Wednesday, 27 March 2019
Galileo’s Revenge is based upon the life of the Italian scientist Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) when he was a young man. Eventually Galileo became the most famous scientist of his day, thanks to his revolutionary astronomical discoveries with the newly-invented telescope. But his success didn’t come easily, or early, and there are big gaps in the historical record of his early life. So Galileo’s Revenge fills in some of those gaps.
Galileo’s gap years
When Galileo left the university of Pisa in 1585, aged 21, he had no proper job to go to. Returning to his family home in Florence, he struggled to make a living from a portfolio of activities: part-time teaching, casting horoscopes, playing on the lute . . . and gambling. At the same time he was trying to make a name for himself at the cultured but extravagant and debauched court of the Medici Dukes who ruled Tuscany.
Grand Duke Francesco
The current head of the family was Francesco de’ Medici (1541-87): aloof, capricious and self-indulgent. Some ten years earlier, for example, upon the death of his first wife, the aristocratic Joanna of Austria, Francesco had scandalized his family and Florence by marrying his charismatic mistress, Bianca Cappello (1548-87). She was considered an unsuitable match because her parents were relatively humble merchants from Venice[CL1] . Otherwise Francesco devoted himself mainly to lavish entertainments, to hunting and alchemy (of a largely practical kind, e.g. explosives, poisons), and to collecting – coins, curiosities, antiquities . . . and gems. And therein lay an opportunity for the young Galileo.
At Pisa Galileo had been supposed to study the dominant Aristotelian philosophy of the day, with a view to further training to become a doctor. But he also became fascinated by mathematics, especially the mechanics of the ‘divine’ Archimedes (c.287-212 BCE). Archimedes had famously detected the fraudulent adulteration of a gold crown with silver by measuring its density – gold being heavier than silver. Now Galileo’s first published work, La bilancetta (1586), described his own invention of a neat ‘hydrostatic’ balance for quickly and accurately measuring the density of small objects. Such as gemstones.
The Medici jewels
Much of the Medici collection of jewellery had been lent to Catherine de’ Medici (1519-89) to wear at her marriage to the King of France in 1533. Catherine was a fairly distant cousin of Duke Francesco, but actually it was she who came from the senior line of the family that had made the family fortunes in the 15th century. Francesco came from a relatively minor branch. Catherine had been slow to return the jewels. When she did, could Francesco be sure that they were genuine? At this time there were no hard-and-fast criteria for identifying a ruby, say, as ‘genuine’, and not a garnet or merely cleverly coloured glass. At the end of Galileo’s Bilancetta there is a list of densities measured with his balance: specimens of gold and silver, of course, but also a lengthy list of the densities of some rather substantial gemstones. Where could Galileo have accessed such treasures to study?
Galileo lab assistant
It is my conceit (only in the old-fashioned sense, of course) that Duke Francesco engaged Galileo as his assayer, to help him identify any fakes among the family jewels. And perhaps that Galileo – very knowledgeable, ingenious and dextrous, amusing and charming if he needed to be – insinuated himself as an accomplice to the Duke in his alchemical investigations. In other words, Galileo became His Highness’ laboratorio assistant. In the basement of the Medici villa at Poggio a Caiano – basically a huge hunting lodge some the miles outside Florence – the Duke maintained a small but well-equipped laboratory. So, in October 1587, Galileo might well have been summoned to attend the Duke during a lavish hunting holiday arranged by Bianca for the Duke and his brother, the Cardinal Ferdinando, and their entourages. With fatal consequences. As described in Galileo’s Revenge.
Galileo’s Revenge has a subtitle A Cure for the Itch. I am very fond of Jacobethan drama, when the plays often had such subtitles – Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, or What You Will, for example. The origins of modern crime writing may be traced to the sub-genre of ‘revenge tragedy’ hugely popular at the time, from Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy (pre-1592) through Hamlet (c.1600) to Ford’s ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore (1633).
In the middle of that series lies Thomas Middleton’s Women Beware Women (c. 1621?). This play is based on precisely the same events as form the backdrop to Galileo’s Revenge; it is a complex and moving story, but there is scarcely a member of the cast left alive at the end. Middleton got the story from his friend, the English traveller Fynes Moryson (1566-1630), who visited Florence in the mid-1590s, and recorded the story thus:
Then seeming to make conscience to live a Concubine, at last, (his wife Joanna now being dead,) she [Bianca] had the power to make him [Francesco] to take her to wife; which done she bent all her wits to have her son legitimate, and admitted to succeed in the Dukedom. And whilst Cardinal Ferdinand, brother to Duke Francesco, opposed this her design, it happened that he came to Florence to pass some days merrily with the Duke. And they being to go out hunting early in a morning, the Duchess sent the Cardinal a marzipan for his breakfast, which he returned with due ceremony saying that he did eat nothing but that was dressed by his own cook. But the Duke by ill happ meeting the messenger, did eat a piece thereof, and when the Duchess saw it broken, she smiled and spoke some words of joy. But the messenger telling her the Cardinal’s answer, and that the Duke had eaten that piece, she with an unchanged countenance took another piece, and having eaten it, locked herself in a closet. And hereupon the Duke and she died in one hour, and the Cardinal Ferdinand succeeded in the Dukedom.
Too neat by half, I say. You will find the true origins and significance of this story in Galileo’s Revenge, of course.
Galileo and me
Although theoretical physics was my first love, I subsequently became fascinated by the history of science. I especially like the medieval and early modern periods: roughly, that is, everything from the Venerable Bede (c.673-735) to the Honourable Boyle (1627-91) and a bit beyond. But Galileo was always my particular favourite: initially his work on falling bodies, projectiles, and pendulums and such, and then more broadly his character, life and the wider world in which he lived and worked.
A few years ago, therefore, I started work on a new, up-to-date biography of Galileo. Unfortunately (for me) a couple of other excellent scholars had already had the same idea. J.L.Heilbron’s brilliant Galileo, for example, came out in 2010 and I shelved my own project. But all was not lost. I have always loved crime fiction and historical fiction and above all historical crime fiction. (Yes, yes, I admit it, I adore Cadfael, even if he is the veritable white line down the middle of the road.) So I had already started working on an early draft of Galileo’s Revenge. How hard can creative writing be, I wondered? You just make it up as you go along. And I won’t have to check my references. A much older and slightly wiser man, I finally stopped writing last year.
Christopher J T Lewis
 Meaning of ‘laboratory’ etc.
 I.e. drama from the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, 1559-1627 or thereabouts.
 Unpublished chapters of Fynes Moryson’s ‘Itinerary’, ed. Charles Hughes (London, 1903), p.94-5
Friday, 8 March 2019
by Dominic Fielder
Charles François Dumouriez is hardly the first name on anyone’s lips when having discussion of important figures in the wars of the coalitions against France, between 1793-1815. I had hoped to make it beyond the second sentence before saying the word ‘Napoleonic’ but so powerful is Napoleon Bonaparte’s stamp on the pages of history, that the wars of the First Coalition, the ‘Revolutionary Wars’, are often overlooked, dismissed with the status of BN, ‘before Napoleon!’ But in the early months of 1793, Dumouriez was centre stage, perhaps with even the control of France tantalisingly within his grasp.
The early career of Dumouriez was somewhat chequered. Born to a noble family and proving himself a very brave soldier in the Seven Years War, Dumouriez undertook a series of military roles which eventually drew him into the Secret du Roi, one of the inner circles of Louis XV. A downturn in fortune followed when Dumouriez was ordered on a diplomatic mission to Poland. Far from the mission remaining purely political, Dumouriez organised his own militia formation, only for those forces to be routed in battle by the great Russian General Alexander Suvorov, at the battle of Lanckorona (1771). Dumouriez’ forces were apparently caught off guard in the dawn attack and this has led some historians to conjecture whether Dumouriez, who had expressed some anti-Polish sentiments, had been in some form of collusion with Suvorov.
|Prayer of the Bar Confederates before the battle of Lanckorona – by Artur Grottger|
Returning to France and taking a post under the Secretary of State for War, a position he was briefly later to hold as his own, Dumouriez found himself thrown into the Bastille for six months in 1773, under charges of diverting money intending for bribery and spying, to pay his own spiralling debts. With the death of Louis XV, previous sins were forgiven and, recalled to court, Dumouriez served Louis XVI in a post under the new Secretary of War, the Count of Saint-Germain. Somewhere in this time, Dumouriez had married but by 1789, the marriage ended in separation. Fortescue in his History of the British Army in Flanders informs us that Dumouriez was a handsome and popular figure at court, a phrase that resounds of Hilary Clinton’s description of her errant husband, ‘a hard dog to keep on the porch’.
At the outbreak of the revolution, Dumouriez joined the Jacobin club, and took up a post as the military commander in the Nantes region. The was a change of political allegiance to the Girondins, a movement which believed in spreading the principles of revolution into Flanders and the countries beyond. This was no meeting of ideals. The Girondins needed a general in the army to improve their military clout and Dumouriez wanted voices in the assembly to further his career. August the 10th 1792 provided that another step up to power. The Tuileries Palace was stormed. Louis XIV, who had been rather hapless in operating within the constraints of the new constitutional monarchy, had ignored the will of the constituent National Assembly. His final act of indifference was to those most loyal to him, allowing his Swiss Royal Guard to fight outnumbered after he had fled the Tuileries.
Elsewhere, the Marquis de LaFayette, a hero from the American War of Independence and ardent monarchist, had attempted to lead his army over to the allied forces of Austria and Prussia, who waited on the French border. Responding to the crisis, Dumouriez was appointed to command the ‘Army of the Centre’ (soon to be the Army of the North), directing his subordinate Kellerman to defeat of the Prussians at Valmy, in September 1792, and then his own forces defeated an Austrian army at Jemappes three months later. Under Dumouriez, the Army of the North and the Army of the Ardennes, nominally under his direction, pushed into Flanders and were welcomed as liberators.
The next five months were the most critical in the life of Dumouriez; a life-time of acquired political skills, soldiery and personal flaws were about to converge.
The National Assembly, unable perhaps even unwilling to properly supply the Army of the North, the remembrance of Lafayette’s treachery still weighing heavy, declared that the people of Flanders and Walloon were not to be protected as French citizens. Soldiers were at liberty to take whatever was needed to order to survive, as an army of occupation. At the stroke of a pen, friendly provinces became hostile to hungry and marauding soldiers as discipline evaporated. Lynn, in his excellent Bayonets of the Republic, estimates that the whole army shrank from around 450,000 to 290,000 as soldiers absented themselves, in the harsh winter.
|Soldiers of the old royal army stood shoulder to shoulder with the new recruits of the Levée en Masse.|
Between November and early February, Dumouriez returned to Paris, quarrelling with the National Assembly and sharing a private council with the deposed King, now sentenced to death. Dumouriez was, according to Fortescue, the last person to have such an audience with Louis XVI, a point that must have alarmed those Jacobin members of the National Assembly.
Whatever Dumouriez planned to do next is open for discussion, his memoirs of the final weeks of his command put a bias on his actions, for a man who needed royal employment in the world of the late eighteenth century, a monarchist imperative: one not shared by J.W Fortescue. In Fortescue’s eyes, the lightning offensive that Dumouriez attempted was designed to seize Amsterdam and her deposits of gold. Nominally this objective was given to him by Paris but within a fortnight the National Assembly began stripping troops away from Dumouriez to reinforce the Army of Ardennes, now under the command of General Miranda, a friend and confident.
Ultimately Dumouriez’ offensive was called off and the Army of the North moved to counter the threat of the Austrians under Prince Josias. Fortescue says that the actions of Dumouriez were done under ‘bad grace’, perhaps it’s this tone that alerts Paris to a potential problem, but that reason feels unconvincing.
Two major actions were fought, one at Neerwinden on the 18th of March, where the Austrians were victorious against the Armies of the North and Ardennes, and another four days later, where the French fought a rear-guard action. Again, it was another defeat but the speed of the Austrian pursuit slowed.
By the 25th Dumouriez had entered into discussions with Colonel Mack, Prince Josias’ trusted advisor and two days later, there was agreement on a formal alliance, with Dumouriez seemly convinced that the army would follow him over to fight in conjunction with Austria, to march on Paris and restore the House of the Bourbons to the throne.
On the 1st of April, four members of the Convention in Paris arrive to arrest Dumouriez. Instead, he arrests them, surrounded by his loyal 1st Hussars, many of German extraction. Four days later Dumouriez rode into the Austrian camp. Five thousand men, around an eighth of his army followed him.
In exile, he drifted from capital to capital, watching the revolution continue to survive and by the time that Napoleon had seized power, Dumouriez was an unofficial advisor in London; a nearly-man without a nation to call home.
There is something in that narrative that troubles me. It’s a combination of the timings and just a hunch about the character of Dumouriez. Had he reached Amsterdam, Dumouriez would have been in a very strong bargaining position. Even if he had been forced to retreat, the army had shown itself adept at stripping the Belgian provinces of plate and just about anything else. The offensive feels more like a bank heist than a sound military manoeuvre. In William Hague ‘Pitt the Younger’ there is reference to British gold being involved in both the Dumouriez affair and the bribery of French officials; diverting money was an old skill of Dumouriez but now the stakes were much bigger. And then there is the arrival of the four men from Paris. There must have been something that alerted them to Dumouriez’ intentions days before the 25th March. Six days for secret negotiations to be discovered, Paris informed, a decision made and representatives dispatched is unworkable in the late eighteenth century.
So, what I am suggesting? Collusion, probably with Austria and Britain: Dumouriez, the man who would be king. Well, not king but at least a more palatable form of government than offering the people the immediate restoration of the House of Bourbon. The National Assembly was able to act because someone within the Dumouriez inner circle was informing them. The master politician would have found a way to start negotiations before battle, perhaps selling the idea to Prince Josias that the Army of the North needed to fight, in order to not feel as though it were betraying France. Furthermore, a victory at Neerwinden would have significantly strengthen Dumouriez’ position with Austria and perhaps made the lie easier to sell to his men?
Of course, none of that can be proved. That’s the beauty of fiction. And there is always that hope that one day, a note might surface, written in the days before the 18th of March 1793 to justify my faith in Dumouriez’ nature.
In the aftermath of his defection, France and the revolution changed for the worst. Girondins were chased from office and in the Terror, that occurred a few months later, their opposition to the Jacobins was ended as thousands of Girondin supporters were sent to the guillotine. Commanders of the Army of the North also paid a heavy price for the treachery of Dumouriez. Two were executed: one, Houchard, after delivering victory over the Duke of York’s German allies at Hondschoote. Political infiltration happened throughout the army with Representatives en Mission, carrying the authority of the National Assembly and often with no military experience, could force commanders to undertake military actions which defied any logic. France teetered until eventually a man named Napoleon could do what Charles François Dumouriez could only dream of.
About Dominic Fielder
The King’s Germans is a project that has been many years in the making. Currently I manage to juggle writing and research around a crowded work and family life. The Black Lions of Flanders (set in 1793) is the first in the King’s Germans’ series, which will follow an array of characters through to the final book in Waterloo. The King of Dunkirk will soon be released and I hope that the response to that is as encouraging as the reviews of Black Lions have been.
While I’m self-published now, I have an excellent support team that help me to produce what I hope is a story with professional feel, and that readers would want to read more than once. My family back-ground is in paperback book sales, so I’m very keen to ensure that the paperback design is something that I would be proud to put on my bookshelf.
I live just outside of Tavistock, Devon, where I enjoy walking on the moors and the occasional horse-riding excursion as both inspiration and relaxation.
From The Black Lions of Flanders
Antwerp: 16th February 1793
Rain, driven by bitter north-easterly winds, ushered the ‘Army of the North’ away from Antwerp’s Grande Place and on towards the Dutch border. Buildings wore sagging and weary tricolours and under these a handful of inhabitants had gathered, as glad to see the French leave as they had been to welcome them, weeks before. In the previous November, the southern provinces of the Austrian Netherlands had waited keenly to receive the victorious French army, a sentiment long since passed.
Serge Genet had watched the exodus from a partially frosted window for a few minutes before returning to a fastidiously tidy desk in one of the rooms of the Grand Palace, which formed part of the main square.
A gently steaming coffee pot awaited an imminent arrival. Parallel tables contained an undisturbed breakfast array of pastries and cold meats on one side and a series of maps and plans on the other. Genet surveyed the scene with a degree of satisfaction, before removing delicate silver framed glasses and cleaning them on the silken tricolour sash tied about his waistcoat.
“I’m not sure that’s the prescribed use for a sash of office, Serge?” said an assured voice.
The double doors to the room had burst open amidst the task of spectacle cleaning. A slender, sodden figure unchained a blue cloak and hurled it in the vague direction of a cloak stand, followed by an equally saturated bicorne which cart-wheeled ribbons of spray over the varnished mahogany floor.
General Dumouriez strode across the room, made for the silver coffee pot and poured himself a cup while a servant, wearing the livery of the household of King Louis, tidied the abandoned garments before retiring from the scene. The General drew back a chair and settled back with his feet on Genet's desk, rivulets of water running down the leather and threatening the neatly arranged correspondence.
The servant returned with the intent of removing the heavy riding boots but Dumouriez shooed him away, wagging a playful finger.
“No, no, leave that. I’m leaving soon and you should be packing.”
The servant bowed and left the two men. Dumouriez ran his hand through thinning silver hair; he had long since lost the pretention and taste for formal wigs. Having just turned fifty-four he retained a lean physique. Piercing dark brown eyes shone from a face that retained the vestiges of youthful charm that had made him a favourite at the Royal Court for thirty years. Allied to this was an air of command which drew unconditional loyalty. Men followed Dumouriez, but both he and Genet knew a test of loyalty for every soldier setting out towards the Dutch border might come sooner than either man might wish.
The man in clerk’s clothes moved sharply to rescue documents from a puddle forming on the green leather covering of the desk. Even though he found this intrusion into his world of order deeply disturbing, he was too respectful of the General to voice a rebuke.
Refreshed by the hot coffee, Dumouriez contemplated the choice of overdue breakfast but instead seized a quill from the desk and motioned Genet to pass the documents to him. In truth only the last two were of interest but he took his time to read each before scrawling his signature.
“You will have our best people on these?” Dumouriez asked, already knowing the answer but betraying just a hint of the gravity that each message contained.
“Yes, sir,” replied Genet.
“You will use the Countess for this?” Dumouriez asked, almost rhetorically, a relaxed smile returning to his face.
“Yes, sir. And Beauvais will carry the message to Dunkirk and then on to Paris with the dispatches. It will give us the time we need, I think.”
Genet’s words trailed away and Dumouriez looked at him but knew that pursuing the matter was of little value. Instead, he spoke with a reassuringly warm tone, “Don’t worry my friend, all will be well.”
Craning his neck, the General called out, “Julien, get your sorry backside in here!”
The door was flung open with a force that rattled ancient hinges, the void almost filled with the frame with of a man whose muscular torso was squeezed into a tightly fitted short green dragoon’s jacket. As the figure advanced Genet could see the grey, dead right eye and vivid vermilion scar that ran from chin to temple. Captain Julien Beauvais stood to attention.
Genet never failed to find the sight of Beauvais both imposing and galling. The clerk had winced whenever Dumouriez recounted the tale that lead to an Austrian bayonet tearing the right-hand side of the dragoon’s face apart. There was little doubt that Beauvais had saved Dumouriez’ life and become a favoured pet in the process.
“Prepare yourself and two men. You leave for Dunkirk as soon as these communications are ready.”
Beauvais nodded at Dumouriez’ order.
“But before you go, help yourself to some of that food Julien, you are starting to look like a bloody scarecrow; then Dunkirk. No stopping to ravage half the women in Northern France. And try not to kill any more villagers. The mayor of whatever shit-hole you slept in last week had the temerity to write and say that some demonic creature cut down half of the townsfolk before riding off into the morning.”
“It was two men, sir and they did seem intent on killing me first,” the dragoon hissed.
“Funnily enough the mayor forgot to mention that. These people already consider me the devil incarnate for the actions of the army. You are my emissary. Try and keep it to a maiming or two next time and you will make Genet’s task of drafting a suitably pliant reply a little easier.”
Beauvais’ faced twitched into an awkward, broken smile and Genet marvelled at the General’s skill. With a few well-chosen plaudits and a thoughtful act, men like Beauvais would follow their General time and again, whatever the personal cost. While both soldiers breakfasted, Genet sealed several documents handing Beauvais all of the communications bar one.
“You might find this useful in dealing with the Mayor of Dunkirk,” Genet paused. “Should his co-operation be less then complete, find the town’s garrison commander and have everyone on this list arrested.”
Genet knew Grison, Dunkirk's new mayor, would not buckle. Only by a display of naked power could Grison be brought to heel. Without proper leverage Grison would protect the man he and Dumouriez needed.
“His family and friends that I know of. Choose some and have them…” Genet waved his hand, the words dried in his mouth. Spying was Genet’s business, killing was Beauvais’.
The dragoon pouched the note in a waistcoat pocket, nodded and turned away, returning for a final sortie at the breakfast table. The chief of intelligence had found a skill in setting challenges that one might previously think were beneath the compass of a cavalry officer. But in the month since his posting to Dumouriez’ staff, Julien Beauvais was clearly enjoying the freedom and opportunities that life at headquarters provided.
Dumouriez had moved to examine a series of maps, gently drumming his fingers before looking at Genet, “How are you getting on with those diamonds? Paying the bills?”
Since the arrival of the French, what little trade there had been in the port appeared to have ceased. Most of Antwerp’s diamond trade had relocated to Amsterdam. Genet had struck a deal with those who remained, a protection tax, but it did not yield anywhere near the money that the army needed to make good a deliberate shortfall from Paris.
“Diamonds have been difficult, sir; to trade with I mean. We end up selling them back to the traders we had collected them from, who tell us the market is depressed because we have driven the buyers away. Gold would be more useful in that regard,” Genet offered.
“Diamonds, difficult? You have clearly never had a wife and a mistress, Serge!” Dumouriez chuckled and then coughed almost apologetically at seeing the face of his Chief of Intelligence, a hapless bachelor.
“You are right of course but in three weeks’ time none of that will matter. Amsterdam: that is all that matters.” Dumouriez returned to study the maps for a few moments.
“We are going to capture Amsterdam, collect half the gold of Europe sat in its banks and win the war! That should bring a smile to even your worried face, my friend.”
The General turned and swooped on an unmolested croissant on the breakfast table, polished it off and flashed a self-satisfied smile to his spy-master.


The term “Canadian Literature in English” refers to that which is written in what is now territorially Canada or written by Canadians abroad (see also Literature in French).
Writers have described Canada in many ways;for example, as a French or English colony, a “fifty-first state,” a Pacific Rim country, an Arctic giant, a friendly territory or an uninhabitable wilderness. Canadian literature has often had to deal with such differences in attitude, not just because many Canadian authors were born elsewhere and brought outsiders’ expectations with them, but also because popular attitudes often perpetuated stereotypes of Canada. Three pervasive stereotypes portray Canada as (1) a physical desert, (2) a cultural wasteland and (3) a raw land of investment opportunity and resource extraction. These distortions have created an audience for stereotypes, which Canadian writers sometimes reinforced by writing romantic adventures of the frozen North, in which everything local was savage or hostile and “civilization” was imported. But over time, they sought to record local experience and to use literature to shape their own culture rather than to imitate or defer to the presumptions of another society.
Insofar as Canadian culture continues to be shaped by a range of languages in use and by wide variations in geography, social experience, Indigenouscultures, immigrationpatterns and proximity to Europe, Asia and the USA, the “Canadian voice” is not uniform. Nevertheless, however much their aesthetic practices and political commitments may differ, Canadian writers bring many shared perspectives to their representations of nature, civility and human interaction, whether at home or abroad. Some critical approaches to Canadian literature have attempted to identify national or regional characteristics in literature. Other criticism (see Literature in English: Theory and Criticism) has fastened on language and formal strategies, theories of knowledge and meaning, ethics (variously defined) and the politics and psychology of race, gender, sexuality, ethnicity, identity and environment. “Canadian literature” does not therefore restrict itself to a particular set of topics, terms or even Canadian settings, nor does any set of topics and terms constitute a required ingredient in a Canadian book.
Motifs and Patterns
Although the national character is not always the subject of Canadian literature, the culture’s social attitudes and values can be seen in the language and forms it uses (seeLiterature in English: Language and Literary Form). For instance, communication is often achieved through tone as much as through direct statement. Irony is a dominant mode, litotes (the negative positive: not unappreciated) is a common speech pattern, trickster (rather than hero) figures recur, and a sense of humour (understatement, parody, mimicry, wry satire) punctuates much serious literary work. Some commentators have interpreted Canadian tendencies toward literary indirectness politically and psychologically, finding in it a sign of national insecurity and a group feeling of inferiority. Others argue that indirectness is a healthy demonstration of the culture’s ability to adapt an inherited tongue to its own purposes. Irony, for example, can undercut as much as apologize, and the quiet demeanour of an onlooker figure in a narrative can effectively undermine positions of ostensible power.
Several specific narrative patterns recur in Canadian writing, especially evident in fiction and life writing: (1) a community walls itself off from the wilderness (the “garrison mentality”); (2) a person leaves the homeland, adjusts to the new world, then finds the new “homeland” to be “alien”; (3) a person born in Canada feels like a permanent stranger in his or her own home; (4) people arrive in the new home only to find that they are excluded from power; (5) a person attempts to recover from the past the secret or suppressed life of a previous generation; (6) a woman struggles to come to terms with her own creativity and the inhibitions of her cultural upbringing (often told as conflict between colony and empire); (7) an apparently passive observer, surrounded by articulate tricksters and raconteurs, turns out to be able to tell both their story and his or her own, often ironically; (8) an adventurer turns failure into a form of grace; (9) a child grows up to inherit a world of promise, or a world of loss, frequently both at once; (10) a subjective historian meditates on place and memory; (11) characters celebrate space and wilderness, usually after a struggle to learn to accept that the wilderness provides spiritual therapy only on its own terms; (12) characters, adrift in a maze of words or a fog of ambiguity and anonymity, shape “acceptable fictions” into a workable life.
Writing about their society, many writers of short fiction, thenovel, autobiography or memoir, biography, poetry and drama have recurrently portrayed particular historical figures, both to reveal their intrinsic interest and implicitly to suggest how they epitomize certain cultural attributes or qualities of character. Such figures include Samuel Hearne, Louis Riel, Susanna Moodie, Sir John A. Macdonald, Emily Carr and William Lyon Mackenzie. In the retelling, sometimes transposed from their own time into the present, each possesses a vision but remains an ordinary human being, one with frailties, not a conventional hero. Characteristically, Canadian writing resists the binaries associated with perfectionism (right-wrong, good-evil, hero-villain ), embracing notions of multiple alternatives, working pluralities, multivoicedness and negotiated or evolving resolution instead. In narrative, violence generally functions as an instigation of action and as a penultimate event rather than as a solution or act of closure. Repeatedly, individual rights balance against community responsibilities. In more recent drama, poetry, and prose—even in much popular genre writing (see Popular Literature in English)—open endings predominate over conventional strategies of closure, inviting readers/listeners to participate in the play of alternatives and possibilities.
Settings often possess a symbolic dimension. CatholicQuébec recurrently figures in anglophone writing as a land of mystery, attractive but enthralling and morally dangerous; Ontario as an enigmatic blend of moral uprightness and moral evasiveness; Atlantic Canada as a repository of old values; the North as a land of vision; the Prairies as a land of isolation and acquisition; and the West Coast as a dream of the future in which people often mistakenly believe. Europe often appears as the home of refinement, deceit, and discrimination; the United States as a land of crass achievement and tangible success; and Africa as the embodiment of all that seems “other” to Protestant rationalism. In recent writing, Latin America and Asia (both East and South) are frequently configured as sites of political entanglement, which is expressed through inheritance and family ties or embodied in the complexities of larger communities. Within Canada, the land itself is recurrently associated with power, whether as property, region, a hostile force, a godly gift, the basis for resource extraction, the site of communication, the contested territory of competing cultural claims, the border or the ecological medium in which human life integrates with all other living beings in Nature.
Although most Canadians live in cities, until recently writers used rural and small-town settings more frequently than urban ones, and to the degree that they adapted conventional adventure and pastoral formulas to Canadian settings, they seldom questioned unstated assumptions about status and race. From early on in Canadian literature, however, essayists (see Essay in English) and travel writers (see Travel Literature) analyzed and challenged as well as celebrated Canadian political life. Often, women writers used fiction and autobiography to reveal social divisions within Canada that male adventure writers ignored or underplayed, and to suggest reforms. Recent writing by both women and men focuses more directly and fully on urban life as well as on social issues (ethnicity, gender, poverty, health, education) that transcend setting.
“Regional” writing also conveys political stances. The term is used in two ways: to refer to places ruled by a real or imagined centre, and to configure the variant parts that make up a collective unit or community. By rejecting a single definition of “Canada,” writing about regional distinctiveness sometimes declares separatist claims on identity and power and in other instances asserts the viability of a nation with a plural character (seeRegionalism in Literature). Increasingly, Indigenous writers and writers who draw on backgrounds other than western European ones have examined the political opportunities of Canadian pluralism, but also the social limitations of local convention.
A rough chronological guide to changes and developments in Canadian writing should not be equated with a simple chart of “progress”; each age (Colonial, Early National, Interwar and Postwar, Contemporary) reveals differing conventions, preoccupations and accomplishments. Hence, as fashions and critical tastes change over time, so do determinations of value and significance.
Canadian literature in English can be said to begin in the early 17th century with Jacobean poetry in Newfoundland; in the decades that followed with numerous explorers writing narratives of contact (seeExploration Literature); or in the mid-18th century with the epistolary fiction of the English garrison community in Québec. After 1776, in the Loyalistsettlements of Upper Canada and the Maritimes, many writers turned to political verse satire (see Humorous Writing in English; Literature and Politics). Newly founded newspapersand magazines(see alsoLiterary Magazines in English) became venues for political commentary, both conservative and reform-minded, as well as for literary expression, which in the 19th century generally followed Romantic, Sentimental and Orientalist fashions in Britain. Some scathing satire emerged in Nova Scotia. Novels and dramas followed historical romance and Gothic paradigms, as did most long poems. Mid-19th century autobiographies set in present day Ontario provide insight into daily life: Susanna Moodie’s Roughing It in the Bush (1852), Catharine Parr Traill’s The Backwoods of Canada (1836) and Anna Brownell Jameson’s Winter Studies and Summer Rambles in Canada (1838) highlight British women’s various attitudes toward settlement, while the Nishnaabe missionary George Copway’s memoir The Life, History and Travels of Kah-ge-ga-gah-Bowh (1847) both celebrates Christianity and emphasizes the value of Indigenous law, land use and religion. Short personal sketches of persons and places formed the basis for much travel writing and for the short fiction that emerged as a new genre during the 19th century. Folksong and folktale survive, but Native oral literature received scant literary attention until the later 19th century.
In the years leading up to Confederation and during the five decades following, much attention turned to literacy and political organization. Schools and universities opened, as did several Carnegie Libraries, part of a network of public libraries across North America financied by the fortune of Pittsburgh steel magnate Andrew Carnegie. Writers celebrated their newfound nationalism and were drawn variously to such enterprises as the Mechanics’ Institutes, the Institut Canadien, the Royal Society of Canada, the Canada FirstMovement and Imperial Federation (see Imperialism). Philosophical and scientific writing flourished, encouraging thoughtful discourse across language lines. Travel (within Canada and abroad) encouraged other kinds of contact, and with it both impressionistic and reportorial writing. By the end of the 19th century, writers like Edith Maude Eaton (Sui Sin Far) addressed racism against Chinese North Americans, while proponents of Women’s Suffrage and Prohibition wrote stories and essays that focused on issues of social change.
Many other social assumptions nevertheless remained largely unexamined. While attention turned to First Nations’ oral tales, writers treated them (despite the emergence of First Nations writers publishing in English) as “simple” texts, suitable in translation (if expurgated) mainly to entertain children. Tales and poems about “Indians,” such as Duncan Campbell Scott’s “The Onondaga Madonna” (1894), largely assumed that First Nations people were “a dying race” and their several complex cultures unsophisticated. Poet and performer E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake) drew on her Mohawk and British heritage to challenge these stereotypes and address the relationship between Indigenous peoples and Canadians. Nevertheless, the romance of the “Indians” was matched by a continuing romance of Empire. Ontario- and Maritime-based Canadian culture remained dominantly Celtic and anglocentric. Early creative narratives from the Prairies and the West Coast, while recurrently probing the real-life travails of immigrants and the exigencies of farm and forest management, were largely overshadowed in the popular imagination by Ontario romances of Presbyterian conversion.
By the early 20th century, many Canadian books won widespread international popularity, notably L.M. Montgomery’s Anne Of Green Gables (1908), a humorous tale of an orphan’s life in Prince Edward Island. C.G.D. Roberts’s and E.T. Seton’s seemingly realistic animal tales provide other examples, as do the comic sketches of Stephen Leacock , which parodied literary stereotypes and dealt ironically with social platitudes. In poetry, the Confederation group (William Wilfred Campbell, Bliss Carman, Archibald Lampman, Charles G.D. Roberts, Duncan Campbell Scott and Fredrick George Scott) produced the most important writings of the late 19th century; committed to closely observed details, they variously reshaped how the lyric represented nature, winter and the Canadian landscape.
Interwar and Postwar
Cultural and social attitudes changed during and after the First World War. One creative generation was lost but another emerged, objecting both to imperial assumptions of militarism and the language associated with it (see The First World War in Canadian Literature). New magazines affirmed the independence of Canadian thought. New prizes were established to recognize Canadian literary accomplishment. In the fiction of the 1920s, while some popular family chronicles continued to affirm conventional class distinctions, antiwar novels and class critiques began to appear, a trend magnified during the Great Depression of the 1930s. Many writers focussed on uprooted or marginalized individuals and the troubled lives of non-English-speaking immigrants. Novelists championed industrial workers’ rights and sought fresh, more direct forms of speech, spurning the sentimental romance in favour of a more “realistic” (some called it a more “violent”) vocabulary. American literary practice—and the international avant-garde of postwar Paris—drew writers such as John Glassco and Morley Callagham; the short story genre thrived, espousing forms that resisted narrative closure.
Young writers also rejected received social values by mounting left-wing agitprop drama, writing dramas that satirized nationalist pageantry, publishing erotica, finding inspiration in the Group of Seven painters, and embracing the modernist dicta of the poet T.S. Eliot and others. Chief among emerging Canadian poets at this time were those associated with the “McGill” (or “Montreal”) Group, especially F.R. Scott for his commitment to social justice and Abraham Klein for his passionate embrace of his Jewish heritage. Over succeeding decades Dorothy Livesay became the voice of socialist feminism and Scott, with the poet-critic A.J.M. Smith, became an influential anthologist, shaping the early teaching of Canadian literature.
In the wake of the Second World War came a mix of propaganda, pacifist rhetoric, parodies of military ineptitude, and a new wave of progressivist writers, by turns humanist, anticlerical, community-minded and intellectually anarchist. Notable names include Irving Layton, Earle Birney, Gabrielle Roy (who remains one of the best- known francophone writers in translation), P.K. Page and George Woodcock. In the 1940s and 1950s, social policies were being drafted that would shape a Canadian sense of community for decades to come. New Literary Periodicals demanded a sharper, more locally grounded language. Radio technology also served this end. Public radio, established in 1932, led to a wave of cross-country spoken-word broadcasts, talks, dramas, readings of short stories and children’s programs, all reconfirming the sounds of Canadian speech as a literary medium, especially from 1943 on. Novelists such as Hugh MacLennan and Sinclair Ross urned again to local settings, rendering the prairies, the Maritimes and Montreal as sites of personal and political trauma. Critics now praise more highly the innovative stylistic practice of Ethel Wilson for her insights into women’s lives; Malcolm Lowry for his symphonies of despair and transient joy; Sheila Watson for her rendering of life as an elliptical mythology; and in a career that would last for half a century, Mordecai Richler for his frank and animated cultural politics.
Contemporary: Three Generations
Several social developments markedly changed Canadian society in the years following 1960. The large “baby-boom” generation matured, with the vocal “X” and “Y” generations following; immigration policies were altered to allow greater numbers of new citizens from Asia, Africa and Latin America; startling technological developments (from radio to the Internet) collapsed notions of space and sped up communication. All these changes had an impact on literary topics and techniques. Cross-border and cross-cultural contacts validated notions of cultural “hybridity” as a social norm, challenging conventional definitions of “ethnic purity” and “fixed identity.” Family biographies shifted focus from single lives onto lives-in-context. Multimedia presentations challenged conventions regarding the unity of literary form. Bilingual texts, triptychs (in fiction and drama), and discontinuous narratives in fiction and poetry all deliberately disrupted conventional linearity as a literary technique. Numerous integrated (but discontinuous) collections of short fiction appeared called sequences, cycles or “composite narratives.” Some of the major writers of these decades had just been emerging in the 1950s: Richler and two of the world’s foremost authors of short fiction, Alice Munro and Mavis Gallant, whose stories embed more than announce, reveal more than parade. They would be joined by Alistair MacLeod , Clark Blaise and numerous others.
The number of Canadian universities, small presses, accessible academic and literary periodicals (from Canadian Literature to Geist), courses in Canadian literature and creative writing schools also increased, in part because of the recommendations of the Massey Commission and the emergence of the Canada Council in the 1950s. Further government policies led to such social developments as the Charter Of Rights and Freedoms in 1982, but a sudden shift to policies that favoured fiscal restraint and cultural cutbacks occurred in the early 21st century and have persisted; the publishing industry, libraries, public media and scholarship were all affected. New technologies opened up opportunities for local (and frequently more innovative) publishing (including experiments in syllabic and concrete poetry, mixed-media presentations, performance poetry and other formats), yet they did not guarantee access to publicity and sales. Coteries came and went; so did scores of journals and papers. Newspapers faced hardships, and some stopped publishing print editions; this was due in part to a readership that had shifted to online news sources. Publishers of formula fiction remained monetarily successful. Some writers of mystery and science fiction achieved international stardom and praise for their literary achievements, as in the case of William Gibson’s Neuromancer (1986), Nalo Hopkinson’s Brown Girl in the Ring (1998) and Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam trilogy (2003, 2009 and 2013). But publishing houses that had thrived in the 1960s when American control over the information industry was resisted faced closure in the 2010s with the increasing influence of electronic publishing and multinational corporations. The CBC’s annual Canada Reads contest, which began in 2002, pits a selection of books against one another, each with its own celebrity endorsement. The event promotes Canadian writing and emphasizes the importance of a reading public yet simplifies literature and contributes to a competitive literary culture. Likewise, a plethora of prizes, often with corporate sponsorship, began to construct literature as spectacle. Many bookstores nevertheless closed.
Throughout the decades from 1960 onward, while there has been some evidence of a literary return to older forms of expression and fundamentalist redefinitions of ethics, writers more characteristically in each generation embraced social justice and reformist causes: for women’s rights (see Women’s Movement), for gay and lesbian equality (See Homosexuality), against colonialism and against increasing poverty. Children’s literature, an enterprise that flourished at this time, ranging from nonsense verse to problem-centred novels for young adults, addressed some of these same issues of race, gender, alcohol, drug abuse and social identity. Science writing, social history, life writing, environmental inquiry and other forms of “creative nonfiction” also frequently combined discovery with protest. Critiques of social arrogance in one decade (foreign wars, napalm, racism) morphed into critiques of other disparities in the next (discrimination by sex, gender, ethnicity, economics). Margaret Atwood embraced the new nationalism of the 1960s and 1970s (with the Centennial celebrations in 1967) but later tempered her observations in dystopias such as The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), which challenges government control over women’s bodies. Robertson Davies’s Jungian novels expressed one pervasive understanding of myth and psychology; Robert Kroetsch’s poems and tales deconstructed such conventions and rerooted the epic in everyday vernacular experience. Language and literary form again became subjects for analysis and theoretical discussion, as in the work of Marshall McLuhan and Northrop Frye, as well as territories for dispute, as when Nicole Brossard’s critiques of French grammar influenced feminist writers in English, or when, in much of 21st-century fiction, conventional vulgarities became normative (and therefore potentially radical, culturally upsetting) speech.
The Writers Union of Canada formed in 1973, reflecting writers’ numbers and endeavouring to help deal with the challenges they face.
Other writers addressed cultural, social, and political alternatives in Canadian society, some of which were longstanding, others deriving from more recent changes in population, technology, language and communication. Many of these writers sought a balance between criticism of social practice (racism, passive dismissal, restrictive legislation) and celebration of social potential. A great number of Métis and First Nations writers have provided important commentary, variously critiquing colonialism and celebrating Indigenous life. More specifically (although authors address multiple topics in each work), Maria Campbell’s Half-Breed (1973), Lee Maracle’s Bobbi Lee (1973) and Jeannette Armstrong’s Slash (1985) depict journeys toward political consciousness; Ruby Slipperjack’s Honour the Sun (1987), Richard Van Camp’s The Lesser Blessed (1996), and Eden Robinson’s Monkey Beach (2000) represent childhood and adolescence; Thomas King’s The Truth about Stories (2003) highlights the value of Indigenous creation stories; Marie Clements’s Burning Vision (2003) and Drew Hayden Taylor’s Motorcycles and Sweetgrass (2010) consider environment and land use; Tomson Highway’s Kiss of the Fur Queen (1998), Joseph Boyden’s Three Day Road (2005) and Richard Wagamese’s Indian Horse (2012) address the residential school system, which has been further investigated in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2008–15). The poet Robert Bringhursttranslated some of the great classic Haida oral tales, Al Purdy created poetry out of the rhythms of ordinary speech, Jack Hodgins turned Vancouver Island idiosyncrasy into a comedy of human aspiration, George Elliott Clarke and Wayde Compton called attention to Black writing in Canada, and increasing numbers of writers (including Rohinton Mistry, Michael Ondaatje and Wayson Choy) drew on their Asian heritage both to reflect on adaptations to difference and to dramatize the challenges and rewards of a fractured or shared history.
Developments in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, including the North American Free Trade Agreement, the “war on terror,” and climate change awareness underscored global interconnectedness. While regions and places continued to provide inspiration for contemporary fiction, as in David Adams Richards’ Mercy Among the Children (2001) and André Alexis’s Pastoral (2014), stress was often laid on globalization’s impact on specific locales, as in Alistair MacLeod’s No Great Mischief (1999) and Lisa Moore’s February (2009). Environmental concerns were made central in Hiromi Goto’s The Kappa Child (2001), Ruth Ozeki’s A Tale for the Time Being (2013), Thomas King’s The Back of the Turtle (2014), and Rita Wong’s Forage (2008) and undercurrent (2015), which share concerns about the global ramifications of overconsumption, waste disposal and polluted water. With a similar planetary focus, Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam trilogy (2003, 2009 and 2013) explores the frailty of national borders in the wake of climate change.
Globalization notwithstanding, literary interest in the nation-state persisted. Canadian writers’ attention to the United States increased after the September 11th terrorist attacks and Canada’s subsequent involvement in the “war on terror.” Dionne Brand’s encyclopedic Inventory (2006) and Douglas Coupland’s apocalyptic narrative Player One (2010) respond to the violence generated by terrorism and war. Historical narratives have provided an alternative way of engaging with Canada’s southern neighbour: Patrick DeWitt’s The Sisters Brothers (2011) and Alix Hawley’s All True Not a Lie in It (2015) reinterpret myths of the American west, whereas characters’ movement between American and Canadian settings in Guy Vanderhaeghe’s A Good Man (2011) suggests that the two countries have a shared history, in some respects at least. Perspectives on contemporary human migration, in the form of refugees and illegal immigrants, is provided in John Vaillant’s The Jaguar’s Children (2015) and Lawrence Hill’s The Illegal (2015), thereby giving pause to literal and metaphoric borders, as well as the complex and multiple networks that connect people, places, environments and countries in a globalized era.


Klallam, Clallam, Na'klallam or S'klallam (endonym: Nəxʷsƛ̓ay̓əmúcən), now extinct, was a Straits Salishan language that was traditionally spoken by the Klallam peoples at Becher Bay on Vancouver Island in British Columbia and across the Strait of Juan de Fuca on the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington.
|Native to||United States|
|Extinct||2014 (with death of Hazel Sampson)|
|Revival||Klallam Language is still spoken through youth programs.|
Becher Bay Klallam
Jamestown KlallamLittle Boston Klallam
Pre-contact distribution of the Klallam people and language
Klallam was closely related to North Straits Salish, in particular the Saanich dialect of Straits Salish, but the languages are not mutually intelligible. There were several dialects of Klallam, including Elwha Klallam, Becher Bay Klallam, Jamestown Klallam and Little Boston Klallam.
Use and revitalization effortsEdit
The first Klallam dictionary was published in 2012. Port Angeles High School, in Port Angeles, Washington, offers Klallam classes, taught as a heritage language "to meet graduation and college entrance requirements."
The last native speaker of Klallam as a first language was Hazel Sampson of Port Angeles, who died on February 4, 2014 at the age of 103. Sampson had worked along with Bea Charles (d. 2009) and Adeline Smith (d. 2013), other native speakers of Klallam, and with linguists Jamie Valadez and Timothy Montler from 1990 to compile the Klallam dictionary. In 1999, this effort led to the development of a lesson plan and guidebooks to teach students the basics of the language through storytelling. In 2015, a complete grammar of Klallam was published for second language instruction and preservation of the language.
Klallam has 5 vowels:
- The sound e is rare, and occurs only before ʔ or y and y'.
- The schwa can be pronounced as /ʌ/, /ɪ/, /ʊ/, or /ɑ/ depending on its environment:
- Before ʔ or h, it becomes /ɑ/.
- Around c and č, it becomes /ɪ/.
- Before rounded dorsal consonants, it becomes /ʊ/.
- Vowels may be stressed or unstressed. Unstressed vowels are shorter and lower in intensity than stressed vowels.
- Unstressed schwas are often deleted. For example 'nətán' ("my mother") is often pronounced as 'ntán'. Schwa deletion is consistent for English-oriented opinion, but "for the best speakers this rule is variable".
- In the case of schwa deletion after a nasal consonant, the nasal consonant is doubled. For example, 'ʔínət' ("what did you say") is pronounced as 'ʔínnt' even in very careful speech.
- Vowels are lowered when followed by a glottal stop /ʔ/:
- 'bird' /t͡sʼiʔt͡sʼəmʼ/ → [t͡sʼɛʔt͡sʼəmʼ ]
- 'deer' /huʔpt/ → [ hoʔpt ]
- 'salmon backbone' /sχəʔqʷəʔ/ → [ sχaʔqʷaʔ ]
|glottalized||mʼ [mˀ]||nʼ [nˀ]||ŋʼ [ɴˀ]|
|glottalized||pʼ||tʼ||kʼʷ [kʷʼ]||qʼ||qʼʷ [qʷʼ]||ʔ|
|Affricate||plain||c [t͡s]||č [t͡ʃ]|
|glottalized||cʼ [t͡sʼ]||ƛʼ [t͡ɬʼ]||čʼ [t͡ʃʼ]|
|Fricative||s||ɬ||š [ʃ]||xʷ||x̣ [χ]||x̣ʷ [χʷ]||h|
|glottalized||yʼ [jˀ]||wʼ [wˀ]|
- Glottalized sonorants /mˀ/, /nˀ/, /ɴˀ/, /jˀ/, /wˀ/ are realized either
- with creaky voice: [m̰], [n̰], [ɴ̰], [j̰], [w̰],
- as decomposed glottal stop + sonorant: [ʔm], [ʔn], [ʔɴ], [ʔj], [ʔw], or
- as decomposed sonorant + glottal stop: [mʔ], [nʔ], [ɴʔ], [jʔ], [wʔ]
- /k/ occurs in only a few borrowed words from Chinook Jargon, English or French.
- /l/ also rarely occurs in Klallam. It often replaces rhotics in loanwords from Chinook Jargon, French, and English, although it does occur in native words like laʔyaʔləmʼtú, meaning a group of small sheep or lambs.
- The alveolar affricate /t͡s/ contrasts with a sequence of stop + fricative /ts/.
- Doubled stops and affricates are pronounced as two separate sounds, but doubled sonorants and fricatives are pronounced as long versions of a single sound.
In Klallam, strings of consonants are acceptable both at the beginning and ends of syllables. In the onset, consonant clusters are rather unstructured, so words like 'ɬq̕čšɬšáʔ' (fifty) can exist without problem. Similarly, codas can contain similar clusters of consonants, as in 'sx̣áʔəstxʷ' (to dislike something, to be no good).
Stress in Klallam defines the quality of the vowel in any given syllable and can occur only once in a word. If a vowel is unstressed, the changes are entirely predictable, as unstressed vowels get reduced to schwas. In turn, unstressed schwas are deleted. Mark Fleischer (1976) argues that schwa may be the only underlying vowel, as all others can be derived from the environment.
Klallam is a polysynthetic language, like the other languages of the Salishan family. Affixation is common for both verbs and nouns, and affixes provide temporal, case, and aspectual information. Every word contains at least one root.
The Klallam word ɁəsxʷaɁnáɁyaɁŋəs ('smiling') includes prefixes, suffixes and an infix. In its component parts, Ɂəs-xʷ-naɁnáɁ-yaɁ-ŋ-əs means "be in a state of small laughing on the face" or more simply, "smiling".
There are many forms of prefix, suffix, and infix; below are a number of examples. Allomorphy is common; often, a single affix with have multiple phonetic realizations due to stress structure or the phonology of the word it is being added to.
A common form of prefix is the time prefix. These prefixes can be added to nouns, adjectives and verbs to project ideas of time into the root's meaning. Examples include kwɬ- (already), twaw̓ (still), čaɁ (just now), and txʷ- (first, for a while).
Other prefixes add verbal semantics with meanings such as 'have', 'go to', 'go from', and 'be affected by'.
Klallam has lexical suffixes, which are unique to the languages of northwest North America. They have inherently noun-like meanings and can function as the object of a verb, create a compound meaning, and act as the object of a number word. Many refer to body parts, but there are almost 100 lexical suffixes that cover a number of different ideas. Oftentimes, these suffixes can take on metaphorically extended meaning, so 'nose' can also be used to refer to a single point, and 'mouth' can mean 'language'. Below are examples of common lexical suffixes with alternate pronunciation in parentheses. Alternate pronunciations usually depend on the location of the stress in the root.
- -ákʷtxʷ (-aɁítxʷ) – ‘dollar, round object’
- -áw̓txʷ – ‘house, building, room’
- -áy – people
- -éɁqʷ – ‘head’
- -íkʷs (-íkʷən) – ‘body, of a kind’
- -tən (-ən) – ‘instrument, tool’
- -ucən (-cən, -cín, -úc) – ‘mouth, edge, language’
There are also activity suffixes that give more information about an activity, such as 'structured' with -ayu and -ay̓s, 'customary' with -iŋəɬ, or 'habitual' with -ənəq.
Sometimes plurality is marked with an infix (however, there are many ways to mark plurality). This infix marks collective plurality, meaning that instead of strictly marking multiple of a noun, it creates a group of the noun. This infix takes one of the forms -əy̓-, -aɁy-, -éy-, or -éye- depending on the root structure and stress placement proceeding the infix.
There are multiple forms of reduplication in Klallam, and each lends a particular meaning to the word.
Two-consonant reduplication is a way to express plurality in about 10% of Kallam words. The first two consonants are copied and inserted before their location in the stem, and a schwa is inserted between them. For example, ləmətú (sheep) becomes ləmləmətú (bunch of sheep) through this process.
First letter reduplication is one of three ways to create a continuative verb form. The first consonant of a word is inserted after the first vowel, sometimes with a schwa added afterwards; for example, qán̓ cn (I steal) becomes qáqən̓ cn (I am stealing).
To create a diminutive form the first consonant is reduplicated with an additional 'suffix' of -aɁ afterwards and an infix of -Ɂ- later in the word. With this músmes (cow) becomes maɁmúɁsməs (little cow, calf). The diminutive is not limited to noun forms. When used on a verb, the meaning takes on the characteristic of 'just a little' or 'by a small thing'. With an adjective, the meaning is construed to a lesser extent then the original form.
Other forms of reduplication exist with meanings of 'characteristic', 'inceptive', and 'affective' aspects.
The typical word order in Klallam is VSO, but if the subject of the verb is obvious then the object and subject can be in any order. This means that VOS is a very frequent alternative structure. The subject is considered obvious when both participants are human and one possesses the other. For example, in kʷənáŋəts cə swéɁwəs cə táns, literally 'helped the boy his mother' (The boy helped his mother), the mother is possessed by the boy and therefore cannot be the subject. In this case, the sentence could also be written as kʷənáŋəts cə táns cə swéɁwəs, inverting the object and the subject. When an adjective is involved in a noun phrase, it comes before the noun it describes.
After the first verb, either the main verb or an auxiliary verb, often there is one or more enclitic particles "that serve to situate the speech act". These particles will add information about tense and mode or serve as evidential or question markers.
Cases in Klallam use an active-stative distinction. That is the choice of case depends on whether the actor is in control of the action (active) or not (stative). The suffix -t on a verb indicates control by the actor while a bare root implies the action was not on purpose. For example, in ćáɁkʷ cn ɁaɁ cə nətán "I got washed by my mother", the root is unmarked, but in ćáɁkʷt cn ɁaɁ cə nəŋənaɁ "I washed my child", the -t transitive suffix marks that the agent was in control of the action. In a similar manner, -nexʷ indicates a lack of control.
There is additionally a middle voice in which the suffix -eŋ marks the agent of the verb. If no patient is mentioned in the middle voice, it is assumed that the patient and the agent are the same, as in an action being done to oneself. For example, ćáɁkʷeŋ cn would usually be taken to mean "I washed myself", but it is subject to some ambiguity, as it could also mean "I washed (regularly)" or "I did some washing".
In main clauses, Klallam uses an ergative pattern to mark the third person (where they are unmarked) as, in subordinate clauses, all three persons are marked. The first and second persons in the main clause, however, and all persons in subordinate clauses follow an accusative pattern.
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- Montler, Timothy. (2012). Klallam Dictionary. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
- Montler, Timothy. (2015). Klallam Grammar. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
- Thompson, Laurence; & Thompson, M. Terry. (1969). Metathesis as a grammatical device. International Journal of American Linguistics, 35, 213-219.
- Thompson, Laurence; & Thompson, M. Terry. (1971). Clallam: A preview. University of California Publications in Linguistics, 65, 251-294.
- Thompson, Laurence; Thompson, M. Terry; & Efrat, Barbara. (1974). Some phonological developments in Straits Salish. International Journal of American Linguistics, 40, 182-196.
|Klallam language test of Wikipedia at Wikimedia Incubator|
- Klallam language (Timothy Montler's site) (main page)
- Nancy Kolsti, "Preserving a Culture", University of North Texas, 2003.
- Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe
- Jamestown S'Klallam Tribe
- Washington Post: "Northwest Tribe Struggles to Revive Its Language"
- Elaine Grinnell, Klallam storyteller and basket & drum maker


You can tell a person by their deeds and actions, and the way they treat others.
At our school, our three core school values are kindness, respect and perseverance. We have a Maori version too but remember that translating the Maori core value back into English can have an impact on meaning.
This week I was in one of the junior classes and for their writing the children were describing our school values. Each day the teacher modelled one value using shared writing strategies. In addition she provided the children with sentence starters to help them frame their writing and support them depending on their abilities. Then the children went and wrote their own version. What the children wrote about our school values left such an impression on me that I thought I would also have a go but write them from a teacher perspective. So what I have done is put the values together and used the Maori version to help strengthen the English value.
At Newmarket School kindness is one of our school values We teach our children the importance of being kind. As teachers we model being kind with our words and actions. We show empathy for each other by choosing the words we use when we are together and are conscious of the impact of our words. We are role models for our children and for each other by upholding a high standard of what we say and how we say it. We show kindness by taking pleasure and pride in our team work and produce great lessons that our children remember. We show kindness by building relationships with our children and their families and take the time to greet them using eye contact and remember their names and where they come from. Kindness is important because kindness is central to who we are at Newmarket School. We value people above all things and in doing so, we are ourselves uplifted. The very act of talking and writing about kindness encourages our children and us to be kinder. Let us make kindness visible. We can smile at people and ask how they are. We can make an effort to connect and act in kindness. We can practice being approachable by being gentle with words and actions. Kindness sits at the heart of well being.
At Newmarket School respect is another one of our school values. We teach our children the importance of being respectful with a focus on manners. As staff we highlight respect beginning with greeting each other, our children and their parents whenever we see them. This year we have spent the year unpacking belonging and what this looks like in learning. The concept was developed by our student curriculum leaders. As a staff member of Newmarket school I am conscious of my rights as a person and also my responsibility to our children, my colleagues and our families. One major responsibility we have with our children is to build that reciprocal relationship with their families. At Newmarket school we have a history of creating shared experiences for our children. Their favourite event, as was highlighted by our leaving year six children, is our annual camp. This major event sees a huge input from our families and staff to ensure a safe and memorable event for our children. Respect is important because it serves to strengthen each member of our school group.
Our third Newmarket School value is perseverance. We teach our children that perseverance is about never giving up, giving things a go, trying one’s best. However we must also remember that perseverance is also about duty and not just the playground grind. It is more like service and for us at Newmarket School it is about acknowledging our historic motte, ‘Not self but service.’ Perseverance is about knowing our heritage through storytelling and sharing our story. Again this was an area highlighted by our curriculum student leaders in their planning for learning for 2019. Our children wanted to know more about our school’s history. Perseverance is important because it is about guardianship and looking after our surrounding environment sustainably. It is about building a legacy for future learners. It is about leaving our school in a better place.
Overall in today’s climate of learning, it is important for schools to have a core set of values that underpin all that they do and are communicated clearly with all involved. Often when we design learning ,we focus on what we can see and yet the greatest learning space is the space between the ears. When we focus on values, we focus on actions and again we focus on what we see and yet the greatest action is how we treat others.
When I first approached our teachers with the idea, I suggested that in order for the project to work, they themselves must also create a migrant story about themselves or a family member. They must also use book creator to craft their story so they could experience that challenges their learners might have with the app. I shared my own journey to New Zealand that could be used as a model by both teachers and children.
I applied for and gained book creator ambassador status and this opened up further ideas for collaboration.
Another idea was for each teacher to share the code to their class library so that all teachers could learn from each other. This they did.
Teachers used Seesaw to communicate with families. Most of the images came in this way for the children. Some teachers created a page in Google Docs and saved the families links there. That was so the children were then able to access their images. For art the children created patterns from countries that they associate with and this was also included in their books. They also included a reflection on the art process.
All in all, the unit of work was successful. We learned so much about who we all are, belonging, and the diverse cultures that make up our school.
Our families gave us positive feedback because the children came home and asked so many questions that conversations around family photo albums were animated and exciting.
In addition several families needed to contact extended families overseas for further clarification for some information.
When the books were completed, we printed out one paper copy for each child and also shared the digital copies with families in a hidden link via Seesaw.
As an added bonus, I was also able to cocreate a story book with some of the children about the area that we live in. They created all the images using the new drawing tool. The book is called ‘The Patupaihere of Tāmaki Makaurau’ and retells the story of how the mountains appeared in Auckland.
Where to next: I cannot stress enough the importance of going through the learning yourself first as a teacher. Two parts of the learning included: ‘How to write a recount’ and ‘How to learn to use Book Creator’. In addition, be really clear about driving the learning deeper and I do this using SOLO Taxonomy. Finally remember to leave time to reflect on the process. I can hear Ginny now, “Where is the SOLO Taxonomy rubric?”
Over the past few days I noticed a surge in twitter followers. As in previous years I spotted they appeared to be coming from Stockton University. Today when I followed a group, one immediately responded with
I was then able to direct message Mason and ask, how come I was being followed by students from the university.
Here was his response: “Hi! There is a class where we are learning how to create PLN and other global learning techniques! I also believe your Twitter header is in our textbook and your page is a great one to follow!”
I asked for a screen shot of the page and straight away, it was the entry from ‘The Global Educator’ by @JulieLindsay
Aw such a small world.
Mason shared the hashtag they were tweeting with #GEN2108.
To be honest, the discussion made my day. This past year, I have been feeling a tad disconnected from twitter especially after losing wikispaces. This past month I had felt really disconnected when I received the youtube message that I am no longer able to live stream a Google Hangout. So yes tools come and go, but human connections is what helps keep us grounded.
And Mason, @masonstockedu thanks for reminding me about acknowledging when I get followers. Good luck with your studies and tag me when you blog.
She was already teaching at Newmarket School when I arrived and I had the good fortune of relieving in her class for the first term in 2009. It had been a while since I taught 5 year olds and coming down from senior students I might have spoken a bit stronger with the children than I intended. But Jane was there to subtly remind me about other people’s children.
That first year I was reintroduced to Smarty Pants by Joy Cowley, one of Jane’s favourite children’s authors, and my senses were flooded with crazy 5 years olds interpretation of being a smarty pants. Those MASSIVE drawings took up the whole wall. I was also reminded about giving the 5 year olds extra time to have their breaks. Jane ensured that they began eating five minutes before the school bell rang.
The week we had swimming, she asked me to lead like a mother duck. Those of you who know me know I walk really fast. I got halfway down Broadway before realising I had left Jane, the extra parent helpers and the children around the corner still coming up Nuffields street. When I got back to her, she shook her shoulders, smiled and said “ that is why we leave a little earlier.”
Jane found out I was keen to learn about Tui’s and so she brought me old books to help me with my Global Project. We spend several sessions talking about Tuis and it was through Jane that I found out that Tuis don’t generally walk on the ground because they have curved claws from hanging onto branches. I also found out about their brush tongues through Jane.
I wrote about Jane before when I wrote about our schools history and how she alluded me to the fact how huge it was. It is because of Jane that I began collating images and historical artefacts about our school. It was through Jane that I found out about ‘Ti Tutahi’.
After she retired, Jane continued to work at our school supporting our children with reading. She always told me how amazing the children were and could stretch them through a passion. She would go out of her way to look for science books, insects books, story books, that would fit the level of the children she was working with.
She had two sons of whom she was immensely proud. Sometimes she would ask me if I had caught up with their lives on Facebook. That always made me giggle because I spent several years trying to get her to turn her teacher laptop on. However she discovered the ease of the smart phone for keeping in communication. I would sometimes bounce her tidbits of information that she could watch on youtube or read on her smart phone. She would respond in kind with photos of the grandchildren. Just last week I had rediscovered Emere’s speech on the environment and had thought how I must share that with her.
Jane had such an interesting life and she knew so many people. I remembered when the Prime Minister and Governor General visited to talk to our students about leadership. I often wondered if it was her connections that helped our case for a visit. She used to tell me about her life as a young wife for Hone Kaa. How the presbytery was the stopping in place for the various movements that passed through over the years.
She was interviewed by our children about her part in the springbok tour and I remembered what an incredible impact that was for the children to hear from someone who was there.
Jane hated photos and being photographed with a passion and had a way of sneaking away. But over the years I did manage to get a couple. When we set up the historic photos outside the hall, I even managed to sneak one of her in there. You do have to look for it.
Ah Jane I am going to miss our talks. No one else quite gets those Tui’s like you do. I think of all the service you gave Newmarket School, all the families you have been a part of the dinner tables conversations, and how you helped leave the school in a better place. I know you will continue to read my blog from where ever you are.
I have been using book creator on and off for a few years since @Allanahk introduced me to it. This year I began using it again but instead of an app on an iPad, I have been using it on chrome and absolutely love the new features.
Last term I worked with the year 3 students at our school and wanted to publish their science learning into a book. Which I did. Here is the link to see all the science books collated together as one large book.
I really like book creator because of the way I can control how the book looks.
My favourite part of book creator is being able to use it with my learners. This term I have a writing project and book creator is at the centre. I think it is the ideal tool to showcase the children’s writing.
As I investigated more about the tool, I found out that Book Creator headquarters is in Bristol, England. You can find out more about them here on their linked in page.
My journey to New Zealand begins a little before the day we left. Some of the earlier footage shows me between the age of four years old to 10 years old. There is even a really short clip of me in New Zealand washing dishes with my sisters. I would have been about 4. My story is helped because my father had a movie 8 camera and so the memories of our journey were captured in movie form.
Our travel story began at Faleolo Airport in Apia Samoa. The year is early 1973.
I was born in Samoa during the year of independence. My father was a New Zealander who travelled to Samoa for overseas experience. He met my mother whose father was Danish and whose mother was Samoan. They fell in love, married and had a family there. They lived together in Samoa for 14 years and had four daughters. I was number three. Kathie was the eldest. Dad nicknamed her ka’avale because her initials spelt Kar. Then Astrid, who was known as Aiskulimi, named by my great grandmother, myself Sonya, named after my godmother and finally Biddy nick named after my paternal grandmother, shortened from her real name of Brigitte.
My early years in Samoa were idyllic and I often view those early times with rose tinted glasses. I was able to grab some of those moments of sea swimming, of visiting grandparents each weekend, visiting Savaii and always seemed to be surrounded by cousins and extended family. I love Samoa, my culture, my language and my people. My childhood memories of Samoa are like a long summer holiday by the beach. The sun is always shining and the sounds of everyday life and life smells like the umu, ground oven fires, are vivid. The trees and grass are always vividly green and the sea and amazing colour.
My narrative began the year I turned 10 and our family had an enormous adventure. We were moving to New Zealand for good. We would leave behind an extensive extended family with heaps of cousins and we would also leave behind maternal grandparents and childhood friends.
So this day began at the airport. I was there with my mum, dad and three sisters. We had special outfits made for the journey. Us ladies were all dressed identically in pants suit with a white blouse. The three younger ones wore green. My hair was blonde and short. My eyes were grey more than blue. At the airport, all the extended family were there with us. Included in the farewelling family was my great aunty Else who was visiting my Grandpa. She lived in San Francisco. In the video there are snapshots of aunties and uncles and of course the cousins. Unfortunately I had to cut a lot of dad’s movies because of quality.
Memories I have of that day was the weight of wearing shell necklaces. Also being given American dollars and at the time the total of $5.00 seemed like a fortune. The most I had ever held previously was $1.00 Samoan money.
The biggest conflict we had as a family was deciding what was important enough to take with us. I do not remember much of the decision making, but can remember packing and packing and repacking. Mum had to downsize the house contents. I remember the wooden packing boxes, but little else. The treasures I brought with me were my doll collection, my stamp collection, my Langelinie Danish blue plate and my Hans Christian Anderson book of fairy tales. I cannot remember packing clothes but I must have included clothing.
Another conflict was saying goodbye to everyone we knew. Saying goodbye to grandpa and nana was the hardest because they were such a huge part of our lives.
After saying goodbye to all the family who had come to the airport to farewell us, we flew to Nadi, Fiji. I believe we overnighted there. My main memory of Fiji was being sick with my first migraine and my older sister Astrid taking care of me. She held my hair from my face while I was sick and she massaged the back of my neck. She kept wetting the flannel because I was so hot.
Our next stop was Auckland where we paid a toll to cross the harbour bridge and we stayed with my Uncle Einer and family. Those memories included picking and eating strawberries for the very first time. My aunty Sigrid whipped creme and again this was my first experience. We played and got to know our New Zealand cousins and those early visits remained such an important part of our extended family relationships. This family had a massive pohutukawa tree growing right in their back yard.
Then dad hired a car for the journey south. The car seemed enormous in memory but the video shows not that large. In the car we had our luggage and we all piled in. The memories of that trip included the sounds of the lamp posts whooshing past, like the sound of helicopter blades, We travelled really fast compared to how we would travel on the pot holed roads in Samoa. We saw hundreds and hundreds of sheep. Their noise sticks in my mind and there was a lot of open farmland.
Our next stop was Foxton where we stayed with my Aunty Shirley, my dad’s older sister and her family. We had fish and chips. I had never eaten that before either.
From Foxton we travelled to Wellington and we must have crossed the ferry but I have no memories of that part of the journey or of travelling down the south island to Christchurch.
My next memories were of the motel we stayed at while our house was being finalised. We watched Coronation street and I could not understand what the actors were saying because of the strong accents. Coronation street is an English programme.
We visited my paternal grandfather and he took my little sister and me down to feed the ducks on the Avon river.
Soon we moved into our new home and I remember thinking how small the new house was. There was not much land and the neighbouring houses were really close together. There was the most incredible vegetable garden with several fruit trees growing. The fence supported a massive grape vine with three varieties of grapes. We spent the rest of the summer making friends with the neighbouring children. They were curious about us and us of them. They all spoke so fast that I was continually challenged to understand them. I had grown up in the Samoan language and all of my previous schooling had been in Samoan. Even though we spoke English when dad was around, my English was not as strong as my Samoan language. Another memory I have is the telephone. In Samoa we had to call the operator but in New Zealand we could dial using a rotary dial phone.
Then school began for the new year and I was placed in standard three. (Year 5). My teacher was Mr Syme. I was the oldest in the class because in Samoa I was the generation that began school at six years old. For the rest of my school life I was always the oldest pupil in the class.
During my first week at school, I received an absolute growling because I had run on the verandah. I knew I was in trouble because of the teacher yelling at me. I had no idea what he said, but all I knew I was in big trouble. Luckily my own teacher rescued me and explained what I had done wrong and spoke with the growling teacher. I was terrified. My other memory of school was being asked to read aloud in class. I read the word guinea pig as gunner pig and all the children laughed. My second year of school was much better. I had a really nice teacher called Mr Marshall who helped me heaps with my maths. So I think at that time my maths was not the best. He used to read to us everyday and let us draw. He also played softball with us regularly at lunchtime.
The school seemed so rich with a large swimming pool and we had class lessons every day. My other memory of that pool was ice on the water before we got in. We would swim with the ice if we went in first for the day. The school had flushing toilets and they even had toilet paper. In Samoa we had to take our own toilet paper. The classrooms had windows and the desks were individual. So there was a lot to get used to. One was having lunch at school. Lunchtime at school always felt wrong and really weird because we were not used to that. The school days seemed so long too. In Samoa we began at 8.00am and finished at 1.00pm. I spent many lunchtimes in the library because I felt so odd and the other children would continuously ask me questions. I played softball and was really good at catching long balls. I learnt the violin which was an instrument my oldest sister Kathie played. One of my biggest challenge at school was learning the children’s names. The names were so different to what I had been used to. Names like Carmel, sounding like camel. Robert, Stephen and Nicola are some names I remember.
The other difference was the school we attended was a state school and in Samoa we had attended a Catholic school. Dad bought us each a second hand bike and I was soon riding to and from school. That first year, Canterbury had heat waves and chickens died on the farms. Then that winter we had snow and got a week off school. I had never seen snow before. I biked to and from school regardless of the weather. I biked when it hailed and I biked when it snowed. The winter season was always so cold. I wove a scarf on the school loom that I wore to keep my nose and ears warm and I made myself some gloves from sheepskin. I have no idea where the sheepskin came from but those gloves saw me right through to high school. In those days we did not wear hats at school.
Years later I found out that we had moved to New Zealand for two reasons. One was to be closer to my fathers aging parents and the other was so that we could have a good education and go to the local university.
Dad continued to travel back to Samoa for his work while we stayed in New Zealand with mum. When he returned he always brought island food and letters from Samoa. This was before the internet. On some journey he brought us tape recorded messages and so we could hear our grandparents and cousins voices.
The food was a challenge. I remember eating cauliflower for the first time and at how disgusting it was. The coffee was instant and we were used to bean coffee back in Samoa with heaps of sugar. I missed eating taro and having fresh tree ripened bananas. The store bought bananas took a lot of getting used to, if we could get them. Other than that we were able to buy rice and eat similar food to what we ate in Samoa. We hung out for palusami and ground oven cooked taro when dad came back.
My father’s father passed away in the second year we were in New Zealand. I am glad we were able to spend some time getting to know him. We all had a good education and a couple of us went to university.
Before I know it, I have lived in New Zealand for over forty years. The years have flown by and I now love New Zealand and call New Zealand home. But Samoa will always be my first home.
I still visit Samoa when I can and have taken my own sons back for visits. I still speak Samoan and recently learned how to master chop suey like how my grandmother made it. I have learned to make palusami using spinach leaves, but the taste is not quite the same. I learned to love cauliflower when I discovered that it needed serving with cheese sauce.
Sometimes I do wonder about what might have happened if we had remained in Samoa. I wonder what my life would be like now. I wonder if I should have returned and brought my sons up in Samoa when I had the opportunity. I also wonder what I would take if I moved to another country.
Like the bird in my proverb, I already was grown and had all my markings when I left Samoa. Coming to New Zealand to a new environment does not change who I am. What the new environment does is add to my story.
For you reading this:
Are you a migrant, or a descendent of a migrant?
What is your story?
If you write one, can you please share your story with me?
Those of you who know me will understand why this reflection is endorsing Hapara Workspace and how fabulous it is for leading professional learning. I have all my badges for Hapara and here is my Hapara Champion Trainer certificate to confirm that I have completed all three levels of training.
I love using Hapara Workspaces for learning and this year I added all our Newmarket School teachers as learners in Hapara Workspace. As part of my Champion Trainer Certification I built a workspace for teachers. However I did not build this from scratch. I took our 2018 PLG workspace that our ISL and I collaboratively created, made a copy and then ensured that it was framed with Visible Learning Concepts in that all the goals and rubrics were clear and explicit for each section.
Our current workspace ensures that our Newmarket School teachers can learn from the In School Leaders (ISL) in our school and they can do so on their own time, without the need for face-to-face meetings or substitutes. Our workspace allows us to experiment with leading professional learning in our school. Each section is packed with resources including readings and videos to help explain the focus of each professional learning strategy. Each part has a landing page so that everything is one click away. Each part has an assignment that we ask teachers to do to help drive their own learning deeper. These have been framed using a SOLO Taxonomy rubric co-constructed with the ever fabulous Pam Hook.
For us as ISL and ASL in our school we can quickly pull up examples of our teachers professional learning and lessons that are active in the workspace.
Within our workspace, my favourite section for 2019 is our newest section.
We asked our teachers to ‘To video teaching a targeted strategy which gives attention to student learning.’ and to share the link on Hapara.
This part has been really exciting because by the end of term 2, all of our teachers had carried out videoing a mathematics lesson and nearly all had shared it on Hapara. My principal asked us how did we manage to get our teachers to do this. My response was, transparency using Hapara Workspace. The goals and the rubric were clear. Also our ISL expected it to happen and continually reinforced this during staff meetings and team meetings.
I took many of the ideas from the Hapara trainer course and incorporated these into our workspace.
I have to give a shoutout here for our fabulous Senior Management Team at Newmarket School. They were the first to line up to complete their Champion Educator Certificates using Hapara for teaching and learning. They would never ask us to do something that they were not prepared to do themselves.
Also for our teachers at Newmarket School because just about all of them have completed the Hapara Champion Course. Just waiting on a few more then I will get a Hapara Grelfie, ‘Group Selfie’.
I also give a shout out to our ISL leaders @Nikki_From_NZ and @BelindaHitchman who lead professional learning in our school and were the first to get their maths lessons videoed and shared with their teams. Talk about Teacher Agents at Newmarket School. They make things happen. What a fabulous evidenced example of teachers preparing to share their learning with their peers and to give and receive feedback.
I wonder if I can push our teachers just a little further and see if they are willing to take up the Hapara Champion Scholar course. This second course focuses on pedagogy and looks deeply at learning from student perspective. This course also ensures that learning is really transparent for the learner with goals and forms of assessment really clear on their workspaces. They need to be aware that they will get feedback on their workspaces from their peers in the course. I also wonder if our teachers would be keen to video and share a writing lesson.
Imagine the resources being created for our future teachers by our current amazing teachers.