look beyond

What about your future? Where will your imagination lead?

Here you will read about the dreams and aspirations of many different people — from those who want to make their communities a better place to live to those interested in unusual adventures. These stories may be your inspiration for a future full of exciting possibilities!

Moon Maiden

ALISON BAIRD

Focus Your Learning Reading this story will help you: n identify the elements of fantasy n experiment with language n analyse character development

“Moon Maiden” © 1998 Alison Baird taken from What If…? Amazing Stories. Selected by Monica Hughes © 1998 published by Tundra Books.

“You can’t do it, sis,” Matt had said. And he had looked down his nose at her in his maddening, superior way. Matt was no giant himself, but it was easy to look down at Kate. “Oh, yeah?” She’d glared up at her brother, hands on hips. “Well, I don’t care what you think, I’m going. What’s the point of winning a lunar study scholarship if you don’t use it?”

214 Look Beyond It had been a hot and smoggy day, she remembered, with an ultraviolet alert, so the two of them had been stuck indoors and Matt, as usual, had taken out his boredom and frustration on Kate. “One: you’re way too young—” “I’m nearly fourteen!” “Two: you’re a nitwit,” Matt had finished. And that settled it. After that “nitwit,” no power in the universe could have prevented Kate Iwasaki from embarking on the shuttle for Luna Base. But Matt had had a parting shot. “You’ll never spend half a year on the Moon! You’ll end up going crazy, like all those loony Lunies.” Kate had shivered at that; she’d heard about the moon-madness. It started with hallucinations. Then you began talking to imaginary people, even yelling and screaming at them, or sometimes recoiling from invisible horrors. That was when the security guards came and “escorted” you away. It was a fact of life on Luna Base; some people just could not take the claustrophobic atmosphere: the isolation was worse than on the most remote polar weather station or deep-sea lab on Earth. But Kate firmly pushed her fears aside. She was too sensible, too scientific, to ever lose control like that—or so she told herself. “I’m going, and that’s that,” she had declared, lifting her chin. Now she smiled with satisfaction as the small lunar shuttle carrying her and the other students planed low over the surface of the Mare Tranquillitatis. Through the window she could see flat plains of ash-coloured lunar soil—regolith, the instructor called it—strewn with modest-sized impact craters, some no more than a decimeter across. Not too impressive, Kate thought. She’d already been on much more spectacular trips, to the giant craters Tycho and Copernicus, and to the lunar mountain ranges, the Alps and Apennines. But this outing was always the most popular. The shuttle’s interior was crammed to capacity with eager students. The spacecraft slowed and hovered briefly before setting down gently on its four wide landing pods. The cabin ceased to thrum and vibrate as the engines were cut, and a flashing light came on over each

Look Beyond 215 air lock. The students all rose and shuffled down the aisle in their cumbersome space suits, pulling on their helmets. “All right, to the air locks, just four at a time now,” the instructor told them as he checked their helmet seals. “And don’t stampede; form proper lines.” Kate managed to be one of the first in the air locks. She held her breath as the metal door slid open, and all sound ceased with the release of the air. When they climbed out, most of the kids bounced around like demented kangaroos the minute they reached the surface. Kate just stood looking up at the sunlit face of Earth, its blue-white glow fifty times brighter than the brightest moonlight. Poor polluted overcrowded Earth! No, she wasn’t in any great hurry to go back there. With some difficulty the instructor managed to herd them all together and direct them to their destination. At the sight of it, the students began to babble with excitement. Tranquillity Base. The flagpole—bent out of shape by the blast of the Eagle’s engines when it had escaped back into space—had been straightened to preserve the image of the site as it had appeared on the old footage. But everything else was as it had been left: the descent stage of the lunar module, the instruments, even the astronauts’ footprints. It was all surrounded by a towering steel wire fence topped with surveillance cameras: no one must get too near, trample on the sacred footprints of Armstrong and Aldrin, or carve their initials on the plaque attached to the leg of the descent stage. A hushed silence now fell as the words on the plaque were quoted solemnly by the instructor: “Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the Moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind.” First set foot on the Moon. Kate wondered how those two men must have felt when they first climbed out onto the lunar soil. Above them had been the same jet-black sky and sunlit Earth, about them the same barren, crater-strewn plain. But for those pioneering spacemen there had been no emergency response teams, no Luna Base with its decorative greenery and mall full of brightly-lit shops. No other living thing—not so much as a microbe—had shared the grey wasteland with

216 Look Beyond them. The nearest human being had been the pilot in the orbiting command service module, high above. All the rest of humanity had been crowded into that cloud-swathed sphere nearly four hundred thousand kilometers away. Other explorers would follow over the years and feel that isolation in turn; but to be the first ... Kate shivered. First to walk the grey solitudes, first to disturb the thick soft dust no wind had ever lifted ... She realized suddenly that she had strayed somewhat and was now some distance away from the others. She turned hastily to rejoin them. But there was a woman standing in the way. Kate stared. It was not unusual for a stray tourist or maintenance worker to be out here on the lunar surface. But this woman was different. She wasn’t wearing a space suit. She stood there as though the moon’s airless surface were the most natural place for her to be: a slender woman, Asian-featured, wearing a kimono of some green silky material embroidered with flowers. There were real flowers in her hair—shell-pink blossoms nestling among ebony tresses piled neatly atop her head. About her neck there hung a string of lustrous, cream-colored pearls. The gaze of her large brown eyes was cool, solemn, and direct. There were no footprints behind her, nor were there any shadows on the grey ground at her feet. Kate’s breath boomed like thunder inside her helmet. Her mouth was dry as a bone. The gravity that allowed the other students to leap and bound around the steel fence seemed to be binding her to the ground. As she stared helplessly, the woman in the green kimono approached. There was no smile of welcome on the delicate features; her expression was sombre, her tread light but purposeful as she drew closer to Kate. Kate longed desperately for something to break the spell. But fear and disbelief immobilized her. The pale woman was almost touching her; an arm in a long, flowing sleeve reached out toward Kate’s faceplate. It stopped before actually making contact, the white hand raised in a gesture of ... command? Entreaty? Kate could not

Look Beyond 217 take her eyes from the woman’s; they were as deep as shadows, their gaze calm and compelling. She was willing Kate to do something. But what? The hand gestured again. Open your faceplate, it said, as plain as speech. Kate tried to swallow and couldn’t. Open it—let me touch you ... “No,” Kate whispered. But it was only a croak. The woman who was not—could not—really be there gazed at Kate steadily. The embroidered flowers upon her pale-green robe stood out in precise and minute detail, real as the harshly-lit moon rocks, the granular patterns in the soil. Without speaking, the woman commanded her again. Her will reached out across the airless space like a lightning bolt arcing from cloud to cloud. Raise your faceplate—now. “Kate? KATE?” At the sound of the voice, jarringly loud inside her helmet, Kate moved at last—straight upward, in a leap that would have cleared an Olympic high jump back on Earth. She spun, arms flailing, before falling slowly back to the lunar surface. “Kate? Did I startle you? Sorry.” It was the instructor; he was standing over her, peering out through his faceplate with a mixture of amusement and concern. Kate scrambled to her feet, grateful for his timely interruption—then she went rigid again, her heart hammering. The woman was still there, standing a few paces away. The instructor couldn’t see her. Kate spoke with an effort. “I ... I was just ... daydreaming. And I ...” Her voice faded away, for the woman was gliding silently toward her again, her eyes intent. “We’re heading back to the base now,” the instructor told her. She hastily joined him, springing along at his side. She wondered wildly for a moment if the ghostly woman would follow, join them in the shuttle’s cramped interior, disembark with them, and wander about in the brightly lit mall ... But a glance over her shoulder showed her only the flat and

218 Look Beyond empty plain. The green-robed figure had vanished as though it had never been there at all.

“Want to come to the VR-cade with us, Kate?” one of the boys asked. “They’ve got some great new games.” Kate whirled, startled, to face the other students. “What? Oh ... no, thanks. I think I’ll just go to my quarters—I’m kind of tired.” “See you later then.” The other kids moved away through the Lunar Mall in a noisy chattering group, gliding gracefully in the weak gravity. Kate was left alone. She walked on through the mall in a daze. It starts with hallucinations, she thought. Matt had been right; she was going moon- mad. Only a crazy would come here to live, people on Earth said: social misfits, loners, eccentrics of all kinds—they ended up here, like a kind of flotsam cast up from Earth. Loony Lunies! But why should she suffer from moon-madness? She had only been here for three Earth months, and she’d been enjoying every minute of it. Now she recalled, with a pulse of horror, the woman in the strange robe with its intricate pattern of long-petalled flowers embroidered on the green material. They intruded on her vision, for a terrifying instant were clearer than the scene of shops and pedestrians around her. No—go away! She realized in alarm that she had almost said it out loud. So much for sensible, scientific Kate Iwasaki! she thought bitterly. I’ll have to go to the counsellor now, and he’Il ship me home on the next shuttle. She looked fearfully at the other shoppers. Surely they must see how tense and obviously agitated she was. She thought one or two of them looked at her oddly as they passed, and she hastily turned toward a storefront, pretending to admire the wares on display. It was Ramachandra’s gift shop. She’d often paused to gaze at the items in its display case, all beyond her own modest price range. Most souvenirs here were tacky and cheap: plastic models of shuttles or moon rocks with “A gift from Luna Base” emblazoned on them in gold letters. But Mr. Ramachandra sold quality goods. Loveliest of all were the little sculptures which he made himself: graceful figures and animal

Look Beyond 219 shapes that seemed to quiver with life. Kate pretended to examine one now, an elegant figure of a woman with a hunting bow in her hands. The string was of gold wire, the arrow poised and ready for flight. A hound stood at the woman’s side, eager, ready to spring. “Artemis, Goddess of the Moon,” said a voice in her ear. She looked up, and to her embarrassment found herself staring into the face of Mr. Ramachandra himself: an elderly Indian man, with white hair wisping around a bald, nut-brown scalp. He was attired, as always, in an outrageous many-colored robe adorned with bits of flashing mirror that glittered as he moved. His eyes were darkest brown, the colour of black coffee. She realized to her dismay that she was on the verge of tears, and that Mr. Ramachandra knew it. “Something is wrong,” he said in an undertone, making it a statement of fact rather than a question. Kate gulped a lungful of air, furious with herself. “It’s nothing,” she managed to say, but the answer rang false even in her own ears. “Oh, dear. That kind of nothing.” He waved to a door at the back of his shop. “I was just going to have a cup of tea. Will you join me? Tea can be an excellent restorative.” She didn’t really want to join him, but it was either that, or risk bawling in public like an idiot. If I’m going to have to leave Luna Base, at least let me do it with some dignity, she thought, and followed Mr. Ramachandra into the back room. It was small and cluttered, with half-finished figurines of stone, wood, or clay sitting on the shelves. “I’ll just put the kettle on,” said Mr. Ramachandra. “There. Now perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s wrong?” “Oh, nothing really. I’m just going crazy, is all,” she replied, smiling wanly. “If so you’re in the right place. Only a lunatic would go to the Moon. We are all a little bit odd, we Lunies, wouldn’t you agree?” “This is more than just being odd. I’ve got moon-madness.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked, hard. “Hallucinations and everything. They’ll have to send me back home.”

220 Look Beyond “What sort of hallucinations are you having?” In a few short sentences she told him. It was easy to talk of it in here, with the kettle on the stove and the workroom all around her, small and cluttered and normal. Mr. Ramachandra raised his white eyebrows when she had finished. “Curious,” he said. He rose and went to the kettle, which was already shrieking for attention. He glanced at her thoughtfully over his shoulder. “You’re Japanese, aren’t you, Kate?” he added abruptly as he filled a teapot, waiting patiently as the water, slowed by the low gravity, slid down the kettle’s spout like ketchup. “Canadian, actually,” she corrected. “But you are Japanese by descent, am I right?” “Yes,” she admitted, wondering where this was leading. “Curious,” he said again. He settled in his chair as the tea steeped. “Are you familiar with Japanese folklore and legends?” “Not really, I’m more into science.” “Then you’ll not be familiar with the old tale of the maiden of the Moon?” She shook her head and he continued, a faraway look in his eyes, “There was once an old couple in long-ago Japan, who yearned for a child of their own. One day when the husband was cutting bamboo, he found a tiny human infant, a little girl, tucked away in one of the hollow stems. He and his wife raised this girl-child, and she grew into a beautiful maiden. But she would not marry any of the wealthy men who came to ask for her hand in marriage. She explained that she was a magical being, a child of the Moon, and one day she would have to return to her own people in the moon-world. And, indeed, there came a night when a company of glorious spirit people descended upon a moonbeam, and they bore the lovely moon-maiden away with them into the sky as her foster parents watched in sorrow.” His coffee-coloured eyes looked deep into hers. “You’re quite sure you’ve never heard this story?” Kate hesitated. “Pretty sure.” She had, in fact, no recollection of it whatsoever. “And yet your hallucination, as you call it, seems strongly reminiscent of it. Moon-people. Elegant spirit beings in a lunar realm.

Look Beyond 221 It almost makes one wonder if there might not be a kind of ancestral memory, or ...” “Or what?” “Or perhaps what you saw was—real.” She stared. He’s the crazy one, not me, she thought. “The Moon,” Ramachandra continued as he poured the tea into two large mugs, “the Moon is many things. It is a home for us, and a provider of useful resources. But it is also a place of myth and fable—a repository of dreams, if you will.” His own face took on a dreamy look. “A land about which myths have been woven is a haunted place. How haunted must the Moon be, which hangs in the sky for all to see, which all cultures have held in common since the dawn of time! “Among these empty wastes dwells the Chinese goddess Chang’o, in the form of an immortal toad; and the Man in the Moon wanders about with his bundle of sticks on his back and his faithful dog at his side; and the Maori woman Rona, exiled here after cursing the moon- god, gazes longingly at the Earth to which she can never return. For us Hindus, the Moon is associated with Soma, god of the sacred plant that brings ecstasy to mortals. I have felt positively blissful ever since I first arrived here. “Now perhaps Mr. Ramachandra’s mind is only making him believe that he feels the presence of the god. Perhaps that is the explanation. And then again,” he added, with an impish smile, “perhaps it isn’t.” She stared at him over her steaming mug. “What are you saying—that all those things are real?” He answered with a question of his own. “Why did you come to Luna Base?” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see the Moon. It’s always interested me.” “How so?” “Oh, I don’t know,” she said irritably. “Is it important?” “It might be.” Mr Ramachandra sipped his tea and stared into space. “The original moon landings, now—why did those astronauts

222 Look Beyond come here? It was quite pointless, from a scientific standpoint. It had already been demonstrated that automated machines could do the same thing more cheaply and with no risk to human life. But we are a romantic and impractical species, we humans.” Kate made a dismissive gesture. “My dad said it was all done for political reasons.” “The space race was, yes. But the desire to walk upon the Moon—that goes back further to the old myths and legends, to dreamers like Jules Verne. That is why the world watched and held its breath in 1969. And that is why some of us come here—not the tourists, who only want to do what the neighbours haven’t done, to take pictures and jump higher than on Earth. No, it is the Moon of myth and magic that calls people like you and me.” “But if the woman I saw was ... real, then everyone else should have seen her too,” Kate argued. “Maybe not, if it was a spirit you saw.” He put down his mug and waved his arms about vaguely. “The spirit realm is everywhere, but it is not like our physical reality. It is different for each one of us, or so I believe.” Kate looked away. “I ... would rather she wasn’t real. You see, she wants me dead.” “Why do you say that?” Kate rose and began to pace the little room. “She wanted me to open up my faceplate. To let all my air out, and die. She wanted that. I could see it, in her eyes.” “But you don’t know why she would want such a thing?” “No! That’s just it. Why? What’s it all about?” She was almost shouting now. Mr. Ramachandra’s voice and gaze remained calm. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Kate stood tensely inside the main air lock, listening to her own short, sharp breaths. She’d have to be quick: students weren’t allowed out on their own. The metal door slid open; there was a hiss of expelled air; and dust grains danced briefly before settling again. Before her lay

Look Beyond 223 smooth grey ground surrounded by barren hills: the desolate grandeur of the Taurus-Littrow Valley. Kate drew a deep breath and leaped out of the air lock. She bounded down the length of the valley, halting only when the safe comforting glow of the base was far behind her. A huge, grey- white boulder sprawled up ahead, casting a long shadow under the harsh sun. Kate paused next to it, and waited. “Come on,” she whispered. “Where are you?” Nothing stirred. The valley was empty, as it had been for billions of years. Kate turned slowly, scanning the hills, the drab grey ground. And then, quite suddenly, she noticed the tree. It was no more than a few moon-strides away on the valley’s flat floor, growing where nothing should be able to grow: a slender sapling covered in sharp-pointed leaves. As she stared at it, leaves and branches stirred, as though bending to the whim of a wind. The little tree bowed and swayed before her, offering no explanation for itself, a green intrusion on the moonscape. Kate swallowed hard. Hallucinations again. She missed the Earth, with its green growing things, that was all. But the tree did not fade as she approached it. It looked so real. She must try to touch it, prove to herself that it wasn’t actually there... And then she halted in midstride, for the shapes of other trees were appearing all around her. Insubstantial at first, like smoke or shadow, their spindly forms solidified as she watched. The grey land around her bore a blush of green. Above her, blossoms hung amid the stars, clustering on the half-seen boughs of some flowering tree. She whirled. The great grey boulder was still there, but now its rugged sides were mottled with moss and lichen and surrounded by large- fronded ferns. The other rocks also remained where they had been, but they had changed. Random moon-rubble no longer, they formed part of a garden whose lush greenery they complemented, as if by design. A large, ornamental pond spread before her, a mirror for black sky and blue Earth; beside it stood a squat stone lantern, its peaked roof sheltering a flame that danced as it fed upon some other, alien air. Then Kate saw the woman.

224 Look Beyond She was walking along the far side of the pool. Her jet-black hair now streamed loosely upon her shoulders, teased by the same wind that played in the little tree, and her robe was white. Where she walked, grass sprang from the regolith; it did not so much sprout as suddenly appear, as though her presence called it into being. And there was a path beneath her feet, a path lit by stone lanterns that ran winding into the hills beyond—hills that were rocky and barren no longer. On one jade-green summit there rose pagoda-roofed towers, their windows glowing warmly against the black sky. The white-clad woman was now close enough to touch. Kate’s blood turned to ice, but she held her ground. The woman raised one hand, gesturing gracefully. Suddenly Kate understood. She was being invited to join the woman: to go with her up the winding curves of that lamplit path, up into the hills that were empty no more. Up to the palace with its shining towers. There would be music and warmth within, and light and laughter; and something more, more than any of these things, something for which her heart hungered ... Kate set a booted foot upon the path, mesmerized. She would go. She would enter that palace, that place of light where a welcome awaited her. All that came between her and that realm was this heavy, cumbersome suit that she wore. It held her back, anchored her to the dead realm of the airless waste. She could cast it off, set it aside, be freed forever from the need for it. Freed ... Understanding came to Kate in a blinding flash, and she halted in the middle of her second step. The woman in white turned to her, eyes inquiring. Kate made herself meet those deep tranquil eyes, boldly and directly. “No,” she said. The sound of her voice could not reach the woman. Or could it? The dark eyes widened, the hovering hand fell. The woman faced her, eyes steady and intense, imposing her will. “No,” Kate said again, more forcefully. “I want to stay here. Here. Do you understand? I’m not going with you!”

Look Beyond 225 The woman stared at her, first with gentle puzzlement, then with comprehension, which broke upon her face like a wave. For the first time her deep eyes smiled. She shook her head and laughed soundlessly. Then, in an instant, she was gone. With her went all the life and colour of that other world. Trees and shrubbery wisped away to nothingness; the Earth-reflecting pool rippled away like a heat mirage, and there in its place was the dry, grey ground. The far hills were bare and lifeless once more, the lofty towers bowed and faded. Of the garden only the boulders remained, forlorn as bare bones. Kate was alone once more. Her eyes misted, but only briefly. She drew a sharp, shuddering breath. And headed back through the silent valley to Luna Base.

Mr. Ramachandra was modelling clay in his workshop. When he glanced up and saw Kate standing in the doorway, he smiled but said nothing, his fingers continuing to pinch and stroke the clay. “I confronted her,” she blurted. He put the clay down. “Ah.” “You were right,” said Kate. “Everything was all right. She didn’t mean me any harm; she only wanted me to join her, in her world. I think she believed I wanted to. When I looked in her eyes, it was as though she understood. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.” He tilted his head to one side, considering. “No, I don’t suppose you will.” “So, what happened out there? Was she real? Or did it all just happen inside my head? Was I moon-mad, and did going out there cure me?” He looked thoughtful. “If I were making up a story, I would say that your spirit came from the Moon; that you inhabited this sphere long before you were born in a human body. And that is why you longed for the Moon, like the maiden in the folktale, why you came here as soon as you had the chance. It was a homecoming, if you will. But you realized that to return to your spirit life, you would have to leave your human, physical life behind, together with your family and friends down on Earth. And you couldn’t make yourself do that.”

226 Look Beyond He rose and went to a shelf, taking from it a small figurine, which he held out to her. Kate stared at it: a woman in a flowing kimono, standing upon a base that curved like the crescent moon. “It’s beautiful,” she said shyly. “It is the moon maiden from the story.” She reached out, ran a finger over the exquisite folds of the robe, the flying hair. “How ... how much are you asking for it?” He pressed the little figurine into her hands. “Consider it a gift,” he said. “I do not charge my friends.” She thanked him, stammering a little, then met his dark brown eyes again. “You know, that was really dangerous, sending me out onto the surface all by myself. I might’ve cracked ... flipped open my faceplate, or something. What made you so sure I’d be all right?” He said nothing, but continued to gaze at her, calmly and confidently, a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks,” she said awkwardly. Then she turned and walked away, the moon maiden clutched in her hands.

Activities 1. As a class, discuss the characteristics of a fantasy. Take notes during your discussion. Then, individually, prove in note form that “Moon Maiden” is a fantasy.

2. Identify the main characters in this story. For each of them, write three similes that capture their personalities or roles in the story.

3. Write Kate’s diary entry in which she explains what she has learned from her experience on the moon, why she was tempted to join the woman in white, and why she did not go with her.

Look Beyond 227 Choose a cause that you believe in strongly and create a logo that communicates not only the name of the organization but something of its philosophy.

Project, based on growth patterns in U.S. rap sales, what rap sales will be like in the year 2000. Write a paragraph justifying your response with information from the graph or your broader experience.

The rise and rise of rap U.S. Rap Sales

994 41.1 million units 995 42 million 996 56 million 997 62 million 021 34567

Canadian Sales RAP:

1997 4.8% of record sales 1998 5.5%

R&B 1997 6.6% 1998 5.8%

021 34567

228 Look Beyond Read the quotations on this So the United Nations appointed a World Commission on Environment spread. Decide on one small thing and Development which produced the famous report called Our Common that you can do to improve your Future which set out the idea of Sustainable Development. This means: world. Share your commitment Meeting the needs of the present without compromising the with the class. ability of future generations to meet their needs... Get it?—Feed the world today but leave a planet around for your Write or find an inspirational great grandchildren. message that you think is Agata Pawlat, 17, Poland especially compelling. Contribute your message to a class bulletin board. Read all messages and choose your favourite. Write an explanation of why it is your The greatest challenge of both our time and the next favourite. century is to save the planet from destruction. It will require changing the very foundations of modern civilization—the relationship of humans to nature. Mikhail Gorbachev

As chairman of the Space Sub-committee in the Senate, I strongly urged the establishment of a Mission to Planet Earth, a worldwide monitoring system staffed by children ... designed to rescue the global environment.

Albert Gore Jnr.

Note: Quotes are from Rescue Mission, Planet Earth, A Children’s Edition of Agenda 21 published after the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro in 1992.

Look Beyond 229 The Adventurous Life of John Goddard

STUART MCLEAN

hen John Goddard was fifteen years Wold, he sat down one night with a red pencil, a blue pen and a yellow legal pad and made a list of things he wanted to do before he died. His list began just the way you might expect:

• Become an Eagle Scout. • Broad jump fifteen feet. • Make a parachute jump. • Dive in a submarine. • Learn ju-jitsu.

The more the boy wrote, the more his imagination took hold. The list soon left the • Milk a poisonous snake. realm of idle daydreams and entered the • Light a match with a 22. world of serious adolescent fantasy: • Watch a fire-walking ceremony in Surinam. Focus Your Learning • Watch a cremation ceremony in Bali. Reading this article will help you: n scan text for information And it didn’t stop there. As young n create an advertisement Goddard continued his list, his vision n set goals and develop strategies for achieving expanded and showed signs of the grand those goals adventurer he was going to grow up to be:

230 Look Beyond • Explore the Amazon. bottom of a drawer. He kept his list in plain • Swim in Lake Tanganyika. sight and set out to complete every item • Climb the Matterhorn. line by line. Today Goddard has check • Retrace the travels of Marco Polo and marks beside 108 of his original 127 goals. Alexander the Great. And that includes all of the items • Visit every country in the world. mentioned above. Well, that’s not exactly true. There are The ideas poured onto the page and at still thirty odd countries that he hasn’t some point took a sharp turn in tone. As visited. But he is working on that. Goddard added to his list, he displayed an I first read about John Goddard in Life academic sophistication well beyond his magazine when I was a teenager. It was in fifteen years: one of those articles at the back of the • Read the works of Shakespeare, Plato, magazine in a section called the “Parting Aristotle, Dickens, Thoreau, Rousseau, Shots.” The article stuck in my mind (How Hemingway, Twain, Burroughs, Talmage, could I forget it?) and I always hoped I Tolstoy, Longfellow, Keats, Poe, Bacon, would get a chance to talk to him. Fifteen Whittier and Emerson. years later I sat down with his phone • Become familiar with the compositions of number in front of me and called him at his Bach, Beethoven, Debussy, Ibert, home in La Cañada, California. I wanted to Mendelssohn, Lalo, Milhaud, Ravel, talk to him, I explained, about the list I had Rimsky-Korsakov, Respighi, seen so long ago in Life. I wanted to know Rachmaninoff, Paganini, Stravinsky, if he was still working on it. Yes, he was. Toch, Tchaikovsky, Verdi. Did he remember what had inspired him to • Read the Bible from cover to cover. write it? John Goddard chuckled. • Play the flute and the violin. I think what motivated me to write the list When he put his pens down, there were was listening to some family friends who 127 items on Goddard’s list. were visiting with my parents. They had Well. Yes. been over for dinner and were helping to We have all taken a stab at this sort of clear the dishes. I was doing my homework thing at one time or another. The in a little alcove, a sort of breakfast nook. extraordinary difference between John The man of the family, a Dr. Keller, looked Goddard and the rest of us, however, is the at me and said to my parents, ‘I’d give unsettling fact that Goddard didn’t throw anything to be John’s age again. I really his list out. Nor did he chuck it into the would do things differently. I would set out

Look Beyond 231 and accomplish more of the dreams commitment to that life list. And I felt of my youth.’ That was the gist of his I would give myself a lifetime to fulfil conversation—if only he could start over— everything on it. and I thought, here’s a man only forty-two One of Goddard’s early challenges was years old, and he is feeling life has passed an expedition by kayak down the longest him by, and I thought, if I start planning river on earth—the 4,000-mile Nile. He was now, and really work on my goals, I won’t the first person in the world to travel the end up that way. length of the river from the headwaters to Almost fifty years have passed since the Mediterranean. He took a bank loan to John Goddard wrote out his life goals. He finance the trip and then paid off the loan is now in his mid-sixties. But the day we by writing a book about his adventures. He spoke, he was busy preparing for a trip to sold the book on the lecture circuit. And the North Pole—one half of goal number that’s the way he has made his living ever 54, which is to visit both the North and the since. Goddard supports himself through his South poles. Another check mark. I spoke lectures, his books, and the sale of his films to John Goddard for almost two hours, and and tapes. He is not a wealthy man. we talked about many things. I asked him I asked him if he had ever been in any if he remembered the day he wrote the list. physical danger. He told me of the time he I remember it vividly because it was such was lost in a sand storm in the Sudan, and a rite of passage for me. It was a rainy couldn’t put up a tent because the wind Sunday afternoon in 1941. Until that was blowing so hard. But he couldn’t sit time I really hadn’t crystallized all my still because if he had stopped moving, he ambitions and hopes and dreams. would have been buried alive. He told me Writing them down was the first act in about the time he had been shot at by river achieving them. You know, when you pirates in Egypt. Later I read that he had write something down with the sincere also been bitten by a rattlesnake, charged intent of doing it, it’s a commitment. A by an elephant, trapped in quicksand, been lot of us fail to do that. We don’t set in more than one plane crash and caught in deadlines and say, for example, by June more than one earthquake. of 1990 I’m going to have checked out in Sometimes I go on and on about a scuba, taken a rock climbing course and hazardous drive my family and I had one learned how to play the piano. The winter between Montreal and Toronto. It moment of writing it down is vivid in was snowing more than usual, the driving my mind because that was my formal was tough, and there were a lot of cars off

232 Look Beyond the road. There was also a service centre drowning because I was under the water an every fifty-odd miles, lots of snow-ploughs interminable time. I think the thing that and plenty of people to help out if I had saved me was the fact that I could hold my got in trouble. Nevertheless, when I tell breath for three minutes in an emergency. I the story of the drive I can make it sound was finally washed to calm water and ran pretty dramatic. along the banks desperately trying to find Imagine being able to start a story with Jack. I couldn’t see him anywhere. Then “Exploring the Congo was difficult....” suddenly a box of matches came floating by, then his pipe, overturned kayak and Exploring the Congo was difficult. It took aluminum paddle, but no Jack. It was very me six months and resulted in the loss of difficult to go on and travel the remaining life of my partner, Jack Yowell from Kenya. 2,300 miles to the Atlantic. But we had Four hundred miles downstream we had a promised one another if one of us did die disaster when we both capsized on a raging on the upper river that the survivor would stretch of rapids. It was the 125th set of continue and finish the expedition for both rapids, and we were paddling fragile 60- of us. So I fulfilled that promise. pound, 16-foot kayaks. He got swept to the left and flipped over, and racing over to John Goddard still has a lot of things left help him I got flipped over, too, and nearly on his list, but at age sixty-four he is in good drowned myself. I tried to fight to the shape and determined to keep at it. He does surface and banged into the river bottom. one hundred sit-ups every morning, works The river was so turbulent I couldn’t really out on cables and weights and rides a tell which way the surface was, and I was stationary bike at least six miles a day.

Activities 1. Scan the article to find advice that 3. John Goddard had 127 items on his John Goddard gives about setting and list of things he wanted to accomplish achieving goals. Find three different before he died. Make your own list with pieces of advice and record them in a a minimum of 50 items. Select three paragraph. goals from your list that you feel are attainable this school year. For each of 2. Imagine John Goddard is coming to speak these three goals, explain how you plan in your community. Make a poster or to achieve it. advertisement to attract an audience.

Look Beyond 233 e.e. cummings

nobody loses all the time

i had an uncle named Sol who was a born failure and nearly everybody said he should have gone into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle

Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable of all to use a highfalootin phrase luxuries that is or to wit farming and be it needlessly added

my Uncle Sol’s farm

Focus Your Learning failed because the chickens Studying this poem ate the vegetables so will help you: n identify irony and my Uncle Sol had a playful uses of chicken farm till the language skunks ate the chickens when n identify slang, colloquialism, and jargon my Uncle Sol n present a choral had a skunk farm but reading the skunks caught cold and

234 Look Beyond died and so my Uncle Sol imitated the skunks in a subtle manner or by drowning himself in the watertank but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor Victrola and records while he lived presented to him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my Uncle Sol and started a worm farm)

Activities 1. As a class, discuss what we mean when we call someone a “sunny character.” What are the advantages of an optimistic view of life? Are there any disadvantages? Explain.

2. In a short-answer response, explain the irony in this poem. Consider Uncle Sol’s name as well as the events that befall him.

3. Work with a partner to prepare a choral reading of this poem. Before you begin, find examples of slang, colloquialism, and jargon, and decide how you are going to present them in your reading. Try to communicate the humour of this poem as you read.

Look Beyond 235 Tar Beach (Woman on a Beach Series #1) 1988 Faith Ringgold

David Heald, © The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York

236 Look Beyond “After deciding to be an artist, the first thing that I had to believe was that I, a Black woman, could penetrate the art scene and that I could do so without sacrificing one iota of my Blackness or my femaleness, or my humanity.”

– Faith Ringgold

Focus Your Learning Studying this painting will help you: n describe your response to a visual n write a dialogue

Activities 1. Write a detailed description of what you see in this visual. Record your response on a graphic organizer that allows you to list your response according to your five senses.

2. Write a dialogue between the two children on the blanket. What are they doing on the “tar beach”? How do they feel? What is their feeling about family life?

Look Beyond 237 Demeter and

Persephone CELIA BARKER LOTTRIDGE

Demeter was the goddess who loved the earth. While most of the gods spent their days on Mount Olympus in the company of other gods, Demeter loved to wander the fields and forests, visiting the country people who offered her hospitality. They knew that the simply-dressed woman with the golden eyes and golden hair must be one of the immortals, because of the nobility of her bearing and the wisdom in her face. She had a daughter who was her heart’s joy. As Demeter loved the fields of grain and the trees laden with fruit, so her daughter Persephone loved flowers and the spring time. Her step was light and her smile was like sunshine. Hades, lord of the underworld, saw Persephone and fell in love with her. Although his palace was built of gold and its walls were rich with precious stones, it was dark and gloomy. Hades longed for the brightness and joy that Persephone would bring to his kingdom, so he went to Zeus and asked for her as his bride. Zeus did not want to offend his older brother, but he knew that Demeter would never Focus Your Learning agree to send her daughter to the underworld. So if he did Reading this myth will help you: not forbid Hades to marry Persephone, he did not approve of n compare myths across cultures it, either. Hades saw that Zeus would not stand against him, n share and compare so he proceeded with his plan. responses Persephone was gathering flowers in a meadow one day n write a myth and present it as a picture book when a golden chariot drawn by four coal-black horses burst through a crevasse in the earth. The driver of the chariot

238 Look Beyond grasped the girl by her wrist and pulled her into the chariot beside him, before he turned his horses and plunged again into the earth. Only a few crushed blossoms remained to show that Persephone had been there. When Demeter came looking for her daughter, of course she could not find her. For nine days she wandered, asking all she met if they had seen Persephone. At last, a story told by a country man gave her the dreadful suspicion that her beloved daughter had been taken into the underworld. She went to Helios the sun, who sees everything, and demanded to hear the truth. When Helios told her that Persephone had been taken by Hades to be his queen, Demeter’s anger knew no bounds. She left Olympus and walked barefoot on the earth, her hair dishevelled, mourning her loss. And the earth, which had been so dear to her, became desolate. The goddess forbade the fields and the trees to bear. Streams dried up; and dust blew in the hot wind. Ploughs could not cut the fields, and seeds that were scattered did not grow. People began to starve; and the beloved goddess who had been their friend walked among them unrecognized, for her eyes were blank, her gown tattered, and her body bent with grief. Zeus sent one god after another to plead with her, but Demeter would not hear any of them. “Until my daughter is returned to me, the earth will show the sorrow in my heart,” she said. Zeus, the Father of Heaven, knew he could not let the earth die. He also knew that Persephone, the eternally young, did not belong in the underworld. So he called Hermes, the messenger of the gods, who guides the souls of the dead to their new home, and said, “Go to Hades. Tell him that he must allow Persephone to return to Demeter. He must let her go—unless she has eaten any of the food of the dead. If she has done that, she must remain below the earth.” And so Hermes found Hades sitting on his gloomy throne and told him what Zeus had said. Hades knew he had no choice and he called for Persephone, his queen. She came with her head bent and her steps dragging; but Hermes saw that even in her misery she brought brightness and warmth to that cold metal palace, and he knew why Hades wanted her.

Look Beyond 239 When Persephone heard that Hermes had come to take her away from there, her eyes brightened and colour came into her pale cheeks. But Hades said, “If you have eaten anything during your time here you cannot leave, for no one can eat the food of the dead and return to live on earth.” Persephone said nothing; but as she left Hades’ palace one of the gardeners cried out that he had seen her eat four seeds from a pomegranate, the fruit of the dead. Demeter greeted her daughter with great joy, and in all the desolate world the sap began to rise again. But Persephone confessed that she had indeed eaten the pomegranate seeds, and that Hades would finally claim her. Then Zeus saw that he must act to stop death from overtaking the earth. Equally, the old days of endless spring and summer could be no more. He spoke to both Demeter and Hades. “Because Persephone ate four seeds in the underworld, she will spend four months of the year with Hades. But always she will return to her mother Demeter to bring flowers and brightness to the earth.” And Demeter and Hades and Persephone knew that this was the way it would be. Demeter sorrowed that Persephone would be in a world so far from the light for so long each year. But now her sorrow did not overwhelm her. She looked at the dry, barren earth and the golden light of love came into her eyes once more. She began to walk the fields and groves again, and again they flourished.

Activities 1. Work in groups to compare the Greek myth of Demeter and Persephone with another myth from any other culture describing a natural phenomenon. From your comparison, draw up a list of characteristics of myth. Share your findings with the class.

2. Using the characteristics of myth, write your own myth or retell in your own words a myth that you know. Prepare the myth as a picture book for primary or junior-level children. If possible share your completed book with a student of the appropriate age.

240 Look Beyond What a Certain Visionary Once Said

TOMSON HIGHWAY

Focus Your Learning Reading this essay will help you: n identify visual images that create mood and reinforce meaning n experiment with language

Mystic Moose by Ray Keighley

s you travel north from Winnipeg, the you travel farther north, the trees Aflatness of the prairie begins to give themselves begin to diminish in height way. And the northern forests begin to take and size. And get smaller, until, finally, over, forests of spruce and pine and poplar you reach the barren lands. It is from and birch. The northern rivers and northern these reaches that herds of caribou in rapids, the waterfalls, the eskers, the the thousands come thundering down northern lakes—thousands of them—with each winter. It is here that you find trout their innumerable islands encircled by and pickerel and pike and whitefish in golden-sand beaches and flat limestone profusion. If you’re here in August, your surfaces that slide gracefully into water. As eyes will be glutted with a sudden

Look Beyond 241 explosion of colour seldom seen in any endlessly shifting cloud formations by day. southern Canadian landscape: fields of wild You watch the movements of the lake raspberries, cloud berries, blueberries, which, within one hour, can change from a cranberries, stands of wild flowers you surface of glass to one of waves so massive never believed such remote northern terrain in their fury they can—and have—killed was capable of nurturing. And the water is many a man. And you begin to understand still so clean you can dip your hand over that men and women can, within maybe the side of your canoe and you can drink it. not one hour but one day, change from a In winter, you can eat the snow, without mood of reflective serenity and self-control fear. In both winter and summer, you can to one of depression and despair so deep breathe, this is your land, your home. they can—and have—killed many a man. Here, you can begin to remember that You begin to understand that this earth you are a human being. And if you take the we live on—once thought insensate, time to listen—really listen—you can begin inanimate, dead, by scientists, theologians to hear the earth breathe. And whisper and such—has an emotional, psychological things simple men, who never suspected and spiritual life every bit as complex as they were mad, can hear. Madmen who that of the most complex, sensitive and speak Cree, for one, can in fact understand intelligent of individuals. the language this land speaks, in certain And it’s ours. Or is it? circles. Which would make madmen who A certain ancient aboriginal visionary of speak Cree a privileged lot. this country once said: “We have not Then you seat yourself down on a carpet inherited this land, we have merely of reindeer moss and you watch the borrowed it from our children.” movements of the sky, filled with stars and If that’s the case, what a loan! galaxies of stars by night, streaked by Eh?

Activities 1. List the vocabulary used in this essay reinforce the message of the essay? that strikes you as being particularly Share your views with your group. vivid and effective. What impression of 2. Write a paragraph describing a landscape the landscape does this vocabulary that you know. Make your language as create? How does this impression richly descriptive as you can.

242 Look Beyond Paul Fleischman

We were counted not in thousands nor millions but in billions. billions. We were numerous as the stars stars in the heavens This poem is intended to be As grains of read aloud by two people. One sand sand person reads the lines on the left, the other those on the right. at the sea When the two lines are the As the same, read them together. buffalo buffalo on the plains. When we burst into flight Focus Your Learning Studying this poem for two we so filled the sky voices will help you: n share ideas and information that the n present a choral reading sun sun n write a poem was darkened and

Look Beyond 243 day day became dusk. Humblers of the sun Humblers of the sun we were! we were! The world inconceivable inconceivable without us. Yet it’s 1914, and here I am alone alone caged in the Cincinnati Zoo, the last of the passenger pigeons.

Activities 1. As a class, discuss which North American animals have become endangered or extinct. What has been the cause of these environmental problems?

2. Work with a partner to prepare a choral reading of this poem. Follow the instructions at the start of the poem, and be sure to read with appropriate expression.

3. Write a poem about an animal or bird that is extinct or endangered. You might wish to work with a partner to write a poem for two (or more) voices.

244 Look Beyond Jenny Nelson

When I grow up, my father says, the Big Trees will be gone.

I want to see the trees my father’s seen.

“Gwaii Haanas” was inspired by a I want to travel on the water trip to Burnaby Narrows in Gwaii Haanas, then known as South watch the otter Moresby. A campaign to preserve slide into the sea. the area has resulted in the island I want to see how small I am being managed equally by the beside old Cedar Tree. Haida nation and the federal parks I want to see the things department. that Chini’s seen.

I want to know the forest Focus Your Learning through my toes, as my foot goes, Reading these poems will help you: n share ideas and information on moss, on bench, on rock, n compare and contrast two poems on rotting wood. n interpret the tone of the poems I want to feel the forest n create a poster with my eyes and hands and nose,

Look Beyond 245 wet clothes, sounds of tree-bird, sounds of silence, smell of mushroom, smell of cedar, following the creeks that run red and quiet, water falls. The forest calls.

I have a need to see the Trees My father’s seen. Leave some for me.

kateri akiwenzie-damm

at night there are no voices singing me gently to sleep though i know they whisper outside these strange walls

i look to the sky for sweet light of stars but night is never dark here Emily Carr, Wood Interior, VAG 42.3.5, Vancouver Art Gallery/Trevor Mills

246 Look Beyond i long to join the dance of the earth —i knew the movements once i dream of the wind the damp smell of the earth and the footsteps of animals dancing by moonlight my body is tired and aching blood rushes to my feet drains into the pavement is pulled through my scalp i lose track of the land

Activities 1. In a small group, brainstorm a list of ways in which people’s relationship with the environment has changed over the decades. When making your list, consider how the landscape has changed and why many people feel less of a connection with nature than they once did.

2. Compare and contrast these two poems, using at least three points of similarity or difference. Provide detailed evidence from the poem for the points you make.

3. Look for suitable music to accompany each of these poems. Present these pieces of music to the class, and be prepared to explain how you have made your choices.

4. Create a poster with a message derived from either of these poems. Display your posters for the school to see.

Look Beyond 247 Five Minutes to

Change the World PEG KEHRET

By Ma Myat San Moe, 14, Myanmar CAST: Five players, either sex, and CONTROLLER. AT RISE: Characters ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR and FIVE are On Stage. Focus Your Learning Studying this play will help you: ONE: Our parents made a mess of the world. n work with others to present a performance TWO: The oceans are polluted. The air is polluted. n identify and evaluate THREE: There’s overpopulation. sources of information n record and organize FOUR: Oil spills. Litter. information ONE: Wars. Famine.

248 Look Beyond THREE: Homelessness. Drugs. Crime. FIVE: Animals are becoming extinct. ONE: Child abuse. Illiteracy. TWO: There are nothing but problems everywhere. The older generation was totally irresponsible. FIVE: If we were in charge, this never would have happened. TWO: We would have world peace. And a clean environment. FOUR: If teens ran the world, things would be different. ONE: No one would go hungry. THREE: Give us just five minutes with the world leaders and we could tell them how to improve the whole planet. (CONTROLLER rushes in.) CONTROLLER: Stop! OTHERS: Who’s that? What? What do you want? (Etc.) CONTROLLER: I am Controller. I decide who is in charge of the world. I have heard your complaints, and I think you are right. The world is in a mess. The adults have botched up the job. FIVE: Controller? I never heard about any controller. THREE: Are you God’s assistant? CONTROLLER: I am no one’s assistant. I am in charge. TWO: Hi, boss. CONTROLLER: I have decided to give you a chance to save the world. Right here. Right now. When I say “go,” you will have five minutes to decide what changes you want to make and how you will make them. It is not enough to say you want world peace; you must also say how you plan to achieve it. FOUR: Five minutes isn’t very long for such an important job.

Look Beyond 249 CONTROLLER: All you must do is tell me how to proceed. I’ll see that your plans are carried out. TWO: Do you have anything to do with raising allowances? ONE: Five minutes is better than nothing. Let’s do it. CONTROLLER: Ready? (Others nod yes.) Go. ONE: I think the first problem we have to solve is hunger. When people don’t have enough to eat, they can’t think about anything else. FOUR: People in the U.S. should share their food with the poor countries. THREE: We spend millions of dollars a year on diet foods while other people are starving. FOUR: How do we get the food to those who need it? TWO: Let’s fly it over and drop bundles down to areas that need food. Can’t you just see it? Millions of cupcakes falling from the sky. (He sings) “Twinkie, Twinkie, little star.” ONE: Who pays for the airplanes? THREE: The government. FIVE: If the government does it, taxes will go up. FOUR: We are the government. ONE: We have to be careful that the food doesn’t go to unscrupulous people who sell it on the black market. How do we know who to trust? THREE: What about spoilage? Bread would get stale. FOUR: We would send flour and yeast. Powdered milk. Dried fruit. FIVE: Do those people have ovens? How do they cook? ONE: What about utensils? Bowls and cups? If we send powdered milk, do they have something to mix it in? Some way to drink it?

250 Look Beyond TWO: This is getting too complicated. Let’s tackle one of the other problems first. THREE: Pollution. FOUR: Yes. Let’s get rid of pollution. FIVE: Let’s ban all automobiles. TWO: No way. I’m almost through driver’s training. I’ll get my license in a couple of weeks. THREE: Do you want clean air, or do you want to drive a car? TWO: Both. FIVE: Not just cars. We should ban all motor vehicles. ONE: My dad is a sales rep. Without a car, he’d have no job. TWO: At least we’d know what to do with the extra food. We could give it to you. THREE: Couldn’t he call his customers and take orders by telephone? ONE: He has new products twice a year. The store owners want to see them, before they order. FOUR: What about trucks? Should we ban trucks, too? ONE: Without trucks, how would the food get to the supermarkets? FOUR: If nobody had a car, we would all shop at neighbourhood stores. THREE: It would be like the old days. My grandparents are always telling how they grew all their own vegetables, and every year they raised a steer and slaughtered it for meat. ONE: Gross. FOUR: I don’t think the manager of the apartment where we live would be too happy if we had a steer on the balcony.

Look Beyond 251 TWO: You could have a pig instead. Or chickens. FOUR: There’s an old lady in the apartment next to us who gets Meals on Wheels. Without them, she’d never have a decent dinner. FIVE: Maybe we can’t ban all motor vehicles. THREE: Who decides which ones are OK and which are not? FOUR: We could allow delivery trucks and business cars, but no personal cars. ONE: There would be a lot of people who suddenly claimed they needed their car for business purposes. FIVE: What about school buses? TWO: Ban the buses! Close the schools. But not until after I finish driver’s training. ONE: Think of all the industries that are dependent on people being able to drive. My father wouldn’t be the only one out of work. Our whole economy would have to change. CONTROLLER: Your time is half gone. THREE: Half gone! We haven’t decided anything yet. FOUR: Air pollution is too complicated. Let’s start with something smaller, something we know we can change. FIVE: Overpopulation. How do we get birth control information to people who need it? THREE: Are there charities that do this? If there are, we could have a fund raiser and give them the money. ONE: Remember the big flap between some parents and the school board last year because birth control information was available at our school? TWO: Right. And I didn’t even need it. (Others all look at him. TWO shrugs.)

252 Look Beyond FIVE: If we do anything to promote birth control, it’s sure to cause a controversy. FOUR: Let’s start with drugs and alcohol. They cause so many other problems, and none of the parents would object. THREE: Good idea. I say we ban all drugs. ONE: Drugs are already banned. THREE: We could make alcohol illegal. FIVE: They tried that years ago. Prohibition. It didn’t work. People kept drinking, only they did it secretly. ONE: Just like they do drugs now. FOUR: It’s a problem either way, whether there are laws against it or not. THREE: Then what good does it do to try to change things? It won’t make any difference what we decide. CONTROLLER: You have two more minutes. TWO: Maybe our parents weren’t totally irresponsible. Maybe they tried to solve some of these problems and weren’t able to. FIVE: Our grandparents, too. ONE: Maybe we can’t change the whole world. Maybe what we have to do is change ourselves. FIVE: And each of us could try to influence one other person and have them do the same until eventually it makes a difference. THREE: I make a commitment never to use drugs or alcohol. Will you join me? TWO: Not even a beer now and then? THREE: Not even a beer. FOUR: I join you.

Look Beyond 253 FIVE: Me, too. ONE: Me, too. And I make a commitment to volunteer at least four hours a month with the Red Cross or the Salvation Army or some other agency that helps feed the hungry people. THREE: I’ll go with you. FIVE: I will give up junk food and donate the money I save to a group that helps save endangered animals. TWO: Wow! I’ve seen you eat. You’ll probably save the elephants single-handed. FOUR: I can’t stop pollution, but I will pick up litter at the city park. I’ll recycle the cans and paper I find and dispose of the other trash. FIVE: That’s a great idea. I’ll help you do that. I know where we can take recyclable plastic, too. THREE: Five minutes ago, we set out to save the world, Now we’re reduced to picking up other people’s trash. What’s wrong with us? ONE: Nothing’s wrong. The problems don’t have easy solutions. FOUR: We’re being practical. We have to start somewhere. ONE: (Turns to TWO) What about you, (Name)? You haven’t agreed to any of these changes. What do you plan to do? TWO: Are there any volunteer jobs where you get to drive? (They all stare at him, waiting.) All right, all right. When I get my license, I won’t drive unless it’s a necessary trip. FIVE: No cruising? TWO: (It pains him to say this.) No cruising. THREE: It’s a start. TWO: It’s a sacrifice. CONTROLLER: Time’s up. What instructions do you have for me?

254 Look Beyond THREE: None. FOUR: We couldn’t figure out any solutions. We had our chance to save the world, and we blew it. ONE: No, we didn’t. (Turns to CONTROLLER) Here are your instructions: Every person is to make one change that will benefit the world. FIVE: We’ll start small. ONE: And grow. THREE: And become powerful. FOUR: Eventually, we’ll make a difference. ONE: Even if it means personal sacrifice. TWO: Like no cruising. CONTROLLER: You have used your five minutes well. Your instructions will be carried out. (CONTROLLER exits, followed by others.)

Activities 1. In a group of six, prepare to enact this play. Be sure to present it with appropriate emotion and characterization. Practise the play until you feel confident enough to present it.

2. Choose one of the problems identified in the play. Do some research to find out more about its causes. Make notes of your findings organized under appropriate headings and subheadings. Then list at least three steps you can take to address the problem you chose.

Look Beyond 255 David Kherdian Focus Your Learning Studying these poems will help you: Just once n share and compare responses my father stopped on the way n identify metaphor and show how it into the house from work relates to the poem’s message and joined in the softball game n write a dialogue we were having in the street, and attempted to play in our game that his country had never known.

Just once and the day stands out forever in my memory as a father’s living gesture to his son, that in playing even the fool or clown, he would reveal that the lines of their lives

were sewn from a tougher fabric Softball by William Kurelek than the son had previously known.

256 Look Beyond Farzana Doctor

My mother taught me to fight. In the eleven short years I knew her She taught me about justice. Racism. Love.

“You’re a chocolate face.” “So what. You’re a vanilla face.”

I grew up in a small suburban white town. I went to Brownies, said the Lord’s Prayer, Disliked Friday evening Gujarati classes and Always wanted to fit in.

“______go home.”

My mother swelled in fury When her little girl repeated the ugly words She had been told at school. And so she went out to find justice.

Look Beyond 257 Banu marched to Ed Broadbent’s office And spoke of her children. And of racism and ______. “And we are not from ______.”

Years after the cancer took over Years after I tried to forget her Years after I shunned the med-keeners who looked like me Years after I streaked my hair blond She returned to me.

And I remembered.

I remembered the name-calling And how she got mad And I remembered How she went down fighting.

Did she know that on that day, She planted a gem in her little girl’s mind Which many years after her death Would grow Inside my Indo-phobic Multiculturized Coconut head?

Did she know that her one act Would help create a Woman who would love herself

258 Look Beyond Her brown skin Her dark eyes The beauty of women?

If I could know her today We would sit together And have chai. We would speak of our lives Of truth Of justice And of “______” who Would not go home But stayed to change the world.

Activities 1. Do you feel that the parent and child in each of these poems found it easy to communicate with each other? Discuss in a group, supporting your views with details from the poems.

2. Find one metaphor in each poem. Write a short-answer response showing how each metaphor relates to the main message of the poem.

3. Suppose the parent and child in each of these poems had the opportunity to discuss the “one act” described, several years after it occurred. With a partner, write the dialogue that might have taken place between the parent and child from one of these poems. Explore the impact of the parent’s action on the child.

Look Beyond 259 Birth of a New Technology Andy Lackow

A Computer-Manipulated Illustration; Software: Adobe Photoshop/Illustrator, Strata StudioPro

260 Look Beyond Focus Your Learning Viewing this visual will help you: n express your ideas and reach conclusions n compare your own and others’ insights and viewpoints

Activities 1. Explain the title of this piece, making specific references to elements of the visual. Write your response.

2. Do you find this a positive or a negative image? Discuss in a small group.

Look Beyond 261 Eldinah’s Journey

LISA WALDICK

t first glance, Eldinah Tshatedi couldn’t Abe more different from the character she played in the movie, African Journey. In this film, which has aired on Canadian television, Eldinah plays a shy, African girl from a poor village. When I met Eldinah, however, I found she was anything but shy. Sporting long, braided hair and dressed in Doc Martens and jeans, she was exuberant, enthusiastic and talkative. African Journey is about a Canadian teenager, Luke Novak. He goes to Africa to visit his father who is working there as a mining engineer. While in Africa, Luke befriends a 16-year-old boy, named Themba, who introduces him to the beauty, culture and difficulties of southeastern Africa. Eldinah plays Themba’s sister, Tulani. In the movie, Tulani runs away to the city in order to escape an arranged marriage with a much older man. The city is overwhelming and frightening, but Tulani manages to

Focus Your Learning make her way. Reading this magazine article will help you: n use a graphic organizer n share and compare ideas A Star Is Born n write a letter in role When casting for African Journey took n ask questions to extend your understanding place, Eldinah was living in Zimbabwe. A

262 Look Beyond friend was trying out for the part of Themba background was different from that of the and asked Eldinah to come along for moral other kids in her class because she had lived support. Eldinah agreed. While there, the in the United States for so long. She wore casting director talked her into trying out for tank tops, ripped jeans, and mini-skirts; she the part of Tulani. Eldinah had never been questioned teachers and said what was on to drama school, but she loved to act, and her mind. These were not, as Eldinah puts was always in her school plays. She gave it, “done things.” the audition a try and was called back. “But,” says Eldinah, “I still managed to Eventually, she was chosen—from over 300 have a lot of friends because I didn’t like to actresses—as the one who could best be friends with people from just my school. embody the character of Tulani. I was friends with everybody; I had friends As one of the collaborators on African from all walks of life. I got to learn a lot Journey, Mark Winemaker, commented, from being with them.” “Anyone who has met Eldinah knows she In the capital of Zimbabwe, Harare, has a certain magic and presence. I think explains Eldinah, there are low-density and George Bloomfield, the film director, was high-density suburbs. The low-density quite overwhelmed by that.” suburbs where Eldinah lived “are pretty Eldinah also did her homework. She read posh. The families aren’t very large, parents the script and thought about the way her can afford to have cars, and everyone is very character would dress and speak. Eldinah well spoken in English.” In high-density doesn’t have an African accent, because she suburbs, “you might have 10 people living moved at a young age from South Africa, in a house that only has two bedrooms.” where she was born, to the State of Oregon Eldinah didn’t stick to hanging around with in the U.S.A. and lived there until age 12. people from the elite areas. Eldinah had never been to Zimbabwe’s When I asked her what life was like in rural areas, but she had many friends who the high-density suburbs, she was earnest had—and that helped her. in her explanation. “They don’t have the same kind of food. It could be mealie-meal with milk because they A Mind of Her Own can’t afford meat; or if they have vegetables, The fact that she had these friends was it would be vegetables from their garden. something unusual. Eldinah went to a They don’t have a garden with flowers; any private high school in Zimbabwe and, at available space has to be for vegetables that first, she had some trouble fitting in. Her they can eat. You would not find a car

Look Beyond 263 houses out of straw and mud. They make their own pots. I would never be able to do that. “They look after their cows. Even though they don’t have all the animal feed that rich families have, they still know how to take care of them. “Even the kids—not all of them might be able to go to school. But even the ones who don’t, learn. And when the kids who do go around there. If you found a bicycle, that to school are playing with other kids, they would be unusual. People are that poor.” teach them what they’ve learned. People in Eldinah says some of her classmates were the rural areas know how to share.” shocked by her other friends. “People would call me strange. I mean, people from private schools don’t go to areas like that. You don’t Understanding Tulani go to lower-class areas; you are not seen It didn’t take Eldinah long to see similarities with people from there. But I didn’t care. and differences between herself and the What’s different? They’re people.” character Tulani. Because of these friends, Eldinah knew “What we have in common is ambition how to speak with an African accent and and determination. We are both very strong how to dress as if she were from the country. people. We do what we believe in. The When she was asked to come in for a screen thing that is different between Tulani and test after her first audition, her friends me is that Tulani hasn’t been able to take loaned her clothes to wear. advantage of an education like I have. She hasn’t had the chance to be a child, like I have. She’s had to mature very quickly, and In the Country take care of her brothers and sisters. When Eldinah actually got out to the rural “Also, there is no way I have ever had to areas of Zimbabwe to shoot the film, she walk two hours every day to get water, became filled with admiration for the whereas Tulani has. I have seen a lot of people living there. things that Tulani hasn’t. I know about “The things they make!” she told me. prostitution, I know about AIDS, and she “Things to keep out the frost. They make doesn’t really understand about that.”

264 Look Beyond In the film, after Tulani runs away from money she earned from African Journey to home, she tries to find work in the city. She travel to England, where she eventually wasn’t able to attend high school because decided to study nursing. Now 21, she is she was needed at home. Because of her well into her nursing program. lack of education, Tulani finds it extremely She also has two other films to her difficult to find a job. The city streets are full credit. One is the documentary, Journey to of other young people and she meets some Understanding, a follow-up film to African women who, out of desperation, began Journey. This film explores international earning a living as prostitutes. They warn development issues such as the her about AIDS—”slim” as it is called in environment, and women and education. certain African countries. It also presents modern-day Africa from In many ways, Tulani’s character reflects the perspective of young people living the realities of youth throughout much of there. Eldinah’s other film is called Africa. Unemployment is high; education is Rwendo, a British made-for-T.V. movie a privilege; and many go to the cities to about a domestic worker. seek their fortunes. Some find misfortune. Eldinah is delighted but realistic about Others manage to make their way—as her unexpected acting career. “There’s no Tulani eventually does. guarantee I’ll always get acting roles,” she says. “My nursing is something for me to fall back on. Even if I never get acting jobs Pursuing a Dream after this, I’ll have no regrets. I mean, I’ve Eldinah, like her character, left home to loved it.” pursue her dreams. At age 17, she used the

Activities 1. Create a Venn diagram in which you show 2. Write a letter from Eldinah to a friend in the differences and similarities between North America in which she describes her Eldinah and her character Tulani. Given experience and the people she has met. the significant differences between them, 3. Assume you had the opportunity to how is Eldinah able to capture the role of interview Eldinah for a newspaper, radio, Tulani effectively? List characteristics that or television. Write the questions you you think help Eldinah to be a good actor. would ask her. Share your ideas with the class.

Look Beyond 265 Snow White NASA BEGUM

always wanted to be an actress and Iwhen I was chosen to play the lead in my primary school play, I thought I had definitely started out on the road to fame and fortune in Hollywood. My teachers were rather short on irony, otherwise it might have occurred to them that there was something a little strange about putting on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in a school full of disabled children and casting me as the heroine. My classmates’ approach was more direct. —“You’re going to be painted white, Nasa Begum” they would taunt me, along with other horrendous suggestions. Yes, Snow White was without a doubt fair- skinned, and I wasn’t—(not to mention the other ways I didn’t look like Walt Disney’s version of this damsel in distress.) Still, I desperately wanted the part, so I spent many anxious hours trying to convince myself that I could fit the role. Eventually my mind was put at rest when my teacher, who was strong on kindness but Focus Your Learning weak on political awareness, told me that Reading this personal account will help you: n understand the significance of the title Snow White had dark hair like mine and in n analyse character development the summer was probably quite tanned from n examine the text to understand viewpoint, doing a lot of sunbathing. I’m not entirely opinion, bias, and stereotypes n present a dialogue sure I believed her but I wanted the part

266 Look Beyond so much, I was ready to be convinced. reading was my comfort and protection. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to I knew that I wasn’t learning as much at make dramatic history by becoming the my school as my sisters did at theirs. They first Pakistani Snow White because I had always seemed to be doing lots of interesting to go into hospital for an operation. That’s things and moving on at a fast pace, whereas one of the stories of my life. the progress in my school was slow and For one reason or another my acting repetitive. career always seemed to be fated by some One of the problems for me was that disaster or another. Once again seriously I spent so much time in hospital that I miscast, but enthusiastically bringing my would miss large chunks of the school own Islamic experience into the role of the term.There was a teacher on our ward Angel Gabriel, I tripped up and fell straight but it wasn’t really equipped to cater for into some poor parent’s lap. On another children who had to spend long periods occasion I was so carried away with waving of time in hospital and as I worked quickly my palm around as we sang “Hosanna” in and the resources were limited, I spent a the school Easter play (the concept of a lot of time being bored. multi-cultural approach to teaching hadn’t My “real” school, the school that was yet reached my school), that I lost my different from the one my sisters went to, balance and fell off the stage backwards. catered for children with physical disabilities I still have a small bald patch on the top from nursery school age right up until the of my head to prove what dangers I was age of sixteen. We were all transported to willing to undergo in the name of drama. and from school in single decker buses as It was after this that I decided to redirect children came there from all over the city. my enthusiasm into something that didn’t For some of us, by the time we arrived at seem quite so risky. I devoted most of my school we had already been travelling for efforts to school work. I never liked anything over an hour. The bus journey was one of to do with painting or practical things like the best parts of the school day because the needlework and raffia as I had already spent activities we had started in the playground long spells in the hospital’s Occupational would extend into the journey to and from Therapy department making stuffed toys, school. You could make or break friends, mats, bead necklaces and anything else play games and share gossip. I used to enjoy which would encourage me to use my waiting on the pavement each morning, hands. I loved reading and writing. I don’t there seemed to be something special about think I was ever quite the “girly swot” but being collected for school from my own

Look Beyond 267 doorstep. I used to chat to the milkman, the It never occurred to me to question the postman and the families on their way to the fact that this was the sort of school I should primary school which was right next door. go to, or to ask to go to school with my It was not a very big school but there was sisters. I knew that I was different but it an enormous range of ability levels within wasn’t something that was an issue for me. each class. There were children who never On the whole I used to enjoy school a lot seemed to be able to finish their work whilst and looked forward to Mondays and the others would be impatiently looking around end of the holidays. As a little girl I would for something else to do. I think I was ask the teachers to give me homework and somewhere in between. I could do the work eagerly present it to them the next morning. without much difficulty but I was very slow I became less keen on working after school in getting it down on paper. It wasn’t until I when people told me I had to do it. went away to boarding school that anyone The kids at my school were like kids in acknowledged that my lack of writing skills any other school. There were the hard kids was due to my physical condition rather in the gang who would rant and rave and than to an inability to study. there were the wet blankets who nobody I didn’t do as much academic work as wanted to know. I was in the middle. my sisters in mainstream schools, and one Unlike many girls, I never sought the of the reasons for this was the bane of my devotion of one best friend and was life—physiotherapy. I was sure that I was happy to wander round making friends being treated unjustly as not everyone in with whoever crossed my path. my class had to go away to these sessions As a child it was hard for me to accept and, what was worse, it didn’t even exist at that there were two distinct ways I was my sisters’ school. I couldn’t see the point different from the majority, not like the of all these agonizing exercises. I was never people I saw on the TV, in the comics and very good at accepting the fact that things I books I read. At school everyone had some didn’t like could be “good for me” and the form of disability so no one was picked on physiotherapist managed to do a really good just for that. But disabled kids are just like job of making me a conscientious objector everyone else and they would tease out and for the rest of my life. I was certain that pick on anyone who was different. I had there were not many physiotherapists who never thought about it before I started would allow someone to pull their limbs school but I soon learnt what it meant in agonizing directions on the unlikely to be Black in a predominantly White grounds that it would “make them better.” establishment. I used to get very upset at

268 Look Beyond the relentless name-calling, but grassing on fascinated me, not least the fact that her anyone was not on so I had to learn to live family owned a shop which seemed like a with it. palace to me, full of Asian and Western It was hard, though, and it made me feel clothes. out of place wherever I was. My mum used Then came the tragedy of the Orange to sew me the Salwar Kamiz, matching silk Dress. I was about nine at the time, orange dresses and trousers, like she did for my was my favourite colour and I was in love sisters, but they just attracted further with that dress. Every day when the school derogatory remarks at school until I bus stopped for her to get in, I would see begged her to let me stop wearing them. it in the window of her family’s shop. I Eventually she relented and bought me wanted it so much. Eventually I managed to Western-style trousers and dresses. Even persuade my mum to let me have it for the this didn’t help because my culture said school party and she gave the money to the that girls should wear both trousers and bus lady to buy it when we stopped at the dresses but according to my school friends shop to drop the girl off on the way home. this was the pits of fashion. I ended up The dress was there in the morning but by feeling uncomfortable in the clothes I wore the time we came home, it was gone! My at school and at home and I tried to solve heart was broken. My beloved dress had this dilemma by wearing Western clothes been sold and there were no more in my at school and changing immediately I size. There was no consoling me and it took returned. For almost fifteen years I did not a couple of years for me to live down the allow white people to see me in Salwar “story of the orange dress.” I think what Kamiz. upset me most was that I wanted that dress There was only one other Asian girl at and I wanted it from that shop. Most of all my school and I always admired her. It was I wanted the girl whose family owned that worship from afar. She was in the Seniors dress shop to be my friend. and I was just a Junior but I saw her on the She was the only Black role model I had. school bus each day. She had a wonderful Her culture was very different from mine dress sense and beautiful long black hair and her experience of family life was not which fell from her shoulders right down to the same, but the fact that she was at my the base of her spine. I was desperate for school was important for me. Until I met long hair but as I wore a brace from my her, I had never seen another Asian person neck downwards it was almost impossible with a disability and I was proud to be to let it grow. Everything about this girl considered to be like her.

Look Beyond 269 But it was still quite a shock for me adopted by adults. Children are usually to realize that the other kids at school saw us willing to be given explanations and to as being quite different from them. I don’t learn about what it means to be Black or remember race being an issue in the hospital disabled and why discrimination is wrong. where I spent a lot of my childhood and there Adults find it much harder to recognize were so many Asian people where I lived that their own prejudices, they use their own I did not stand out as being Black. It took me misconceptions to convince themselves a long time to understand why people who that they are right. did not know me in my neighbourhood made Looking back, I find it hard to believe fun of my disability and why people with that I was denied the right to have the same disabilities used racial slurs. Eventually I education as my sisters, that they went to learned that wherever I went I would the primary school right next to our house, probably stand out as being different from whilst I travelled for an hour across town. the majority and I had to be prepared to At playtime my mum used to pass them accept being called names because of my fruit through the fencing that divided our race or disability, and sometimes both. garden from the school playground. But I’ve At least at primary school I developed come a long way since the days of Snow an awareness of being Black through the White and orange dresses. I’ve reclaimed very blatant approach adopted by my my identity by refusing to accept a concept schoolmates. It is easier to cope with the of ‘normality’ which tells me I must walk, uninhibited forms of discrimination used have fair skin and try to blend in by by children than the subtle approach wearing Western clothes.

Activities 1. In a group of four, make a web with the contributed to the development of her words “Snow White” in the centre. character. Around the words, brainstorm all of the 3. With a partner, write a dialogue between different ways that this title is used to Nasa, as an adult, and her child, in which make a point in the story. Then, as a Nasa gives advice about prejudice, being class, discuss the significance of the title. picked on, and other difficulties that she 2. Write a character sketch of Nasa, experienced in her childhood. Role-play showing how events in her life have the dialogue for the class.

270 Look Beyond Goalie

RUDY THAUBERGER

Focus Your Learning Reading this story will help you: n understand character motivation by retelling events from a different point of view n use artwork to represent character

Nothing pleases him. Win or lose, he comes home angry, dragging his equipment bag up the

driveway, sullen eyes staring down, seeing nothing, refusing to see. He throws the bag against the door. You hear him,

Look Beyond 271 fumbling with his keys, his hands sore, swollen and cold. He drops the keys. He kicks the door. You open it and he enters, glaring, not at you, not at the keys, but at everything, the bag, the walls, the house, the air, the sky. His clothes are heavy with sweat. There are spots of blood on his jersey and on his pads. He moves past you, wordless, pulling his equipment inside, into the laundry room and then into the garage. You listen to him, tearing the equipment from the bag, throwing it. You hear the thump of heavy leather, the clatter of plastic, the heavy whisper of damp cloth. He leaves and you enter. The equipment is everywhere, scattered, draped over chairs, hung on hooks, thrown on the floor. You imagine him on the ice: compact, alert, impossibly agile and quick. Then you stare at the equipment: helmet and throat protector, hockey pants, jersey, chest and arm protectors, athletic supporter, knee pads and leg pads, blocker, catching glove and skates. In the centre of the floor are three sticks, scattered, their broad blades chipped and worn. The clutter is deliberate, perhaps even necessary. His room is the same, pure chaos, clothes and magazines everywhere, spilling out of dresser drawers, into the closet. He says he knows where everything is. You imagine him on the ice, focussed, intense, single-minded. You understand the need for clutter. When he isn’t playing, he hates the equipment. It’s heavy and awkward and bulky. It smells. He avoids it, scorns it. It disgusts him. Before a game, he gathers it together on the floor and stares at it. He lays each piece out carefully, obsessively, growling and snarling at anyone who comes too close. His mother calls him a gladiator, a bullfighter. But you know the truth, that gathering the equipment is a ritual of hatred, that every piece represents, to him, a particular variety of pain. There are black marks scattered on the white plastic of his skates. He treats them like scars, reminders of pain. His glove hand is always swollen. His chest, his knees and his biceps are always bruised. After a hard game, he can barely move. “Do you enjoy it?” you ask, “Do you enjoy the game at least? Do you like playing?” He shrugs. “I love it,” he says.

272 Look Beyond Without the game, he’s miserable. He spends his summers restless and morose, skating every morning, lifting weights at night. He juggles absentmindedly; tennis balls, coins, apples, tossing them behind his back and under his leg, see-sawing two in one hand as he talks on the phone, bouncing them off walls and knees and feet. He plays golf and tennis with great fervour, but you suspect, underneath, he is indifferent to these games. As fall approaches, you begin to find him in the basement, cleaning his skates, oiling his glove, taping his sticks. His hands move with precision and care. You sit with him and talk. He tells you stories. This save. That goal. Funny stories. He laughs. The funniest stories are about failure: the goal scored from centre ice, the goal scored on him by his own defenceman, the goal scored through a shattered stick. There is always a moral, the same moral every time. “You try your best and you lose.” He starts wearing the leg pads in September. Every evening, he wanders the house in them, wearing them with shorts and a T-shirt. He hops in them, does leg lifts and jumping jacks. He takes them off and sits on them, folding them into a squat pile to limber them up. He starts to shoot a tennis ball against the fence with his stick. As practices begin, he comes home overwhelmed by despair. His skill is an illusion, a lie, a magic trick. Nothing you say reassures him. You’re his father. Your praise is empty, invalid. The injuries begin. Bruises. Sprains. His body betrays him. Too slow. Too clumsy. His ankles are weak, buckling under him. His muscles cramp. His nose bleeds. A nerve in his chest begins to knot and fray. No-one understands. They believe he’s invulnerable, the fans, his teammates. They stare at him blankly while he lies on the ice, white-blind, paralyzed, as his knee or his toe or his hand or his chest or his throat burns. To be a goalie, you realize, is to be an adult too soon, to have too soon an intimate understanding of the inevitability of pain and failure. In the backyard, next to the garage, is an old garbage can filled with broken hockey sticks. The blades have shattered. The shafts are

Look Beyond 273 cracked. He keeps them all, adding a new one every two weeks. You imagine him, at the end of the season, burning them, purging his failure with a bonfire. But that doesn’t happen. At the end of the season, he forgets them and you throw them away. You watch him play. You sit in the stands with his mother, freezing, in an arena filled with echoes. He comes out without his helmet and stick, skating slowly around the rink. Others move around him deftly. He stares past them, disconnected, barely awake. They talk to him, call his name, hit his pads lightly with their sticks. He nods, smiles. You know he’s had at least four cups of coffee. You’ve seen him, drinking, prowling the house frantically. As the warm-up drills begin, he gets into the goal casually. Pucks fly over the ice, crashing into the boards, cluttering the net. He skates into the goal, pulling on his glove and blocker. He raps the posts with his stick. No-one seems to notice, even when he starts deflecting shots. They come around to him slowly, firing easy shots at his pads. He scoops the pucks out of the net with his stick. He seems bored. You shiver as you sit, watching him. You hardly speak. He ignores you. You think of the cost of his equipment. Sticks, forty dollars. Glove, one hundred and twenty. Leg pads, thirteen hundred dollars. The pads have patches. The glove is soft, the leather eaten away by his sweat. The game begins, casually, without ceremony. The scoreboard lights up. The ice is cleared of pucks. Whistles blow. After the stillness of the face-off, you hardly notice the change, until you see him in goal, crouched over, staring. You remember him in the backyard, six years old, standing in a ragged net, wearing a parka and a baseball glove, holding an ordinary hockey stick, sawed off at the top. The puck is a tennis ball. The ice is cement. He falls down every time you shoot, ignoring the ball, trying to look like the goalies on TV. You score, even when you don’t want to. He’s too busy play-acting. He smiles, laughs, shouts. You buy him a mask. He paints it. Yellow and black. Blue and white. Red and blue. It changes every month, as his heroes change. You make him a blocker out of cardboard and leg pads out of foam

274 Look Beyond rubber. His mother makes him a chest protector. You play in the backyard, every evening, taking shot after shot, all winter. It’s hard to recall when you realize he’s good. You come to a point where he starts to surprise you, snatching the ball out of the air with his glove, kicking it away with his shoe. You watch him one Saturday, playing with his friends. He humiliates them, stopping everything. They shout and curse. He comes in, frozen, tired and spellbound. “Did you see?” he says. He learns to skate, moving off of the street and onto the ice. The pain begins. A shot to the shoulder paralyzes his arm for ten minutes. You buy him pads, protectors, thinking it will stop the pain. He begins to lose. Game after game. Fast reflexes are no longer enough. He is suddenly alone, separate from you, miserable. Nothing you say helps. Keep trying. Stop. Concentrate. Hold your stick blade flat on the ice. He begins to practise. He begins to realize that he is alone. You can’t help him. His mother can’t help him. That part of his life detaches from you, becoming independent, free. You fool yourself, going to his games, cheering, believing you’re being supportive, refusing to understand that here, in the rink, you’re irrelevant. When you’re happy for him, he’s angry. When you’re sad for him, he’s indifferent. He begins to collect trophies. You watch the game, fascinated. You try to see it through his eyes. You watch him. His head moves rhythmically. His stick sweeps the ice and chops at it. When the shots come, he stands frozen in a crouch. Position is everything, he tells you. He moves, the movement so swift it seems to strike you physically. How does he do it? How? You don’t see the puck, only his movement. Save or goal, it’s all the same. You try to see the game through his eyes, aware of everything, constantly alert. It’s not enough to follow the puck. The position of the puck is old news. The game. You try to understand the game. You fail. He seems unearthly, moving to cut down the angle, chopping the puck with his stick. Nothing is wasted. You can almost feel his mind at work, watching, calculating. Where does it come from, you wonder, this strange mind? You try to move with him, watching his eyes

Look Beyond 275 through his cage, and his hands. You remember the way he watches games on television, cross-legged, hands fluttering, eyes seeing everything. Suddenly you succeed, or you think you do. Suddenly, you see the game, not as a series of events, but as a state, with every moment in time potentially a goal. Potentiality. Probability. These are words you think of afterwards. As you watch, there is only the game, pressing against you, soft now, then sharp, then rough, biting, shocking, burning, dull, cold. No players. Only forces, feelings, the white ice, the cold, the echo, all joined. A shot crashes into his helmet. He falls to his knees. You cry out. He stands slowly, shaking his head, hacking at the ice furiously with his stick. They scored. You never noticed. Seeing the game is not enough. Feeling it is not enough. He wants more, to understand completely, to control. You look out at the ice. The game is chaos again. He comes home, angry, limping up the driveway, victorious. You watch him, dragging his bag, sticks in his hand, leg pads over his shoulder. You wonder when it happened, when he became this sullen, driven young man. You hear whispers about scouts, rumours. Everyone adores him, adores his skill. But when you see his stiff, swollen hands, when he walks slowly into the kitchen in the mornings, every movement agony, you want to ask him why. Why does he do it? Why does he go on? But you don’t ask. Because you think you know the answer. You imagine him, looking at you and saying quietly, “What choice do I have? What else have I ever wanted to do?”

Activities 1. Choose one section of the story to rewrite from the point of view of the goalie.

2. Design a goalie mask for the protagonist of this story. Decorate it in some way that represents his character.

276 Look Beyond Rosa Parks Model of Courage, Symbol of Freedom

ROSA PARKS WITH GREGORY J. REED

osa Parks was born Rosa Louise RMcCauley on February 4, 1913, in Tuskegee, Alabama. Named after her maternal grandmother, Rosa was the first child of James and Leona (Edwards) McCauley. James was a carpenter and a builder. Leona was a teacher. When Rosa was still a toddler, James decided to go north in search of work. Leona, who was pregnant with Rosa’s brother by then, wanted a stable home life for her children. She and Rosa moved in with her parents, Sylvester and Rose, in Pine Level, Alabama. Rosa saw her father again briefly when she was five years old, and after that did not see him until she was grown and married. Though Rosa longed to go to school, chronic illnesses kept her from attending regularly in her early years. Her mother Focus Your Learning taught her at home, and nurtured Rosa’s Reading this biography will help you: n draw on prior knowledge to understand the text love of books and learning. The schools n prepare a news report to focus on issues and for Black children in Pine Level didn’t go attitudes of the past beyond the sixth grade, so when Rosa n create an election brochure to focus on the character described completed her education in Pine Level at age 11, her mother enrolled her in the

Look Beyond 277 Montgomery Industrial School for Girls (also hospital and took in sewing before getting a known as Miss White’s School for Girls), a job at Maxwell Field, Montgomery’s Army private school for African American girls. Air Force base. Several years later Rosa went on to Alabama Raymond was an early activist in the State Teachers’ College for Negroes, which effort to free the Scottsboro Boys, nine had a program for Black high school young African American men who were students in training to be teachers. When falsely accused of raping two White Rosa was 16, her grandmother became ill. women, and he stayed involved in the case Rosa left school to help care for her. Her until the last defendant was released on grandmother Rose died about a month later. parole in 1950. In their early married years, As Rosa prepared to return to Alabama Raymond and Rosa worked together in the State, her mother also became ill. Rosa National Association for the Advancement decided to stay home and care for her of Colored People (NAACP). In 1943 Rosa mother, while her brother, Sylvester, became secretary of the NAACP, and later worked to help support the family. served as a youth leader. It was also in 1943 that Rosa tried to register to vote. She tried twice before being told that she didn’t pass the required test. Rosa married Raymond Parks in December That year Rosa was put off a Montgomery 1932. Raymond was born in Wedowee, city bus for boarding in the front rather Alabama, in 1903. Like Rosa’s mother, than in the back, as was the rule for Leona McCauley, Geri Parks encouraged African American riders. her son’s love of education. Even though She tried again in 1945 to register to vote. he received little formal education, This time she copied the questions and her Raymond overcame the confines of racial answers by hand so she could prove later segregation and educated himself. His she had passed. But this time she received thorough knowledge of domestic affairs her voter’s certificate in the mail. and current events led most people to In August of 1955, Rosa met the believe he had gone to college. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., at an Raymond supported Rosa’s dream of NAACP meeting, where he was a guest completing her formal education, and speaker. Some months later, Rosa was busy in 1934 Rosa received her high school organizing a workshop for an NAACP youth diploma. She was 21 years old. After she conference. On the evening of December 1, received her diploma, she worked in a 1955, Rosa finished work and boarded the

278 Look Beyond rather than take the bus. Reverend King, the spokesperson for the boycott, urged participants to protest nonviolently. Soon the protest against racial injustice spread beyond Montgomery and throughout the country. The modern-day Civil Rights movement in America was born. The bus boycott ended on December 21, 1956, after the U.S. Supreme Court declared bus segregation in Montgomery unconstitutional on November 13. Not long afterward, Rosa and Raymond, who had endured threatening telephone calls and other harassments during the boycott, moved to Detroit. bus to go home. She noticed that the driver was the same man who had put her off the bus twelve years earlier. Black people were supposed to ride in the back of the bus. Rosa remained active in the Civil Rights Rosa took a seat in the middle. movement. She travelled, spoke, and Soon the bus became crowded with participated in peaceful demonstrations. passengers. The “White” seats filled up. A From 1965 to 1988, she worked in the office White man was left standing. Tired of of Congressman John Conyers of Michigan. giving in to injustice, Rosa refused to During those years, Rosa endured the surrender her seat on the bus. Two assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., policemen came and arrested her. in 1968 and she suffered the deaths of her Rosa’s act of quiet courage changed the husband and brother in 1977 and her course of history. Four days later, the Black mother in 1979. people of Montgomery and sympathizers Rosa’s interest in working with young of other races organized and announced a people stayed strong, and in 1987 she boycott of the city bus line. Known as the co-founded the Rosa and Raymond Parks Montgomery Bus Boycott, this protest lasted Institute for Self-Development for the for 381 days. During this time, African purpose of motivating young people to Americans walked or arranged for rides achieve their highest potential. In the years

Look Beyond 279 since her arrest, Rosa Parks has been of segregation far too long. It was time recognized throughout America as the for something to happen to turn things mother of the modern-day Civil Rights around. movement. For children and adults, Mrs. During my childhood years, I had been Parks is a role model for courage, an bothered by the fact that White children example of dignity and determination. had privileges that I did not. I was deeply She is a symbol of freedom for the world. hurt by the hate that some White people, In 1995 Mrs. Parks joined children and even children, felt toward me and my people adults all over the world to mark the 40th because of our skin. But my mother and anniversary of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, grandmother taught me to continue to through marches, lectures, exhibits, and respect myself and stay focussed on making many other events. She co-founded a new myself ready for opportunity. They felt that organization, The Parks Legacy. A movement a better day had to come, and they wanted among legislators was launched to establish me to be a part of it. But it was up to us to February 4, Mrs. Parks’ birthday, as a make it better. national legal holiday. As an adult, I would go home thirsty on a hot summer day rather than take a drink from the “coloured only” fountain. I would not be a part of an unjust system that was Every year, Rosa Parks receives many letters designed to make me feel inferior. from young people. Here are two letters with I knew that this type of system was her replies. wrong and could not last. I did not know when, but I felt that the people would rise Dear Mrs. Parks, up and demand justice. I did not plan for that point of change to begin with my I live in the New England area, and I actions on the bus that evening in 1955. always wondered about the South. When But I was ready to take a stand. you were growing up in Alabama, did you think that things would ever get better for African Americans? Kelli, Dear Mrs. Parks, Hartford, Connecticut I wonder, will there ever be a time when all We knew that they had to get better! The people will be treated equally? I believe that South had suffered under the unjust laws we as a people and the world are divided. I

280 Look Beyond am fearful. Today, there are racial epithets I do believe that we can achieve Dr. King’s painted on people’s property and students’ dream of a better world. lockers based on skin. What do you see for From time to time, I catch glimpses us today, and what is your message to help of that world. I can see a world in which us as we prepare ourselves for the next children do not learn hatred in their homes. century? I can see a world in which mothers and Lindsey, fathers have the last and most important Detroit, Michigan word. I can see a world in which one respects I understand your frustration and pain as the rights of one’s neighbours. you grow up in this world. I can see a world in which all adults We Blacks are not as fearful or divided as protect the innocence of children. people may think. We cannot let ourselves, I can see a world in which people do not the human race, be so afraid that we are call each other names based on skin colour. unable to move around freely and express I can see a world free of acts of violence. ourselves. If we do, the gains we made in I can see a world in which people of all the Civil Rights movement have been for races and all religions work together to naught. Love, not fear, must be our guide. improve the quality of life for everyone. My message to the world is that we must I can see this world because it exists today come together and live as one. There is only in small pockets of this country and in a one world, and yet we, as a people, have small pocket of every person’s heart. If we treated the world as if it were divided. We will look to God and work together—not only cannot allow the gains we have made to here, but everywhere—then others will see erode. Although we have a long way to go, this world, too, and help to make it a reality.

Activities 1. As a class, discuss what you know about December 1, 1955. Try to capture the the Civil Rights Movement in the United issues and attitudes of that time. States. What were the main aims of the 3. Imagine that Rosa Parks is running for movement? When was it most active? Who political office and you are her public were its members? Who was its leader? relations manager. Create an election 2. Prepare a newspaper or radio report brochure that persuades people to vote for about the arrest of Rosa Parks on her, based on her character and experience.

Look Beyond 281 End-of-unit Activities 1. Many of the selections in this unit 5. Work in a group to choose an issue where describe visionary points of view that injustice seems to prevail. The issue look beyond the usual view of things. might be related to the environment, to Choose one of these selections and, in discrimination of some form, or to any the form of a letter to the author, explain other topic of your choice. Create a why you find it inspiring. campaign to bring this issue to the attention of the public. Your campaign 2. Personal reflections are often highly must include a visual representation selective. Choose one of the selections in of some form, an audio or audiovisual this unit and retell it from the point of component, a dramatic testimonial, view of another character, showing how and annotated references to texts and events might have been different. resources that would help educate 3. Role-play a dialogue between Rosa the general public about the problem. Parks and any one of the following: Present your final campaign to a class Nasa Begum (“Snow White”), one of the in your school. characters in “Five Minutes to Change the 6. Produce an advertisement promoting World,” or the narrator of “Banu.” Think this anthology, to be shown to next carefully about the types of issues the year’s Grade 7 students at the start of characters might discuss and how they the year. You can choose to focus on might relate to one another. your favourite selections, on the themes 4. Write a poem about an environmental you found most interesting, or on the issue of your choice. Your poem should book as a whole. recommend a solution that demonstrates your ability to be forward-looking.

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