Job Interview NW Territories

The great white north was calling and I answered. The GWN answered me back and asked for an interview.

By 1968,we had been living in Victoria, BC for three years having escaped from Ontario and poverty and winter. It was a good move. We figured that on a teacher's salary, Pat and I would almost never be able to afford a house and still eat, and the cost of snow shovels in Toronto was escalating at an alarming rate.

By going west we soon secured ourselves a small house for the outrageous but affordable sum of $11,000 with enough left over for groceries. It didn't snow in Victoria, or if it did it was too embarrassed to stay very long. Life was good and so we looked around for something to jiggle us out of the complacency it was so easy to fall into.

Then the advertisement for teachers in Canada's north came to our attention. I say "our" although I still argue that my tolerance for complacency was by far the greater and that it was Pat who tended to get itchy feet every few years. Nevertheless, we sent off a letter of enquiry and in due course we were invited for an interview. – at the Empress Hotel, no less. Those Northern Territories representatives must have had great expense accounts. We dressed for the occasion and headed into town.

There really was a representative from the NW Territories staying at the Empress, and we really were expected and up we went. After the introductions, I did comment on the extraordinary view from the windows overlooking the inner harbour, but that wasn't the visual field that held the attention of our interviewer.

The TV was on, showing a Saturday night hockey game, and although the sound was set low, the content was still distracting. Especially distracting was the rep's frequent glances at the set, sometimes a full turning away to watch a play. This was the black-and-white grainy TV of the 1960s and although I enjoyed watching Hockey Night in Canada as much as anyone, I thought we did rate a bit more attention than we were getting. Hell, even the scenery out the window deserved more attention than we were getting. I mentioned the fact in a roundabout way – something like, "Well, you really enjoy a hockey game don't you". He told me why.

You couldn't get live televised hockey games (or live televised anything) in Canada's 1960s north. Every two weeks, however, they at the government office got a videotape of the recent games delivered along with the mail on the regular flight from Edmonton. The pilot would often give them a quick preview such as: "There's a good bench-clearing brawl in the second period" or "Wait'll you see the way Howe scores in the final seconds."

The folks at the education department, and probably all the other on-site departments, would plug the tape into the video machine (after hours I'm sure) and enjoy the replays. Betting on the outcome of a game wasn't allowed of course, because there was telephone service to the north and someone might have picked up the results that way or from the bundle of newspapers that had come in on the same flight. For our interviewer to get a chance to watch a game on live broadcast in the south was a rare treat.

We adjusted our seating arrangement. The couch could accommodate three of us and we could still have our interview in-between plays. If we'd had few beers and chips it would have been just like home. We made our departure after the second period, I believe. And, as if to make up for his lack of attention during the formal interview, the rep gave us some advice about teaching service in the north.

"I always advise newcomers to take a position in the most northern location we've got. You see, we'll fly you out at the end of term and fly you back in when school starts and that way it'll still be freeze-up each time."

"Why would that be an advantage?" I asked.

"Bugs," he said. "They can be real bad if you're not used to them. And this way they won't be hatched when you leave and they'll be all gone when you arrive."

I didn't get a posting. There was a need for teachers as well as other service providers in the north, and it was always best to have both husband and wife be able to contribute to whichever community took them. Pat had plenty of skills but no formal certification, so we weren't a bargain.

My cousin from the prairies was a much better candidate. With a teaching degree, a lot of  experience in music and coaching and a wife who was a registered nurse, he was a real catch for the education department of the Yukon Territories when he applied. After a couple of terms there, he actually moved into northern BC for a year, but soon headed back to Whitehorse. He claimed the south was too civilized or some such thing. I guess the bugs didn't bother him.