The Making of an Educator - Part II - Educating an Educator

It's funny how I hated doing presentations in school, yet I wanted to be a high school teacher. Even in university, I remember my voice quivering and shaking uncontrollably even though I was sitting in my seat when I read my presentation to my peers in my first year. As I became older and wiser, my self-worth also developed, and I cared less about how others saw me, reading and realizing that most people were not as invested in their thoughts about me as I may have imagined.

When my father passed away, I was unsure if I would speak about my father. All my cousins were so supportive, and I told my cousin Amir to look at me, and if I was ready to speak, I would nod.  I nodded, but I wasn't ready to speak. I had nothing prepared. I felt my my entire torso was an empty cavity, hollow and vacuous. In a situation like the one I found myself, you had permission to be nervous, and for your voice to quiver. But I surprised myself. After a deep breath, I calmly explained how I didn't have black shoes, so I borrowed my dad's. Some slip-on Merrells with a black suede finish. I mentioned how they fit a little big on me, and when I instantly recognized how what I said was not only literal, but figurative, the old adage of having big shoes to fill, I smiled and a few people chuckled. And from there, I went on to just talk about him, remembering a story about an incident with a priest. My father had met a man on a trip, and took his address to send him something and to keep in touch. In the end, my father misplaced the piece of paper and was unable to contact him. But the man, so affected by my father and his wisdom, took it upon himself to find my father. He knew he was from Toronto, and of a Coptic Orthodox background. Time passed, but one day my father was in Mississauga and met a priest, and when the Father learned of my father's name, he reached under his testament, pulled out a notebook and said that a man was looking for him, and he had his address and telephone number.

After the funeral service, my closest friends and I went to dinner, and a few of them remarked that they could hardly believe I was the same person they watched speak in front of a packed house. They knew I did not enjoy giving presentations of speaking publicly, but that was the beginning of the end of my fear of public speaking.

Continuing the opening celebration after Baranga's, heading over to Hess to the Gown and Gavel.

Although my father did not wish for me to be a high school teacher, I know he would have been proud of my achievement entering Teacher's College. I was still working for the CBC, and took a few weeks off in Spring right around when the acceptances were being sent out at the beginning of April. I was due back on April 15th, but I figured it would take them a few days to send them out, and I would have at least 3 weeks to respond. Imagine my surprise when I arrived on the Sunday, and had acceptances from all four schools I applied to, including a scholarship from Queens. The only thing was they needed to hear back no later than the Tuesday, so I would have to reply with next-day courier. I spoke to a close family friend who was a professor at UofT, and one of my closest father figures. For him, it was a no-brainer to choose OISE. For me, it was between OISE and Brock. Interestingly, Brock was my last choice, and cost me a little extra money to add a fourth option. Since there were only 4 universities that offered a B.Ed. in Technological Education, I figured I'd apply to all of them. Queens and Western were not attractive since I owned my own Condo and didn't want extra expenses living in another city. So I went to bed Sunday night thinking I would go to OISE, having filled out the OISE acceptance.

I woke up in a cold sweat at around 3 in the morning. About a month after I applied to Teacher's College in late December, I met an old grade school friend Rocco. It just so happened that he was going to Teacher's College at Brock, and when I said it was one of the schools I applied to, he told me I should go to Brock, and how much he loved it there. This was foremost in my mind when I woke up in the middle of the night, and I went to the computer and started looking at the OISE website. I found the name of the Dean of Technological Education, and when I considered her academic achievements, and when she received them, it seemed to me she hadn't spent much time as a working teacher, if at all. But I delved deeper and found one of the profs, who was a young man and seemed to have his own online presence, which filled me with hope. But when I played one of his only videos of him talking about teaching, I had no clue what he was talking about. It was like those papers that were written with concepts you had to first understand before you could go further in your understanding. I went back to bed, and woke up again a few hours later, and called my mom. I told her I was thinking of going to Brock instead, and her immediate blessing put me at ease. I waited for a sane hour, but still pretty early, to contact a friend I know who when to OISE. She said her experience was okay. Not great, and not bad. I also checked the message board I found at 3 in the morning where I asked if Principals care where you went to school for Teacher's College when hiring, and the few replies said it didn't matter, as long as you had a B.Ed. they'd consider you equally. And that was it. I filled out the Brock acceptance. It's one of the best decisions I could have made.

One of my profs, Tony Cafazzo, who explained that if we needed anything, day or night, to call him at home since email was too slow, and he would prefer to help us right away. And he meant it. Great man!!!

One appealing aspect to going to Brock was that they had a summer program before starting in September. That meant 2 months less work at the Mother Corp, but I had been saving money all year anticipating this move, so I would be fine financially. That month working with my new peers was incredible. Each week we learned an area of Technological Education that we either knew, or didn't know. We did Technological Design one week, Construction Technology another week, Manufacturing Technology the following week and Communication Technology the last week. Teachers in each area taught us, as well as the peers in each area who were leaders for those of us who were less experienced in an unfamiliar area. It was like the coolest summer camp I could have imagined. And although we were split into two cohorts of about 23 teacher candidates, we all became very close. Every Friday we would hit a pub on Hess, just up the road from MacDonald where we were learning, and got to know each other even more.

At the end of the month, we were also put into about 6 groups of 6 or 7 and given a project to complete. It was to make a Rube Goldberg Machine that rang a bell and needed to have each of three types of levers, a screw motion, and a few other things I can't remember. We chose a Las Vegas theme and I think when some dignitaries came through the school, our Rube Goldberg machine was removed because it was a bit risqué. But we were so proud of it! I became very close with my group, and everyone stepped up in building it. But really, all 45 of us were close. Even 10 years after graduating, if I had to call up one of my Brock friends and ask them for help because I had to teach a construction class, I know they would have resources for me. I went to Stratford and a hamlet beyond Hamilton to help my friends learn a few things about teaching grade 9 Comm. Tech. So, we were close. When I polled people who went to other Teacher's Colleges, they remarked that they made 2 or 3 friends when they were in Teacher's college. Sometimes more, but nowhere close to 45.

When I finally graduated, seeing the St. Catherines campus for the second time (the first time was when I bought my books, but otherwise the Teacher's College was in Hamilton) I wrote Nowse Erving Adam Kamal Shalaby. It was an inside joke since a good size group of us met every Tuesday night to play volleyball in the gymnasium of our makeshift university campus, which was an old grade school that Brock bought. Every time I would serve, Gary (or Gazzer as I called him) would announce, "Now Servinggggg... Addaaaamm, Shallllabeeeee! So I wrote "Nowse Erving Adam Kamal Shalaby." A little different, but still funny. At least to me. But boy were those Tuesday nights great! Even when I was all the way in Mississauga, and burned out, I would trek to Hamilton for the Volleyball game. I think it kept us sane, and helped us release some tension. I would later learn that exercise helps the learning process, so good on us.

After graduation, it was time to apply. Actually, Brock was really great helping us with the application processes, and had some knowledgable teachers give us the nitty gritty on how to apply with the central application system most boards used, but I was only applying to TDSB, my eggs all in one basket. It's where I live, and the only board I was interested in.

When I got the call for an interview, I was stoked. It was an interview for the TDSB, and if it went well, then I would be provided access to upload my resume and "to whom it may concern" cover letter which Principals could access and grant me an interview. I was not going to leave anything to chance. Although it was at 5050 Yonge, up in North York, I was not willing to take the subway. I would never forgive myself if I botched my interview even if the subway breaking down was out of my control. So I decided to drive. But I left 4 hours before my interview, figuring that would give me time to call a tow truck and take a cab to the interview. I spent time on a bench looking over my notes, and eventually made my way in about an hour before my interview. The secretary remarked that I was early and I said I would wait, and just read. About 15 minutes later, one of the retired principals that was interviewing me approached and asked if I wouldn't mind being interviewed early.  She explained that one of the people being interviewed that afternoon was running late and if I would mind moving up a slot. I agreed, and it gave me a certain sense of comfort. During the interview, one of them remarked that I was very Zen, believing my description of how I would handle a volatile situation in class.

My first interview was at Lester B Pearson in deep Scarborough. The interview went very well, but I was not looking forward to the commute. I thought, "Life can't be perfect, though."

Then I got a call from L'Amoreaux, also in Scarborough but much closer. The Principal wanted to know if I could come in on Friday. I basically told her I couldn't. I was the leader of a camp group and many people were depending on me for food, permits, etc. I told her if there was no other arrangement, I would figure something out. Fortunately, she accommodated me and asked if I could come the day before, on the Thursday, and immediately said I could. It would mean some juggling of when I would get ready for the trip, but basically it would be fine.

The interview was just with her, perhaps because it was off-schedule. I would imagine most interviews would be with someone else, but it was just me and her. She not only conducted the interview, which went well, but she also toured the school with me and showed me the lab I would teach in and the rest of the Tech area. She called the odd student who was milling about, even though summer school had ended for the day by then, and I had a really good feeling about her as a Principal. She seemed very hands on and visible.

The camping trip, up in the Algonquin Hills for a hike. Good times!

It was on the way home from Alqonguin Park that I got the call from Lester B Pearson. I was nervous about answering it. I didn't know what I would do if they offered me the job, because I had a good feeling Mamacita Principale (as I eventually called her) would offer me a job. Luckily, they told me some great things and that I would be a great teacher, but that they didn't think the rough and tumble school was a good fit for me. They wished me well. Not long after, Mamacita Principale offered me the job and gave me my new department head's number. I wanted to know what courses I'd be teaching, and hoped he could tell me, but it was summer and I don't think he was able to tell me, or so laid back he didn't think it was important, so I left it and tried not to worry about it.

The next step was to start my teaching practice. There were a number of good stories that came out of L'Amoreaux, and some challenges as well, but in the beginning, I thought it would be the school I retired from. But things had a funny way of working themselves out, but I'll save that for another time.