Canada Day is coming. I admit, sometimes I struggle with how to celebrate with my kids. I don’t really like the crowded festivals and the logistics of cramming into a space on a parade route, but we usually do every year because, you know, it’s Canada Day and I’m not a total jerk. I’m not sure, though, that those parades, the same ones that we have for St. Jean Baptiste day or Stampede or Christmas, I don’t know that they teach anything about Canada except that here, we really like to ride old cars slowly through the streets and throw candy. But really, is there anything more we need to know to celebrate Canada? This week my 10 year old daughter started reading “I am Malala.” It’s been eye opening for Drama, a girl who’s been raised in a home without want, who has gone to school without a second thought and who has never had to experience a fear for her own life any greater than that of the occasional harmless spider. Now Drama and I are both early morning risers, I’m generally up before 6 and she’s always up shortly after. With 3 other kids in our house this summer our early mornings have offered us some often scarce alone time to chat. Lately, we’ve been talking about the book and why Malala’s experiences are so much different than hers. What every one of her questions have boiled down to, in the end, was this one: “Why does nothing like this happen to me when I go to school?” “Because you were born in Canada, and Malala, she was born…