Profs in the B.Ed. program warn students not to tell their friends that the classes are "easy." They contend that as time goes on, it gets harder, and you'll have wiped out any source of support. After almost three weeks of class, I will dare to say, to every person on the internet, that this program is not hard. Which is not to say that it isn't "challenging."

You read an article. You discuss this article in groups. Then as a class. Then you "reflect" on how you feel about the experience. In every class, you "reflect" on how you feel about things. Reflect on how you handled that class conflict. Reflect on how the curriculum could have been more inclusive. Reflect on how your assessment methods impacted your students.

Eventually, "reflection" starts to feel like a pompous way of saying "think about what the hell you're doing." Better put, my old roommate, now in her third year of teaching, says that after a year of teacher's college, your response to the suggestion to "reflect" on something will be: "Reflect this."

This is not meant to discount the value of the classes. I'd argue that effective teaching can't really be taught; rather, you best prepare for the career by considering possible problems, reading case-studies, and then trying your hand at the blackboard in the practicum (when you get to test-teach a class). None of this makes you a qualified teacher. It only tempers you for the fire of the classroom.

Like other professional programs, your suitability as a teacher is best judged by how you perform on the job. As with doctors, lawyers, and engineers, practice and experience determines success. Unlike these other professions however, no extended period of articling or apprenticeship is required to become a teacher. I'd like to see a salaried, supervised, one-semester (minimum) apprenticeship for all teachers before they receive their certification.

Let's not implement it until after I've graduated, though.

Hungry. Needed dinner, no groceries. I considered pizza, but the shop at the corner was too expensive. Whatever happened to the pizza wars? Remember when you could get 2 large pizzas for $13.99? Now it's $16.99 for one medium. I guess the wars are over; apparently pizza won, and we've moved into the raping and pillaging stage.

I decided to white-trash it. Walked over to the Zellers, which now has a supermarket section, and bought two cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli (seriously), an 8-pack of hamburger buns, a litre of milk and a box of Chunks Ahoy! cookies. Total: $7.03.

Back at the ranch, I heated up the rav in the microwave, and got some salami and havarti out of the fridge. I used these to make two sandwiches on the hamburger buns. When the microwave beeped off, I slopped some ravioli between the salami and the cheese, so the cheese melted. Mmmm... trailer-icious!

No, it wasn't so great, but I've eaten worse. I just wish I'd had some way to keep the little raviolis from squirting out of the bun when I took a bite. Regardless, any meal can be salvaged with a mittful of Chunks Ahoy! and a glass of milk for dessert.

Took the bus to school today. Lots of highschool students were heading to class as well. Two girls in tartan kilts, presumably going to Catholic school, were chatting a few feet away from me.

"So what's this 'mass' thing all about?" one asked. Remember that Catholic schools, since lobbying successfully for government funding, must admit both Catholic and non-Catholic students.

"Oh, we go sit in the gym?" explained her friend, in that teenage question-as-statement manner. "And then this priest gets up? And he like, goes blah blah blah for half and hour? And then we go back to class."

That is almost verbatim. The scary thing (or maybe the comforting thing?) is that this is the same answer you would've received 15 years ago, when I started Catholic high school.

During Frosh Week lots of organizations came to the student centre to schelp their wares and ideologies. A downtown bar was letting students spin a wheel for prizes. Mobile phone companies were giving away water bottles. Credit card recruiters had free university hats and t-shirts. And the Catholic and Christian Outreach people had... popcorn.

Jesus has lost some of his allure, I guess. I mean, an outreach is supposed to be there for people to come to when they are in need, but not in need of buttery carbohydrate snacks. If I were one of the Big C faiths (which I am not, obviously), would I be more likely to approach this booth because of the popcorn? I mean, wouldn't I go over and say hello regardless? Or are the god people hoping to lure heathens to the table, sing 'em the Jesus pitch, and have Orville Reddenbacher close the deal?

I don't get it.

Finally found a place to stay. What a great way to start the month. After a couple fruitless weeks of searching, the pavement pounding paid off, and I scored a sweet furnished room in a great house here in Sandy Hill, nice a close to school.

I don't know why I get lucky like this. On the one hand, I never really get stressed out about things, and in the end they work out. Luck. Or do they work out because I don't get stressed? Cause and effect? I'm not professing any personal skill here-- if anything, I'm admitting that most of the time I suffer from blissful ignorance of the seriousness of my situation. That's probably gonna bite me in the ass one day.

Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it.