rooms?
No doubt by now you’ve taken one or more out on a trial,
all decked off in your new headset.
But a session or two left you knackered, I bet.
Seriously: getting used to this mode is going to take a while.

“Why is online so tiring?” you may have mused.
Well, we we’ve had whole lives to become used
to our normal senses. Now our attention is also slapped
with stattaco audio, and a video soup,
text chats, both individual and group;
these are add-ons, and to them our brains will need time to adapt.

So as you set out to make plans for the fall
it’s important to keep both your eyes on the ball.
Achievement trumps all but what matters most is what students do.
So don’t lecture and “cover stuff” at great length.
We’re not entertainers; our greatest strength
comes from creating the success path and steering them all through.

Rather than preventing all distractions
focus, rather, on interactions.
Employ your breakout rooms and maybe bring in virtual guests.
Use Collaborate, Meet, Webex or Zoom
in tandem with your Google classroom.
And find other ways of assessing than reliance on pen and paper tests.

Yes, breakout rooms may leave you vexed.
Why they’re so cumbersome, leaves us all perplexed.
Still, with practice it doesn’t have to feel all that contrived.
They accomplish more than idle jaw.
Organize; double up for a jig saw!
And with practice your small groups will surely come alive.

When the whole class contributes to the same Google Doc
and then views it as one, it’s a gallery walk!
Or, given one minute and each student with their own blank page,
encouraged by you to contribute their thoughts,
each attending as well to their own unique spots.
Your students’ minute paper will not fail to amaze and to engage.

With Xmind, FreeMind or maybe MindMup
groups in breakout rooms, can do a concept map up.
Or turn them all loose on a Doc to create a cool Graffiti wall.
And also, since you can share your desktop,
the whiteboard with software then you can swap:
Lab interfacing, Desmos, Geogebra, whatever: your class can have it all.

And, as for the chaos. It’s not a rat race.
Al hands will settle in once routines are in place.
Set rules around cameras and use a hands-up as a talking piece.
Don’t hog the mike, encourage debate.
After questions are asked allow a sufficient wait.
Then your class participation is guaranteed to only increase.

And always remember, if you’re patient and kind,
your students’ needs and yours will remain quite aligned.
And if on one slow, frustrating day, for sanity you are reaching,
remember it’s straightforward; the order’s not tall
so long as one truth is remembered and kept above all:
It’s not science, or math, but students that you are teaching.

Maurice Barry has been a practicing educator since 1983. He is currently the coordinator of MUN’s Teaching and Learning Commons.

This was the recitation I did for the 2020 MUN Education Grads. Just realized I never shared it.

Thing Three

©2021 Maurice Barry. Performance rights waived.

Martin stood alone, outside the big school doors and almost cried.
How could he make a difference in this isolated island place?
But this two-room school was his last chance, even though it was happenstance
that created this new circumstance he was trying to embrace.
The year was nineteen thirty three, a time historians do agree
Education in this province had finally reached its poor nadir.
While Martin knew within his heart he really needed a new start,
he wondered what fates had played a part to finally bring him here.

He pulled one door open with a creak and inside he took a furtive peek.
A porch with open classroom doors at left and right.
The dark, cold room with desks in rows “That one’s mine” he did suppose.
Still he wished his was the other one that looked so warm and bright.
“Here. You can have this box of splits!” Martin jumped; almost lost his wits.
Turned to see the other teacher’s smiling face, and a box of birch in outstretched hands.
“I’m Anna and if I can bring more wood or help with anything?”
“I’m fine,” he muttered, to himself wincing, knowing he really had no plan.

A short while later he heard the bell and childrens’ voices arriving as well.
Looking up he saw about thirty standing by their wooden desks and chairs
“You’ve work to do, so grab your books.” The students shuffled about, exchanging looks.
“You heard me. Get to your studies. Why else would you be here?”
One tall slim lad with short dark hair said, “Sir we haven’t said the prayer.”
Martin muddled to his feet, aware of how his own cheeks did burn.
Without thinking he then said the Grace, then sat back down red in the face.
But the students still remained in place, their heads slightly upturned.

“We don’t have our books,” said the same slim lad. “Will I give them out?” he then did add.
“No, I’ll do it,” answered Martin. “And, boy, what is your name?”
“It’s Pat, Sir,” he said, his cheeks now aglow. Martin wondered why the others chuckled so
as he rummaged through the books, so slow, with no one but himself to blame.
The books finally doled out, Martin looked around and to no great surprise he found
most quietly staring at their texts except for, well guess who.
Yup. Pat again, my oh my, going from seat to seat like some gadfly.
Martin thought, “Something’s wrong with that poor boy; he hasn’t got a clue!”

After what felt like years the morning passed and when the dinner bell rang at last.
Martin chose to remain behind. “Should I make a swim for it?”
“Could you use some help, by any chance?” He jumped, almost soiled his pants,
then stood up straight, hoping his brave stance masked his non-existent grit.
“No one makes it on their own and, Martin, you are not alone.”
Anna’s soft insistent tone almost broke through Martin’s funk.
Still Martin could not his past eschew and so he responded with great ado,
“No I’ll be fine. I’ll make it through,” but his spirits further sunk.

And so it went, day after day, Martin fighting to get his way
with his reluctant charges making it increasingly tough.
And Pat, the worst one of the lot, going from seat to seat ‘til Martin’s nerves were shot.
Until one day when he decided he’d finally had enough.
“Pat, sit down!” he roared through anger pent. “And stay after school for punishment!”
Pat complied, though red eyes couldn’t hide behind a soggy sleeve.
When the bell rang Pat got up to go. Martin refrained from shouting “No.”
“Who needs this?” he thought, although he was galled to see him leave.

For the next few days there was one empty chair. Wherever Pat was he wasn’t there.
And there surely was a difference felt throughout the whole classroom.
Nobody spoke, no not the one. The students like mopes. Not much got done.
“My goodness,” Martin remarked at length, “This place is like a tomb.”
Next Monday Pat returned at last, head hung down, arm in a cast.
“What happened,” inquired Martin but Pat offered no reply.
“Please tell me?” “No it’s nothing Sir.” With a twinge of shame Martin inferred.
Pat’s parents crossed a line for sure, so there could be no turned turned blind eye.

“Anna, where does Pat live to?” “Next door to you. I would have thought you knew.”
He grabbed his hat and coat and soon was pounding on the door.
“I’m Ellen and this is Richard,” though he hadn’t asked. “Lovely to meet our neighbour at last.”
“That so? Well, I’m there, aghast, because of your actions which I abhor.”
“Pat’s bad in school, that’s true enough. But there’s still no need to treat him that rough.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ellen. He replied simply, “the cast.”
“On blaming us you seem hell bent. But it was a boating accident.”
Shocked, Martin turned to make himself absent, but Ellen continued, “Not so fast.”

“Pat loves to fish and most every day takes the punt out jigging on the bay.
But a few days ago the starter pin let go, and the flywheel broke Pat’s arm.
But how would you know that locked away, in that lonely house day after day?
Instead of thinking we had hell to pay you should know we do not harm.”
“Dreadfully sorry. My mistake.” Martin turned away; his whole self ached.
“One more thing.” an edge in Ellen’s voice turned him back around.
“We don’t hold grudges neither Richard nor I and if at some later time you’d like to try
finding some on whom you can rely, you know where we can be found.”

Hurt feelings he could not assuage he wandered down by someone’s stage,
sat himself down, his legs hung over the side.
Clearly, even through his disgrace he had no business in this outport place.
Next steamer and he was gone he did then and there decide.
“Want a penney for your thoughts?” he turned around, guts tied in knots,
Anna was right beside him sot there on a pile of buoys.
“I realized I do not belong.” “No, Martin, I do believe you are wrong.
You just need to stop being so headstrong and open up your eyes.”

Martin stood to go and then with that, through the door of the stage, who emerged, but Pat
clad in rubber boots and weathered old oil clothes.
Offered “I’m heading out to jig a few.” Anna asked, “Mind if we come too?”
Pat answered a bit shyly, “It’d be fine I suppose.”
Martin started, “I should go home for sup…” But a look from Anna shut him right up.
Soon they were all aboard with Pat trying to start the make and break
“Patricia, kindly step aside.” Anna started the engine with just one try.
“Pat’s a girl,” Martin himself did chide. “How stunned am I for goodness sake!”

Pat stopped the engine by and by. Passed him a thing, “Give the Jigger a try?”
Martin answered, “No, I think I’m fine for now.”
“Wrong answer!” Anna, to him demured. Something buried within him stirred.
“I will,” he reconsidered. “But Pat, please show me how.”
Pat’s face lit up and she beamed with pride. Coaching Martin as to fish he tried.
All the while, he thought of how she acted just like she did at school.
If I could take it back, he wished as the bottom of the boat filled up with fish.
“Oh my! She was only trying to assist and I am such a fool.”

“I think we’ve caught enough for now. We’ll be ‘til dark cleaning ‘em I allow.”
Anna started up the engine and Pat steered back for the shore.
All the while Martin’s spirit grew. He looked all around, and it all seemed new.
The place–so much more inviting and warm than it had seemed before.
“Want to learn how to clean and split a cod?” “I do!” Martin’s return smile was broad.
“See you in school?” Anna’s question was tinged with a little dread.
“You will,” he answered. “And after today I could use some help in finding my way.”
She nodded, “You will be okay,” leaving Martin hopeful for what lay ahead.

(Note–there are ten ‘things’. This is but one.

Get Out There!

You did all the work.
You conquered your fears.
And now look around,
you’ve made it to here.

But where, then, is this “here”?
Oh, it may seem unclear.
Especially after this past
pandemicy year.

You came in with a dream,
or a plan or a scheme.
We saw it, how from the first
In your eyes it did gleam.

Collaboration–our theme.
You were made one of the team.
And at first it was hard.
Not at all what it seemed.

Remote classes to attend.
Ten-page papers to be penned.
Soon the weight of all the work
On you did descend.

But your colleagues became friends
You learned to trust and to depend
on their support for grappling with
what you all had to contend.

Labs, talks, presentations,
quizzes, tests and learning stations
Open ended projects along
with unforeseen vexations.

Building new and strong relations,
conquering all those frustrations,
But what really were the most
important of foundations?

Was there really more besides
the endless slew of curriculum guides?
Can you say that your walks through them
were your most important strides?

Something else? Don’t you agree?
With a closer look it’s there to see:
you picked up a lot of other stuff
while earning this degree.

You very quickly did discern
there’s no one best way that students learn.
No doubt the knowledge of this fact
at first caused you some concern.

You tried and tried your very best.
Endless hours you did invest.
Until you learned that differentiation
was what got the thing addressed.

So learn your learners with style and grace,
creating an open welcoming space.
Differences should not be ironed out
but rather be embraced.

As for winging it? Man, oh man!
A truism? Nothing nothing truer than
that people never plan to fail
but they simply fail to plan.

Planning? By now you’ve done your share
while reading guides, tearing at your hair.
And we bet you also found it’s best
to always have a spare.

From time to time things go awry.
Enough to make you cuss, or cry.
At times like that you’d appreciate
Having a backup in supply.

And while you’re at it, for goodness sake,
go easy; cut yourself a break!
Nobody expects perfection.
It’s okay to make mistakes.

Sometimes the world has you outgunned
We’re all human and you won’t be shunned.
There’s always something in it to learn
even when you feel a little stunned

And now, as you prepare to take your turn
remember there’s still lots to learn.
Who knows what new challenges you’ll face
and other degrees you’ll earn?

The future that you look towards
may have chromebooks, iPads and SMART Boards,
but, toys aside, we know you see
the real and meaningful rewards.

You’ll build bonds that will never sever,
make days better through your endeavours.
And best of all will be those who insist
you were the bestest teacher ever!

And for our part, we, here at MUN
know you, our grads, are second to none.
And we cheer and applaud you now
that your careers have just begun.

And the one thing we say to you fine crowd—
the thing we holler right out loud
is how much faith we have in you
and how you make us proud.

You know your maths, reading, science and arts
Letters, numbers, figures and charts.
And best of all your secret weapons:
your collective brains and hearts.

So go now; give it your best shot.
Apply the things that you’ve been taught.
And remember kindness counts for more
than just an afterthought.

So ring on phones. Knock on doors.
Apply, apply, apply in scores.
There’s jobs out there we guarantee
So go and make them yours.

And when you do keep this in mind:
always remember to be kind
never forgetting how all our lives
are so totally intertwined.

Now your brains and talent you must showcase.
So get out there! Go forge your space!
Go on, get going and make the world
a kinder, smarter, more loving place.

The Darkness and the Light

Their program nearly over, the student teachers settled in
and waited for the start of their last class.
All in eager anticipation; careers set to begin,
yet still amazed at just how quick the year had passed.

The work was finished so they figured that this would be the time and place
to say goodbyes and and on the year to reminisce.
But to their great surprise they learned that wouldn’t be the case.
The prof said, “I’ve been waiting for the chance to ask you this.”

Was this a joke? No, she was serious.There would be no chit chat.
So, they sat up straighter and gave to her their full attention,
thinking, “what on earth could be so all important that
she left it right until the very end to mention?”

Without a word the lights she turned off, the window blinds she closed
and then went and softly shut the door so tight.
And in the silent, unlit room the question then she posed,
“tell me please, when does the darkness become light?”

It was as if the clock had stopped; nobody made a sound.
All sat waiting, thinking, “I don’t want to be the one to answer this.”
But time did pass and the realization slowly came around:
someone would have at least to offer up a guess.

Now, quite a few of them engaged in a game of second guessing,
thinking that to find the answer would not be all that hard.
And on this last day perhaps she’d planned one final simple lesson.
Yet, the quiet stillness of the room had caught them all off-guard.

A first attempt, was offered up, “Wait, I think I know.
It’s when the words within our books then can be seen.
So truth and knowledge can finally on our students be bestowed.
And, best of all, new insights and subtleties be gleaned.”

She shook her head, no, uh-uh then at what she’d heard,
saying, “who says reading is a thing they’ll even want to do?
So many find their truth and live without the printed word.
And aren’t books best when guided by insight and wisdom too?”

Some were now perplexed but then there came another try.
“It’s when the class can see the notes and such I put upon the board,
and pass out gems of knowledge, their consideration to apply,
so precious facts to their growing memories then can all be stored.”

But shook her head again, retorting, “it’s not at all just about you.
And you should never equate the act of teaching with that of telling.
You’ve got to guide, help and demonstrate; yes, all of that is true.
But it’s what your students can perform that should be the most compelling.”

One student, braver than the rest, offered up one last response.
“It’s when they can see my classroom and all the wonders that it holds
and my students in their courses can thus find themselves ensconced,
and feel the magic of the learning that inside there unfolds!”

But she shook her head again and said, “no, that’s still not just quite it.
Each of your classes are important but they’re not the only one.
Our subjects are mere elements of a much larger kit.
It’s more than just your stuff that counts considering the long run.”

Nothing was said til at some length, once more the prof resumed,
“You’re wondering what was wrong with what you said?
Frankly, the answer is ‘nothing much’; they were as clever as you’d assumed.
It’s just that your words did not quite jive with what was in my head.”

“The need for guidance and compassion was far from in your sights.
Then you put yourselves out front, when it’s students who matter most.
And you were fixated on what divides and not on what unites.
It’s as if the differences were what had you all engrossed.”

While she spoke the student teachers became increasingly aware
of how their eyes had become accustomed to the light so low.
And looking around, a simple truth began to become clear,
and through it all a bunch of smiles did glow.

And in the ever-rising light, her voice continued, “You’d
best bear in mind it’s not just about how to earn a living.
School is about learning how to build a life that’s good.
And for instilling in our young folk all the the joy that comes from giving.”

“So it’s best to recognize those gathered all around
share and walk much of the path that lies in front of you.
And, like you, endeavour to pursue a life that’s sound
while to themselves always remaining true.”

“When you are able to discern the commonalities
and let them be the guide to your insight,
then recognize that the school unites us all in family:
that is when the darkness becomes light.”

Each year, at their year – end gala, I do a recitation for outgoing graduates of the Intermediate / Secondary teacher education program at Memorial University of Newfoundland, my place of work. The above is this year’s installment.

For Wilbert, a True Friend and Mentor

“This can’t be true.” I looked again
but the words remained there, plain to see.
“Life’s setting sun is sinking low.”
I wondered, “how could this be?”

The very one who, so many times,
stood firm for what you knew was right
and who broke down walls to get things done,
with modesty, honesty and foresight.

And who, for friends, and home and family
stood strong, the worst you’d face
is now facing the end, but still my friend 
holds courage, strength and grace.

And for my part, stronger than the sadness
I know some time soon I must endure
from my memory springs the many things
I have yet to thank you for.

I’m reminded of the first time we met.
You, then the province’s consultant for Math Ed.
agreed to help this “young gaffer” (your words)  
with advice on a paper I just couldn’t put to bed.

Well, based on the insight and knowledge
you so freely gave me on that day
my mediocre work improved
and, thanks to you, the paper earned an “A”.

And then in the early nineties when
distance education physics was set to go
and I hinted “hire me” to who was in charge
my rejection came as a humbling blow.

But when my school board got a call
asking if they could second me to do that very chore
I knew right then there was one more thing
I had to thank you for.

And then, later on, when the axe fell,
budgets slashed and so much was let go
you found a way for me to stay,
even gave me more chances for to grow.

Like when you managed the Vista project
which reinvisioned online learning,
you found for me a space–and t’was through that grace
my career took its next turning.

For the skills I learned all through that time
and the responsibilities you helped me learn to bear
I did apply as we built CDLI,
so thanks, too, for all those years.

I’ve often wondered how best to thank you for
the opportunities, support and, of course, advice
but I came to see you just did it unselfishly.
There never was a price.

And so, now I work my time with those
on the same path that that we once chose.
And the journey they’re on is so very long.
It’s a less kind world these days, I do suppose.

Still it seems to me that the best way
to honour all the kindness you’ve bestowed
is to pass it on and try to help those
with whom I share this road.

So when I find a way to help another
through some thing I say or do
I’ll feel that same sense of gratitude
and smile, then and there,
as I think of you.

My favourite picture of you, taken back in ’99 on the occasion of your retirement. Back Row: Lloyd Gill. Wayne Oakley, Harvey Weir, Dave Dibbon, Rachel Handrigan, Wade Sheppard, Rene Wicks. Front Row: Wilbert Boone, Maureen Boone, Jean Brown, Maurice Barry

What do I Teach?

My friend Ed Wade was shocked to hear I planned to offer you advice.
Said, “They’ve heard enough of our old stuff. Some stories should suffice.”
Let’s do both, but be forewarned, you’re about to hear the pronoun “I” a lot.
It’s not about me, but about you, and maybe you’ll find some food for thought.

As this past year went by so fast many thoughts have came my way.
So I supposed I’d draw on those to frame out what to you I’d say.
I don’t want to ramble as I often do. I’ll try to be more concise
and gauge my speed against your need to check what’s on your mobile device.

This time each year I try to put a few words together for you
who are about to start; words from the heart; advice on what you might do.
In the past I made a list of things that seemed important at the time
and figured a way for me to say them in a way that rhymed.

But looking back I realized I’d made an error fundamental,
said too much, and so, as such, lacked an idea that was central.
Therefore, this time I took my own advice, and thought it through before I begun.
So now I’ll share one idea here, not a bunch as from a scatter gun.

“What do you teach?” I’ve often been asked by people I’ve just met.
That’ll be the thing to which I’ll cling in the few words you’re about to get.
But first let’s come around to it in a way that makes more sense
for you’re all from here, and you know, my dears that’s not how things commence.

You see around here, when you meet someone, first thing they will blurt out
is, “Hello me son, where are ya from?” They know people from there no doubt.
Next thing you’re asked is what you do—that’s the one that leaves me most concerned.
Are they following cues, or judging you, based on what they think you earn?

And so you answer them as you see fit; maybe ask about them too,
‘til finally they come around to the one about which I’m making all this ado.
“Oh! What do you teach?” they’ll ask, expecting you to answer in terms so short & plain.
Ah, it makes me squirm, I must affirm! Please sit and listen while I explain.

You’re thinking maybe I can’t commit, for many of you know why I have no tattoos.
You’ve heard my fears that after seven years, when our bodies are made anew,
the several things that once meant the most will likely have been replaced
as experience brings even more new things and the old stuff gets displaced.

But it’s more than that, sure I’ve changed. In first year MUN I’ve memories so clear.
Physics and Math, choosing, all the while musing teaching them as my career.
But my first job in a small rural school proved that wouldn’t be the case.
Eleven courses kinda forces subject teaching to an impossible pace.

I found it best to look at my students instead of the subjects that I taught.
It being a small school I found, as a rule, I’d have ‘em again more often than not.
Knowing their strengths & shortcomings let me get the most from those I’d been assigned.
Nine years came & went with me giving 100%, ‘til to move on I felt inclined.

I still recall that day twenty five years ago when I landed what was then my dream job.
Teaching Physics and Math online—ah the stars had aligned for this poor geeky bay-dwelling knob!
And to my delight I found that things hadn’t changed much. I still taught students from small rural schools.
Taught multiple subjects, and in many respects still able to use all my tried and tested teaching tools.

And so the time passed. Every few years brought more change: some good, some bad, some unexpected.
I got better, yup, yet I often screwed up, but each time I had more experience thus collected.
And so, over time, many things became clearer—that’s one gift that experience brings.
What I teach,” I now know, and I’ll tell you, although, first let me clarify several important things.

In the time you’ve been here many of you’ve come to know there’s some questions that I love to ask.
My favourite? This is it, “What’s love’s opposite?” If you say, “hate” I will take you to task.
For both love and hate coexist; you can feel both at one time, so opposites then they surely can’t be.
So take away love, yes, go give ‘er a shove, and what’s left is not hate but apathy.

So I caution you, then, when you’re put in clarge of a class and your priority is maintaining control,
keeping the sweet little dears all quiet—or in fear—really, that should never ever be your first goal.
Be mindful that when they’re unwilling to express what’s going on inside of their heads
you’re just flying blind, while they’re falling behind. All hands’d be better off at home in their beds!

But in all the time that I’ve asked of the opposite of love not one soul has shot back, “But what’s love?”
To me that seems weird, but perhaps you were “afeard” I’d keep babbling…I’m like that…sort of.
As you probably know, there’s many possible responses; the ancient Greeks spoke of no less than eight.
But it is this for me: “to want you become the best you can be.” So to teach is to love; ain’t it great!

So, then, as you practice your craft, and get on with your lives, you’ll let students in more and more.
And while their joys you will share, I bid you beware for then they can hurt you right down to the core.
And after several bouts of this you may feel jaded and wonder if it’s all really worth the price.
But let there be no doubt, once they’re “in” there’s no “out.” Been there, and on that I’ve advice.

At times you’ll get hurt, perhaps by students you love, or maybe because of the stunned things you’ll do.
Perhaps you’ll be too headstrong, at any rate there’ll be wrong that will leave you feeling broken too.
When you’re down you’ve three choices of what happens next. Here they are in the order of ease:
First: stay down, don’t get up, you poor sweet buttercup. If that’s you, you best quit now; do it please.

Second, you can get back on your feet and go on, displaying fortitude and resiliency.
But there’s a third choice: become stronger; it’s been voiced by sages with some brilliancy.
In order to get stronger, first you must get hurt but work carefully on that damage, I implore.
Because your strength it will grow and in time it will show, you’re far better than you were before.

After all there’s no sense expecting students and class to always be perfect and bright.
Rose-coloured glasses, are only for asses convinced their way is the only one that is right.
For once you get used to letting your students just be, even cranky and putting you to the test
they’ll trust you enough to share with you the stuff you need to help them be their best.

So I know you’re wondering, “Where’s the point in all this?” After all I promised an answer to you.
But you made a mistake, said my time I could take. To me that’s licence for some ballyhoo.
One last thing I will tell: back when I was in school, I was advised I should be an engineer.
At gadgets I liked to pick, I could fix ‘em right quick so ‘twas a good choice for me, they were clear.

But there was this thing, see there was something else that intrigued me far more than that stuff.
And so when I applied to MUN ‘twas cut and dried, choosing Education, for me, was not tough.
Yes, messing around in the lab is still fun, but a life in the classroom leaves me with no remorse.
And if you haven’t figured it out, what I teach, there’s no doubt: I teach students, of course!