An example well worth emulating

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This article was published 23/01/2025 (271 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

On Wednesday, Jan. 15, 2025, Manitoba and the world lost a human gift, Minister of Education Nello Altomare, who left us far too soon. We would all do well to live our lives as he did — with humility, generosity, caring, sacrifice and courage.

I first met Nello when he was a student in a summer educational leadership class a colleague and I were teaching in the early ’90s in the Faculty of Education at the University of Manitoba. He did not stand out in the class made up of 35 practicing teachers and would-be school principals. To the person, they were punctual, serious, and committed to becoming better educators. What I remember most from that time is that he was a personable, cooperative young man who obviously enjoyed interacting with his colleagues and was quite willing to sacrifice six weeks of his summer break along with the rest of them.

I didn’t reconnect with him until he became the education critic for the opposition in 2019, brought together by a shared concerns about the government’s educational initiatives of the day — mostly driven by what we saw as moves to portray schooling more as a private good than a public one. When he was elected for a second term and became minister of Education, we began to meet regularly, forming a strong bond as friends and professional colleagues even though we were a generation apart in age.

It was during this time I really got to know him as the amazing human being he was, and this is how I believe he should be remembered and celebrated.

Nello was, and remained until the end, the consummate example of what it means to be a teacher. He never pretended to be more than he was, he continued to work at his craft, he tried to present as a role model and he was driven by a deep sense of purpose to help children become self-governing, contributing members of their communities and the larger society.

His love and respect for children was always on full display. Simone Weil once said, “attention is the sincerest form of generosity.” Attentiveness is what Nello lived not only with children but also with everyone he met.

In today’s terms he listened, he heard, and he “saw” everyone as human beings worthy of his regard.

In his school he knew every child by name and got to know them as individuals and made every attempt to know their families and home situations. As a minister, he met with classrooms of children in their schools or in the Legislature. To witness his interactions with them was magical — an instant ease and connection of mutual respect and joy in each other’s company. And their, and their families’, esteem for him was deserved.

As minister, he championed the well-being of children and families at every turn, locally supporting a universal nutrition program and the $10/day childcare programs. He believed that children could only thrive if they were safe, not hungry and were supported by caring homes and community adults.

He believed that all children needed to be taught by qualified teachers who knew them, their families and immediate communities. Because he believed that education was a homegrown, home-fed activity, he supported local school boards and their right to make decisions locally even when he was obliged to disagree with them.

To that point, he managed the misconduct and mismanagement by some school boards with patience, sensitivity but respectful fairness and firmness. He made it clear that they remained responsible for cleaning up their own acts while offering supports they might require to do so, but letting them know that the government would intervene if they were unwilling to do so on their own.

The message always was, “You know what to do, you are capable, so please look after it for the sake of your communities and their children.” In a similar vein he offered support to school divisions with large numbers of “homeschoolers” and those families encouraging them to take advantage of what the public schools could offer in terms of resources and supports.

Still with children in mind, one of his assistant deputies was charged with ensuring that Indigenous communities had access to qualified teachers, and that Indigenous languages and cultures were supported and promoted in their home communities.

That work has already begun to bear fruit in a variety of ways: many children are now studying with pride in the language of their heritage and helping with the renewal of cultural practices such as ceremonies and feasts. And parents in those communities feel empowered to take control of their own schools in their own valued traditions. And children are the beneficiaries.

In my view, Nello needs to be remembered for who he was and what he was. He was a good husband, father, friend, colleague and teacher — one of the best; a person who we could all learn from. He had time for all of us and wanted the best for all of us to the point where partisan politics was secondary to doing what he could for everyone inclusively. He saw the good and the possibilities in many of us even when we were unsure. He was not perfect and not always happy with the way things were or turned out as his cabinet members and staff will attest but he gave his best and his all.

His message to me as he “transitioned to palliative care” (his words) would generally fit with his attitude toward life and those whose lives he touched, “It’s been an honour and privilege to know you … be well my dear friend.”

Right back at you. I thanked him then and I thank him now and our connections ended shortly after that message. And I thank his family for sharing him with all of us until the end. Thank you, Nello, for showing us how to live well.

Would that we all, like Nello, could leave the world a better place for children and each other for having been here!

John R. Wiens is dean emeritus at the Faculty of Education, University of Manitoba.