Agreeing to teach print journalism to fourth year and graduate students at Ryerson University presented challenges on several levels.

All my teaching experience, long, long ago, had been at the high school level, and my knowledge of print journalism was from over three decades as editor of a country weekly. The basics of many stages in the history of printing were very familiar parts of my repertoire, from monotype to IMac and everything in between. PhotoLab was as routine to me as had been basic dark room procedures, with 4x5 cut film and the old Speed Graphic. Ryerson “discovered” me when one of their professors visited our small Quebec village to get a handle on authentic rural Canadian journalism. I took the job at Ryerson because I thought I would be able to share adventures and information, and learn a great deal from the likes of Don Gibb and Stuart McLean, who were teaching there, then.

Well, as it turned out, these people were not accessible. No facilities were in place for new staff to meet these icons so I just did my best with the students to whom I had been assigned and bussed back to Ottawa on the weekends. I did get to know Claude Lajennesse, who served as president of Ryerson when it was morphing from a technical college into a full-fledged University.

Despite some bad revues after his ten years at Rye, I found Lajeunesse to be a forward looking man with good intentions for Ryerson. As for my colleagues on the teaching roster, I had no way of knowing.

I had thought that as an instructor in the same school, we might meet in the lunch room or some common place somewhere but that’s not the way things happened while I was at Ryerson. There was no access to other staff for a new instructor like me.

The only one with whom I had opportunity to converse was the man with whom I shared an office. Early in the session he told me I must NEVER let the students question HIS opinion. This admonition, which was actually an order, came after I had told a student that type style was “a matter of opinion.” Apparently the other instructor had selected the style to be used and wanted his word to be law.

Tempting as it was to end my connection with Ryerson that day, I stuck it out to the end of the term. All things considered, the Ryerson experience was an adventure not to be missed and I learned more than I taught.

Life is like that. You can always learn more, and it’s always worth the trouble.