The Trip

We LOVE(d) Montreal.  The food, the culture, the language, the history, etc.  Sure, we were snowed in at the airport once for 7 hours.  Sure, we almost got diverted due to a freak rainstorm another time, but it is Montreal.   And when my wife and I decided to take a romantic get away, we knew where we wanted to go.  It was the summer.  What could go wrong?

We checked out of our hotel after a glorious week in Montreal and had five hours to kill before heading to the airport, so we decided to walk to a museum gift store about 20 minutes away to buy a few souvenirs.  About 5 minutes into our walk, B tripped on some uneven pavement and fell.  

When she had trouble getting to her feet, we called an Uber to take us back to our hotel.  When she was in so much pain that the Uber driver had to carry her into the back of the car, we asked him to reroute to a hospital.  In the back of the car, B told me she thought she broke her leg.  The car pulled up and our driver ran in and got B a wheelchair and moved her into it.  Thanking him and reminding myself to tip him well, I wheeled B into the hospital.  

We ended up at the main and deserted entrance to the hospital, and all the signs were in French.  We were able to work out that "Urgence" was in the basement, and after a little wait and a lot of patience with our French, the hospital was able to admit B in Emergency. After looking at the x-ray, the Emergency doctor confirmed that B broke her hip, and that she would be operated on sometime this week, and recovery would be at least a month.  It was a lot to process: B's pain, a broken bone, surgery, staying in Montreal a month, missing the start of school, etc.  All we could ask was, "I guess we are not getting on our plane today?"

Here is how things actually played out: B was operated on the next day and admitted to a room in the orthopedic wing.  The day after that, B received some physio and I went out to buy her a walker.  The hospital wanted to release B later that day, but they didn't realize we were from out of province.  We also wanted to know more about a complication that occurred during surgery because it was going to affect her recovery.  The next day, the surgeon explained to us what had happened during surgery and that B could only put 50% weight on that leg until the bone healed.  We were then released.  A cab took us to an airport hotel.  On-line we miraculously found and booked two bulkhead seats on a flight that was leaving the next day!  As the Uber driver was driving us to the airport, we were telling him about our experience, and he said, "I think God is telling you not to come to Montreal."

No Thanks to:

• unnamed Insurance company.  I bought cancellation insurance, only to be told after, the insurance I bought (the only one offered) was valid up until the occurrence of the first flight, and did not cover trip extension. 
• unnamed airport hotel.  Painters banging at 6:30 am, and how can you screw up French pancakes in Quebec?

Thanks to:

• Terence, the Uber driver who picked B off the sidewalk.
• Inter-province medical.  After signing a form at Admitting, we haven't received a medical bill for anything.
• Le Petit Hotel.  We had a wonderful stay there for the first 7 days of our trip, then they stored our luggage for us after we checked out and while B was in the hospital.
• Smartphones.  While B was in the hospital, I had no where to stay.  (We checked out of Le Petit Hotel, remember?)  I kept having to move hotels because of availability, location, and accessibility.  Luckily, with my phone, I was able to find a place, book it, then navigate to and from it.  I stayed in 3 different places in 4 days.  My phone also helped me with transportation, translation from French, food (all good except the tortellini disguised as wonton), pharmacies, the walker, and communication with friends and family. 
• Remi.  Remember my principal who moved to Quebec?  Somehow he found out about B's injury and got in touch.  It was great having him as a go-to in case our French or Google Translate failed.  
• Air Canada.  Yes, Air Canada.  When we got to the long regular check-in line for the flight home, the Air Canada associate took one look at hobbling B and redirected us to Accessibility Services. The associate there took our luggage, then got us an accessibility rolling chair for B that would hold our carry-on and her walker.  The special chair got us to the front of the hour long security line up.  There was accessibility seating at the gate.  When our flight was called, we got on first as two big guys used a special skinny rolling chair to lift B into the plane and to her seat.  The bulkhead seats were perfect: lots of leg room, near the bathroom, and B was protected from traffic up and down the aisles and no one had to pass in front of her to get to the aisle.  Two different guys picked B up and got her out of the plane.
• JetSet Parking.  When they heard about B's hip surgery, they parked our car right by the exit doors.
• Friends and family who dropped off food, flowers, cards and well wishes.

The MVP in all this (besides B):

• Kevin.  When he heard about B's hip, he asked what could he do.  When we came home, Kevin had installed a second very hefty hand rail so B could sleep in her own bed upstairs.  It was a game changer.  Even before our trip, Kevin had offered to renovate our bathtub that we had not used in four years because of an intermittent leak that would drip into the light fixture below.  We took B's hip as a sign that we needed a walk-in shower.  Kevin ended up renovating the whole room: new shower, rerouting the plumbing, re-drywalling the walls and ceiling, tiling the floor and the shower, new fan and light fixtures, new vanity, new toilet, and then painting.  It was amazing what he did and he spent so much time away from his family.  We are so grateful for his expertise and his friendship.    

The experience we had was a roller coaster, full of unexpected twists and turns.  It definitely made us rethink the way we look at accessibility, sidewalks, and Montreal.

Dude, where is your school?

This post is a follow-up to my last one which was about moving to a new school.  So many questions following that post.

It is now late January, and you might be wondering why I didn't post about what the new school is like.  Well.........

Technically, I moved into a new school in September.  Technically, my new school opened with a small, but talented staff (6 divisions).  Technically, I am teaching the lone grade 2/3 class of 22 students.

If you saw these facts, you would think, "Okay, that sounds about right."  It is when you fill in the details that your perspective might change a bit.  Mine did, a lot.

Before the September start, we learned that our new school would not be ready for occupancy.  We learned that we would be moving into a nearby school temporarily until we could get at least partial occupancy of our own school.  A big, but not unexpected pivot.

The school we were moving into is about a 5 minute drive from our own site.  It is actually a new rebuild of a school, and they had just moved into their new site in the last week of school.  So in August, my new school, CSE, moved into new school, EIE, that had an established staff.  I cannot say enough about this "hosting" school, staff, and principal, Dennis.  They have been incredibly welcoming, understanding, and accommodating, especially given the circumstances.  It is like you finally get your new house built, you move in, and even before you can find and unpack that box that has the can opener in it, your grandma tells you that your cousins who you barely know, are coming to stay for an indefinite time while their house gets built.

And like any arrival of unexpected house guests, EIE, had to figure out a bunch of big things quickly: room assignments, schedules, furniture, etc.  Other things we worked out along the way.  As you know, I've been through a lot of school moves, and this one wasn't too bad.  Mind you, I have school materials in 4 different places, and I will have to move them again when we get the go ahead to move into our own school.  

Speaking of which...

Here are the questions I get when I talk about the lack of a building:

• Why is it taking so long?  Like anything these days, labour fluctuations and supply chain issues are definitely delaying the completion of our school.
• When will you move in?  I really don't know.  I thought we would be at our current site for about two months, or the winter break seemed like a logical move time, but now that both times passed, I do not even want to speculate.  [Fittingly or ironically, the symbol for my school is the Sasquatch.  Fittingly, we chose him in a school-wide poll because of his ties to nature, his watchfulness, and his quiet resolve. Ironically, our school building is like the Sasquatch: talked about, but seldom seen.]
• Wait a second, if your school is a 5 minute drive away, how are the students getting to EIE?  A bus picks them up at the CSE site.  Parents drop their children off every morning and pick them up after school.  The bus has proved to be a popular choice as more than 90 percent use it, so we had to go to two buses.  Like our host school, the parents and students of my new school have been hugely understanding and resilient with the unexpected changes.
• The main question I get from those who know me personally is: Do you regret moving schools? That is an unqualified "No." I was looking for one more challenge.  I knew going to a new school wasn't going to be easy.  I knew there were going to be unexpected obstacles, (like lining up in the rain to get on the bus, two postponed school-wide field trips due to wildfire smoke, more than half our school being Kindergarten and grade 1, etc.).  And the pluses far outweigh the minuses: I love my new staff, I am bonding with the wonderful staff and students of our host school who are funny and quirky like me, the building we share is really nice and has lots of surrounding nature, there is enough space outside to share the playground, and despite the finish construction/rehabilitation of the old site, there is a positive feel when you enter the school grounds.  

The game-changer for me is Frank, my new principal.  He is like a combination of Job, Sisyphus, and that Max character on TV's New Amsterdam.  Like Job, Frank gets a heap of challenges thrown at him constantly, as if to test his resolve, his faith in his school's ability to endure.  Like Sisyphus, these tasks are never-ending; (mixing yet another metaphor), it is like he is playing Whack-a-Mole with a broken off switch.  Like Max, he meets these challenges with a positive "How can I help?" attitude that is deeply inspiring.  

So whenever people ask me where my new school is, my best answer is: "Wherever Frank is."