The Bridge with Peter Mansbridge - Your Turn -- Week Two of Your Favourite Teacher

Episode Date: May 9, 2024

Letters. We got letters. Lots of them on the question, "Can you name a teacher who had the greatest impact on your life?" From across the country you wrote in, enough to fill two Thursdays of Your Turn. Plus today, as every Thursday, the Random Ranter and his take for this week on the future of local news.

And hello there, Peter Mansbridge here. You are just moments away from the latest episode of The Bridge. It's Thursday. It's your turn. It's the Random Rantor. All coming right up. And let's get right at it because it's your turn, week two of Your Favorite Teacher. We had so many letters. It's quite incredible, actually, with some great stories. And because we're going to try and cram the second half of this into today's program, as I said, let's get right at it. First letter comes from Carol Hutchinson in Ottawa.

Ruth Redman, an English teacher at Stamford Collegiate in Niagara Falls, Ontario, was my favorite teacher in all of my school years. She taught many illustrious people at Stamford, including John Clement, the former Attorney General of Ontario. James Cameron, yes, the James Cameron. Titanic, you know. Barbara Rosberg, that's Barbara from, to name a few. Her sparkling eyes, her charming smile, and her soft wavy hair, and her gentle voice captivated me. Her Shakespeare lessons were never boring for me. Characters came alive

and she made them real. She taught my dad and his siblings. This was true for many families. After her death, my mother gifted me a book of poetry written by Ruth. She lost the love of her life in the Second World War. Her sadness was expressed on paper for all of us to read. She never married. She just carried her loss all of her life. Jason Cook, St. Albert, Alberta. That's just a little northwest of Edmonton. My favorite teacher was Barry Shula. Mr. Shula taught junior high math in a way that made it interesting and even cool. When helping my son with algebra homework, I could still hear Mr. Shula's mantra, whatever you do to one side,

you have to do to the other side, in my head, and dutifully used his technique. He set high standards, but kept the classroom fun. On a lighter note, he may also be singularly responsible for my addiction to Coca-Cola,

as his classroom was a shrine for all kinds of Coke memorabilia, and he made no secret of his couple-of-cans-a-day habit. Outside of math, he taught a martial arts option, and the level of discipline and sheer commitment this required was inspiring. He made a huge impression on me as a teenager and no doubt planted the seed which saw me eventually become an educator myself. Dallas Paquette in Calgary. I was in the third or fourth grade when I realized I wanted to be a historian when I grew up. At that point, I had no idea what that meant other than I loved history and I wanted to do it.

What I didn't realize at the time was that practicing history is very, very difficult. Such a career is made particularly difficult if having a family and buying groceries are important to you. After high school, I got into sales and then into management and finally into owning and operating my own business. Following the birth of my first son in 2006, I decided I wanted to go back to school, after all, part-time at the University of Calgary. There, I met a fine man named Dr. Patrick Brennan, a Canadian military and political historian. He took a particularly liking to me. Perhaps it was my obvious wisdom as compared with my 19-year-old classmates. Perhaps it was our shared love of politics, or maybe baseball. At any rate, he and I became wonderful friends. He encouraged me, mentored me, and blew on the spark of my love of Canadian history. He taught classes at night, so we often met at the local pub and solved many of

the world's problems. He gave me my first A and my first A+. He encouraged me to attend conferences, to learn how to debate and to read and to look at history in a critical and discerning way. He convinced me that not only I could become an historian, but that I indeed was already one. Fast forward 17 years from that first semester, and I'm an MA student at the University of Calgary, part-time again, and studying the business history of the Hudson's Bay Company. Once I'm doing that, I'll get my PhD, and I will be a historian in fact, and write, write and study and teach. I may never get paid to do it, but that's okay too. My only regret is that Pat had to go and retire before I could have the opportunity to work with him. He changed my life. Maybe I'll tell him that next time I see him. Ben Sumac in Regina. The most influential for me was my grade eight teacher at St. Augustine

School in Regina in 1969. Mr. Marty Collins, as an impressionable 13-year-old male, he was everything I wanted to be. He was a former college football player who seemed like an athletic giant to me. He played ball with us at recess. He made learning fun, often throwing sports anecdotes into his lessons, but demanded proper behavior and work habits from his students. Plus, the playground rumor was that he was dating the hot grade one teacher, too. Because of Mr. Collins, I wanted to become a teacher, and after a bit of a circuitous route, I did. I taught middle years and was a school administrator

for 30 years, and he was always in mind. I was able to connect with him a few years back. He'd left teaching and became a dentist in Kelowna, BC. We exchanged emails and a couple of pictures, and I was fortunate to have the chance to tell him how much he meant to me, not only in my career, but also in my life. Julie Johnston in Hamilton, Ontario. The teacher that made a difference in my life was Mary Ann Burgess, my grade 5 teacher. She was the first person who told me I was smart

and creative and had great ideas. Up until that point in school, I hadn't even been told anything like that. I liked school, but I didn't think I was particularly good at it. Then Miss Burgess came along and chose me for gifted programming. She put stickers on my work and told me I was smart. It was life-changing, and eventually I became an educator myself who gives out stickers and tells kids every day how smart they are. Jennifer L. Smith. Jennifer doesn't actually tell us where she's from, but her story is about a school in Ottawa, so I assume that us where she's from, but her story is about a school in Ottawa, so I assume that's where she's from.

The teacher who had the greatest impact on my life was Norbert Hebe, my grade 11 English teacher at Lisger High School some 40 years ago. I just moved out of my family home and in with a friend's family because of tensions at home, and I was lost. I was in all general classes, as my mother never thought I was smart enough to go on to university. I had a 98% in English. He looked at all my marks, which were 90 plus, and he asked what I planned to do in the future. I hadn't a clue. He said I was bright and talented

and should go to university. He made an appointment for us to meet with the vice principal, and they had me moved up into all advanced university-level courses. My marks fell a bit, but not much. I went on to university and earned a master's degree in public administration. I continually wonder where I would be if he hadn't cared enough and taken the time to make a difference in one young woman's life. Forever thankful. Orla Scott from Victoria.

She's currently studying in Germany. The teacher who made the greatest impact on my life is Nichelle Garraway, my grade 11 social studies teacher at Oak Bay High School. Madam Garraway was a fantastic history teacher whose classes were always thoughtful and interesting, but what really left an impression on me was her care for each individual student. Without exception, she stood at the door at the end of each class and said a personal goodbye to each student as they left. She often did the same

when we arrived as well. Her thoughtful greeting made me feel seen and cared for at school and always brightened up my day. Brian Butt in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Labrador. The one teacher growing up who made a difference was Angie Thornhill, who taught high school science. I was a struggling student in science and math and didn't have much confidence or the work ethic in academics. She pushed me, made me believe I could do it, told us the way it was about school and life, always had our best interests in mind.

I'm now a teacher trying to provide for those in high school. Not easy, but rewarding. I wouldn't be where I am without those influences in my life. Betsy Dobb in St. Agatha, Ontario, a little west of Kitchener. St. Agatha? St. Agatha. It's one or the other. I had many memorable teachers,

but the one who inspired me in a special way was my high school piano teacher, Morton Schoenfeld. He was a professor at the local university and a friend of my dad's. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by the amount of music he was giving me and his very high standards. We talked about it and he said, I approach teaching every student as if they are going to be the next great concert pianist. That is the way I have to teach. I can't do it any other way.

That has always stuck with me as a teaching philosophy. During my teaching career, I tried to teach each class every term as if these students were going to be the next great biochemist or doctor or teacher. I tried to keep my standards high, challenge the students. In some cases, my faith in the students was justified. In many cases, it wasn't. I didn't become a concert pianist, but I did keep up with piano and have been continuing to take lessons for decades. The last time I saw Mr. Schoenfeld, years after I had stopped studying with him,

I'd gone over to his house to visit and spent a morning with his wife playing duets in their studio. He said to me, as I listened to you play and laugh, I was prouder of you than any of my other students over the years because of your love of music. Wow. Wow. Matthew Sklarczyk in Vernon, British Columbia.

His name is Blaine Imbo, and he was my metal shop teacher for three years in high school. Before the start of every class, he would sit on a welding table and give a monologue about life and about life lessons through the wisdom of his own experience. 24 years ago, he had the foresight to see the upcoming demand for trades skills. He also encouraged the artistic side of those skills, started a jewelry making segment, and told us how a welder can make a living through metalwork. I was heavily into cars, and he let me occupy a corner of the shop to do my own body work so I could learn the skills. I took every class offered under Mr. Imbo, and in grade 12, even

though I had enough credits to graduate, I took his class again, just to be there. By the time I graduated, he was a friend, not just teacher. And I often visited in the following years, greeted with a huge smile, gorilla handshake, and a big hug. I followed his advice and became a millwright. I worked in the diamond mines in the far north and live a very comfortable life because of his guidance. In the off chance he's listening, thank you, Mr. Imbo. I owe a lot to the current state of my life from the guidance you gave to a lost 15-year-old kid. Great.

Margot Amorim in Montreal. That one teacher who left a mark on me, it's got to be my CGEP marketing teacher, Robert Soroka. The guy's a legend. He took my self-confidence from zero to hero and gave me the social toolkit I needed to ace school and kick butt in my career. And his tip on getting my study priorities straight? Gold.

I'm using that same wisdom to juggle tasks at this big Canadian firm I'm with. So, Mr. Soroka, if you're out there listening, you're the real MVP. Thanks for everything, man. Your lessons are the gift that keeps on giving. Okay. We're going to keep on moving here. We've got lots to go. Stephanie Carey in Mississauga, Ontario. As I thought of a teacher who had great influence on my life,

my immediate thoughts went to Joe Tacker. He taught me grade 12, people and politics, in 1986 at Michael Power St. Joseph's High School in Toronto. It was during this time when the Cold War was red hot and provided my first critical understanding of politics and history in the nuclear age. The Soviets, as they were still known then, were to be feared and the concept of mutually assured destruction was something that my 17-year-old brain was coping to try to understand and not live in a constant state of fear. In addition

to providing the foundation for understanding of the historical and political topics, Mr. Tacker used storytelling and his own experience to humanize the topic. He described a recent trip to Berlin where he had the opportunity to travel into East Berlin, which was still under communist rule. What left the greatest impression was Mr. Tackerer describing how a number of people were taken with his Nike shoes. It made the face of the Soviets less of a raging enemy and more of a human being, having the same interests to my own. Gord De70,

Dunrobin, Ontario, just northwest of Ottawa. Without hesitation, the teacher that made a profound influence on my life and career is Albert Stenzel, our electrical electronics teacher at Gannon-Ockway Secondary School in the mid-1970s. I tried everything in my power not to take his shop. I had a huge mental block on the subject of electricity and had no interest in learning more about it. However, I was forced to take the class. At the end, I hear a phone ringing

and I don't know where it's coming from. However, I was forced to take the class. At the end of the first day, I was totally blown away. Mr. Stensel explained things so well, and the classes were so interesting and enjoyable, that I ended up taking his classes the following years, spending hours a day in the lab, building electronic projects. On one occasion, he said, today we are not going to talk about electrical things. Today we're going to talk about integrity and honesty in the workplace.

This had a huge influence on many of us. In order to keep up with the many projects we were working on, I started skipping math classes in grade 12. Big mistake. At the end of the year, my math teacher asked what my plans were for the next year. I told her I was planning on going to Sioux College to pursue my interest in electronics. She responded, with the mark I'm giving you in math, you're not going anywhere. I relayed this message to Mr. Stensel, and he said, I'll not let her hold you back. She gave me a 49 in math, and he changed the mark to 51. I never had a teacher like that,

I'll tell you. I went to Sioux College the following September, and I recently retired from a 38-year career in information technology. Not many days go by that I do not think of Albert Stencil and the principles he taught about electricity and being a good human being. Maryland Trenholm Council in Sackville, New Brunswick. Unlikely as it may seem for one who became a nutritionist and later a medical doctor, the teacher whose impact remains a constant in my life at 90 years is Alex Colville. In 19...

Where is that phone? I don't know where it is. I don't know where it is. I don't know how it's ringing. I don't know whether you can hear it, but I do. Sorry. We're talking about Alex Colville, Maryland Trenholm Council. In 1953 at Mount Allison University, I took his course Interior Design. Little did I know how exceedingly privileged I was to learn from a master.

In my home, especially his teaching, is a constant presence, reminding me of the importance of symmetry, spatial arrangements, tonal harmony, and visual impact. All of this reflected on the walls and the rooms and present in day-to-day household activities. 71 years ago, Professor Alex Colville was an awe-inspiring teacher to his young students. He lives on, challenging us that beauty is ours to appreciate and create.

I am grateful. Gareth Wilson, Bowmanville, Ontario. My grade 9 teacher, advanced English teacher, gave me a mark of 63%, and she somewhat flippantly told me that I should reconsider going to university. That created enormous reverberations in my young mind. However, thank goodness I chose against her advice, and with the help of a brilliant English teacher named Joanne Brown in grade 13, I graduated high school as an Ontario scholar, and subsequently went on to university and completed not one, but two degrees, completing my university on the dean's honor roll with the ability to write after all.

Mrs. Ecclestone taught me the true meaning of just how powerful our words can be and the necessity to choose them so very carefully. You have the ability to build someone up or tear them down. I never saw her after grade nine, but I would love to tell her that. I made it, and I did okay, after all. Well, maybe she's listening. Barbara Pratt in Whitehorse, Yukon. There it is again.

I have no idea where that sound is coming from. It's very strange. Barbara Pratt in Whitehorse, Yukon. My most memorable teacher was Mrs. Shirley Krawack, who taught a classroom of grades 5 to 8 at the Snowflake Consolidated School in Snowflake, Manitoba. I love that name. That was the late 1950s, early 60s. Having attended a one-room school till the end of grade 5, where I received most of my help from grade 8 classmates,

I had no idea of my capabilities. Mrs. Krawick blew my mind for grades 6, 7, and 8. She challenged me academically, including choosing me several times for the Conduct Award for academic improvement. She helped me experience public speaking in numerous ways, including roles in the Christmas concert and Remembrance Day service. She encouraged me to excel in arts and crafts. She could even play softball wearing her beautiful, full-skirted, crinoline-filled dresses. She made a huge difference in my life. Bill Newman in Aurora, Ontario, north of Toronto.

Doug Inglis popped instantly into my mind as the teacher who has had the greatest influence on me. He was my grade 11 history teacher at Lambton Central Collegiate Vocational Institute in Petrolia, Ontario. He inspired my personal love of history, which remains to this day, and in the classroom made history come alive with animated discussions about historical events and issues. As time passed and I moved on through university and into the working world, we kept in touch principally through the exchange of letters and cards at Christmas. Doug continued to be interested in the whereabouts of his students and how they were pursuing their lives. Outside the classroom and later in retirement,

he was much involved in his community, holding office on Petrolia Town Council and writing columns for the Petrolia Topic and the Sarnia Observer. He was not only an inspiring teacher, but also an instructive example of good citizenship. Okay, we're going to, let's take our break right now, our quick break, while I look again to try and figure out where that sound is coming from. I'd be particularly concerned if you're not hearing it as well, and it's just me, some phone ringing in my head somewhere.

Anyway, let's take a quick break. We'll be back right after this. And welcome back. You're listening to The Bridge, the Thursday episode of Your Turn, your letters answering the question. This is the second week of this same subject. Answering the question, name the teacher that had the greatest impact, impression on your life.

And boy, you've certainly been doing that. Let's get right back to the letters. Random Ranter coming up here in a little bit as well. Next letter comes from Paula Grappin in Miramichi, New Brunswick. The teacher who made the biggest influence in my life was my high school music teacher, Elizabeth Walker. She made a group of weirdos feel seen and gave us a space in the world where we belonged. High school is hard. She made it a bit less so. Lauren Gillett Clark in Grimsby,

Ontario. It's near St. Catharines. The most influential teacher in my life was the Bridge's very own regular guest, Janice Stein. She taught global politics in my first year at the University of Toronto in 2001. I will never forget my first week of university coincided with the September 11th attacks. Professor Stein stood on stage at Convocation Hall and transparently admitted to her students

that from that day forward, everything would change, and she would have to completely rethink the syllabus for the coming semester. She helped provide sturdy leadership and guidance during that turbulent time, and I've followed her impressive career ever since. She's something, eh? She sure is.

Bill Chishart in Grand Bend, Ontario. Bill's written a few times. I get his name different. I say it differently every time. Bill's from Grand Bend, the South Shore Lake here on, about 70 clicks from London. In my high school years at Kitchener Collegiate Institute, our varsity teams won the district championship in virtually all the varsity sports, and if we didn't, the school that did win had to beat us to do it. I was fortunate to play on all

those varsity teams, but it wasn't until later in life that I realized that our success was more due to the quality of the teacher coaches we had than our personal skills and talent as scholastic athletes. Most of those coaches went on to great coaching careers at post-secondary schools and some to professional teams. I'm a chartered professional coach with Coaches of Canada, largely due to the inspiration of those coaches. As the great Maya Angelou stated, you'll forget what they said and you'll forget what they did,

but you'll never forget how they made you feel. Marilyn Myers in Sioux Lookout, Ontario. Been to Sioux Lookout many times early in my career. 350 clicks northwest of Thunder Bay, roughly. My grade five teacher, Mrs. Hofschild, both frightened and inspired me. One day she declared to the class that she thought I'd grow up to be a writer. I never forgot that. After living abroad, a hospital ship, sorry, after living aboard a hospital ship for four years, I felt compelled to write a book, sharing the adventures and medical plight of the poor in West Africa.

During the process of writing, I grew discouraged and remembered Ms. Hofschild's comment. To motivate myself to finish the project, I decided I would search for her after publishing. If she was still alive, I'd show her name and the acknowledgments. After careful sleuthing, I found the lovely 88-year-old former teacher in an Oakville nursing home. She remembered teaching me at Baden Public School in 1965. We shared a delightful visit, and she was beyond tickled when I presented her with the book, Acknowledgement. At her funeral visitation just months later, her family told me the book had been a golden moment, rewarding her long career of teaching. The book won an award, but seeing my teacher's beaming face after reading it meant so much more. The irony, I spelled her name wrong.

Me, the perfect speller. I'd been too lazy to dig up old report cards in the attic. I could just imagine her red X in the margin. I promised to fix it in the second printing, and I did. Checkmark. Carolyn Haynes in Vancouver. My favorite teacher was Mr. Wilson of Maple Ridge Secondary in BC. He was such an inspiring and dedicated teacher.

He taught literature. It definitely was his calling. He obviously had polio, but he taught with such energy and passion for English poetry and composition and the masters. His enthusiasm was boundless and he created a love and appreciation for the subject in me. I can still picture him. He made the subject come alive. Thank you, Mr. Wilson. I'll never forget you. Sharon Carney in Toronto. The teacher who has made the biggest difference for me was actually not my teacher,

but the kindergarten teacher of my son, Theo, who has autism. We were nervous about how he would fare in a regular classroom with 30 students. When we had the chance to meet with Mr. Sauvé ahead of the first day of school, we quickly realized we had hit the teacher jackpot. Mr. Sauvé had taught in the Toronto District School Board autism program for many years before becoming a kindergarten teacher. Mr. Sauvé went above and beyond to help our son succeed.

He created a photo collage of Theo with his teachers to help with transitions. The first time Theo independently read a book aloud to Mr. Sauvé, he paused the class to have Theo read to them. And we saw how their cheers and applause propelled him forward to become the enthusiastic reader he is today. Instead of class rules, Mr. Sauvé had community expectations, which created a warm and nurturing classroom environment where Theo's peers, the wary at first, came to embrace him with compassion.

Even though Mr. Sauvé was my son's teacher and not mine, he had an enormous impact on our family. Parents of kids with special needs will understand how scary it can feel to leave your child in the hands of other people. Will they be understood? Respected? Will their strengths be recognized? Will they be included? I knew that I never needed to worry for one moment when Theo was with Mr. Sauvé, and that was an extraordinary gift. Some of these letters really tug at the heartstrings, eh? Carrie Salata in Toronto. Girls don't play hockey. I stared in disbelief as the vice

president made this statement to my teenage self, who was sitting right in front of her pleading to start the first girls hockey league in the Hamilton Catholic secondary school system. It was the late 1990s. After hearing that, I was more determined to make it happen, but I needed an ally. Mr. Harold was the best science teacher in the school. His classes were always fun. We learned something new each class, and we worked hard for him because he was that kind of teacher. I remember one time he told me to never lose my silliness. But this wasn't a silly subject. This was hockey, just like the boys.

I wanted to put on a jersey and represent my high school on an all-girls hockey team badly. So I went to Mr. Harold. He listened. He never questioned the idea of women playing hockey. And then he said he would make some coals. Later that year, as I stepped on the ice with an entire team of other enthusiastic hockey-playing girls,

I knew that there was only one person who was responsible for making it all happen, Mr. Harold. I can't thank him enough for the positive impact he had on my life as a student and as a female athlete, and to every teenage girl in the Hamilton Catholic Secondary School system since the 1990s who laced up their skates and put on a jersey to represent their high school, you can also thank Mr. Harold for making it happen. Love it.

Ian McGregor in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. Speedy Creek, as we used to call them back in my Saskatchewan days. Growing up in the small town of Tompkins, Saskatchewan, the school was a major part of our school community. And Mrs. Donna Ford was the grade two teacher. She taught me and my classmates that working hard and towards a goal every day didn't need to be boring and trying, but fun and fulfilling. She always had time to help everyone, whether you were at the top of the class or at the bottom. She taught life skills to kids that didn't know we were learning them. My class respected her so much. She was the guest speaker at our middle school grad and all of us who could attended her retirement. She's always held a special place in my heart, always will. Recognizing her now is the least I can do.

Here's the shortest letter we got. Craig Robson from Ayer, Ontario. That's just south of Waterloo, right? My teacher in grade one to four. She was my mother. If that doesn't teach you something more than your ABCs, nothing will. Hey, you got that right, Craig. My mom was my teacher in kindergarten.

And when we lived in Kuala Lumpur, Malaya, my mom was one of the teachers in the school. And that was weird having your mom as the teacher. Andy Hurd in Bayfield, Ontario. Bayfield, you know, it's on Lake Huron, but now we're, I guess now we're west of Stratford, you know, Stratford, the center of the world. Andy writes, David Yates was my grade 11 history teacher at Central Huron Secondary School in 2011. History is a subject in school that obviously points towards traditional school settings of desks, textbooks, listening, and tests.

So as a young adolescent, I was ready to just go with it and move to the next class. But this was not the case with Mr. Yates. He goes beyond textbooks, breathing life into historical events and figures, making them relevant and engaging for young minds. He would create a healthy type of debate with students, knowing that we are moving towards a world where knowledge is at our fingertips and not in books. But as we are seeing in the world, not everything we read or are being told is 100% factual. He'd challenge our sources and we would have a healthy debate of fact versus fiction. He made the ultimate impact on me. Christine O'Reilly in Port Franks, Ontario.

That's about an hour west of London. It was grade seven, partway through the fall term. We had just moved to a new subdivision. It was 1969. I was the new kid coming in halfway through October. I was anxious about where, how, and with whom I would fit in. Then there was a note on the board in the music room. Mr. Scott had written, In search of a guitar player for the triple trio. I could play guitar. It started when I was nine.

So I gathered my courage and talked with him. He asked me to bring my guitar the next day. He gave me the piece, and I could play it fairly easily. I was in. Mr. Scott paved the way to a new beginning, making some great friends, being trusted to have lunch in the music room with other music aficionados. He was wonderful to me those two years and afterwards.

I'm still playing the guitar and think of him often. Thanks, Mr. Scott. You taught me much more than music. Barb Price in Caledon, British Columbia, just south of Penticton in the Okanagan. In 1976, I entered Kolomnitsa Senior Secondary School in Williams Lake, BC. I'd been an honors student all through junior high. Going into senior high school, I frivolously decided that I had worked hard enough up to that point and so elected to sign up for what I perceived to be the easiest classes, home economics, law, English literature.

I was required to take one science course, however, so I selected biology two, as again, I thought it would be the easiest of the sciences. My biology two teacher was Arlene Johnson. It could be biology 11, but I think it's two. She was an incredible, inspirational, and dynamic teacher. Mrs. Johnson lit a fire in me and cultivated what became a lifelong passion for science. In the second term that year, I dropped all the easy classes and registered for chemistry, physics, and calculus, which I pursued into grade 12. I never had any aspirations to go to university, but Mrs. Johnson encouraged us to pursue higher education as she spoke so highly about her own time and experience at university. I went on to UBC, graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Forestry. This in turn gave me a fulfilling career, firstly in forestry and then on to a wonderful, impactful career in conservation. If it weren't for Arlene Johnson and her passion for her students, my life would have been very different indeed.

I'll be forever grateful to her. John Middleton in Toronto. My grade 13 history teacher, Mr. Jerry Baker, made a difference in my life. He had a great charisma about him, always questioned authority and the world around him, and was such an original. It was so instructive for me to experience as a shy kid living a relatively sheltered life in the suburbs. I learned there was so much to learn.

End question. Mike Berenick in Belleville, Ontario. My favorite teacher was Mr. Clark. He taught a class called World Religions at my high school, Glenview Park in Cambridge, Ontario. It was a fascinating class that taught me different ways of looking at life. He was a very forward-thinking man. When we got into the Eastern religions, he introduced us to meditation. He even used modern music in his classes from time to time. I can remember listening to In Search of the Lost Chord by the Moody Blues, amongst others. He was a true guide in my life.

Martin Partridge in Peterborough County, Ontario. Mr. Morris Wolfe was my grade 10 history teacher in 1961-62 at Glendale High School in Hamilton. I was only 13. He was about 24. He taught me critical thinking. He deconstructed Time magazine and Newsweek magazine every week instead of curriculum topics. He considered television an abomination. He went on to a fabulous teaching and writing career. He died just two years ago. I loved that

man, and even now at 76, I think about him almost every day. Joe Vermeer in Ayland Lake, Ontario, just south of Algonquin Park. Back in the 1980s, I was attending White Pines Collegiate in Sault Ste. Marie. It was a time for me of misdirection and short-sightedness. I was more concerned in planning for the weekend than that of a career as many of my friends were doing. Grade 13 English was the domain of John Ferguson, a tall man of stature possessing a tone of respect and immense dedication to his craft. At midterm, we received our marks. I can still recall the slight slowing of Mr. Ferguson's steps as he laid down my midterm report face up upon my desk. I stared down, looking at a failing mark of 35. I'd never failed any class at school. I was on a precipice and I recognized the moment. At the end of class, Mr. Ferguson spoke and said, if there's anyone who

would like to discuss their mark, please come to my office. Later that day, during a spare, I knocked on his office door and heard, Come in. As I entered the office, Mr. Ferguson looked up and said, If there was anyone in my class that I had hoped would come today, it was you, Joe. Please sit down. That encounter changed my life.

Mr. Ferguson saw a potential in me that i didn't recognize or refuse to i worked diligently over the second half of the term to bring my mark into the mid-70s the work was not easy but it was rewarding i've never forgotten how the generous gesture of help beyond the mandated curriculum from a teacher so dedicated to his craft pulled me back from that cliff's edge. John passed away in 2020, but the positive effect he had on me resonates to this very day. I have one letter left, but I'm going to save it until after the random ranter. The ranter this week is not talking about teachers.

He's talking about something else that impacts all of us. And impacts all of us quite a bit more than we perhaps realize. So let's hear what he has to say. Right? so let's hear what he has to say right your friend and mine the random renter whether it's wrestling on netflix soccer and baseball on apple plus or now monday night nhl hockey on amazon prime streaming services are moving into the live domain of network television, and it does not bode well for the future of broadcasting as we know it.

I mean, TV is just set up to be the next in a long line of dominoes to fall. The home phone is lost out to the cell phone, local radio is running on fumes, and the only people left getting newspapers all have fireplaces. So it's only natural that TV is the next to go. And the thing is, a lot of people won't care. A lot of people are already there. They've cut the cord and moved on to the wonderful world of streaming.

Now don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with streaming. I stream all the time, but I also consume local news. And as I see it, the days of local news are numbered because you can't have local news without the advertising dollars to subsidize it. And the advertising dollars? Well, they've increasingly gone online. And by doing so, they're starving local media to the point where it's circling the toilet. I mean, if you live in a small town, chances are your local paper is already a casualty. Same goes for your radio station. And TV? Well, the stations have been gutted to the point where even the largest of markets are being hit with layoffs and service cuts. But it's the loss of news that bothers me the most. Because for all its faults, proper news comes with standards.

And it comes with accountability. Without it, there's a void. And look, Facebook can provide you with lots of local information. But is it news? Is it opinion? Can you count on it? Or is it rumor and innuendo? Same goes for TikTok, Instagram, and Reddit.

And that's the problem. When you get away from mainstream media, you don't know what you're consuming. It could be activism, it could be propaganda, or it could be an echo chamber for crazy uncles. Without standards, it can be pretty hard to distinguish fact from fiction. And that's why as a society, we need a strong and free press. I would argue we especially need it locally, because local issues are what affect us the most. It's not that change in the capital gains tax that's going to hammer your pocketbook. It's going to be that increase in property taxes you're facing. The carbon tax is big news, but you know what people hate more? Rampant property crime, transit assaults, and emergency room wait times. We need local news. It matters. It's important.

But I don't see how it can survive. It's already been trimmed to the bone. I mean, once upon a time, there were whole crews producing the news. But I watched a live hit on the sidewalk the other day, and it was just the reporter. He set up his own camera, plugged in his own mic, and dollars to donuts, I bet he even edited it. Was it local news? Yes. Was it a quality production? Not so much. And that's part of the problem. Because in my opinion, news shouldn't look like Joe Blow on YouTube. It should look and sound professional. But let's face it, that's a tall order. Because as I

understand it, newsrooms are being starved of resources. Which brings me right back to advertising. It's broken. And the loss of live sports on TV? It's just the latest nail in the coffin of news as we know it. The random renter was something to think about. Local news is the key to understanding your community. You don't have it, you're going to have a lack of understanding of your community. So it's an issue. We've seen it coming here for the last few years. Like a snowball racing down a mountain. It's getting bigger every day, this issue. So be aware and voice your opinion on it.

It's incredibly important. So thanks to the rander for that reminder. Okay, and thank you for these amazing letters over the last couple of weeks, telling your stories about how certain teachers have impacted your life. It has been quite wonderful, and I'm sure for many of you, it's given you the opportunity to think back to a different time. In some cases, many years ago, as I think I said last week, some of these stories are like 60, 70 years old.

Some of them are like six or seven years old. So it's great. It spans the generations the impact teachers have had on the lives of the listeners to the bridge. That's great. It's great to hear them. I have a last one, and it's no better than all the others. I just, you'll see why I've chosen it for the last one here in a minute.

It comes from John Collins in Ottawa. My favorite teacher who had the largest impact on me was my grade 11 and grade 12 French teacher at Canterbury High School in Ottawa. Rose Shintow was a fantastic teacher who not only taught us the French language, but also provided fantastic insights surrounding geopolitics, current events, and cultural identity. In the spring of 1986,

she was talking about the Soviet Union and mentioned, I'd be surprised if it lasts another five years. They manufacture like mad, but maintain nothing. I was dumbfounded at the time due to the Cold War shadow in the 1980s and even more so when the USSR dissolved in 1991. Roshinto had been correct, right? When so many other people were wrong. Here's the kicker line, though.

I will always remember that she would ask us to stay engaged in current events and to stay curious, like an old student of hers, Peter Mansbridge. You know, I wish I could say that I did well as Mrs. Shinto or Mrs. Shintow's class, but I didn't. In fact, I didn't do well in a lot of classes, but I had a lot of trouble in French. A lot of trouble in French. A lot of trouble. Tried hard, just didn't click. Anyway, we'll leave it at that one. There are lots of memories in these stories.

You know, there was one written by somebody who went to Lisger Collegiate, which was the great one of the great competitors to the school I went to in Ottawa, Glebe Collegiate. It was Glebe or Lisger. You know, you had to go to one or the other if you were really going to make a name for yourself. Now, I know there are going to be all kinds of other people who went to high school in Ottawa at the same time I did in the 60s saying, oh, it was Laurentian, it was this, it was that. But there was something special about the Glebe-Lisker competition.

Anyway, once again, thank you so much for your letters. We'll start afresh with a new question next week, but this has been a treat. It's been an honor to read your letters and share them with the bridge leaders. Listenership. Okay, that's going to wrap it up for this day. Tomorrow, of course, Friday, it's good talk.

Chantel and Bruce will be here. Always lots to talk about with them. So we'll meet again in, well and well you know just about 24 hours