Category: Opinions

Work-to-rule tactics mean teachers are only working the hours they’re paid for

Teachers from Royal West Academy held a “mark-in” in downtown Montreal on Oct. 17 in hopes of gaining recognition for all the work they do outside of the classroom. They sat on the steps of Place-des-Arts, demonstrating in opposition to austerity measures being taken by the Quebec government.

The sentiment over the last couple of months has been that the government, which is offering the teachers a two-year salary freeze followed by a one per cent salary increase over three years, is ignoring the so-called “invisible work” done by public school teachers.

My message to them: your work is anything but invisible.

It’s visible in the student who conquered stage fright to perform in the school musical. It’s visible in the preteen who proudly announced to his parents that his marks are improving in math class. It’s visible in the student who decided to join their friends on the rugby team and fell in love with a sport for the first time. It’s visible in the countless alumni who have excelled and taken on leadership roles in their communities.

I was the second of four children in my family to attend Royal West. Between the years of 2005 and 2020, there will have been at least one member of my family wearing burgundy and blue at any given time.

The invisible contribution of the school’s teachers—in the form extracurricular activities, one-on-one meetings and well-devised lesson plans—has made me into the person who I am today: someone who is conscious of their environment and their ability to play an active role in shaping it. I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to let a 15-year-old direct a play, but those afternoons trying to organize a group of 12 and 13 year olds in the middle of a hallway were instrumental in my personal development.

I can see now, however, that as the teachers strike for the compensation they truly deserve, students are missing out.

“We aren’t taking something away. We just aren’t doing what we were doing for free,” said James Dufault, an English and drama teacher, speaking to CTV on the day of the mark-in. This is the same man who I remember, on a fall afternoon, instructing a room full of students how to preserve tomatoes, filling jars that would then be donated to a local food shelter.

My younger siblings, who are in grades seven and 10, don’t come home with stories like that anymore. Rather, my little sister confesses to me that she is struggling in math but can’t go see her teacher for help over lunch period. My younger brother isn’t going to get to help coach the bantam hockey team, as he hoped to do. The school that they attend is not the school that I know and love.

Katharine Cukier, my homeroom teacher for the the majority of my time at Royal West, penned a piece for the Montreal Gazette a month ago about the Work-to-Rule measures that the teachers are taking. In her letter, she explains exactly what is wrong with the expectation that teachers can complete all of their work, from preparing lesson plans to correcting papers, in 32 hours.

Cukier also noted the biggest issue with the stance that the government is taking is much greater than withholding adequate compensation for the work being done. “What will happen to the bottom half of our society who are going to struggle to learn or struggle with the frustration of an overburdened teacher in a dysfunctional regular classrooms?” she wrote.

This strike is not about a group of civil servants asking for a pay raise. It’s a matter of facing the reality of our public school system: that special needs students, who Cukier stated make up 15 per cent of the public school student body, and students from impoverished families will fall between the cracks.

An increase in resources is beyond necessary. Let’s start with those who stand at the front of the classroom, day in and day out.

Trudeau was first past the post but the numbers show that he wasn’t the choice of most

Eleven weeks later and here we have it: a majority Liberal government.

Many are cheering the end of the Harper era whereas others are scratching their heads wondering how this happened. To be sure, the polling firms seemed to be accurate with their predictions, but there wasn’t much talk of a majority government. A majority government means that a party, in this case the Liberal Party of Canada, holds a majority of the seats in the House of Commons, and therefore can pass laws largely uncontested.

The Liberal party received 39.5 per cent of the the votes cast, but received 54.5 per cent (184) of the 338 seats in the House of Commons. In Quebec, roughly one third (35.7 per cent) of voters chose the Liberals, yet this converted into more than half (40) of the 78 seats representing Quebec. To clarify, this isn’t the Liberals’ fault. This springs from the way we elect our governments in Canada. Called the single-member plurality, first-past-the-post or winner-takes-all, this electoral style is leaving Canadians dissatisfied. In fact, Eric Mintz, Livianna Tossutti, and Christopher Duun, authors of Canada’s Politics, note  that while there is optimism for Canada’s democracy, there is a fading sense of efficacy in our politics.

What’s more, the skewed results occur at the expense of other parties, and in this election the New Democratic Party felt it worst: one in five voters voted for them (19.7 per cent), but they only got a little more than one in 10 seats (13 per cent).

This can be frustrating, especially since Canadians have had to bear the longest campaign since the 19th century—a time in which mass media didn’t have the same presence as it does today. That said, it’s worth outlining how this system works.

First, Elections Canada divides up the country into 338 ridings. Each riding usually has a candidate representing the different major parties. Second, when the polling ends, the votes counted in a voting district will decide which of these candidates wins the seat in Parliament.

How do they win?

Let’s take for example the riding in which the Sir George Williams campus is located in. Marc Miller, Allison Turner, Steve Shanahan, Daniel Green, and Chantal St-Onge represented the Liberal Party of Canada, the NDP, the Conservative party, the Green party and the Bloc Québécois, respectively. Marc Miller received 50.8 per cent of the votes, with Turner (23.4 per cent) and Shanahan (11.9 per cent) as runner-ups. This was a clear victory. The problem is, however, this turns out to be the exception rather than the rule. Not to mention 49.8 per cent of the votes go to waste.

What happens in hotly contested districts?

An example of this would be in Laurier-St. Marie. Three candidates ran closely: Hélène Laverdière (incumbent) for the NDP, Gilles Duceppe for the the Bloc Québécois, and Christine Poirier for the Liberal party. None of the candidates received close to a majority like Marc Miller did, yet Hélène Laverdière walked away with a win despite having 62.2 per cent of voters vote against her.

This leaves many Canadians feeling unheard, and even with Elections Canada reporting a seven per cent increase in voter turnout, it leaves me wondering just how much Canadian democracy works for the people. Political scientists Patrick Malcolmson and Richard Myers note in their book, The Canadian Regime, that only three of the the last 26 elections were won with a majority of the popular vote, yet 17 have resulted in majority governments for the winning party.

Finally, these shortcomings will have an effect on unifying the country. One way, as Malcolmson and Myers observe in The Canadian Regime, is that this system tends to foment regionalism. Which can lead to some parts of Canada being left out of national policy. Clearly, this seems opposite to what our national government should accomplish.

Alternatives do exist and Justin Trudeau promised this election would be the last in our current first-past-the-post system. I sincerely hope he keeps this promise, or else someone else will be borrowing the very same words he used upon election night in 2019: “My friends, this is Canada, and in Canada better is always possible.”

Can a latte really deliver a season’s worth of meaning and feeling?

Lattes are liars, and Pumpkin Spiced ones are the worst.

Knowledge of their duplicity doesn’t scare me off though. Every year it’s the same: I want them in a bad way. I’m pretty embarrassed about it but I think I’ve learned a few things about gourds and frothed milk and, somewhere along the way, about myself.

I’m just a man. Weak, frail, and in need of comfort—warmly spiced comfort—when temperatures begin to dip below 10 degrees Celsius.

Naturally, I put on a sweater and some wool socks. I also swear off ice cream and start eating more soups and stews. You see, I take my autumns very seriously.

Now about that frothy fraud.

Pumpkin Spice Lattes are dangerous. They’re like politicians really, and we swallow them down every year, reelecting them as ambassadors of autumn while oblivious of our collective amnesia.

The PSL makes a lot of promises, but I’m on to it. It’s a seasonal drink though, and has Starbucks’ (and others) marketing muscle behind it, so it threw me for a loop this year—it added real pumpkin.

“Authenticity!” I cried out, but too soon, because PSLs know everyone is a secret hipster and I was just being pandered to.

It’s still a disappointment. Still too sweet and too mainstream. No one loves a PSL the way I could love a PSL if I didn’t already hate them.

I hate calling them PSLs.

I want to love Pumpkin Spice Lattes. I want to find comfort and fulfilment in their warmth, the same way I want to find identity and fulfilment in early morning writing and afternoon walks amid bright, swirling leaves.

Packaged, frothed, and consumable—that’s how I want my autumns, and I’m ashamed. Maybe that’s why I can’t decide whether I love or hate Pumpkin Spice Lattes. They offer me exactly what I want in the way I think I want it, but I come away unsatisfied every time.

Sure, I could scour the internet for a gluten-free fair-trade non-GMO paleo alternative that would be better than the sugary gourd-slop Starbucks is peddling, but it wouldn’t matter.

The pure, distilled spirit of autumn I want can’t actually be distilled, let alone into a cheap syrup.

Maybe I’m an idealist, or maybe I just can’t get past how much more interesting metaphysics are than physics. One thing I know is that my perfect conception of autumn—and what PSLs should be—exists, it just doesn’t exist here.

But that’s what ideals are for. It’s why we idolize heroes and worship ephemeral experiences; we do this because it gives us something to reach for.

I’m deeply disappointed with the broken promises of Pumpkin Spice Lattes but I’m not cynical about what they offer. An unflagging idealism, or at least a willingness to dream beyond reality, is the only effective antidote against cynicism that I know.

So go enjoy a warm gourd beverage, but don’t believe the hype.

Some considerations for the cynical and the disinterested student voters among us

Two weeks ago, I was absolutely certain I wouldn’t be voting in this federal election. I was meeting the expectations set out for our generation, who seem to stubbornly refuse to go out and vote.

Truthfully, my alienation from politics came from my lack of knowledge on the subject. I never followed or had an interest for politics. I’ve never understood it, but mainly I just don’t trust politicians.

I agree with the sentiments Ray Davies, former singer of rock group The Kinks, expressed in the song “Money and Corruption:” “Money and corruption are ruining the land, crooked politicians betray the working man, pocketing the profits and treating us like sheep, and we’re tired of hearing promises that we know they’ll never keep.”

In a 2013 interview, comedian Russell Brand passionately explained why he doesn’t vote. I think he influenced a lot of young people with his words that day. He believed in an alternate political system and talked of politicians exploiting the people, the planet, servicing the needs of corporations, and being treacherous. I agree with his point of view that politics do not make a difference.

I also think a feeling of helplessness made me not want to vote at first—that we might be in over our heads and that voting wouldn’t change anything. What I’ve come to realize is that most of us who vote put all of our hope for change on politicians and then blame it on them when everything stays the same.

Yes, it is their job to fight for change but it is also our responsibility. People are lousy at change. Thinking of environmental issues, we still act the same way we used to regardless of the fact that our planet is dying.

This will probably come a shock but I really didn’t know anything about Stephen Harper, not even that he led the Conservative party—don’t judge, I said I don’t follow politics.

But as soon as I researched more about his time in office, I decided to vote.

Yes, I think politicians are liars and I still don’t trust them, but by not voting I was only reinforcing the voice of those who are voting for things that I don’t stand by.

My vote was more a vote “against” than a vote “for” anyone. I decided to vote simply to try and stop Stephen Harper from being re-elected—no offense to anyone who voted for the Conservatives. At first I was going to spoil my vote to show my dissatisfaction, but that still wouldn’t help the most adequate party be elected and fight for a better Canada.

Actually, Russell Brand also changed his mind on voting for the same reason I decided to vote: it’s a vote against the current party in power. He now urges young people to vote for the Labour party in the United Kingdom in order to step away from the Conservative party there.

With a growing number of people not voting—especially young people—a voice is given to those who do vote and who might vote for parties whose main priority is the economy rather than environmental and social issues.

I am on the same side as Russell Brand: I voted hoping for the most adequate party to win the election and I voted because I’m hoping for change.

This change begins with a vote, but it certainly doesn’t end there. It’s with more action from individuals in their communities that will achieve true change—no matter which party is in government.

What are the reasonable limits to freedom of expression in liberal democracies?

By looking at newspapers and mainstream media outlets in Canada, one can notice that the issue of the niqab is occupying significant space. Some could even argue that this particular debate has played a pivotal role in changing public opinion about certain candidates in the federal election.

By closely observing public opinion polls and statements from politicians I found the tenor of discourse presented by the people against the niqab ban to be quite troubling. Therefore I see  a need to present better arguments to better inform the public about this issue.

The first major rejoinder that is presented when asked about the niqab ban is that people should be able to wear what they wish. I find this particular argument very weak, both morally and logically because it treats people in society as if they were isolated entities living in separate worlds. I believe that some symbols in society reflect ideologies and creeds that are beyond the limits of freedom of expression because they could be offensive to other people when shown in public. Clear examples of this can be wearing a shirt with a swastika on it or a slogan that justifies rape culture.

The second major argument is that wearing the niqab is a personal choice. I think this argument is fallacious. I am rather ambivalent about the concept of personal choice when talking about religion. If I told someone that not wearing something will result in damnation, I would expect them to defend their choice about that, if it is one of their core beliefs. The process of formulating beliefs is very complex, sometimes based on fear, and is not based on decisions made in a vacuum or an objective, rational, educated selection.

The previous point leads me to my third argument: why should a man tell a woman what to wear? I’m not sure if the majority of the people (politicians or not) who support a niqab ban are men. All that I know is that the ideology that urges women to wear the niqab and hijab was written by a man, or God—if you believe—who is always referred to as a male.

I also find it troubling that when someone expresses support for the ban of a religious symbol, they are often referred to as a racist. I would like to emphasize that religion is not a race but an ideology, and ideologies should not be free from criticism in a society that purportedly cherishes freedom of expression.

Moreover, criticizing the niqab does not make you a conservative, because where I come from (the Middle East), progressive, socialist, anti-imperialist movements have also tried to ban the niqab in certain public spaces because they claim that it poses a challenge to equality in society. In the 1950s, Abdel Nasser’s reformist regime in Egypt pursued this kind of public secularism with the support of prominent feminist movements, and it was largely successful until the 1970s.

I would like to see an enhanced level of discourse about the niqab in which the undertones are less judgmental, accusatory, and superficial and less based on an extreme concept of individualism. If this happens, the debate will become more productive and public opinion can be better shaped by a logical and educated discussion.

Do you agree or disagree with this article? Contact opinions@theconcordian.com to write a rebuttal for next week’s issue.

Taking Bixi for granted is not what Thanksgiving is all about

As a newcomer to Montreal and a new graduate student at Concordia, I needed to look at all transport means available to get me to and from Loyola campus.

I began by researching the traditional ways of getting around the city: the metro, buses, cars, bicycles, and walking. When I saw the great bicycles paths that Montreal had, I thought that getting around on a bike would be a fantastic option.

So, I was tempted to buy a bicycle. At first, a friend suggested that I buy a used one, so that I could save some money. Another friend recommended I try Bixi. I’m from Bogotá, Colombia so I had never heard of it before. I went online to look for it and I was really surprised by the service they offered.

It gave me the option to use a bike without owning and caring for one. Also, the advantage of a large network of docking stations that allowed me to begin a trip in one part of the city and finish in another, at any time of day. The best part was that I didn’t need to worry about parking, having an expensive lock, or even taking the bike all the way home. If it was raining or if I was tired, I could always hop on the bus or metro.

I was sold on the concept and got myself a one-month Bixi subscription. My first month using Bixi was in the summer and I experienced what many Montrealers enjoy during the warmer months. The good weather, the free activities and festivals, and freedom of Bixi bikes—I miss it.

The real usefulness of Bixi is apparent when people combine it with other urban transportation options, which allows them to cover longer distances more easily. I’ve seen many people use it as a quick way to get to and from the metro, making their commute both easier and healthier. I was really encouraged to use the system in this way when I received six single-ride metro tickets from Bixi with my subscription.

I have been using Bixi since arriving in Montreal from Colombia four months ago. The bike-share service fulfilled a major need I had when I arrived—the same need everybody in the city has—to get from point A to point B. Now instead of waiting for buses to get to my classes at the Loyola campus, I get a bonus of fun and exercise instead.

I ride Bixi bikes for short and long trips and I use them to connect with public transit, like the buses and metro. This seamless use gives me the feeling that I’m using a mass transportation system and not just enjoying a bike-share membership.

If only they were usable for more than half a year, I think Montreal might actually be perfect.

New, icy, low-cost airline cleared for landing in Montreal but will it be worth the extra fees?

For seven months now, I’ve been working part-time for the international duty-free at Trudeau Airport. I’ve got to admit, it’s pretty fun for a student job. I get to meet people from all over the world, hand them shopping baskets and—to the delight of many tourists—alcohol samples (ask me about the Sortilège).

Along with the tourists, I also get to keep track of the faraway destinations they’ll head off to, thanks to departure listings displayed in store. There seem to be more flights to Paris than anywhere else, but one can also get direct flights to cities like London, Amsterdam, Casablanca, and now even to Beijing most days of the week.

While many of my friends were lucky enough to travel this summer (including my sisters on separate trips to Europe), I was finishing up my MA and decided to enjoy at least a bit of summer here in Montreal. I was happy to hear that my sisters had trips of a lifetime, but they both agreed that their flights left much to be desired. One went with Air Transat, the other with no-frills Air Canada Rouge, and paid full price for cramped seats and limited amenities.

I’d like to travel to Europe soon but I also wouldn’t want to risk splurging on a so-so flight. So when I heard that WOW Air, a budget airline based in Iceland, would launch one-way flights from Montreal to Reykjavik and other European cities for as little as $99 or $149 starting May 2016, you could imagine my excitement.

Then I went to WOW Air’s website. I was disappointed to find the much touted $99 or even $149 one-way fares absent from the listings, but prices for flights in 2016 are still very affordable. For example, if I were to have a direct, round-trip flight from Montreal to Reykjavík, leaving on May 20 and returning on May 27, it would cost $478.77. Economy class on Icelandair would cost $200 more, and that’s if I left one day earlier and returned one day later. Same dates would cost over $900, and I’d have to connect via Toronto.

WOW Air is certainly not the first budget airline to reach Canada (JetsGo went bust in 2005) and Queen’s University marketing professor Ken Wong told the CBC that WOW Air’s cheap, no-frills nature could render it a niche service. It’s cheap for a reason though. You’ll have to pay extra for everything except your cramped seat and the shirt on your back, like $82 for a seat with more legroom and steep checked bag fees.

Ultimately, although only time will tell if WOW Air takes off in Montreal (pun intended), I remain optimistic. Budget airlines like Ryanair and EasyJet are hugely popular in Europe, and by saving money on a flight without the bells and whistles, one could spend more on the vacation itself. And as a side note, I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights and chill (or warm up?) in the Blue Lagoon. With WOW Air cleared for landing, I’ll be one step closer.

Usually two is twice as nice but not necessarily for campuses

As all us Concordians throw ourselves into a new semester, we tend to be able to easily identify ourselves as either a Loyola-goer or a Sir George Williams campus native.

This identity is largely due to the programs we’re in and our departments’ locations. There are many of you, who I liked to call downtowners, who have never even been to Loyola because the need just wasn’t there.

I used to be like you. Life was great! I would head to SGW for my classes, make fun of others who had to trek all the way to our second campus and enjoy the perks of being at SGW during my breaks.

This semester, however, it all changed in the blink of an eye. Worlds collided as I started my second major in a department situated at Loyola. And just like that I had the perks, or so I thought, of both Concordia campuses.

The plot thickens as I admit to the fact that I’m registered in five courses for the first time after three semesters. To make things worse, when I make it to SGW’s Hall building to take the first shuttle at 7:45 in the morning—as there is no shuttle at 8:00—for that 8:45 class at Loyola. I then have to deal with the grunts of the shuttle bus driver who won’t allow me on the bus with my coffee—which, let’s face it, us students run on to survive.

Ridiculous!

My day then continues after my five-hour school break (which I go downtown to spend) and after sitting through my second three-hour class of the day I head back downtown for the second time for a lengthy sorority meeting. This all makes for an actioned packed day getting home by midnight. Oh, what fun!

For those of you at one campus who think your schedules are bad, I am here to tell you that they could be worse. And for those rare Concordians out there like me and know exactly what I’m talking about, the struggle is real!

My point here is that schedules like ours exist. And no matter what you may have going on in addition to shuttle hopping between your five classes—such as work and being a part of multiple student associations—if you can read about one of us doing it, it may give you a shred of hope for your future schedule. We can do it! Or so I believe.

Come the end of the semester—if I don’t make it—I hope one of you out there can say you did, for the good of those Loyola-goers, the Sir George Williams natives and to all Concordians everywhere. No matter your schedules, push through the struggle and keep on trekking!