I fear my kids are dreamers. I fear they spend their time in the classroom staring into space, or out windows. But I don’t blame them.

I’m not one of those adults who’s forgotten what it’s like to be a kid. And when I was a kid, I was a dreamer. My teacher’s had to be pretty darned interesting to get my attention. There were some… Mr. Moase, my Ancient History teacher. He brought history to life, and I paid attention. But for every Mr. Moase there were others who didn’t quite grab me. It’s not their fault; it was my fault. I didn’t know enough to pay attention. I didn’t know what I was missing. Until it was too late, and now I’m that much stupider for it.

But I remember the day it all changed. The day I learned I’d best pay attention, or else.

Embarrassingly, it was rather late in life. My first day on the new job that was to become my career.

I’d gotten a job at CBC Radio. And they put me down in Master Control on Jarvis Street. Told me to do Net Testing. This was testing all the radio lines across the country. A great way to learn how CBC Radio was put together nationally, but damned complicated.

The guy teaching me how to do this, Ron Grant, said, “The last guy I tried to teach how to do this ran out of here screaming. We never saw him again. I’ve got a week to teach you. Frankly, I don’t think you can learn it in a week. But we’ll give it a shot.”

Right then I decided I’d damned well better pay attention. I hung on Ron’s every word, and by the end of the week I knew how to do it. I didn’t know how to do it perfectly, and there were many elements I’d learned by rote, but it was enough to get me started.

From that day forth I listened when teachers taught.

Here’s hoping my girls don’t take as long to figure it out as I did.