Saturday, July 23, 2016

Boozhoo, Lindsay ndizhiniskaaz

Greetings, my name is Lindsay. Objibwe, tears, stories, fantastic resources, diverse realities, and resilience. These are just a few of the nuggets from a fantastic week one at Teach for Canada's summer enrichment program. Teach for Canada is a not-for-profit that strives to connect 'outstanding' teachers with First Nations communities in Northern Ontario. I first heard of TfC just before I graduated teacher's college and was looking for a job. I was impressed by TfC's clear commitment to the communities and desire to better prepare and support teachers in the north. It was because this organization offers so much preparation and support that I felt confident enough as a new teacher to accept my offer to teach in North Spirit Lake First Nation.

Unfortunately many people have negative pre-conceived notions about teaching in northern communities. One of the speakers we heard this week, a teacher, Lawson, who had spent three and a half years teaching in Kashechewan, told us about his experience applying to teach up north. He began his speech with a letter he read after being invited for an interview. This letter had appeared in The National Post and was written by a teacher who had had a not-so-fun experience teaching in Kashechewan. The letter told horrendous stories about students destroying her classroom, smearing feces along the wall, hanging dead dogs in front of the principal's house. With such accounts, it is no surprise why it is difficult to get committed teachers up north. Lawson followed this anxiety producing letter with a letter he had written. A letter filled with gratitude. A letter beaming with hope. He showed us videos of students singing songs. He told us stories of students working together and coming alive in his class. He also told us how important it is to tell positive stories about these communities. To not add to discourses that simplify these communities, that perpetuate stereotypes, that reduce all students to 'troubled kids in a troubled community'. Certainly Indigenous communities have all been impacted by colonialism -- the horrific national drive "to kill the Indian" and assimilate FNMI (First Nations, Métis, Inuit) people into the Canadian "body politic" as Duncan Campbell Scott would have hoped -- but each and every community is different, and as such, copes with colonial trauma differently. 

The concept of diversity within FNMI communities was stressed again and again this week. We heard from so many different speakers that highlighted how different experiences can be for different individuals living in these communities. This idea of diverse ways of being extended to spirituality. We were told about how some communities predominately practice traditional First Nations ceremonies while others can be quite religious (Christian, Catholic, Protestant etc.). In addition, some communities can be both religious and traditional and require a nuanced understanding to allow for space for people to live out their beliefs how they so choose. As a general rule, we were told that drive-in communities tend to be more traditional, while fly-in communities lean towards religious practice. (Emphasis on the fact this is a general rule, and again no community can be painted with a broad stroke). 

The spirituality talk was perhaps the most challenging aspect of this first week for me. It was challenging because I am queer, and wondered how this new community may or may not accept me if they are highly religious, and their religion does not support LGBTQ* people. This is an old fear; I always enter new spaces a little cautiously, sussing out how safe I feel. Yet this process seems to weigh a little heavier on me each time I do it. I resent the feeling that to feel safe -- physically, emotionally, financially -- I might need to suppress part of myself, represent myself inauthentically. A fantastic Two-Spirit speaker, Ma-nee Chacaby, came in and bravely shared her story of navigating space as a lesbian woman in a northern First Nation community. Her story inspired me, but also left me with sadness. She is an incredibly resilient woman who has been through more than I could ever imagine. Yet, she emphasized that LGBTQ* people need to be careful entering these communities. We need to hold back a little of who we are, and anticipate resistance. While this saddens me, it also fuels me; as a strong queer woman, I now have the strength to be what I need to be to make spaces better for LGBTQ* youth. If I need to be a little quiet at first so I can be loud later, I will.  

All in all, I really appreciated this first week's emphasis on understanding how diverse these communities are -- through introducing us to both traditional and religious ways of being in the north -- and also how the program delved deep into exploring colonialism's negative impact on FNMI people. We were extremely lucky to have the opportunity to partake in a sweat lodge, a sacred healing ceremony, where we were able to cleanse our bodies and hearts. This incredible experience was one of many traditional ceremonies we got to learn about. We got to see and participate in a Pow-Wow, we got to make bannock, we learned different songs and participated in smudges. All the while taking in these traditional activities, we learned about colonialism's far-reaching impact on Indigenous people. The blanket activity, an experiential learning activity and simulation to represent the cultural genocide of FNMI peoples, was particularly powerful. It left me and many others in tears. The facilitator, Shannon, an inspiring First Nation educator and former member of the Assembly of First Nations (AFN) provided us with hundreds of resources the following day. While my heart still propels around my chest, it is less frantic -- it is now more focused.  This is because each day I am gaining new insights, acquiring new resources, and building a network of support. I am incredibly grateful for this opportunity to learn more and I cannot wait to get started working with youth in North Spirit Lake. Miigwech (thanks) TfC for this chance and to all those teachers I get to grow alongside.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Meet my heart, the helicopter

It's three days before my three week intensive training starts, and my heart is circling around in my chest like a helicopter. With each propeller thought, I am reminded that only a few months ago I agreed to teach for two years in a remote First Nations community in Northern Ontario. I have since learned that I will be teaching Grade 9 Family Studies and Grade 12 English (Workplace, College & University) at an internet school in a fly-in Oji-Cree community, North Spirit Lake. This community has somewhere between 200-400 inhabitants that is connected to two communities by roads during the winter months. North Spirit Lake lies couched somewhere in the Canadian Shield close to the Hudson Bay Lowlands (cue the geography lesson), and sits along what google maps shows as a large lake, aptly named North Spirit Lake. So what brought me here? What led me to decide that going north, and particularly to a First Nations community, would be the right path for me as a white settler, cisgender female, queer, able-bodied educator?

It's never easy to nail down all the particulars of a decision. But here are a few factors that contributed to me wanting to teach in a Northern First Nations community.

Well, there was definitely a practical dimension. How, as a newly qualified teacher, I was eager to have my own class -- an opportunity to develop rapport with students, to plan and implement my own lessons, and to feel like I had a place in a school as opposed to the transient feeling that I had drifting from school to school as a teacher on call. I know many teachers enjoy the unpredictability of teaching on call. Also, how when you come home at the end of the day you can turn off: no marking, no worrying about Johnny or Marsha. But not me. I yearned for more connection. Even to worry -- about students, about lessons, about marking -- because at least I would feel that I had some responsibility and impact on those around me. The three year estimate before having a chance at a full-time position if I stayed in Victoria BC became less and less appealing.

There was also the personal dimension of the decision. Seven months earlier, I made the decision to end a serious relationship. A year and a half ago I had made a cross country move from Kingston ON to Victoria BC because I was madly, undeniably in love and was convinced that I had found my life partner. We were together for three years altogether and the realization that sometimes love is not always enough was hard lesson to swallow, let alone digest. And so starting somewhere new, somewhere unknown, as an independent woman following one of my great passions -- teaching -- called to me.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly there was the political dimension. Canada prides itself on being a cultural mosaic, yet we have a long way to go before we can claim that we are accepting of all differences. The history of our country is deeply racist -- a fact that many of us prefer to overshadow by saying that we have changed. And our national denial and downplaying of racism is, in fact, racist. Stephen Harper apologized to First Nations, Inuit & Métis peoples in 2008 for residential schools. Why can't Indigenous people just 'get over it'? I have heard many people ask. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has started a nation-wide inquiry into the hundreds of missing and murdered Indigenous women out there. That's progress, right? A lot of people believe we are doing all we can. I agree that we seem to be doing a lot more than before, but that is not an excuse for us to become complacent and not confront the fact that there are many wrongs that have not been righted. That stereotypical and singular understandings of First Peoples are the only understanding that many Canadians possess. Furthermore, starting an inquiry into murdered and missing Indigenous women is not proof so much of 'how far we have come'. Rather, it is proof that there remains insidious hatred -- and willful ignorance -- towards Indigenous people (also women) in our country.

One detail that I learned through my process of applying to this job is that many schools in Indigenous communities do not have high schools that go past Grade 10. I was shocked by this. What's more I was saddened that many people probably don't know this. Most people probably don't know that many Indigenous students need to relocate to a city, away from family and friends, to graduate high school. For a country that boasts its ability to educate, and the right of all to access education, the reality that First Nations, Métis and Inuit teenagers living in remote communities would need to relocate away from their families to finish high school seems shameful. Because I believe that education is a tool for empowerment and social change, I felt intrigued and compelled, albeit scared and unqualified to teach in this setting.

As a queer woman, I also wondered what sorts of LGBTQ* communities young people would have access to in these northern contexts. Research that I have done over the past year has told me that in comparison to other provinces, Ontario and generally speaking northern communities across the country have the highest reported rates of LGBTQ*-negative talk in schools (Taylor et al, 2015, p. 53). But I wondered to myself: how would Two-Spirit, LGBTQ* people and issues be received in this First Nations community? I remain unsure about this, but in either case, I know that I will be entering this teacher position from a place of humility and learning. I see myself as an ally, and do not enter this job with the belief that I will be 'saving' students. They will be teaching me, just as much as I, them. And I will be entering this community from a place of listening first.

So on that note, here are my big learning goals for this teaching experience:

  • Listen to and learn from the community (from my students, from their families, from other teachers)
  • Learn Oji-Cree and about traditional stories and practices
  • Learn more about different Indigenous communities in Canada
  • Develop a stronger understanding of what the community wants from my presence and how to be a good ally according to their needs
  • Learn more about land-based pedagogies
  • Learn how to respectfully integrate Indigenous content and knowledge into my teaching practice without inadvertently appropriating it

These are just a few goals I have for now. My heart still knocks around my chest, and there is lot I have left to learn to be an ally and effective teacher in this context, but I have these moments every once and a while where it calms and I remember with such comforting clarity just how lucky I am to go somewhere I have never been before, to teach young people, and to learn from them and their community.

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Taylor, C., Peter, T., Campbell, C., Meyer, E., Ristock., J., Short, D. (2015). In Egale Canada Human Rights Trust (Eds.), Every Teacher Project: Final Report on LGBTQ-Inclusive Education in Canada’s K-12 schools.  Winnipeg, MB: The Manitoba Teachers’ Society.