A Little Less to Love in Lethbridge

Weigh-In time! But before we get there let's have a little discussion about distorted body image. Every test on every web site that I can find that offers such "tests" tells me that I hate my body. Some go so far as to tell me that I have a Disorder known as Body Dismorphic Disorder loosely translated as body hatred.

Did any of the tests ask me if I thought I had attractive features? Or are there parts of my body that I like? Or if not wearing revealing clothing has anything to do with age appropriateness? Not a one. They asked if I'd feel uncomfortable exercising in a group of attractive fit people. DUH! I felt uncomfortable last night doing stretches and learning a few exercises at TOPS amongst people who are struggling just as much as I am to shed a few pounds!!  They asked if I feel uncomfortable trying on clothing in a store. I HATE shopping. I wouldn't care if I was a size zero with Jennifer Lopez's bank account behind me... I would be uncomfortable. Period.

But back to the dismorphia... The first time I heard about such a "disorder" was on the Rosy O'Donnell show a few years back when she said that she doesn't see what other people see when she looks in the mirror. Like me, Rosy had bounced around a bit, losing weight and looking in the mirror and still seeing the body that she had left behind. Or gaining the weight and thinking, 'Gee I don't look too bad...'  It is not a fun affliction. Just as anorexic people can't see how thin they are, I couldn't see how big I was/am. It is ONLY through photographs that I can see myself. Mirrors are as distorting for me as if I was in a funny house full of distorting mirrors. And sadly for me, after a full year of working at this, I still see the same shape and size as I was 12 months ago. OK I know my ankles aren't nearly as pudgy as before. And when I look down when I am on the treadmill I now see my knees where a year ago I saw belly doing a lovely little jiggle joggle... but mirrors? Not my friends.

OK... as the ticker above my blog entry now reveals, I have lost, misplaced, dropped, shed, taken off, eradicated 26 pounds from my frame. Holy Butter Cream Icing! 26 POUNDS! I can't lift 26 lbs.  Well I can, but not easily! And I surely can't carry it for long! But my body was carrying it. Under protest! My knees creaked, my back hurt, my heart pounded and my lungs were asking what the heck I was doing to them... and that was just bringing in the groceries from the car!

The ticker tells a story... a journey. At times I thought it was a lost cause but I've made it this far. Another year will tell another story. I have 44 weeks of weigh-ins before Ryan and Raisa marry in August. That's another opportunity for the camera to tell me that I am doing OK on this journey. Until then I'll just forget about the  mirrors and remember that "Eating Less, Moving More and Drinking Lots "(of water!) is getting me to where I need to be.  I probably still won't enjoy putting on a swimsuit, trying on clothes or exercising amidst the athletic types, but I will be loving the Lori that emerged along the way to being a little less of me to love!

Suitcases

There have been a lot of suitcases in my life this summer. Not the same suitcases packed and unpacked over and over, but rather a collection of suitcases that were all unique in design but shared a kindredness. Owned by many different people, mostly weighing below the 50lb airline rule, there were backpacks, and duffle bags, soft sides and wheelers, black, blue, green and one huge yellow crate-like thing that  makes a great seat, but can't be used when flying because the damn thing weighs too much empty!

My husband says I am the most curious person he knows. No, he doesn't think that I am odd ( well maybe he does a little). He means that I am curious about things, people, places, thoughts, dreams; all the myriad objects and intangibles that make up my world! And suitcases make me very curious! Of course I know that they belong to the people who have packed them. I don't go rifling through their belongings seeking answers to the questions that pop into my mind uninvited (but invasive nevertheless).  But still I do wonder what the suitcase might hold, especially now with the one bag/50lb rule imposed upon the suitcase's owner. What did they deem important to carry with them? What process did they follow when choosing the items that were left behind.

I think I know where this mini-obsession with suitcases comes from. As a small child, my mother and I travelled on a fairly regular basis back and forth between home and St. John's for my medical appointments. I can remember being in Lethbridge train station watching the baggage handler (steward?) take suitcases out of the train's baggage car before lifting our bags into the car. There was a feeling a little kin of panic inside me that modern day psycho-babble might refer to as "separation anxiety".  And yet I wondered even at the young age of 4 what the other people were carrying. Were their items more interesting? Would I want to trade my tiny bag for that big black one over there? Or would I be disappointed with the items I had traded for?

And then there was the big leather suitcase that my Dad used. A construction worker who traveled all over the province and in hard years to other parts of Canada to do what he did best. Drive a huge road construction machine and help build highways, roads, airstrips. If he were going for a long trip the suitcase would be stogged tight with nearly everything he owned and he'd walk out to the driveway, leaving the most important thing he owned back in the house with us. His love.  But if it was just a short trip of one or two weeks ( how we loved the summers when he was home EVERY weekend!), Mom would pack the necessary work clothes, white t-shirts, grey work socks, handkerchiefs (red and blue printed kind, not those fancy white ones - they were kept for home!), and she'd also fold and include some plaid shirts for wearing in the evening after he "got a wash". Utilitarian things for a very utilitarian two weeks away.  And then if she'd been able to find some by trading with neighbours, she'd tuck in a few paperbook novels. Zane Grey. A good Western to read before turning in for the night.

Suitcases. I bet you all have one or two in a storage space somewhere in your home. Haven't looked in them for years, right? Erin and I opened a lot of boxes, tubs and suitcases when we cleaned out our basement in August. Somethings that were precious 8 years ago, were now deemed to be disposable. Sheet music for every song the Die Tichslers ever played had lost its poignancy. Christmas ornaments were sorted and culled and smiled over. We repeated the mantra, "Thank you for being in my life, GOOD-BYE" over and over and over. In one small suitcase we found every hair accessory that Erin had ever owned as a child. "little princess", "Mommy's Girl" and "ERIN" painted on little plastic bits and now sitting in a suitcase. All but forgotten. Unicorns and ribboned delights, every colour of the rainbow barrettes, buckles and bobbles, purchased to match her perfect little outfits. Somethings are just to precious to get rid of! The suitcases were emptied, the items tagged for sale, trashed or in some special cases (like hair accessories!) re-stored for posterity!

Suitcases. We have all had a few in our lives. I left for university with my three piece hard-sided burnt orange suitcases filled with practically everything I owned. I couldn't put the contents of two drawers into those bags today, but back then times WERE simpler and our wardrobes reflected that. And just like over the years our wardrobes have expanded so have all the emotional things that is referred to collectively as "our personal baggage" that we carry along with us on our journey through life. And while the airlines are limiting the amount of "stuff" we can travel with, there is no such agency looking after regulations to  help us limit the emotional weight that we drag through life with us. I  met a couple recently who have seemingly lived a charmed life. Married (they were high school sweethearts) and been together for 30 years. Good jobs. Two kids, both married and living in the same town. Grandkids, one of each. Both sets of parents, healthy and well and living in their own homes. No medical problems. Wow! Would I like to trade MY big black baggage for their tiny bags? Not a chance in hell! Just because I've led a less than charmed life, doesn't mean that I'd change a single item that I have packed in my big black bag. All the sadness and strife has made me who I am today. And no one has dictated that my baggage be what it is. I am loved and I love... deeply and without regret. I sleep at night. And I have learned to cope in hard times. Smile and be happy during good times.I have learned to let things go...  Because even though there are people who will offer you items to pack in your bag, it is your choice whether or not you accept them and how far you're willing to drag it along with you.

Today as I type this, the world is waking up to the 10th Anniversary of 9-11. And while media people talk of hope and resilience  and I like the most of the rest of the world, feel the pain all over again, I am also reminded of all the losses and gains of my own life during the past ten years. And to each and everyone of you, may today be  a day when you are able to open your suitcase and let a few things go. Be thankful for your own life, mourn your losses and make room in that  baggage for love, hope and compassion. I wish you all, peace and love... from Lethbridge.

So where's DUSO when you need him!?

""Hey DUSO Come on out..."  Anyone remember the song, the dolphin and what the acronym stands for? I was thinking about doing a little contest to see what I'd get back, but anyone reading this can in a few short seconds and the help of Google, find out and report that DUSO stands for "Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. I capitalized that part for a reason that will become apparent later in this blog entry.

Right around the same time as I started teaching "regular" classes DUSO was packed away never to be seen again. In the Kindergarten classrooms around the province you might find in the puppet basket  a ratty, old, blue fake-fur Dolphin puppet but in all likelihood no one can even remember his name.  But to teachers and students through the 70's and 80's, DUSO was synonymous with religious education in the Integrated Schools of this province. There were several other puppets ( but none as loved as DUSO) and lots of colourful posters, taped stories ( and we all know how much fun it is to have another voice besides the teacher reading the book!) and a scripted lesson plan for the teacher to follow. DUSO made extensive use of listening, discussion, and dramatic play to focus on feelings, communication, and problem solving. Activities include stories, guided fantasies, puppetry, role play, and music.  In today's pedagogical jargon: It taught children how to deal with conflict resolution, promoted positive self-esteem and to not bully.



It may not have been the greatest program in the world, but I can guarantee you that if you were to sing the first line of his opening song, "Hey DUSO come on out"... to anyone who had been lucky enough to meet him during those decades, it will evoke just as strong memories as "Dick and Jane" evokes for those of us who learned to read during the 50's and 60's!!


What replaced it? Well my memory may be a little rusty, but I am pretty sure that the entire concept of teaching children lifeskills and academic skills and how to behave towards other children and people in their lives, was replaced by a "child-centered" learning approach. Let them learn what they want to learn. Let them write the way they want to write.  Let them read when they are ready to read and spell the way they want to spell. Say negative things to them in a positive way...  It was CHILD- centered and throughout the classrooms in the province, three words became the focus of not just a cute little theme in their Language Arts program, but of their entire education experiences. ALL ABOUT ME.


All about me. Children were encouraged to write about their favorite things, colours, games, pets, pasttimes. A really skilled teacher could sneak in a writing topic once in awhile such as "My Best Friend" or "My Mom". But in most cases this would degenerate into a list of all the things the friend or the parent could, would or should do to enhance the child's personal existence.


Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. How much we need those last two words. Empathy. Compassion. Look up Empathy in Wikipedia... a short entry but scary when you consider what it could mean to generations of children when it is absent from their lives. Now add to the mix, over indulgent parents who fail to provide strong personal development guidance and the ALL ABOUT ME syndrome gets stronger and more prevalent. 


So when I see little kids excluding other children from "The COOL Club" or pre-teen boys bossing their mothers around at the mall,  high school kids cursing and swearing outside the local convenience store, university students who feel hard done by because they have to finish their assignments on time ( and not copy it from the internet), graduates who groan and whine because they found a job in their field and now SHOCK, GASP HORROR.. they have to work, it all makes perfect sense. DUSO has not come out for a very long time. I sincerely believe that it's time for the little guy be reinstated and children  taught the value of respecting themselves AND OTHERS, tolerance of the people in their lives, developing empathy towards the people who may not be as high on the ladder of life as they are, and the benefits of hard work whether in school, at home or on the job.


We'd all be a whole lot happier if we did.


HEY DUSO, come on out. Hey, DUSO, come on out. 
We like to listen and talk with you. 
We like your songs and your stories too. 
Hey, DUSO, come on out.


And until DUSO does make a comeback. I'd like to ask all the parents who read this to do one simple thing... At least once a week love your child enough to say NO and mean it!!  The real world is going to come knocking someday and you owe it to your child and yourself to prepare him or her for it.

Losing it in Lethbridge!?

Last night was backwards weigh-in at the TOPS chapter I attend here in Lethbridge. I, like all the other members, anxiously awaited the weight recorder's announcements! AND I lost! Yet again, my weight was lower than it had been the week before. Then joy of joys, when the biggest losers for the month of May were announced, my name was called. SECOND! Yipeeeee!  And I was handed a lovely little charm to acknowledge this achievement!

As predicted the losses have been miniscule at times. Exactly how much is .2 of a pound? .2 is really 1/5th and there are 16 ounces in a pound. 16 divided by 5 is 3.2ounces? Dispute my math if I am wrong but I am thinking that 3.2ounces would be correct.  Well I went in search of 3.2 ounces and found this:
A kiwi that weighs EXACTLY 3.2 ounces. I am sure if there was cyst on your body that was the size and weight of a kiwi fruit, you'd be happy to see it gone? So all those miniscule amounts are really something afterall! I shall not be scoffing at .2 any more let me tell you!
Of course the visual image of a block of  Crisco shortening (1 lb) is even better, but I can deal with kiwis!

SO how have I done with losing the weight? I am just one block of Crisco (or 5 kiwis) away from 20 lbs!!!! Anyone who has lost weight before can testify that 10 lbs allow you to go down one size in clothing. I recently did some alterations on some capris I had for summer wear and actually cut 5" off them. NO not the length! The measurement around the hips and waist.


It still bothers me a tiny bit that NO ONE has mentioned my weight loss. Not one single soul has said, "Wow, you're looking good!!"  Insert a big sigh here!! But that's OK. I understand. The next 20 lbs and people will start to notice. Not just right now. For now all the rewards and applause will have to be intrinsic ( besides the invaluable support I get from the TOPS members!!). I know when I go shopping I am just 10 lbs away from shopping in the "normal" sizes. I know I can run up and down those basement stairs and not get winded. I know that eating healthy has lowered the counts on things like blood glucose and cholesterol! And for now, losing it in Lethbridge, is not at all a rewardless task. My body notices and thanks me everyday. And that means everything!

PS...  Last night's loss was equal to 4 kiwi fruit... I have new respect for that little fruit!

Gus - We Love you Little Buddy!

I wrote recently about Erin's trip to Ottawa to sing on Parliament Hill during the Unisong Festival in July 2001. John and Ryan drove to Ottawa to see her perform and on the way home ( Erin drove with them while I flew home) they stopped as they often did in Granby to visit an old friend. The phone rang here just as they were due to leave Granby and Erin's sweet little voice came over the line, "I just saw the cutest little puppy at the pet store in Granby. He's a little schnauzer, just like Tara. PLEASE Mom can I have him. Dad will pay for him if he can live at your house." And in true Lori fashion, my resolve to NEVER GO THERE AGAIN crumbled. And "Logan" began his journey home.

For the next few days I wondered if I had really and truly lost my mind. Erin HAD a dog at her Dad's place, a lovely little apricot terrier-poodle by the name of Brady. Sweet dog just barely 2 years old that I frequently baby-sat when John was out of town. Each and EVERY time that dog left my doorstep I breathed a sigh of relief. And here I was sentencing myself to 24-7 of being a dog owner!!? Tara had lived to be 13 before cancer struck her. So Erin would be graduated from university, be working and possibly married with children before this dog would finally leave my doorstep! Insanity in its finest hour!



Now since I've mentioned Tara, let me describe this little bundle of joy. An angel of a dog if there was ever one! She didn't bark for her first year of life and her first bark startled her more than it did us. She could do all kinds of tricks though her cutest one was running down the hallway, lying down with her paws in front of her and when you called "Tara, SCAMPER!" She'd propel herself down the hallway on her belly at break neck speed. She was pleasant, happy and the perfect dog for Ryan and Erin's childhood years. She loved water and her baths, would lie or sit still for hours while she was being groomed, attacked the water sprinkler with glee each and every time it was turned on and slept on Ryan's bed from the time she was a puppy ( and he was 3) right up until the end at the gracious age of 13. The perfect dog.

Enter Gus - his name was changed somewhere early  in New Brunswick when the family conference decided that Logan was not matching this puppy's personality. Logan was definitely a name for cheerful, upbeat puppy. Gus was neither cheerful nor upbeat. He needed another name. Something that went with grumpy, gloomy, cranky... and my apologies to any "GUS" people out there, but Gus was the choice. Excellent choice. Was he taken from his mother too soon and this was the cause of his morosity?  Did he come from a long line of grumpy schnauzers? Did he just not "fit" with us? Whatever the root cause, he was definitely a Gus. We jokingly referred to him as King Gustavo, as he seemed so aloof and above it all! It was as if you could see him thinking, "Some day my true family will come and take me away from all of this peasantry!"

He was a darling looking little guy. All black where Tara had been a steely grey. His first haircut was indeed a professional job and the photographs from back then look so cute! He was a determined little guy, who tackled lots of things that lesser dogs would shirk away from and somehow despite all of his quirks, we found ourselves very quickly getting attached to him and vice versa.  Wherever we were he wanted to be there too. He'd come and sit on someone's foot the whole time keeping his back turned and avoiding eye contact. He was easy to train and quickly learned to do just as many tricks as Tara... but NEVER did he scamper. That was a trick for happy dogs. Not Gus!

Top Dog!

Well the years just seemed to tick by. At times there was just me and him here in this house. There is something comforting about another heartbeat in your home even if he had a nasty habit of wanting to go out to pee at 3am. He was there barking like crazy and rattling his bowl for food when I came home. He kept me company at night when he curled up at my feet in bed while I watched comedy re-runs. He was there to do jumping jacks at the door when I'd say, "Leash!?",  prodding me to take walks when the lazy Lori would have rather read a book. Gus was my dog  and he loved me unconditionally. Now I am no fool, I know that he used me. Used me for his own selfish gains. He LOVED his walks where he could pee on every road sign and sniff at every piece of trash along the highway! He knew the choice was either curl up on my nice comfy bed or be snobbish and go sleep on a blanket on the cold floor. And his high pitched greetings when I came through the door were purely designed and executed to make me feel guilty about leaving him in the house all day while I worked! How dare I!!?  Well let me tell you Gusser buddy, ours was a symbiotic relationship. You might have used me but I sure as heck got a whole lot back from you too whether you knew it or not!!

If I searched all the schnauzer world over I don't think I'd find another Gus. He was loyal to who he loved and sometimes who he loved didn't love him back!  He had no need at all to ever befriend another canine, preferring to pretend he lived in a parallel universe where other dogs didn't exist.  Like all schnauzers he made strange vocalizations that were somewhere between a growl, a whine and actual words and he used his "sounds" to express a whole range of emotions from pleasure to displeasure! He was stubborn beyond belief and would sit with his eyes averted whenever  he knew someone wanted him to do something that didn't suit him at that moment. He could never be fed in a metal bowl, because his dog tags would clink against the bowl and he'd stand back and bark at the offending bowl. His appetite was legendary and for awhile we considered changing his name to Hoover; he was that efficient at keeping crumbs off the floor! After all how many dogs do you know that would swallow a sewing needle just because the thread seemed interesting?  I could write a book about this dog!

I guess you can all see where this leading? Last summer I noticed a swelling in his groin. A tumour, just like the one that took our beautiful little Tara-doggy. And we discussed it. Gus despite his attempt to appear aloof and independent, was actually a very needy, high-strung dog. He was approaching his tenth birthday and I knew the outcome of any surgery would be just as Tara's surgery had turned out. The cancer once contained inside that sac, would race through his body and kill him. I couldn't put him through the pain and anxiety of surgery and then have the same outcome. No surgery for Gus. A painful decision, but the quality of his life was still so good. And was right up until a month or so ago, when he started to breathe harder, or he seemed to find it harder to jump up on a chair. He slept longer and was no longer interested in going outside.

Now something I didn't tell you about Gus is that he LOVED tools. If a tool kit was opened in this house, his little black schnauzer nose was stuck in it. We referred to him as "The Foreman".  He'd follow a repairman around the house and plant his substantial backside next to the tool kit and stay there until the kit was closed and the repairman was leaving. On Wednesday of this week, a man who had done a lot of work here for us came to check on a leaking pipe, and Gus lovingly followed him and his tool kit to the basement but only made it part way down the stairs and couldn't come back up. He sat panting. And I had to carry him back upstairs. The time had come. When the foreman could no longer do the job he so dearly loved to do, the time was here.

I pitied the poor girl who answered the phone at the vet's office. How many sobbing women does she have to deal with each  month? I knew Paul would have made the call for me, but my heart couldn't back down now. If I had loved Gus enough to welcome this grumpy little  puppy into my home 10 years ago, I had to love him enough to ease his pain and let him go.


And if Gus could have spoken, here's what I think he would have said: What a great life I've had. Never been hungry, cold or mistreated. Had them wrapped around my finger right from the start. I've sniffed a lot of people in my time and I am pretty sure I ended up with the best family a regal and sophisticated dog like me could have had. Oh I know they tried to bring other dogs in here, but I am still the King. Brady thought he was boss when he came to live here in 2003, but I just let him think that! And that Sheltie that they brought here in 2005? What a joke he is! Shedding his fur all over the place! Can you say "ALLERGY ALERT!"? 

Ryan? I know I could never replace Tara in your heart, wouldn't have even tried. So long buddy. I'll miss your visits and how happy you make Mom whenever you're here.  Erin, you know I forgive you for all the ins and outs you've had in my life. I know you had to go and do the things you had to do. Even though I growled when you scooped me up and swung me around, that was my favorite part of all your visits. I knew that Paul O'Brien character was going to be a real softy. I sat up on the arm of the sofa and chaperoned one of their first dates and I KNEW he'd be mine! He loved me and if you get a chance, make sure he knows that I loved him too!    Well I guess that's it for me... oh yeah... Mom?... Thanks for saying yes to Erin.

Good-bye my sweet Gus. I am gonna miss your grumpy face.  Thank YOU for the memories.

 Gus/ Gusser/ Guster/ Gussy/ King Gustavo/ Hoover/ Little Buddy/ The Foreman/Yippy of the Yippy, Yappy and Crappy Trio/ Barker Brother #1/ Best Damn Schnauzer in the World!
                                              May 25th, 2001 - May 20th, 2011

PS... Finn misses you.

A Confession...

Yes you read it correctly... I have to confess something! I am NOT really from Lethbridge! My first boyfriend was from Lethbridge but as we went through university, it was never our intention to live in Lethbridge. There was a whole big world out there and we were going to see it all! Sadly that wasn't to be. My first job, however WAS in Lethbridge at  L.R.Ash Elementary in 1978. A few years later when I met the father of my children and my first husband, he was living in Lethbridge and when we got married I moved here. We decided to find a place of our own ( the purple, green and blue bathroom of the church provided house just wasn't doing it for me!) and we were soon viewing and making offers on the real estate of Lethbridge. 29 years later I am still living in the house that we bought that year. When Paul and I met, I figured our relationship was doomed. I thought he'd never want to leave Clarenville and I knew I wasn't leaving this house, but he fell under the spell that is Lethbridge's charm and he's been happily ensconced here for almost seven years!

But if you were to ask anyone in Lethbridge (over the age of 50) who I am, I pretty sure they'd first tell you that I am NOT from Lethbridge and then tell you that I live  "in on the highway in Gerald's house". In Gerald's house. Not in the house that Gerald built. Not the house that Gerald used to own. Nope I live in Gerald's house. Kind of ya there, Buddy! Letting me live here all those years and never collecting a penny in rent!
But I guess small towns are like that!

I am also pretty sure that they'd also tell you that I am a teacher. AM not WAS. Most people are still surprised to hear that at the tender age of 52, I will soon be retired for 3 years. And that's really what this blog entry is about... the love that so many people have had for a wooden two-storey school on the hill that so many people equated with Lethbridge... L.R.Ash Elementary.

The school got its name from one of the carpenters who was working on its construction when he was killed in a traffic accident on the TCH bringing back a load of supplies from St, John's. I think the school board at the time showed a whole lot of caring when it decided that the school would carry his name. Thirty-three years later L.R.Ash Elementary closed its doors and was torn down. The new area high school was built behind "Ash" and the elementary children transferred to the school "around the bay" in Musgravetown.  All decisions that were made on a fiscal and statistical analysis of what was best for the area. But no one asked our hearts how we felt about losing that building. And let's just say it was a sad and heart wrenching process from the culling of the library books (thanks Karen for doing that!) to the stripping of the curtains from the windows to locking the door for the very last time.

Undoubtedly the entire area and all our children have  benefited  or will benefit from the modern, well-equipped school built near that site. The process of amalgamating the younger children into the other school was smoother, easier and far more enjoyable than any of us dared imagine! The children showed us the way. By the end of the first recess break there were new friendships made and we were on our way to forming our new family on a new hill in a new community.

But everything has a footprint. Whether it be on the earth or on our hearts, nothing exists and then ceases to exist without leaving behind something... a legacy, a heritage... vestiges of what used to be. So what did L.R.Ash Elementary leave behind? Everyone who had anything to with that school will have a different answer. You undoubtedly will find students that through its 33 years of operations who have terrible memories.There will be teachers who will be spoken of with anger and distrust. There will be people who have never given it a second thought since leaving school. But by and large the memories are good ones. I recently spoke to a woman whose children had attended L.R.Ash before I started working there. I said, "So your kids went to Ash?" And her reply was a wistful smile, a tilt of her head and a faraway look in her eyes, "Yes they did." She didn't have to say anything else.

I learned a lot at Ash through my years there. And I could fill many pages of pixels telling tales out of school!! But when I think of Ash in the bigger picture, I think of caring. I think of the unwritten but always followed rule for teachers following Parent-Teacher Interviews. "No one goes home until we can all go home."  I think of how at every concert, graduation ceremony or after-hours event, all the teachers showed up to help. I think of the students that each year brightened our lives and especially the ones that CRIED on the last day of the school year, every year. I think of the Parent Support Group that on that last day we were open, came to the assembly with plants for every teacher. "Bleeding Heart". I think they knew how we felt.

A legacy of love... that's what L.R.Ash Elementary left behind. And I think that Lawrence Robert Ash would be proud to know that his name was on a building that was so much more than just another school.










This weekend's High School graduation at Heritage brought us another year closer to the end of student memories of L.R.Ash Elementary. This year's graduates were Grade 2 students the year Ash closed.  Congrats Damon, Danielle, Jessica, Nicole and Sabrina, (and the other 7 children who are scattered across the province and the rest of the country!).
I  hope you have some cherished memories of your time at L.R.Ash Elementary.  I know I do!