Due to severe flooding in July, Barnett House will remain closed until early 2027.
The ATA Library is still open and providing resources to members.
Staff are working from home and continue to serve members online and by phone.
The Southern Alberta Regional Office (SARO) in Calgary is unaffected and conducts business per usual.
Most Memorable Lesson
It was my Grade 12 year, and I was thriving! I was involved in all parts of the school community: sports, school play, clubs, grad committee. But I wasn’t the strongest academic student.
I had to work really hard, especially in math, and I believed I needed Math 30 to fulfill my goal of becoming a teacher. (Spoiler: I didn’t!)
I studied for weeks for one exam that I hoped would turn my average around. My parents, who were doing their best to make ends meet, even hired me a tutor. The night before the big test, I woke to the sound of my mother crying. She was on the phone. Her voice was full of pain. When she hung up, she turned to my sister and me and said, through tears, “Auntie Kerry’s had a brain aneurysm. She’s at the hospital. They don’t know if she’ll make it.”
It hit me like a brick. I felt nauseous and my body shook with disbelief and fear. My Auntie Kerry was like a second mother to me. She was only 42 years old. We rushed to the hospital to join my extended family.
After that first long night, I was exhausted and numb, but I still went to school the next morning to write the exam that I had prepared so hard for and felt I had so much riding on. As the exam unfolded, I couldn’t focus and knew I wasn’t doing well.
A few days later, we got our tests back. I sat silently, dreading the number I knew I’d see and feared what this might mean for my future ambition of becoming a teacher. With a soft, supportive smile Mrs. Stepney handed me my test—38 per cent.
I waited until the bell rang and the room emptied, then I told Mrs. Stepney what had happened. She gently took the test from my hands, set it aside and said quietly but firmly, “This test does not matter right now. What matters is you and your family.”
I returned to the hospital. My aunt survived for several days but, devastatingly, did pass away.
I’ve never forgotten that moment with Mrs. Stepney. Now, as a teacher and education leader myself, I carry it with me. It reminds me that, behind every student, every person we meet, there is a story we may not know. When we lead with compassion and empathy, we create space for learning that goes far beyond the curriculum, where it matters most.
