Make good choices. Or, ensuring every student finds their band room.

Make good choices. Three words that I’ve ended many a conversation with, used in saying goodbye, and in ending greetings from the board or at a graduation. Make the choices that put a smile on your face and fill your heart, in addition to the ones that keep you safe and healthy.  

For students in middle and high school, this kind of future-oriented encouragement takes on a whole new weight. They are figuring out who they are, and to make good choices, you first have to have choices. I know that for many kids, the opportunities available inside a school building are the literal lifeline that keeps them engaged and gets them to crossing that stage to receive a diploma.

I would have been a profoundly disengaged student if not for the band room— where I truly felt I belonged, even though I wasn’t the strongest player by far. I didn't actually like high school much on most days, but there were people there who made me feel I had a place, who were kind to me, and who genuinely wanted me to succeed. It wasn't just the academics; it was the people and the extra things outside the classroom that kept me anchored.

That personal experience is why I care so deeply about the scope of our public education system today.

Schools work overtime to be what every unique student needs. We know that academic rigor matters, but we also know that support has to show up in multiple ways. Today’s deliberate programming—a specialized initiative like Propel for example —exists for the kids who might get far less out of their school years than they need or deserve. Even at the school level, opportunities aren't one-size-fits-all; they are shaped by the students themselves, reflecting the distinct personality, needs, and desires of that specific school community.  

When we invest in these programs, we aren't funding hobbies; we are funding belonging. We are giving students a reason to show up, a place to find their people, and the confidence to make the kind of choices that change the trajectory of their lives. That’s the work I want to keep doing as your trustee: ensuring every student finds their band room.

You belong somewhere you feel free.  Tom Petty

Learning as a leader.

 

The work of a school board isn't about managing daily operations—that critical work belongs to the superintendent and their team. Instead, effective governance focuses on oversight, setting a visionary direction through a strategic plan, and holding the system accountable while empowering professional leadership to execute its mandate.

Trustees that govern for success recognize that effective oversight requires continuous growth; remaining up to date on educational trends along with a commitment to ongoing learning. By actively participating in professional development and growing in the role, trustees build the capacity needed to ask the right strategic questions and champion the division's vision.

This commitment to continuous learning and provincial collaboration naturally extends beyond our local board table. The insights gained through my active involvement with the Manitoba School Boards Association (MSBA) executive have been invaluable in sharpening this governance lens, allowing me to bring broader perspectives, advocacy, and shared best practices back to the school board.  Since I first joined the provincial executive in 2015, I have held the roles of Director, Vice-president, President, and now serve as past-President. 

When you look at what is required to keep LRSD moving forward, experience, provincial leadership, and a steadfast commitment to governance over management matter. Re-electing me means returning a trustee who doesn't just understand the distinct line between governance and operations, but one who advocates effectively at the provincial table and brings those high-level insights back home. It means keeping a proven, informed voice at the table—someone equipped with the depth of knowledge, leadership history, and collaborative networks necessary to ensure everyone who is part of the LRSD community flourishes.

Show us the money. Or, Election 2026 blog post #4.

 

First, let’s be unequivocal: Manitoba’s model—allowing school boards to raise revenue locally through education property taxes—is a vital asset. A game-changer. It grants local autonomy, and I am genuinely grateful for a system that remains the envy of jurisdictions across Canada.

However, local taxation cannot, and should not, bear the burden for what would be a fundamentally different and short-changed education experience for students if we only had current government funding to rely on.

Years of education funding austerity paired with skyrocketing labour and material costs forces hard choices on school boards every budget cycle.  Delaying critical maintenance saves money today but dramatically increases costs down the road. Replacements, repairs, upgrades, and additions cannot wait forever—and every year of delay means the cost goes up.

Additionally, in Louis Riel School Division rapid growth demands urgent action. Our publicly available facility plan outlines critical space requirements through 2034, detailing mandatory additions, accessibility upgrades, modernizations, and new builds.

These are not discretionary wants; they are operational needs.

Infrastructure is only part of the equation. Meeting daily operational demands—fair staff compensation, transportation safety, and direct classroom support—requires sustained funding. Supporting student success remains our core mission, but delivering on that promise requires adequate provincial investment.

Year-over-year operational pressures demand year-over-year provincial commitment at an adequate level to address these needs—and that is precisely why this issue must be kept at the top of the agenda with our partners in government.  Conversations, planning, forecasting; it’s work I remain committed to doing. 

Showing up.

Leadership begins with showing up. It is easy to accept a title or make a promise; the real work happens in fulfilling that commitment day after day.

Holding elected office means showing up when times are tough, not just when there is something to celebrate. It means giving people your undivided attention—remaining visible, dependable, accessible, deeply engaged, and prioritizing active listening above all else. That commitment extends to every single member of our community. Even when opinions differ sharply or conversations become challenging, a school trustee must seek and provide clarity with respect, ensuring everyone feels heard while keeping the focus on student success.

Strong governance happens long before a board vote is cast. It takes rigorous preparation behind the scenes: reviewing materials, analyzing data, and doing the heavy lifting necessary to make informed decisions. It requires true accountability—facing difficult conversations directly, taking responsibility, and standing firmly behind choices.  
Showing up means staying informed. It means you approach effectiveness in the role of trustee as a steady job rather than a random event. Continuous learning, and personal and professional development make for highly effective school boards.  
 
For me, staying grounded is inseparable from showing up. It means remaining true to myself while bringing the authentic voice of our community to the board table—bringing honesty, composure, and integrity to every room I enter and every conversation I have.
Showing up, in the context of being a school trustee, isn't easy—it requires a thick skin, resilience, and a firm commitment to the community. I respect people who take on a role and follow through when the going gets tough, and I strive to be one of those people every single day.

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm. — Publilius Syrus

Not about the family reunion, but about youth voice.

 

This post isn’t about the family reunion.

It’s not about the marathon of laughing, games, trivia, honoring those no longer with us, and endless eating (we are Ukrainian, after all!).

No, this post is about the 18 hours of road-tripping—there and back—with a self-assured, highly motivated, slightly sassy 18-year-old whom I’ve had the absolute privilege of watching grow up.

Over nearly 1,000 minutes in an enclosed vehicle, we covered serious ground, both on the highway and in conversation: music, current events, social media, family lore, and big life opinions. We both have firm convictions. Some align, some don't, so the light debate was frequent and the perspectives offered were plenty.

At one point we landed on the October city council and school board election, her first opportunity to vote.  We talked about the role of city council, the work of school boards, how wards are defined, and the value of councilors and trustees in planning, future-proofing, and bringing community voices to decision-making. I talked about the vital importance of the youth vote and shared a piece of my message to the graduating classes of 2025 and 2026:

"Marking a ballot is a privilege that not everyone your age has in this world, and it is a way to send a message and compel change—to have a say in the direction your community, city, province, and country are going.

In the 2023 provincial election, only 8% of those age 18–29 eligible to vote voted, while 38% of those over age 65 eligible to vote did so. Your demographic consistently has the lowest voter turnout, and yet elections have been won and lost by the number of votes equal to the number of you graduating today. 

Politics is not complicated. Yes, it takes some work to learn about parties, candidates, and their platforms, and you need to know what you want for the future based on what you believe and value. But think of the message sent and what might change if that 8% became 38% or more. The class of 2026 has power and influence, and collectively, you can sway outcomes and affect change if you show up at the polls."

I stopped there with an offer for further conversation—before her eyes could completely roll into the back of her head (of course I could have gone on and on... have you met me?!). I reiterated how deeply valuable my engagement with young people has been in my work as a school trustee. They continue to be some of my greatest teachers.

"We all have to vote like our lives and the world depend on it, because they do. The only way to be certain of the future is to make it ourselves."

— Billie Eilish

A bit about me

Although I was born in Saskatoon, Winnipeg has been home for most of my life.  My K–12 education was in what is now the Pembina Trails School Division, graduating from Fort Richmond Collegiate, and my kids went on to graduate from Collège Jeanne-Sauvé in LRSD. We've lived in River Park South for over 30 years.

It was during my kids' time at École St. Germain that I met some kindred spirits on the Parent Advisory Council. Whether they like it or not, 'the ÉSG PAC' at that time sparked my interest in running for the school board—along with a few folks who regularly pointed to 'the board' as being behind certain procedures and processes I was trying to understand. 

I graduated from UManitoba and have worked on campus for over 35 years.  In May of 2019, up until it ceased to publish this month,  I wrote a regular column in the Community Review East as a community correspondent for River Park South.  I am also a member of the Dakota Community Centre Board of Directors.

Over my time on the Louis Riel School Division Board, I've had the privilege of serving as Board Chair for 4 separate terms, chairing all board committees at various points (including the Riel-Evate Endowment Fund Committee), and serving on the Manitoba School Boards Association (MSBA) Executive since 2015, where I currently hold the role of Past President.  I represent MSBA as a board member of the Canadian School Boards Association. 

Exercise takes the form of walking and biking.  Last movie watched was The Odyssey (it was excellent!), and Netflix is a very good friend.  I read to learn and be entertained; currently  it's  Wînipêk, the fully updatedWealthy Barber, and My Friends (Fredrik Backman). I've never met a bag of chips I didn't like (plain Lay's always hits the spot), red over white, pizza and pasta, a hot caramel sundae any time of year, I'll never say no to an invite to head to The Forks, and I have too many plants.  

"We keep moving forward, opening up new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious—and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." Walt Disney

It's been four years already?!

If you look at the date of my last post, you’ll see it was written just over two months after the 2022 school board election. Pausing the blog back then was a deliberate move. Post-election, my readership took a nosedive, so I migrated to Twitter and Facebook to meet people where they were. I used Instagram sparingly. 

Fast forward to today. Twitter rebranded to X, and let’s just say it successfully pivoted to attracting the absolute opposite of healthy, constructive dialogue about public education. It became less of a town hall and more of a digital shouting match. So, bye-bye X; my peace of mind thanks me. Facebook isn't always a whole lot better these days, either. But telling my school trustee journey in pictures? That actually appealed to me. So, I’ve officially leaned into Instagram .

Then, just this week, a second thing happened. We got the news that local flyer delivery is wrapping up at the end of this month—which also marks the sad demise of the Community Review East. For several years, I’ve loved writing a monthly-ish column as the community correspondent for River Park South. It was the perfect excuse to wander around RPS, meet people, and tell local stories. Plus, as school trustees, it gave us a dedicated space to highlight what was happening through regular ward reports.

With the Review printing its final run, that local outlet vanishes. It took me about one minute to realize how much I was going to miss the writing— sharing, celebrating, and offering a few thoughts—all in the name of building and connecting our community.

So, exactly 1,293 days later... I’m baaaaacccckkkk! (Did you miss me? Did you even know I was gone?)

For now, this is a re-election blog. We’ll see where the dust settles after October 28. It’s hard to believe it’s been four years since my last post, but this blog actually started all the way back in early 2010 when I was preparing for my very first run. Sixteen years of local school board stories... honestly, there’s a book in here somewhere. But for now, let's start with a blog post.