Yesterday, a report focusing on the failures of the school and health systems was released—a short report, to be fair, and perhaps one that does not go into great detail about the failures of society to protect young assault victims.

For one, I encourage you to go to this link, read the report in full (it’s fairly short), and form your own opinions of the document.

There are a variety of ways to interpret it; this is obvious in the many headlines I’ve seen in the last 24 hours:

• Rehtaeh Parsons cyberbullying report calls for hospital review (cbc.ca)
• Rehtaeh Parons report calls for changes to Nova Scotia curriculum (Toronto Sun)
• Rehtaeh Parsons was out of reach of those who could help her (Ottawa Citizen)
• Report on Rehtaeh Parsons suicide says her absence from school was missed red flag (Globe and Mail)
• Rehtaeh Parsons report calls for revised school codes of conduct (Toronto Star)

As someone who works in the school system (especially in a variety of settings), I found the analysis of the education world most interesting. For one, my personal belief is that the education system plays a huge role in helping students achieve academic success as well as healthy human development—obviously a job we share with a student’s caregivers and community.

The report highlighted how the school system failed Rehtaeh, although the failure was not as obvious as I originally thought. For one, Rehtaeh transferred several times, which meant school teams only had a short opportunity to make a different to her. One problem that needs to be addressed is how schools share information with each other. For example, no one called up the transfer school (or vice versa) and flagged Rehtaeh as an at-risk student who needed support. And lots of it.

Furthermore, as a result of the trauma and ensuing mental difficulties, Rehtaeh missed a lot of classes. Her absences meant that she was not always on school property to access the services there. For example, Schools Plus is a wonderful initiative of the province that provides an outreach worker to support students in exploiting community programs like addictions services and sexual health care. (The report calls for more of this incredible program, especially as participants sign one consent form to allow different organizations to share confidential information as needed.)

But the school wasn’t the only institution that failed this young woman.

There’s the IWK hospital, where Rehtaeh stayed for 5 weeks because she was on suicide watch. Clearly, the hospital failed to meet her needs, and may have even made things worse, given the allegation two men stripped her naked because they thought she had a razor on her person. While it’s important to keep patients from harming themselves, such an act may have added to her psychic load and eventually pushed her over the edge to complete suicide, not just threaten it. Obviously a review of the IWK’s policy—and indeed the policy of any medical inpatient unit—needs to be reviewed. Stripping a child or survivor of sexual abuse is hardly conducive to overcoming the trauma.

The report also noted that Rehtaeh’s treatment focused on her drug use rather than her trauma and harassment. Likely, any drug use would have been symptomatic of her pain; treating that would have been ineffective until her harassment and abuse was addressed.

While some have called the report “fluff” (just read the comments to these news stories to get a snapshot of public opinion, or at least the opinions of those who like to comment online), it is a document that is sensitive to what happened, and a good starting place for more analysis.

Obviously, more needs to be done. We need a public discussion of how the justice system deals with “he said/she said” cases or any other accusations of sexual abuse. The justice system is not capable of providing enough justice to women or any other survivors of sexual abuse. Case in point: the Nova Scotia Home for Coloured Children. If sex without consent is illegal, it needs to be enforced.

Another thing that needs to be done: everyone needs to learn about enthusiastic consent, the modern interpretation of “no means no”.

Enthusiastic consent means you don’t engage in sex without enthusiastic consent from your partner. This weeds out cases surrounding alcohol intoxication, as those who are inebriated cannot give enthusiastic consent, especially if they are semi-conscious or vomiting.

Boys especially need to learn about enthusiastic consent to counteract society’s definitions of masculinity. We have defined masculinity within the bounds of patriarchy and power. A man who overpowers a girl and makes her submit to his will is not a rapist, but a hero of many romance novels, a true man. Boys need to learn it is not acceptable to get a girl drunk in order to seduce her. (At this point, I’d like to say that it’s not acceptable for anyone, including girls, to do this; however, society implicitly allows men to use this abuse of power under the whole “boys being boys” mentality. I’d also like to say that many men are above this technique, but it’s important to clarify this idea is out there without enough to dissuade some individuals from doing it.)

As a devout feminist, I believe that society still has a long way to go when it comes to gender roles—for boys as well as girls. They harm us all, and then, when we cry out for help, the system is unable to give us what we need.

When Rehtaeh began to suffer, the schools were unable to keep her in a safe, stable environment—despite strict codes of conduct and positive behaviour matrices (otherwise known as the PEBS system). This meant she was out of reach of guidance counsellors and other school support staff. (The report also highlights how busy these people are, and how difficult it is to get appointments with them.)

Then, when she accessed the mental health system—in this case, through the IWK, although I have no reason to believe it would have been different at another hospital site—it was unable to provide enough healing to make Rehtaeh functional and safe again.

Even if the justice system was unable to get away from its patriarchal underpinning, which does not always take sexual assault seriously, she should have been able to access services to help her heal from her dreadful harassment.

Instead, she slipped through the cracks.

Now that this report is out, we as a society need to look at new ways of helping victims.

As someone who has seen both the school system and the mental health system first hand, I know that success is only possible when you fight for yourself. That means we as a society need to find new ways to help victims fight for themselves—and to protect them until they are ready to do so. Especially when they are so young.

Though people may be tired of hearing about Rehtaeh in the media, she has come to represent all of the victims out there who are struggling. And there are lots. Young, old; men, women; straight, gay, transgender, bisexual.

Until our society comes to take sexual assault and mental health seriously, I hope we never forget her name.

It’s been raining cats and dogs forever, it seems. My flipflops are growing mouldy. I can’t help wearing them, even though I know—I just know!—it will involve splashing through parking lot puddles containing mushy sales flyers and rainbows from old gas.

We had one weekend of extreme heat and humidity and it’s been raining ever since.

As a result, the house has been overtaken by silverfish. When you turn the lights on at night, all you see is:

They really do seem this big.

If the devil came back as a bug, it would totally be a silverfish, slithering away in the night, trying to hide like a Canadian senator.

Did you know they eat BOOKS? and glue?

Devilfish.

I started working this week. It has been lovely getting up every morning, knowing I will get paid actual money in two weeks’ time. And then two weeks after that.

Yesterday’s assignment? First aid. I did not pass out, although the nausea was a little annoying, especially after I downed enough coffee to keep Turkey awake for a week. Half the class was made up of whiskery male labourers who struggled to stay alert. (The rest were summer job students and women who texted whenever the instructor wasn’t instructing.)

I haven’t had any first aid training since elementary, so it was great to get a refresher. For example, they no longer use leeches or bloodletting.

Several things I learned:

• doing chest compressions is a really good workout
• even fake eyeballs hanging out of a person is nauseating
• sitting all day is really hard despite being in cushy politician chairs (FYI, the course was held at town hall)
• even small town council chambers have panic buttons that will bring the police in, guns ablazing

Thankfully, I didn’t sit near the button (otherwise, I probably would’ve made the news). Clumsy doofus accidentally calls in the SWAT team to First Aid session.

On the bright side, I probably wouldn’t have needed as much coffee to stay awake.

Also on the job front, I’m applying for term teaching positions for the fall. I’ve revamped my cover letter yet again.

Yet again.

Seventeen teaching jobs have been axed for the fall, so pray for me.

Pray for some sun, too.

For the last six years (with the exception of my 16 months in my BEd program), I have been looking for work. If I had a dollar for each time I logged onto the Service Canada Job Bank, I’d be able to retire.

When I started my BA in 2002, the job market wasn’t so abysmal. Lots of media jobs were posted online, and most of them required a degree. I went the extra step and got a MA in English, thinking I’d be raking in the money, especially with a background in Journalism.

Well that didn’t happen. Turns out I couldn’t get any work aside from making Christmas wreaths for five weeks out of the year.

Eventually, I picked up a job an hour away at a radio station. While it was a good experience until I started getting hassled at work, it only paid $11 a hour. Most of my money went into my gas tank, especially when the price topped $1.40 a litre.

And so,  I went back to school to get a BEd. I learned how to public speak. I learned how to lesson plan around the province’s curriculum outcomes. I learned a lot about kids and adults.

Two years later, I’m still in the subbing system, trying to master the art of getting hired. My weakness in interviews has meant I’ve come really close to work, but not quite close enough.

Thankfully, I’ve nabbed a job for the summer. Huzzah! Ten whole weeks of full-time work! Even better, it involves working with kids! A job I can actually put on my resume!

I’ll be leading children’s workshops all summer. I’ll need to promote the workshops and facilitate them. I think it will be great… plus, I need to fix my car, go to the dentist, and maybe (just maybe!) get an iPad Mini so I can keep up to the kids this year (some of the schools are buying class sets of them for educational purposes).

I’m super-excited to be useful for 10 weeks.

It’s amazing how small blessings can rock one’s world, after a litany of nos, and sitting home wondering what’s wrong with me.

I’ll be eating the REAL Kraft Dinner this summer. No No Name Mac and Cheese for me!

One can dream…

I’m totally wishing for a day or two of cooler weather. I’m hating the humidity; last night/this morning, I didn’t fall asleep until 3:30 AM. Thankfully, we’re due for some thunderboomies* today. I’m hoping they will clear the air and not start any forest fires.

I’m also thankful my phone didn’t ring this morning at 5:30 AM. As a sub, this is always a possibility, that monotone computer voice asking if I’m interested in an assignment at—dramatic pause—such and such school starting at the crack of dawn before anyone in their right mind should be up and at’em. Sometimes I have to be there at 7:25! Blech.

Instead of working today, I was left to my own devices. Which meant getting up at 11 AM. (Yes, please.) This would’ve been a much better victory if I hadn’t spent four-fifths of the night tossing and turning. Even sleeping this morning was impossible. It seemed to take forever for the garbage collectors to put the spring cleanup junk into the truck, with much cl-clunking and cl-clanking. Some of the neighbours were not so fastidious in putting out their materials: there are rejection stickers all over the boards with nails on them. I guess the collectors don’t want tetanus. I suppose next thing, they’ll be wanting more than minimum wage.

Years ago, there was an old garage next door where you could buy chips and pop for 50 cents. Multi-colour flags fluttered above, the kind you see sometimes at used car dealerships.

The old garage is long gone (except for the harvests of beer bottles and alternators that emerge from the ground every spring) and there is nothing left but a small paved parking lot where your tires are apt to find nails and other sharp goodies.

The whole neighbourhood puts their junk there, which is helpful to the garbagemen, as they can pull off the road to load up the mountain of old hoses, paint cans, Christmas decorations, gyproc, etc.

All weekend, the pile was busier than a Tim Horton’s drive-thru. People around here like to comb the piles for treasures, although I’m sure there are no discarded Picassos, no Ming vases.

Metal is usually the first to go, since you can get money for it. Old furniture is also a big hit. Even old washing machines and appliances disappear before Monday morning.

Someone put out a big green propane tank; a few hours later, someone with a trailer came and claimed it. Another person put out 15 (15!) truck tires. The garbagemen won’t take tires, but that wasn’t a problem because someone took. them. all. (WTF does one do with 15 old tires? Start a tire swing business?)

Needless to say, I didn’t get much garbage out because:

a) it was too hot to move all weekend

b) I’m a hoarder at heart and despise parting with junk lest I need it at some point in the next 70 years

And so, I’ll have to wait until fall to clean out the house. Maybe I can convince myself I really don’t need the lamp that buzzes like it’s about to burst into flame. Or the clotheshorse missing one section. Or the homemade CD holder made from a wine box I found at the Acadia Dump and Run.

Yup. Someday, they’re going to make a show about me.

* If Shakespeare can make up words, so can I. Suck it, spell check.

Yes, it’s only June 1, but summer is here with a vengeance.

I’m pretty sure we had snow a couple of weeks ago. And I know for sure that the oil heat was running last week.

The humidex today was 36 degrees Celsius.

I drove to a local lake today, just to dip my toes in the water—and it was WARM! Normally the lake isn’t swimable until late June.

I’m sure many people are in their glory, but me, being the freak of nature that I am, heat the hate. I washed the car tonight, and was 10 shades of red before I came inside to have a cool-down bath.

Enough complaining.

What else is new?

My fingers are crossed that I have a job for the summer. I should hear back early this week—yay or nay. My official position would be Lead Facilitator for children’s workshops this summer. As a substitute teacher, it’s incredibly stressful to NOT have a job for summer, especially when you don’t make oodles of money all year. May has been a great month, though. I’m hoping I will busy for the first two weeks of June, before exams begin.

I’m still going to physio. The past two weeks, I have been going to massage therapy two times a week; this week it scales back to once per week. I’ve got lots of neck and shoulder exercises to do, although they increase my tension and pain, not decrease it.

Overall, treatment for my whiplash has been pretty disappointing; I almost think it would have healed just as much without treatment, just time. The crappy part about all of those appointments for your injury is that they make you think about it INCESSANTLY. You never get a break from it because you are always focused on doing your exercises, arranging appointments, and wondering if you need to adjust your posture. Despite all of that, my spine still cracks non-stop, and is full of tension whenever I’m reading or watching TV.

I must have complainacitis tonight. It’s the heat, I swear. (I originally wrote “sweat” instead of swear. Freudian slip.)

Tomorrow, though, I hope to go swimming. That should totally make it better, right?

Flipflop season is official here.

This would make anyone feel better.

]]> http://dailyhodgepodge.wordpress.com/2013/06/01/holy-summer-heat/feed/ 0 Miss Julie http://dailyhodgepodge.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/wisdom-from-the-trenches-never-drink-mio-straight/ http://dailyhodgepodge.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/wisdom-from-the-trenches-never-drink-mio-straight/#comments Sat, 25 May 2013 18:40:45 +0000 Julie http://dailyhodgepodge.wordpress.com/?p=6863 ]]> First off, I’m not sure if the company that manufacturers MiO (probably Pepsi or Belvedere or Unilever*) is aware of how weird their slogan is, especially to those of us who can spot a double entendre a mile away.

Squirt some.

Don’t squirt some.

Then there’s the weird gestures in the TV commercials. It basically looks like the hand is playing with someone’s… um… sports equipment. You know, like basketballs.

Okay, so maybe it’s ME who’s weird and reading way too much into this commercial.

Either way, I always thought the commercials for this “liquid water enhancer” were bizarre.

Before I go any further, I will admit I have never had this stuff. I refuse to consume fake sugar because it does unpleasant things to my digestive system. And it has a funny aftertaste. People might as well bypass telling me things like Splenda taste just like sugar because they. do. not.

As someone who works with kids, I tend to see a lot of unusual stuff. Because let’s admit it… growing up, you do some unusual stuff, especially until your prefrontal cortex develops completely.

The latest thing I’ve seen: kids drinking MiO straight.

And it must be toxic because it makes them drop like flies. That much artificial sweetener is enough to make anyone sick as a dog. (Yes, I realize you could make the same argument for white sugar, although real sugar isn’t apt to give you the diarrhea like artificial sweeteners.)

Yesterday, when I was grocery shopping, I happened across a food demonstration. It was for—you guessed it!—MiO sport, which does have electrolytes in it (I thought I would throw some positive out there).

I mentioned how nasty it was when consumed straight.

The next thing, the promoter was squirting some into a cup. She downed it and said, “That’s awful.” At this point, she was coughing and reaching for some water, albeit “enhanced” water.

She said she was going to alert parents that their children should not drink it straight. (There probably should be a warning label on it if there isn’t already, although if you read the ingredients, you probably wouldn’t buy it to give to your dog.**)

As I said, I have yet to buy the stuff myself. I prefer real sugar these days, and if I ever become diabetic (which unfortunately is in my family history), I’m sticking to this stuff: True Lemon.

It has no calories, some Vitamin C, and it’s tasty.

I found it in in the organic section of the Superstore, and I heart it. A lot. Even better, the cat will not drink from my water glass when it smells lemony. (Although I’m sure Jack wouldn’t go near MiO with a ten foot paw.)

The moral of this story is, please give your kids REAL sugar. It’s probably healthier for them.

The end.

* I thought I was going to be lazy and NOT look up the company because when my netbook is unplugged from its power cord, the wireless is achingly slow. But I did. Ten minutes later, I discovered it’s made by Kraft.

** MiO Ingredients: Water, Citric Acid, Propylene Glycol, Malic Acid, Contains Less than 2% of Natural Flavor, Sucralose and Acesulfame Potassium (Sweeteners), Potassium Citrate, Red 40, Blue 1, Potassium Sorbate (Preservative).

And over and over.

In all, it was a pretty good long weekend. I didn’t get out of my jammies before 2 on most days and read a lot with a sleepy kitty on my lap.

I’m feverishly working to get a job for the summer (or a full-time one; I’m not picky) and had two interviews last week. Thankfully, I have another one this Thursday because

a) the first interview, for a one month term job, didn’t pan out and

b) the second one is just for subbing at a daycare, which would involved watching tiny tykes for 7:30 to 5:00 for minimum wage (and only if I pay to get my CPR certification)

Oh, the opportunities a BA can get you!

I haven’t been blogging much because I’ve been tweaking my teacher’s webpage in time for the June hiring rounds. It would be nice to get a term for the fall, and I’ve been working hard to make it so. I’m even reading teacher’s textbooks like crazy, updating my LinkedIn profile, and being the best little job hunter I can be.

Thankfully, subbing has picked up a little in the last few weeks; I expect it will be brisk until mid June or so, when everything wraps up for the year.

And finally, over the weekend, I got to go to a family get together where there was lots of food and (did I mention?) lots of food.

Once, while trudging back and forth between the food area and the sitting area, I heard water running.

Perplexed (after all, it was a dry evening) I looked for the source of the water, and would’ve looked for awhile if someone wouldn’t have spoken up.

I forget what they said. Mostly because I was

a) surprised a person was making the water sound beside the house

b) slightly embarrassed to be caught looking for the source of the water sound

You can probably guess what was happening. I’m surprised that, as a good country girl, I didn’t think of that.

I’ve also had a wireless modem for as long as I’ve had my broadband.

Of course, just because I plugged it in and began using it didn’t mean I figured out how to start using it properly.

Today, while spring cleaning my computer (and deleting a bunch of junk), I decided to call Bell Aliant support.

And so, tonight, I’m writing this post on my netbook far away from my desktop computer and my modem.

I feel free.

I’ve spent all evening updating programs that haven’t been updated since last summer, when I last connected my netbook to the internet.

I can’t really explain why it took me five years to get my wireless working. Especially because I’m super excited the wireless works outside on the porch! and in the basement! and in my bedroom!

It’s like someone discovering indoor plumbing for the first time.

I don’t know why we put off doing things for so long. I attribute it to a well-developed sense of procrastination—and maybe the fact I know I will NEVER EVER get off the internet now that I’m plunked down in my comfy arm chair.

Can you expect more blog posts?

Yes. I think you can.

Today was a non-work day (that’s the terminology of my online substitute system called AESOP) because I had my first massage therapy session at 1:45, which killed the day for work.

It wasn’t bad. I didn’t even have to take my bra off, which I’m loathe to do outside the privacy of my bedroom.

Tonight, I don’t even hurt.  (I may regret these cocky words in the morning, as I was warned my muscles may be tender the next day.)

*

I felt good enough afterwards that I went to the gas station, got gas (seems like an obvious thing to do), and vacuumed and washed my car with the self-service cleaning areas that smell of questionable decisions washed out of cars the morning after. (There was a weird blanket by the vacuum despite the sign stating Take your garbage with you, you filthy pigs. I may be paraphrasing the sign, however.)

Spring makes me want to keep my car spotless. I don’t know if it’s the shovelling out of the winter rocks which accumulate on the floor mats, or the stale funk I keep trying to drown with Lysol’s answer to Febreeze spray. Even so, my car has been smelling like old winter air perfumed with “fresh linen” or the chemical concoction that promises to trick my brain into thinking there’s fresh laundry in my car.

As long as I’m paying for the car, it’s going to be so shiny, it’ll burn your retinas if you stare at it long enough.

And it got kind of dirty going through the woods of Queens County, quite literally. A Sunday drive turned from a “Why don’t we go down this road?” to wending through the pines alongside the Medway River. There was not even pavement. No siree. Just dirt. I thought we were going to die, but the power lines marking the road gave me strength that we were in “some” form of civilization, and were going to make it out on the other side.

However, a bathroom emergency necessitated stopping at the nearest rest stop (a mossy road) and praying for no oncoming cars.

Not one drove by. Not in ten whole minutes.

FYI, the road between Mill Village and Greenfield, although a bit rough and unpaved, offers gorgeous scenery of the Medway River and the thick forests of Queens County.

Just remember one thing: there are no Tim Hortons on the route. Plan accordingly.

*

As you can tell, I’ve been doing some serious redesigning on my blog.

I don’t mind, because I feel like I’m ready to commit to this theme template for quite some time. It’s got amazing features, fonts that don’t make me want to throw up, and a slider menu that is just incredible.

Please let me know what you think. Even if you hate it, I’ve got to live with it for awhile. However, I always enjoy feedback for my future endeavors.

Happy reading, peoples, and get out there and enjoy some spring weather.

I’ve got my lawn seed, my lettuce seed, and sheep s#!^.

I’m still not sure why I buy such things as manure when I live in the country.

However, at 4 for $10, it seemed too good a deal to pass up.

And so here I am on Saturday night, redoing my blog with a new theme that really rocks my socks. I’m hoping this one is a keeper, because I spend more time messing around with themes than I do writing actual posts.

On job hunting…

Yes, the job hunt continues. I’ve even resorted to applying to fast food restaurants, although I’m pretty sure managers will look at my resume, see three university degrees, and consider me either a) useless and inept (only a half-truth) b) over-priced c) someone who is going to get bored really quickly with deep-fryers.

I love having Arts degrees.

On raking…

Spring is here, but NOT THE FLIES. This means that I rake every. single. day. And let me tell you, two acres is a lot of frickin’ raking. Especially since the snow plough drivers winged enough rocks onto the lawn to fill in most of the driveway. (I’m not lying on this one; we seriously have a new driveway.)

However, I only last about two or three hours before the sun makes me beet read, and my neck starts snapping like popcorn in the microwave.

Good times in the Maritimes.

On physio…

I finally got the insurance paperwork done for physio after getting whiplashed in February. By the time the paperwork was done, the doctor’s forms filled out and signed, faxes completed, my neck and shoulders were getting much better. Now that I’ve started physio, I’m almost worse than I was in the beginning, plus I’ve put in over 500 kilometres driving back and forth to medical appointments.

I can hardly wait for massage therapy on Monday. I’m told it will hurt. Goody.

On the best news I’ve had in a long time…

I’m going to be an auntie again in October! Yes, my one and only brother will be having a new baby (well, not him, but my sister-in-law).

Who wouldn’t want another of these? I know I would!