One of my favourite Christmas gifts this year was a novel entitled “Whale Song”. It’s written by Cheryl Kaye Tardif, who, in addition to being fantastic writer, is also an old family friend. She went to high school with my older brother Mike, and I’ll always remember, even though I was the bratty, tag-along little sister, that Cheryl was always so sweet and kind to me.

The book is, in my opinion, a must-read for anyone who loves stories that combine coming-of-age, heartwarming family stories, the tragic realities of life, and a little mystery (and I’m not just saying that because I know her!). The story is about a young girl who is displaced with her family from Wyoming to the west coast of Canada. She meets and befriends an Aboriginal family and they teach her about their culture and their way of life. As tremendous adversity befalls her, she uses what she’s learned about native spirituality to guide her through difficult waters.

I devoured this book in a little under 2 days – and for me, that is some kind of record. I couldn’t put it down! For me, it was more than just a story. You see, like me, Cheryl also grew up on the Queen Charlotte Islands (a.k.a. Haida Gwaii); a very small, very remote island on the West Coast of Canada, tucked neatly between Vancouver Island and the Alaska Panhandle. The Charlottes are one of the most unique places on earth – it’s temperate rain-forest climate is home to some of the most scenic landscapes on the planet and many endemic animals and plants.

What made the book really special to me is the references Cheryl makes to the place I grew up. It was these parts that had me reduced to tears on more than one occasion. Recalling these memories over the past few days has taught me an important lesson which I’d like to share here.

The town we lived in, Masset – was unique at that time, in more ways than one. Aside from being set in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, it had one of the most interesting mergings of two cultures I’ve ever seen – the Haida and the military.

I was a base brat for all of my childhood and as such was totally immersed in the military culture. As transient as our life was, we were fortunate to live in Masset for 7 years total – almost unheard of in military life. I was used to my Dad going away for 6 months or so at a time, off to the far regions of the North. The military community is very close, especially on the isolated bases, and since our moving around kept us from seeing my grandparents, aunt and uncle regularly, my parents’ friends were like my immediate family, and their kids, like cousins. We looked out for each other,  in a place that was far away from civilization. There was no McDonalds. No shopping mall. Not even a traffic light. And nearly no TV. But we somehow managed to survive happily.

The military culture was contrasted with a very profound and strong native culture. The Haida Nation is one of the most studied and well known First Nations in Canada. Haida art is featured prominently on our $20 bill, and many documentaries have been made about Haida culture and art. Co-habitating in an isolated place with such a rich native culture had its distinct benefits. Not only are the Haida very generous and welcoming people, they openly shared their culture with everyone in the community. At school, my field trips were not to an art museum to see Emily Carr paintings. They were to the actual place where Emily Carr painted some of her most famous works. My art classes were not focused on how to sketch still life from a picture book. Actual Haida artists would come to my classes and teach us how to draw Haida art. Our history lessons were not taught out of some dusty textbook – they were taught through stories told to us by Haida elders.

When I was 11 years old, I spent a week learning how to survive in the wilderness, then was cast out on my own to spend 24 hours to fend for myself with only 2 matches, a jar of water and a teabag. Like I had learned, I built a shelter just above the tide line, started a (pathetic) fire, and foraged for berries to eat. That was my summer camp.

You may be wondering why I’m bringing all this up. After all, I spend much of my time on this blog talking about technology, social media, and entrepreneurship. How does this story of my childhood fit in? Maybe it’s the fact that Cheryl’s book stirred up so many emotional memories in me. But that’s a good thing – because remembering all of the amazing experiences of my atypical childhood has made me realize the significant impact it had on who I am today.

Living in isolation may be like torture for some people, especially if they’ve only ever been city dwellers. But what it did for me was made me appreciate community on an exponential scale. Back in Masset, we were all connected to each other, and the two very distinct cultures of the Haida and the military lived side by side in harmony. We were friends, neighbours, and family to one another. We helped each other out. We raised money for the town, we raised money for disabled kids. We celebrated together in the good times, and in the bad times, we cried together. We were the very definition of what community is all about.

Is it any wonder why I am so involved in my online communities today? I do think that I’m meant to be here.

The Haida, like all First Nations peoples, are an extraordinarily spiritual people. What I learned from the Haidas growing up has stuck with me in so many ways. It’s shaped my own spiritual experience. I will never forget that night I spent on the beach. I was snuggled in my little lean-to shelter, warm in my sleeping bag. I listened to the waves crash on the beach, the wind blowing through the giant cedar trees, the caw of the Raven and the shriek of the Eagle. At just 11 years old, I suddenly realized my complete connection with all other living things.

In that moment, I understood what the Haida elders had been teaching us at school. I understood what Emily Carr’s paintings were all about. Everything is connected. Connections create energy. And energy is what makes amazing things happen.

The new year is a time of new beginnings. We are all planning, and setting goals, and thinking of the specific things that are going to define our year. Sometimes, people get stuck – I know I do. As exciting as the promise of a new year can be, it can also be overwhelming. So much to do, what if I fail, what if I succeed, what if…what if….

The secret to embracing what the future holds is to think about what has gotten you to this point. Every single experience you’ve had until now has shaped who you are, how you relate to other people. It’s what you do with that life experience will ultimately shape your future success.

Thank you, Cheryl, for writing “Whale Song”. Not only is it a wonderful story, it’s wonderful to see you taking the experiences of your past, shaping them into something new, and through that, living your passion.

If you want to pick up Cheryl’s book, you can still order it online – though I’ve heard that it’s going out of print – so grab your copy soon!

Happy New Year everyone!

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I was never the greatest student back in high school. I was miserable at math (still am), and miserable at English. I had to take makeup classes after school when I was in Grade 11, because my grammar was “atrocious”. Ironic that I’m now a writer (take that, Mrs. Dicresce!). I muddled through high school, managed to maintain about a B+ average, and escaped as fast as humanly possible once I was done.

Despite my former lack of enthusiasm for school, I love to learn. And the best way I have found to learn, to REALLY learn something, is to teach it to someone else. That’s how I learned, really learned television production. By teaching my volunteers at the cable station the finer points of lighting, camera, audio, directing, and producing. It’s how I learned web design. By being forced to learn HTML, Dreamweaver and Flash in 2 weeks back in 1999, and then showing 20 college students how to do it.

I read a lot of blogs and interact with a lot of people online. And I’m always learning. There are plenty of great teachers out there. A secret to success? Teach people something. Share your knowledge and experience.

Here are some things I’ve learned about what makes the difference between a good teacher and a great teacher.

Doing Is Better Than Showing

I fondly remember my Grade 11 History class as “nap time”. If I was actually awake while the teacher droned on endlessly about the war of this and the revolution of that, I most certainly wasn’t paying attention. However, when I was in my earlier high school years, I lived on the Queen Charlotte Islands (Haida Gwaii) and our history classes took place in the wilderness, up close and personal with majestic totem poles, carved canoes, and longhouses. Our field trips took place in the same places where Emily Carr created her famous paintings. Haida elders would come to our class and teach us their language, legends and art. It was captivating, breathtaking and you’re damn right we learned a lot.

It’s one thing to blabber on to people about a topic, to subject your learners to death by PowerPoint. It’s entirely another take them, show them, make them do, see and experience. People learn so much more when they are an ACTIVE participant in their learning. Great teachers make their students take action and participate. The result is, the students retain what they’ve learned and are excited and enthused to pass it on to others.

Beyond The Comfort Zone

My friend Dave is a piano player and singer. He can play ANYTHING on the piano, in pretty much any key. He’s an extremely talented musician with years of experience. And he can’t read a note of music. The best part about being a musician who can’t read music is you don’t have any rules to abide by. Dave is free to experiment and explore and create. (Incidentally, Paul MacCartney can’t read music either.)

Every class I have ever taught has an underdog. The one person that walks in and you can just tell they feel perplexed being there. Since I do a lot of technical training, my underdogs are usually those people who don’t feel comfortable working with technology, who have been forced to attend the course by their employer and really don’t think they are going to be able to learn anything.

Underdogs are most rewarding people to teach, because they are the like the musicians who can’t read music. They are completely open to learning, because don’t have any preconceived notions. They are a blank canvas.

It takes tremendous patience to teach the underdog. But being a great teacher requires that you not only share your knowledge, but that you encourage people to break out of their comfort zones, to explore, experiment and create. Like my friend Dave, and Sir Paul, breaking down the barriers of rules and preconception leaves one free to experience true understanding.

Passion, Passion and More Passion

Have you ever been completely captivated by a speaker? Check out Jill Bolte Taylor’s TED Talk and you will see an excellent example of this. In her talk, she goes from laughing hysterically to shouting to talking softly to crying. You walk away and I guarantee you will be thinking about it for the rest of the day.

I had a Math teacher in Grade 11, Mr. Hanley. Now, as mentioned, I HATED Math. Was lousy at it. But I LOVED Mr. Hanley’s class. Why? Because he was absolutely passionate about his subject. In his world, there was nothing more beautiful, more incredible than algebra, calculus and functions (shudder). Every day he found a new and interesting way to get us worked up about it. And even though I still completely sucked at Math, I was having fun. I learned something, too, because I ended up with a B.

Being passionate is the single most important thing you can do to be a great teacher. If you truly are passionate about what you are teaching, your students will be excited about what they are learning. It’s that simple. Passionate teachers create passionate students.

Learn to Share, Share to Learn

There is something about sharing knowledge with other people that allows it to really sink in to your brain. If you can explain it well, it means you truly understand it. But teaching is more than that to me. The best part of teaching is seeing what people can create once the have the knowledge.

You already know a lot. Now is the time to share it with others.

photo credit: talldude07, MorgueFile

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Chris Brogan wrote an interesting post the other day that has really got me thinking. His thought about how to make it in this burgeoning world of online media:

” …it’s people who are figuring out the triangle, delivering something of quality, and are connecting targeted content to interested audiences.”

Hmmm. Sounds to me like Community Television to me. Over the next few blog posts I shall endeavour to explain.

Community Television. Public Access TV. Cable Access Programming. I’ve been involved in community television since I was about 10 years old. More than 27 years.

It started in the small town in which I grew up called Masset, on the Queen Charlotte Islands (Haida Gwaii). My Dad, along with some other townspeople, helped start a small (VERY small) community television station using some old leftover TV equipment. They hooked up a couple of cameras, an A/B switch, stuck a microphone on a table and went on the air. Kids from the community (me and my brother included) read community announcements. This community-based TV station was called Masset-Haida Television (MHTV) and it still exists today, last I heard, on Channel 13. Go to www.mhtv.ca. . See the blue station logo? That is the very logo my Dad designed back in 1979!

Our little TV channel covered everything that was happening around town. On Canada Day, my mom played roving reporter, my dad played cameraman and I helped carry equipment as we roamed around town catching all the festivities. When the Annual Miss Masset pageant took place, we were there, carrying it live for all the town residents to see. And every year at the end of November, we held a telethon, where this small town of just 1800 people would go on the air for 21 hours and raise over $25,000 each year for the Timmy’s Christmas Telethon. $25,000 was a lot of money in 1980.

My family was there for the very first telethon, held I think around 1980 or 81. My Mom worked in the accounting office. My Dad was the Director for the TV show. I was the number board girl, hanging white cardboard numbers on nails stuck in a piece of painted plywood. My brother was one of the on-air hosts. There was entertainment, and lots of it. Magicians, high school bands, clowns, comedians, we had it all. And every year the Haida dancers would come, at least 50 Haida men, women and children, and fill the community hall with their beautiful button blankets and incredible sounds and rhythms. Anyone who knows anything about Haida Gwaii knows that was something pretty special.

There were three phone operators taking donations, usually prominent people from the community, like the Mayor, the Fire Chief, and the RCMP constable. The old rotary phones they used would “rrrrrring” in the middle of the performances, but nobody cared. It meant people were tuning in, and it meant they were giving.

It was the ultimate in small town TV. It was no Jerry Lewis Telethon, but it was technically pretty darn good. But the most important thing? The whole town tuned in. And the whole town gave. It was interesting content delivered to a targeted audience (all those parents, cousins, aunts, uncles and friends of all those performers!)

Back in 1980, we had the triangle figured out. My family has long since moved on, but the people of Masset are still doing that telethon every year. 27 years and going strong, and hundreds of thousands of dollars raised for a great cause. I think Jerry Lewis would be impressed.

In part II of Online Media: Community TV Comes Full Circle, I’ll talk about my 7 years working for a community cable station and how the evolution of online media continues to bring me back to those roots.

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