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august 13, 2001."A few acres of snow..." Yesterday I helped Amy learn about the somewhat-tragic story of the Acadians of Nova Scotia. Funny, Americans aren't regularly taught about repressive instances in Canadian history. I wonder why. When we were at the Halifax Citadel, an American woman started talking to Dirk about how interesting she found Canadian History. It was an overheard conversation that gave me a warm glow, and not just because he got to brag about his sister Lucretia Nightshade's contribution to the making of Canada: A People's History. I suppose that part of the glow came from the slight self-righteous vindication of having an American teacher express approval of Canadian anything; but I like to think that part of it was just honest approval of a taste that matches my own. I love Canadian History. I'd be happiest teaching literature, but I'd also be very content with a high school history contract, or even a position in a middle school that allows me to do both. But unfortunately, my feelings are not universal. When I talk about Canadian History with my fellow Canadians, a few responses are common: a) the I-don't-know-anything-about-Canadian-History response, which usually diverts the conversation to something more mutual after a brief dissection of the reasons why they claim ignorance of our country's past. Canadian History is NOT boring, and you can take those words to the bank. (Tell 'em Amoret sent ya.) I am a world-class authority on boring. I cannot bear discussions of medical ills, ridiculous sports-talk, insipid drinking tales, stupid homemakers' obsessions, the chatter of consumerism & most Hollywood dialogue, to name a few very boring things. Trust me, I know boring. Boring is when someone you barely know at the office tells you about the past weekend in mind-numbing detail. Boring is when computer programmers start talking about code to each other. Boring is witnessing male posturing. Boring is some twee asshole going on & on about how many Smiths B-sides they own and why some popular band was so much better when they were living with their parents (but when you were poor / I just liked you more). Boring is hearing a group of recently reunited people telling stories of the old days (i.e. the days before you met them). Boring is going to university poetry readings. Boring is listening to people who drone on & on about their fetishes. There is nothing boring about the Fenian Raids, or the many Chinese workers who died building the Inter-Continental Railroad. There is nothing boring about the War of 1812 (the war we won, by the way). There is nothing boring about the expulsion of the Acadians in 1775 or the imprisonment of Japanese-Canadians during World War II. There is nothing boring about Trudeau's days as a lady killer, or John A. Macdonald's excessive drinking, or Mackenzie King talking to his dead mother via ouija board. There is nothing boring about Louis Riel hearing the voice of God and leading the Mètis against the government again and again. There is nothing boring about the Landowner riots in Prince Edward Island, where the women beat up the constables with 2x4's and got away scot-free because the cops were too embarrassed to charge a woman with assault (and even if they did, their husband or father would have to serve the time). I could go on & on. And I probably would if I were in front of a group of teenagers who legally couldn't leave the building. But because it's you, and because I've done enough bikini wrestling in the mudpit of Canadian History for one night, I'll just leave it at that. And remember: boring is worrying that if you don't use Swiffer, some dust might live another day in your house. Boring is not Canada, despite Voltaire's assessment.
this time 3 years ago: what do you know...another explanation of Acadian. |
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