Every teacher dreams of stumbling into the perfect job. Mine arrived disguised as a government survey and a memo that landed quietly on the principal’s desk.
In the early 1970s I was teaching in Marathon and enjoying life in the classroom, but I had always been fascinated by the tools that supported learning just as much as the teaching itself. The Lake Superior Board of Education had a reputation for trying new ideas and, perhaps more importantly, for looking within its own ranks when leadership was needed. That philosophy would change the direction of my career.
The story really begins in 1972, when I transferred from elementary to secondary school teaching.
Not long afterward, the Ontario Ministry of Education circulated a memo asking schools throughout northwestern Ontario to participate in a survey of their library and audio-visual resources. Having recently completed AQ courses (Additional Qualifications) in both fields, I had developed some rather strong opinions about how schools organized their libraries and how precious education dollars were being spent on audio-visual materials.
I asked my principal to add my name to the list of people to be interviewed by the Ministry.
To appreciate what happened next, it helps to remember the times. Personal computers had not yet appeared on anyone’s desk. Video tape recorders were still novelties. Most classrooms depended on filmstrips, 16 mm projectors, overhead projectors, and shelves of books that were often scattered from one classroom to another.
Yet I had completed my undergraduate studies in Geography and Psychology at Lakehead University and had even learned a little FORTRAN programming while taking statistics courses. To my mind, technology was poised to reshape education, and I was convinced that our schools needed to be ready when it did.
Apparently, I made a favourable impression during the interview, although I confess I have absolutely no memory of the brilliant tale I must have spun that day.
When the Ministry’s report was eventually released, it contained fourteen recommendations.
The first recommendation stunned everyone.
The Board should hire George Bott to implement the remaining thirteen recommendations.
And that is exactly what happened.
Looking back more than fifty years later, I realize that recommendation was less about my qualifications than about the confidence others had in my curiosity. It was a lesson I would encounter again and again: people often see possibilities in us long before we recognize them ourselves.
I became the Coordinator of Library and Audio-Visual Services for the Lake Superior Board of Education, responsible not only for the schools in Marathon but also for those in Manitouwadge, Terrace Bay, and Schreiber.
For the next four years I travelled throughout the Board, tracking down classroom libraries that had quietly grown in isolation and gathering audio-visual materials that were scattered through cupboards, closets, and forgotten storage rooms. Bit by bit, those fragmented collections were brought together into organized school library resource centres where they could serve every student and every teacher.
At the time, I thought I was simply reorganizing books, filmstrips, projectors, and teaching materials.
I had no idea that I was also laying the foundation for an even greater adventure—one that would eventually lead me into educational technology and innovations that few of us could yet imagine.
Sometimes a dream job begins with a government memo.
Sometimes it begins with someone else seeing possibilities in you before you can see them yourself. I had no idea that I was also laying the foundation for an even greater adventure—one that would eventually lead me into educational technology and innovations that few of us could yet imagine.

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