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Inside, parents and grandparents in bright headscarves and traditional
dress catch up on the neighbourhood news while their
children explore a friendly straw-stuffed scarecrow sitting by the front
door.
The laughter and words of encouragement help to soothe the struggles
families face in this community, which has become a
gateway to the city for many of Toronto's new immigrants.
"I have definitely noticed a change since I moved here three years ago,"
Ahmed says. "Rents are rising and families are doubling
up.
"People here are proud. They would not move to the (housing) projects.
Besides, the waiting lists are so long."
Ahmed, 25, is a second-generation Pakistani Canadian who was born in
Halifax and moved with her family to Toronto when
she started university in 1995. Her financial circumstances are different
from most of her cash-strapped neighbours. But as a
master's student in political science at the University of Toronto, she
feels at home among the highly educated newcomers from
all corners of the world.
"This is a fabulously rich community when you think of the education, the
talent and the ingenuity of the people living here," she
says. "I love it."
Still, she was shocked to learn recently that the East Indian woman who
serves her "double-double" coffee every morning at the
neighbourhood Tim Hortons worked as a doctor back home.
At the Thorncliffe Neighbourhood Office, the area's main social service
agency, executive director Joan Arruda says
underemployment, rising rents and a lack of activities for youth are major
community concerns.
"Many have trouble getting their foreign professional qualifications
recognized here and are stuck in minimum-wage and
part-time jobs. So it's a struggle financially," she says.
Most of the apartments serving the community of about 20,000 are privately
owned and no longer protected by rent controls.
Families adjust by sharing apartments when someone loses a job or when
rents rise.
But doubling up raises issues around privacy, children's ability to do
their homework and access to kitchen facilities, she says.
The lack of space and activities for youth is another ongoing problem.
"Apart from a few basketball hoops at the local high school, there is
nothing for them to do here."
There is a saying that Toronto has the most educated taxi service in the
world.
And it's probably true, says Ahmad Shakeel, 46, a Toronto cabbie who
obtained his Certified Management Accountant
credentials in Pakistan and worked as finance manager for a major
corporation there before coming to Canada six years ago.
He has taken Canadian exams to prove his competency, completing Level 3 ?
or almost half ? of the Certified General
Accounting program and has even managed to get local work experience in
the field.
But a full-time job has eluded him.
As he guides his taxi along the Bay St. office canyon, he points out the
towers where he has held temporary accounting jobs.
"There is a lot of accounting work in this city, but no full-time jobs for
people like us," he says, referring to immigrants like
himself. "I worked one job for 2 1/2 years and watched them hire people
all around me. I trained many of them. But companies
hire known people. I don't have the links inside."
Toronto's service sector is full of stories like Shakeel's. Engineers,
scientists, teachers ? he even knows a Pakistani-trained
doctor working as a security guard.
When he decided to emigrate from Pakistan, Canadian embassy officials
there told him he was so qualified, he didn't need a
personal interview, he recalls.
When he landed here, he sent out 50 job applications a day.
"I applied for everything," he says. "But I never received a single
interview for a full-time job."
Six months ago, Shakeel stopped calling the job agency that has been
placing him in temporary positions and dusted off the taxi
driver's licence he obtained as insurance when he first arrived. He's now
driving a cab full time at night.
"Temporary work is not a proper job. It is insulting," he says, adding
that he's fed up and wants to move back to Pakistan. But
his son is in Grade 12, his daughter in Grade 10, and he doesn't want to
interrupt their education. And his wife loves the
freedom women enjoy here.
"It's very confusing."
It's a problem Maria Jones sees in her conversational English classes at
Scadding Court Community Centre at the corner of
Bathurst and Dundas Sts.
One student from China has a doctorate in industrial science and works as
a grocery store clerk. Another has a law degree
from China and works occasionally as a waitress.
"Getting work here that matches their skills and training is very
important to them," says Jones, who has been teaching new
immigrants for 17 years. "But it's not easy."
A new program championed by the Toronto City Summit Alliance to help
immigrants get Canadian job experience through
apprenticeship training was announced in September. A pilot project begins
next month.
Liberal Leader Dalton McGuinty gave the project a nod of support during
the provincial election campaign.
"I am impatient when it comes to this issue ? we have a million people who
can't find a family doctor ... We have over a
thousand internationally trained physicians living in the province of
Ontario today," McGuinty told the Star's editorial board.
And while other provincial governments have made promises to help new
Canadians get meaningful work in their fields here,
McGuinty argued his party's position is different because it was part of
their campaign platform.
"Nobody's ever run on a specific mandate of this nature. Armed with that
mandate, we will become very aggressive."
If Toronto is a tale of two cities, teacher Diane Mohan, 48, lives in both
worlds.
She and her husband, Paul, were able to afford to move their three
children to private school when the public system began to
fail them.
But the families Mohan helps as a board member and past chair of Yorktown
Family Services don't have that option.
"We are fortunate we can make that choice. So many people can't, and
that's why I try to do something in my small way," says
Mohan, a 10-year volunteer with the agency that operates a family and
child counselling centre and a shelter for abused women
in the increasingly multicultural former city of York.
One of the aims of the agency is to take its prevention initiatives ?
anger management, friendship clubs and parenting circles ?
into the community.
"A lot of the programs that we ran and are still struggling to run rely on
classrooms and gyms," she says.
"But now (due to the board of education's policy of charging rent for
community use of schools) the space is either unavailable
or the cost is prohibitive. And so our waiting lists grow."
And the services deteriorate.
The ongoing debate over who will fund 85 pools in public schools may be
hard to understand for people outside Toronto,
where pools in schools seem like an extravagant luxury, she says.
But the pools have offered children so many opportunities ? from kids who
have been able to become elite swimmers and go
on to work as lifeguards or swim competitively, to those who just swim for
fun.
"Swimming isn't like hockey," Mohan says. "You don't need expensive
equipment. And to see those swimming programs falling
apart is so frustrating."
Losing community resources like this just magnifies the gap between the
"haves and have-nots" in our city, she says.
"Families that can afford it are going to be able to continue providing
these experiences for their kids by juggling their spending
priorities. But those families who were using these programs because they
were affordable are going to be shut out," she
predicts.
"What does that say about our society when we can't provide those kinds of
experiences? It's terrible."
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