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By Carol Goar
Nothing quite like this has happened in Toronto.
The city is filled with hospitals, parks, academic facilities and galleries named after wealthy magnates and well-known public figures. Now three donors are turning the established rules of philanthropy on their head. They are using their naming rights to honour a migrant caregiver.
Late last year, the trio, whose members have requested anonymity, offered a generous gift to George Brown College on condition that a room in its new waterfront campus be named after Lalaine de Vera, a Philippine nanny and elder care worker.
The 47-year-old caregiver had never been recognized for anything. George Brown College had never heard of such an arrangement. And mega-donors, who consider naming rights their psychic payback, had never envisaged such a challenge to the cash-for-adulation model of philanthropy.
The scheme will soon be a reality. On Thursday, Jan. 17, a life-sized bed-sitting room designed to give student practitioners a realistic setting in which to learn, will officially be named the Lalaine de Vera Room.
The star of the dedication ceremony is terrified. “I’m a nobody. I never thought anything like this would happen to me.”
She is not a nobody, said the donor who hatched the plan. She is the kind of caregiver every family would like to have: capable, responsible, warm and sensitive. Moreover, she exemplifies the “thousands and thousands of wonderful caregivers in our city. In some ways, they are the true heroines of our society.”
The idea occurred to him during the ribbon-cutting for George Brown’s state-of-the-art Health Sciences Centre last fall. His family’s life had been touched by a selfless caregiver. Wouldn’t it be great, he mused, to honour someone like her? From the college’s point of view, it would provide a role model and affirm the career choice of students training to be personal support workers. From the city’s perspective, it would be a vote of thanks to the nannies, elder-care aides and home-care workers who make life manageable.
He approached a couple of well-off friends. They liked the idea. They pooled their money to make it feasible.
Since then, it’s been a matter of picking the room, pinning down details and trying to keep de Vera calm.
When she thinks about being in the spotlight, she panics. But when she tells her story and explains why she loves a job many consider undesirable, her fears vanish. “I’m proud to be a personal support worker. It’s very rewarding. To see someone smile when you don’t expect it — the feeling is incredible.”
De Vera was 19 when she left the Philippines. She had no training as a nanny, but she was willing to work hard and she’d seen generations of Filipinas go abroad to work for affluent families. Her first job was in Singapore where she worked seven days a week, around-the-clock for four-and-a-half years. “If they knocked on my door at 2 a.m., I got up and did what they wanted.” Her monthly pay was $400.
She’d never heard of Canada at the time. America was the destination of choice for Philippine nannies. But other nannies in Singapore started talking about working in Canada. One by one, they left. She longed to follow them but her employer, who had taken her passport, wouldn’t let her go. De Vera asked, then begged, then prayed. Finally, she timidly approached the woman’s husband. He signed her release papers.
“I was shocked when I came here,” she recalled. “I didn’t have to do the laundry by hand. They gave me two days off a week. They treated me like part of the family.”
She has now lived in Canada for 24 years. She is fiercely loyal to her adopted country. She doesn’t consider her job low-status. Despite earning two college degrees — microelectronics and sterile supply processing (preparing medical devices for surgery) — she intends to be a caregiver for the rest of her life.
Students seldom hear stories like this. Society seldom thinks about the link between charity and self-aggrandizement. For both reasons, this is a healthy development.
Nothing quite like this has happened in Toronto.
The city is filled with hospitals, parks, academic facilities and galleries named after wealthy magnates and well-known public figures. Now three donors are turning the established rules of philanthropy on their head. They are using their naming rights to honour a migrant caregiver.
Late last year, the trio, whose members have requested anonymity, offered a generous gift to George Brown College on condition that a room in its new waterfront campus be named after Lalaine de Vera, a Philippine nanny and elder care worker.
The 47-year-old caregiver had never been recognized for anything. George Brown College had never heard of such an arrangement. And mega-donors, who consider naming rights their psychic payback, had never envisaged such a challenge to the cash-for-adulation model of philanthropy.
The scheme will soon be a reality. On Thursday, Jan. 17, a life-sized bed-sitting room designed to give student practitioners a realistic setting in which to learn, will officially be named the Lalaine de Vera Room.
The star of the dedication ceremony is terrified. “I’m a nobody. I never thought anything like this would happen to me.”
She is not a nobody, said the donor who hatched the plan. She is the kind of caregiver every family would like to have: capable, responsible, warm and sensitive. Moreover, she exemplifies the “thousands and thousands of wonderful caregivers in our city. In some ways, they are the true heroines of our society.”
The idea occurred to him during the ribbon-cutting for George Brown’s state-of-the-art Health Sciences Centre last fall. His family’s life had been touched by a selfless caregiver. Wouldn’t it be great, he mused, to honour someone like her? From the college’s point of view, it would provide a role model and affirm the career choice of students training to be personal support workers. From the city’s perspective, it would be a vote of thanks to the nannies, elder-care aides and home-care workers who make life manageable.
He approached a couple of well-off friends. They liked the idea. They pooled their money to make it feasible.
Since then, it’s been a matter of picking the room, pinning down details and trying to keep de Vera calm.
When she thinks about being in the spotlight, she panics. But when she tells her story and explains why she loves a job many consider undesirable, her fears vanish. “I’m proud to be a personal support worker. It’s very rewarding. To see someone smile when you don’t expect it — the feeling is incredible.”
De Vera was 19 when she left the Philippines. She had no training as a nanny, but she was willing to work hard and she’d seen generations of Filipinas go abroad to work for affluent families. Her first job was in Singapore where she worked seven days a week, around-the-clock for four-and-a-half years. “If they knocked on my door at 2 a.m., I got up and did what they wanted.” Her monthly pay was $400.
She’d never heard of Canada at the time. America was the destination of choice for Philippine nannies. But other nannies in Singapore started talking about working in Canada. One by one, they left. She longed to follow them but her employer, who had taken her passport, wouldn’t let her go. De Vera asked, then begged, then prayed. Finally, she timidly approached the woman’s husband. He signed her release papers.
“I was shocked when I came here,” she recalled. “I didn’t have to do the laundry by hand. They gave me two days off a week. They treated me like part of the family.”
She has now lived in Canada for 24 years. She is fiercely loyal to her adopted country. She doesn’t consider her job low-status. Despite earning two college degrees — microelectronics and sterile supply processing (preparing medical devices for surgery) — she intends to be a caregiver for the rest of her life.
Students seldom hear stories like this. Society seldom thinks about the link between charity and self-aggrandizement. For both reasons, this is a healthy development.
