Readings CKAP1 to CKAP 31
| CKAP1 Family Tree Activities
Family Tree Assignment Create a family tree with your own family background. Your tree needs to include only three generations.
Part1:
John Smith + Joanne Little ORJohn Smith + Joanne (?) Part 2:
Hand-in both part 1 and part 2 on the due date               
Alternate Assignment Instead of completing a family tree.
(LaPlante, Dwayne. Pilot Teacher. Mount Royal Collegiate. Used with permission.) |
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A. Grandparents, mother, father, son, daughter, siblings - younger & older
UNCLES
AUNTS
Cross-cousins who are older than ego (self) who is male (the speaker)
Cross-cousins who are older than ego (self) who is female (speaker)
C. Other terms of kinship and friendship
D. Other words
(Reprinted with permission from Barbara McLeod, (Educator and First Nations Languages Consultant with the Prince Albert Grand Council and Saskatchewan Learning) in consultation with Shirley Waskewitch and Leonard Ermine.) |
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CKAP3 The Riel Family of Red River Louis Riel, the charismatic Metis leader of the 1870 and the 1885 resistance movements in the West, was the product of a dynamic but tragic Metis family of Red River. The Riel family’s history began in the province of Quebec. Louis Riel’s grandmother was Marie Ann Lagimodiere, the woman credited with having the first white child in the Canadian West. Marie Ann Gaboury was born into a staunchly religious and hardworking habitant family who farmed a plot of land on the north shore of the St. Lawrence River. Marie Ann was a headstrong woman who was attracted to the free-wheeling coureurs de bois rather than to those steady but boring young swains, the serfs of the seigniorial system in Quebec. At twenty-five, she was still unmarried, a fact that caused tongues to wag in her native village, and she was consequently a source of much discomfort and worry for her parents. At twenty-six, Marie Ann married Jean Baptiste Lagimodiere, an exuberant coureur debois, but unlike her more passive female peers, she refused to sit waiting month after month for her lover to return from the rivers and forests. So, despite the fears and trepidations of everyone, including Baptiste, her new husband, she went west with him on the long and dangerous canoe voyage to the Red River country. Her first child, a girl whom she named Reine (Queen) was born in a tent while she was accompanying her husband on the trail. The birth was handled by gentle Cree midwives, who so impressed her with their warmth and kindness that she became their life-long friend, eventually returning to live with them when her husband died many years later. Julie Lagimodiere was born years later, just another child in a large family among the Metis of the Red River. When she grew up she married a dashing young French Metis named Jean-Louis Riel. Jean-Louis Riel was from a relatively wealthy background. He had been sent to Quebec for his education, as was the custom for the sons of the local petit bourgeoisie of Red River. Julie, however, was illiterate, since women’s education was deemed an unnecessary luxury. Jean-Louis entered studies for the priesthood in Quebec, but during his years of study he became aquainted with the revolutionary political ideas of Louis Joseph Papineau, who, together with William Lyon Mackenzie, initiated the rebellion in Upper and Lower Canada in 1837. When Jean-Louis Riel returned to Red River, he did so as a radical free trade proponent. But Jean-Louis was also an inventor and innovator. He constructed the first mill at Red River. Almost singlehandedly, he dug a 15-kilometer canal to obtain additional water for his water-driven mill situated on the bank of the vapid sein River, a small tributary of the Red River. The Riel family prospered, since Jean-Louis was not only a miller, but also a subsistence farmer and free trader doing business with the American merchants in St. Paul. Like his father, young Louis Riel was sent to Quebec at age fourteen to study. Louis, one of the oldest in a family of eight children, had been a precocious child who excelled as a student in Red River. He arrived at the Petit Seminaire de Montreal in 1858 to begin ten years of study. During this period he missed his family and his community. He was known as a lonely, sensitive and deeply anguished youth, especially after he received word of his father’s untimely death in 1864. Jean-Louis died tragically on his twentieth wedding anniversary, leaving Julie and eight children behind. Louis returned to Red River in 1868. Like his father, he had abandoned the priesthood for politics. In 1870 he was banished to Montana for his political activity in Red River. His sister Marie died of influenza in 1873, and his brother Charles died of the same disease in 1874. Louis, unable to return, had to mourn their deaths from afar. Two of his sisters were afflicted with tuberculosis, and one, a nun, is rumoured to have died after a fall down a flight of stairs. The family’s tragedy was compounded when its small fortune disappeared, as the Riel family became victims of political persecution. During his period of banishment, Louis married Margerite Monet, a petite Metis from Montana who was seventeen years his junior. Marguerite was a slim, sickly woman who nevertheless bore him two children, Jean, in 1881, and Angelique, in 1883. In 1886, Marguerite died of tuberculosis, exacerbated by severe emotional trauma, brought on by the execution of her husband on November 16, 1885. The delicate Angelique died of diphtheria at age of fourteen, in 1897. Jean, the last surviving member of the Louis Riel family, was a handsome young man who resembled his father. Standing over six feet tall, and with a slim build, he was eagerly sought after by the women of Quebec, where he received his education. Jean married a Quebec woman named Laura Casult, and returned to Red River in 1908. But Jean was involved in a buggy accident in May of that year. The accident did not seem serious, but by June he knew that he was dying. He wrote to Honore Jaxon, an old compatriot of his father who was living in Chicago, asking him to write the true story of his beloved father. This had been a task that Jean Riel had set for himself, but he knew that he would never be able to complete it. He died a few days later, at the age of twenty-six. He was buried in St. Boniface Cathedral cemetery, near his father. Thus, the Riel family who had provided two of the greatest of the Metis leaders, had left no progeny for posterity. (McLean, Don, 1987, pp. 47- 50. Reprinted with permission from the Gabriel Dumont Institute.) |
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CKAP4 Family Life in Various Traditions To Aboriginal people, family signifies the biological unit of parents and children living together in a household. But it also has a much broader meaning. Family also encompasses an extended network of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. In many First Nations communities, members of the same clan are considered family, linked through kinship ties that may not be clearly traceable, but stretch back to a common ancestor in mythical time. Under the rules of clan membership, individuals are required to marry outside the clan to which they belong. Over generations, this resulted in every family in a community being related by descent or marriage to every other family in the community. Indeed, in rural communities whose membership has remained stable over time, family and community represent the same network of persons. The layers of relationship built up over generations are described in a study of traditional life among the Caribou Inuit who live in the area west of James Bay. According to Caribou Inuit belief, the best marriages were those of first cousins, and the very best arrangement of all was a brother-sister exchange (akigiik) between two sets of cousins thus a brother and sister of one family would marry a sister and brother of another, the two sibling pairs being cousins to begin with. When a cousin marriage occurred, people who started life as siblings, cousins, nieces, and nephews suddenly would become spouses and in-laws of various kinds as well, thus building one layer of kin relations upon another. 2 The practice of marriage between cousins, with restrictions against marriage within the same clan, has been found in other Aboriginal societies as well.3 The problem of intermarriage with close kin were evidently known historically to Aboriginal people. Elders report that raids on neighbouring nations to steal wives, as well as large seasonal gatherings where marriages of persons from different communities were contracted, were methods used to broaden the gene pool of small communities. Aside from descent and marriage, Aboriginal people became kin or like kin in other ways as well. For example, adoption was a common practice in most communities. Some nations, such as the Iroquois, adopted captives taken in war, giving family names and full membership privileges to these persons, who replaced a member lost to war or misfortune. It is still common practice in many communities for parents to give a child to another family in the community. In some cases, a fertile couple would agree to have one of their children adopted at birth by a childless couple in so doing the two families would contract a special bond with each other for life. As well, many traditionalists, having retained their knowledge of Aboriginal language, bush skills and medicine practices, consider it a privilege to have been reared by grandparents within these customary adoption arrangements. Other forms of bonding within a community included hunting partnerships whereby kin groups or friends would share hunting territories to reduce the impact of the harvest on the land. The entire group would use the territory of one part of the partnership one year, then shift to another partner’s territory the following year. These partnerships also often entailed certain obligations to distribute meat from the hunt. The effect of these diverse, overlapping bonds was to create a dense network of relationships within which sharing and obligations of mutual aid ensured that an effective safety net was in place. As Ernest Burch observed regarding the Caribou Inuit: A Caribou Inuit society was entirely lacking in politically, economically, or other specialized institutions, such as governments, businesses, churches or schools. Almost all of the functions required to sustain life were performed within the extended family context. Indeed, to a degree that most Canadians could scarcely comprehend, the life of the Caribou [Inuk] revolved around the family - from the moment a person was born until the time one died.4 As is the case in contemporary society in Canada, among Aboriginal peoples traditionally it has been the responsibility of the family to nurture children and introduce them to their responsibilities as members of society. However, the extended family continued to play a significant role throughout the lives of its members. When a young man went out on the hill to seek a vision of who he was to be and what gifts were uniquely his, it was not because he was preparing to go out into the world and seek his fortune. Rather, he could come back to the camp or the village to obtain advice from his uncles or his grandfather on the meaning of his experience, and his ‘medicine’, or personal power, was to be exercised in the service of family and community. A clear division of labour along sex lines prevailed in most Aboriginal societies. For example, among the Anishnabe (Ojibwa), ... there was a clear distinction made between male and female roles, and public recognition went almost exclusively to the activities of men. The exploits of the hunter, warrior and shaman were celebrated in stories told in the lodge. The legends recording encounters with the supernaturals deal with the affairs of men. The role of women was to send men on their journeys with proper ceremony, to welcome them back with appropriate mourning or rejoicing, to hear and applaud the accounts of their achievements. Ojibwa women were, more, however, than passive complements to the life of their men. They were essential economic partners in the annual cycle of work. They were needed to perform the normal domestic chores of cooking, sewing and child care, but their skills were also essential to weave the fish nets and paddle the canoe during the duck hunt, to construct protective fur robes and roof the birchbark wigwam, to tan the hides and harvest the rice and maple sap.5 Métis families similarly divided responsibilities between men and women as they ranged on extended hunting expeditions from permanent settlements, such as Red River. A woman from a Montana Métis settlement, who lived a mobile lifestyle with a group that migrated from Manitoba to Montana following the buffalo, recalled camp life in the early part of the twentieth century: Our men did all the hunting, and we women did all the tanning of the buffalo hides, jerky meat making, pemmican and moccasins. For other supplies, we generally had some trader with us ...who always had a supply of tea, sugar, tobacco and so on.6 In many Aboriginal nations, women could become warriors, hunters, healers or bearers of chiefly names and titles. But their contribution to the well-being of the community was typically through responsibilities specific to women, including marriage and child rearing. The fact that women did so-called women’s work did not necessarily mean that they had minor influence or low status... The Métis Extended Family Thelma Chalifoux, a Métis woman of senior years who has been honoured for her community service, spoke at our hearings about her experience in a Métis extended family: ... I was not a product of the Mission school. I was a product of a very strong Métis extended family that lived between the City of Calgary and the Sarcee Reserve. ...the role of women ... was to take care of the elderly people in our community. We each had a role. My mother’s role was equal to my father’s. My mother’s role, my aunt’s role and my grandmother’s roles were that they looked after the whole family, the children, the garden, the berry picking, the food, because the men were away working most of the time. So they had total control and roles. The man’s role in the family was to make the living and bring home the money. When times were hard, everybody stuck together. When my grandmother or my aunts were out of food, everybody joined together and helped them out. We were a very, very proud extended family. There was relief in those days, but we never took it because that was just gifts and we weren’t about to take it. The role of the woman...was an equal role... The women’s role within the Elders, my grandmother’s role and my aunt’s roles we were almost like hidden leaders... Everybody that needed advice went to my mother, went to my aunts, went to my grandmother. Even the men, when they went to the meetings and organizing, they never went before we always had a meeting and a gathering of the total family unit, the total community unit, and the women told the men what to say. It was a consensus of the total family unit... Senator Thelma Chalifoux Metis Nation of Alberta Winnipeg, Manitoba, 22 April 1992 ... In Thelma Chalifoux’s generation, the pursuit of the buffalo had given way to waged employment. Métis people (continued) to be mobile, but the maintenance of community life fell to the women.7 Sharing within the extended family helped ease the effects of economic ups and downs. Women were the decision makers and practical nurses, and they were secure in their skills and knowledge. Decisions in organizations, presumably political, were reached by consensus within the family. Clearly, Métis culture in the framework of a strong extended family was a source of life skills and confidence for Senator Chalifoux. [Her experience] highlights the vitality of Aboriginal families and their effectiveness in fostering a strong sense of identity and extraordinary resourcefulness in individuals, particularly those who are now elders....
(Canada. Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1993, pp. 11-15. Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. - Vol. 3. Gathering Strength. Ottawa, ON: Reprinted with permission from Canada Communication Group Publishing.) |
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CKAP5 The Spirit of Generosity Children in Native Cultures often sat in a circle while an older person talked to them of what was ahead as they became adults and what they should do to live good lives. A recurrent message was that the highest virtue was to be generous and unselfish. Long before he could participate in the hunt, a boy would look forward to that day when he would bring home his first game and give it to persons in need. Training in altruism began in earliest childhood. When a mother would share food with the needy, she would give portions to her children so they could experience the satisfaction of giving. Children were instructed to always share generously without holding back. Eastman tells of his grandmother teaching him to give away what he cherished most, his puppy, so that he would become strong and courageous. Giving was a part of many ceremonies, such as a marriage or a memorial to a loved one. People engaged in gift-giving upon the least provocation children brought food to their elders’ tipis and women made useful and artistic presents for orphans and widows. Prestige was accorded those who gave unreservedly, while those with nothing to give were pitied. To accumulate property for its own sake was disgraceful. Unlike communal societies where property was owned collectively, individual ownership prevailed in Native cultures however, property was not acquired for conspicuous consumption but to be better able to help others. Things were less important than people, and the test of one’s right values was to be able to give anything without the pulse quickening. Those not observing these customs were seen as suspicious characters whose values were based on selfishness. While generosity served to redistribute wealth, giving had more than an economic rationale. Core values of sharing and community responsibility were deeply ingrained in the community. Giving was not confined to property, but rather permeated all aspects of Native culture. Bryde observes that one does not have to live long among the Indian people today to realize that the value of generosity and sharing is still very much alive: A high-school boy will spend his last coins in buying a pack of cigarettes, walk into a crowded recreation room, take one cigarette for himself and pass out the rest to eager hands around him... Another high-school boy will receive a new coat in the mail and wear it proudly to the next school dance. For the next three months the same coat will appear on cousins and friends at the weekly dances, and it may be several months before the original owner wears his new coat again. Bryde concludes that the modern Indian has the ability to be content without driving for status through material possessions and to measure others by intrinsic worth rather than external appearance. Members of the dominant culture who define success in terms of personal wealth and possessions are usually unable to view positively the Native values of simplicity, generosity and nonmaterialism. Yet, this value system has enabled an oppressed people to survive generations of great economic and personal hardships, and has made life more meaningful. Giving was the delight of the Indians: "The greatest brave was he who could part with his cherished belongings and at the same time sing songs of joy and praise." Native culture shares with Western democracy the fundamental tenet of responsibility for the welfare of all others in the community. Conrad and Hedin call for a return to the spirit of service among contemporary youth to counter the attitude of "looking out for number one" that is rampant today. The power of caring in Native cultures is summarized in a story shared with us by Eddie Belleroe, a Cree elder from Alberta, Canada. In a conversation with his aging grandfather, he posed the question, "Grandfather, what is the purpose of life?" After a long time in thought, the old man looked up and said, "Grandson, children are the purpose of life. We were once children and someone cared for us, and now it is our time to care. (Reprinted with permission from Reclaiming Youth at Risk: our Hope For the Future by Larry K. Brendtro, Martin Brokenleg, and Steve Van Bockern, Copyright 1992 by the National Educational Service, 304 W. Kirkwood Ave., Suite 2, Bloomington, IN 47404, 800-733-6786, www.nesonline.com pp. 44- 45.) |
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In Traditional Native society, it was the duty of all adults to serve as teachers for younger persons. Child rearing was not just the province of biological parents but children were nurtured within a larger circle of significant others. From the earliest days of life, the child experienced a network of caring adults. Standing Bear observed that each child belonged both to a certain family and to the band wherever it strayed, it was at home, for all claimed relationship. The days of my infanthood and childhood were spent in surroundings of love and care. In manner, gentleness was my mother’s outstanding characteristic. Never did she, or any of my caretakers, ever speak crossly to me or scold me for my shortcomings. Kinship in tribal settings was not strictly a matter of biological relationships but rather a learned way of viewing those who shared a community of residence. The ultimate test of kinship was behavior, not blood: you belonged if you acted like you belonged. Children were trained to see themselves as related to virtually all with whom they had regular contact. They honored valid kinship bonds, and relationships were manufactured for persons still left out so that everyone would feel included in the great ring of relatives. Treating others as related was a powerful social value that transformed human relationships. Drawing them into one’s circle motivated one to show respect and concern, and live with a minimum of friction and a maximum of good will. To this day one of the similarities among various Indian peoples is a quiet, soft-spoken manner of dealing with others which results from a world view that all belonged to one another and should be treated accordingly. The sense of belonging extended to nature as well. Animals, plants, people, and streams all were interdependent. From childhood, children were taught through stories that if this harmony was upset, tragedies could result. All are related, and one’s actions impinge on the natural environment. Maintaining balanced ecological relationships is a way of ensuring balance in one’s life. Recent research by Red Bird and Mohatt shows that belonging to a community (Tiyospaye) continues to be the most significant factor in Sioux identity. This belonging is expressed by vibrant cross-generational relationships such as grandparents sharing stories and legends with children. (pp 37 - 38) The goal of Native education was to develop cognitive, physical, social and spiritual competence. One of the first lessons a child learned was self control and self restraint in the presence of parents and other adults. Children were taught that wisdom came from listening to and observing elders. Ceremonies and oral legends transmitted ideals to the younger generation. Stories were not only used to entertain but to teach theories of behavior and ways of perceiving the world. Such lessons became more meaningful with repetition the more one listened, the more was revealed. Stories facilitated storing and remembering information and functioned as a higher order of mental process that ordered human existence. Competence was also cultivated by games and creative play which simulated adult responsibility. Dolls and puppies taught girls nurturing behaviors while boys were given miniature bows and arrows in preparation for the hunting role. For older boys, team games promised rowdy excitement while fostering toughness and courage. Girls’ games were less combative and fun was expressed through contests of skill or chance. Children learned to make articles of utility and adornment, and art was in integral part of everything they created. The learning that came from such activities was effortless, since the motivation towards competency and group involvement provided powerful intrinsic reinforcers. While play was encouraged, this was balanced by an emphasis on work as well. From the earliest years parents nourished the mastery of responsibility: I was asked to do little errands and my pride in doing them developed. Mother would say, "Son, bring in some wood." I would get what I was able to carry, and if it were but one stick, Mother would in some way show her pleasure. Older children were given responsibility caring for younger children. Deloria describes a grandmother tending an infant asleep in a blanket on the ground. She had to leave so she called her own five-year-old son from his play and instructed him, "Cinks (son), stay here until I come back and take care of him. He is your little son, so do not leave him alone." Her tone was earnest, as if in conversation with an adult. "See that he is not stepped on, he is so tiny - and scare the flies for him." Some time later he was still on the job. While his eyes wistfully followed his playmates nearby, he stuck to his post. He had already learned that a father does not desert his son. Success and mastery have produced social recognition as well as inner satisfaction. Native children were taught to generously acknowledge the achievements of others, but a person who received honor must always accept this without arrogance. Someone more skilled than oneself was seen as a model, not a competitor: There was always one, or a few in every band, who swam the best, who shot the truest arrow, or who ran the fastest, and I at once set their accomplishment as the mark for me to attain. In spite of all this striving, there was no sense of rivalry. We never disliked the boy who did better than the others. On the contrary, we praised him. All through our society, the individual who excelled was praised and honored. The simple wisdom of Native culture was that since all need to feel competent, all must be encouraged in their competency. Striving was for attainment of a personal goal, not being superior to one’s opponent. Just as one felt ownership in the success of others, one also learned to share personal achievements with others. Success became a possession of the many, not of the privileged few.
(Reprinted with permission from Reclaiming Youth at Risk: our Hope For the Future by Larry K. Brendtro, Martin Brokenleg, and Steve Van Bockern, Copyright 1992 by the National Educational Service, 304 W. Kirkwood Ave., Suite 2, Bloomington, IN 47404, 800-733-6786, www.nesonline.com pp. 41- 42.) |
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CIRCLE OF LIFE |
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Vocabulary pedagogy psychological alienation holistic vulnerable efficacy milieu intrusion Traditional Native American child-rearing philosophies provide a powerful alternative in education and youth development. These approaches challenge both the European cultural heritage of child pedagogy and the narrow perspectives of many current psychological theories. Refined over 15,000 years of civilization and preserved in oral traditions, this knowledge is little known outside the two hundred tribal languages that cradle the Native Indian cultures of North America. Indians were conquered by military and technologically superior European invaders who saw them as primitive peoples who had much to learn but little to offer to a modern society. In reality, Native peoples possessed profound child psychology wisdom which might well have been adopted by the immigrants to North America. Instead, missionaries and educators set out to "civilize" their young "savages" with an unquestioned belief in the superiority of Western approaches to child care. Typically, children were removed from families and placed in militaristic schools. Forbidden to use their own language under penalty of severe whippings, their supposedly inferior identity was stripped away. Generations of such cultural intrusion have left deep scars of alienation on Indian children and families. Native American philosophies of child management represent what is perhaps the most effective system of positive discipline ever developed. These approaches emerged from cultures where the central purpose of life was the education and empowerment of children. Modern child development research is only now reaching the point where this holistic approach can be understood, validated and replicated. Fostering self esteem is a primary goal in socializing normal children as well as in specialized work with children and adolescents at risk. Without a sense of self worth, a young person from any cultural or family background is vulnerable to a host of social, psychological and learning problems. In his definitive work on self concept in childhood, Stanley Coopersmith observed four basic components of self esteem are significance, competence, power and virtue: Significance is found in the acceptance, attention and affection of others. To lack significance is to be rejected, ignored and not to belong. Competence develops as one masters the environment. Success brings innate satisfaction and a sense of efficacy while chronic failure stifles motivation. Power is shown in the ability to control one’s own behavior and gain the respect of others. Those lacking in power feel helpless and without influence. Virtue is worthiness judged by values of one’s culture and of significant others. Without feelings of worthiness, life is not spiritually fulfilling. Traditional Native educational practices addressed each of these four bases of self esteem: (1) significance was nurtured in a cultural milieu that celebrated the universal need for belonging, (2) competence was insured by guaranteed opportunities for mastery, (3) power was fostered by encouraging the expression of independence, and (4) virtue was reflected in the pre-eminent value of generosity. The number four has sacred meaning to Native people who see the person as standing in a circle surrounded by the four directions. Lakota Sioux artist George Bluebird has portrayed the philosophy of child development in the medicine wheel in the art accompanying the text. We propose belonging, mastery, independence and generosity as the central values - the unifying theme - of positive cultures for education and youth work programs. We believe the philosophy embodied in this circle of courage is not only a cultural belonging of Native peoples, but a cultural birthright for all the world’s children. (Reprinted with permission from Reclaiming Youth at Risk: our Hope For the Future by Larry K. Brendtro, Martin Brokenleg, and Steve Van Bockern, Copyright 1992 by the National Educational Service, 304 W. Kirkwood Ave., Suite 2, Bloomington, IN 47404, 800-733-6786, www.nesonline.com pp. 34-35.) |
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Discipline Discipline of children was a key focus of raising children practiced by the parents and adults in the old days. My parents really pushed and disciplined us as we were growing up. They were very clear as to what our responsibilities were and what they expected from us. If we failed to meet our responsibilities we were thoroughly lectured on what we were doing wrong. This type of guidance and direction (continued) day in and day out. We were taught to work hard at meeting our chores and responsibilities. Our parents took real interest in these things and how we behaved. They frowned upon laziness and failure and we were always instantly corrected in these situations. They set certain examples and provided role models through their actions and related many of their experiences both positive and negative. I never had the opportunity to attend school so my education was provided by my parents. I was taught our Native values, customs and the language. Their efforts centered on preparing me for the challenges of life. Guidance and discipline in child rearing have always been and will continue to be important values. This must be (continued) and encouraged primarily to younger families. Discipline, through encouraging and communicating to children were the basic practices to raising children in the old days. By communication to the child, they were told what is right and what is wrong. They learn from what they are told and what they experience. If you don’t talk to children they lack direction and motivation and become very negative in life. I was shown respect, honor and discipline and grew up with these. Traditional Child-Rearing During these days a lot of attention and care was given to children by the community and to our customs and values. Children were never removed from the Reserve as families were always found who would take them. There was no financial assistance available and this was not a concern or issue. There were cases of child neglect due to various reasons, however, child abuse was virtually non-existent. If a child was being neglected or abandoned then the grandparents or other members of the family took the child as their own, either permanently or temporarily depending on the situation. In the old days discipline on children was practiced. However, in maintaining discipline, physical or other methods of force was never used. This was accomplished by communication, talking to the children, and using examples such as experiences, to bring the point across. Children were often taught through their own experiences, on the rights and wrongs under the guidance of the parents. Prayers are very powerful and children hear, understand and learn this if the parents practice spirituality. Prayers will provide some guidance and direction in a very positive way for children. A family becomes strong, content and happy through prayers. (pp. 24-25) The quality of family and community life of the Peigan Nation has been significantly altered since the signing of Treaty Number 7 in 1877. The signing "heralded an end to the traditional way of life that the Peigan Nation had enjoyed for centuries before the coming of the white man" (Pard, 1986, p. 85). As with other Bands, the actions of the dominant society since the late 1800s has impacted all facets of traditional lifestyle. The systems that were implemented on Reserves and for Native people broke down family units and systems as a process of de-culturalization. Hudson and McKenzie (1981) define these systems as "attempts at cultural colonialism." In substantiating this definition the authors state: These efforts are designed to explain and legitimize actual control, and historical efforts designed to ‘civilize the the savage’ reflect this tradition. The missionaries, the education system and the health system were all oriented toward objectives associated with cultural colonialism. (p. 65) The children and families of the Peigan Nation were directly affected by the types of programs and policies imposed on the Reserve. The Old Victoria Home was opened in 1896. By the early 1900s two residential schools were opened on the Reserve. Children were also taken from the Reserve to places such as Dunbow School in Calgary. Members of the Peigan Nation who attended these schools vividly recall the events of the year spent in residence: As the child got older, about six or seven, the child was required to attend school. This was a strict policy enforced by the Indian Agent. Some parents were resistant to send their children to school. As a child began their education they were grouped into age categories. Girls were taught domestic responsibilities and chores, and to speak and write the English language. There were no grade levels or academics. This education was difficult, especially the English language as this was new and embarrassing to learn. This type of pressure tended to establish a level of shyness to all children due to the embarrassing attempts in learning language. (Peigan Elder) I grew up in the Victoria home and the boarding school until I was eighteen years old. My visits home were rare. I did not realize I had two brothers and two sisters at the residence with me. I did not know by (sic) brothers until I was fifteen years of age. (Peigan Elder) It was not uncommon for children to run away from boarding school and go back home. Sometimes they would be found frozen to death in the winter. Parents were often threatened with jail terms if they refused to send them back. (Pard, 1986, p.99) With the introduction of boarding school all children within certain age groups were required to attend these schools leaving their families for months. (Peigan Elder)
Education at the residential schools centered on domestic routines for the girls and agriculture for the boys. Elders noted that while removal from families was not desirable, this type of education assisted many people later in life. The health and physical well-being of the Peigan Nation also suffered during this era. Flu epidemics, starvation, and pox-infested blankets significantly reduced the number of Band members to a few hundred. There is a feeling by some Band members that purposeful attempts were made to reduce the population. During this era the movement of Band members were also restricted: "Permits were necessary in order to travel off the Reserve. This Canadian version of the ‘pass law’ wasn’t entirely eliminated until the 1950s." (Pard, 1986, p. 100). Those without papers were fined or went to jail. Closure of the boarding schools in the early 1950s did not decrease the amount of intervention in child and family life. From an educational perspective, further intervention occurred with the placement of children off the Reserve for the purpose of attending school in the surrounding communities. Those who were involved in this process during the 1950s and 1960s recall that records were not kept as to where children were placed. The families receiving these children often changed the child’s last name to their own. Children from the Peigan Reserve also moved to new locations out of the area with these families. The difficulties encountered in obtaining an education in off Reserve schools under circumstances of poverty, prejudice and discrimination continue to be noted as factors in the relatively low percentage of persons completing high school or taking post secondary education.
(Graff, Joan, 1988, pp. 1- 3. Excerpts. Reprinted with permission from the University of Calgary Press.) |
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Vocabulary preordained philosophical mutual compatible conferring prescriptive intrusive normative embodies interpersonal intergenerational deculturalization The land we occupy is known to First Nations people as Turtle Island. The relationship of Aboriginal people to Turtle Island is governed by rules and principles formed in the distant past. Aboriginal people believe the Creator preordained how that relationship should be and provided the tools and the means to live a life that expresses that relationship. The nature of that relationship with the Creator, the natural world, the animal world and other human beings is described in Aboriginal languages, which are seen a gifts from the Creator. For thousands of years, each generation learned the lessons of Turtle Island from preceding generations. The ancient wisdom, the traditions, rituals, languages and cultural values were passed on and carried forward. In this process, a primary role was played by the Elders, the Old Ones, the Grandmothers and Grandfathers. As individuals especially knowledgeable and experienced in the culture, they were seen as those most closely in touch with the philosophical teachings of life lived in harmony with the Creator and creation. Guided by the teachings of the Old Ones, the people survived and flourished. Great nations coexisted. Extensive trade networks thrived. Alliances and confederacies formed for mutual interest, and complex international relationships emerged. Compatible attitudes toward the Creator and Mother Earth formed the basis of agreements among nations. Rules of conduct, whether in peace or in war, governed behaviour. Then there came a great change. About 500 years ago, strangers from across the ocean sailed to this ancient land - Turtle Island - and called it ‘The New World’. To the newcomers, this was unexplored country. They knew little about the original inhabitants, whose footsteps had worn a patchwork of paths and trails across the continent. When eventually they did come to know the First Peoples, the newcomers understood little of their laws and customs and the values that underlay their relationship to Turtle Island: The Great Land of the Inuit is the sea, the earth, the moon, the sun, the sky and stars. The land and the sea have no boundaries. It is not mine and it is not yours. The Supreme Being put it there and did not give it to us. We were put there to be part of it and share it with other beings, the birds, fish, animals and plants.1 The new arrivals had quite different beliefs and sought to promote their beliefs in the hope that the original inhabitants would come to see things their way. It did not happen. The Old Ones (continued) to teach the ancient wisdom about the way to live, how to relate to the Creator, and how to coexist with their brothers and sisters of the plant and animal world. The lessons of how the Creator intended people to live with one another persisted. These teachings form part of the intellectual tradition of the Aboriginal nations of Canada. They are the foundation upon which an Aboriginal community is built. Aboriginal peoples’ understanding of their relationship to Canada and Canadian society is shaped by these teachings.... Elders are generally, although not exclusively, older members of the community. They have lived long and seen the seasons change many times. In many Aboriginal cultures, old age is seen as conferring characteristics not present in earlier years, including insight, wisdom and authority. Traditionally, those who reached old age were the counsellors, guides and resources for the ones still finding their way along life’s path. Elders were the ones who had already walked a great distance on this path and were qualified to advise based on their knowledge of life, tradition and experience.... Elders have special gifts. They are considered exceptionally wise in the ways of their culture and the teachings of the Great Spirit. They are recognized for their wisdom, their stability, and their ability to know what is appropriate in a particular situation. The community looks to them for guidance and sound judgement. They are caring and are known to share the fruits of their labours and experience with others in the community.... Elders are neither prescriptive nor intrusive in their teachings. They live their lives by example, according to the laws of the Creator. When asked in an appropriate manner, they offer their teachings. They will recount stories and legends that flow through their culture but will not impose their personal interpretations of the lessons to be drawn from them... In the Métis Nation, the title ‘Senator’ is bestowed on individuals in recognition of their knowledge and insight. It carries many of the same connotations as the term Elder in First Nations cultures. In some Aboriginal societies Elders are called Grandmother and Grandfather, titles that acknowledge their role as teachers and wise ones. These familial designations also allude to the important role of Elders in raising children. Elders apply their spiritual understanding of relationships among the elements of creation to relationships within the family and the community... Children learned respect from Elders.... From ten years on, more responsibility was placed on the child. Boys and girls had different chores to do. They were encouraged to help Elders with their tasks. They began to learn the importance of co-operation and social aspects of traditional Inuit lifestyles. Elder James Panioyak Cambridge Bay, Northwest Territories 17, November, 1992 Both Elders and parents had a role in rearing and teaching the children. We were taught to respect all our peers respect and obey the rules respect and knowledge for the life and ways of all the animals, killing only the mature and/or only what was required respect and knowledge of weather-related elements and the lay of the land. We learned to respect others, share with each other and care for one another 6 ... Traditional wisdom is both content and process. It speaks of how things should be done as well as what should be done. It is normative. It embodies the values of the people in the lessons that are taught. What is right and appropriate can be found in the teachings. The North American intellectual tradition is, for the most part, an oral one. This means that the transmission of knowledge is an interpersonal and, often, intergenerational process. All that must be remembered must be spoken aloud. The relationship between the speaker and the listener is a personal one. They share an experience. Each person hearing the stories of the past feels the pain, joins in the laughter, and relives the victories as part of his or her own experience. The past, present and future become one: The human voice leaves a lasting imprint on human memory and feelings, because so much heart and spirit can be communicated through the voice, like no other medium. I resist writing down the stories and legends of our past because I have experienced the value of sharing them through close human contact. I also respect that the spoken word is sacred and powerful because I have seen instances where hearts were moved into action simply through listening to the voice of a storyteller. I have witnessed people change after listening to their past speaking to them through storytelling. There is a particular kind of magic or force that reaches out from a storyteller and touches something deep inside a listener, to respond. I have been led to believe that we carry some ancient memory inside ourselves that only the human voice can unlock and awaken, but how this happens I cannot explain.8 ... Traditional knowledge consists of a world view, organizing principles of life, laws of behavior, and a knowledge of the sciences, from archaeology to zoology, framed and presented in a unique way through the power of the spoken word. The spoken word, itself a gift of the Creator preserved by the Elders, is the fabric out of which the pattern of culture is fashioned. This is the content of Aboriginal cultures... Cultures are dynamic, not static - they evolve, adapting to new conditions. But if their essence is not interfered with, they change in ways that leave the core values intact. They build on new knowledge and past achievements, but their foundation remains fundamentally sound. Aboriginal cultures have struggled to maintain their traditional values and knowledge despite aggressive external attempts to destroy cultural integrity. The western intellectual tradition is perceived to be the standard by which knowledge is measured, the superior tradition. Western cultures have considered themselves more advanced (their societies being ‘nations’, for example, and Aboriginal societies, ‘tribes’). Simply stated, the western way is seen as the right way and if Aboriginal peoples are to advance and enter the modern world, they must abandon the North American intellectual tradition (categorized not as an intellectual tradition but as ‘ritual’, ‘magic’, ‘folkways’). For most Aboriginal people, this deculturalization has been too great a price to pay for modernization. Moreover, it is an unnecessary sacrifice. A return to traditional values does not mean turning back the clock. Many people live their lives according to other great teachings and philosophies, some of which are thousands of years old. Elders are crucial if traditional knowledge and values are to become a source of strength and direction in the modern world: Elders are the carriers of knowledge of our culture and our Nations. They should be listened to because the teachings are from their ancestors and are the ‘way of life’.10 Elders are the contemporary link to traditional knowledge. Elders are the keepers of the traditional culture. They know the teachings of the ancestors - the ceremonies, rituals and prophecies, the proper way to behave, the right time for things to happen, and the values that underlie all things. Elders are essential to the perpetuation and renewal of the traditional way of life. (Canada. Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1993, pp. 108-118. Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Vol. 4. Perspectives and Realities. Ottawa, ON: Reprinted with permission from Canada Communications Group Publishing.) |
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Vocabulary assimilationist indoctrinated enominations constitutional negotiated provisions transmission compelled intergenerational coercive compulsory predominated integrating watershed unequivocal The introduction of European-style education to Aboriginal people varied by geographical location, by the timing of contact, and by the specific history of relations between various peoples and Europeans. In some regions, schools operated by religious missions were introduced in the mid-1600s. In other locations, formal education came much later. But if there were many variations in the weave of history, a single pattern dominated the education of Aboriginal people, whatever their territorial and cultural origins. Formal education was, without apology, assimilationist. The primary purpose of formal education was to indoctrinate Aboriginal people into a Christian, European world view, thereby ‘civilizing’ them. Missionaries of various denominations played a role in this process, often supported by the state. Under its constitutional responsibility for "Indians, and Land reserved for the Indians", the federal government enacted provisions in the Indian Act applying to the education of status Indians. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the numbered treaties were signed, and tribal leaders negotiated education provisions as part of the treaties. In the provinces, the federal government gradually withdrew from funding the education of Aboriginal people not residing on reserves, but not without protests from some of the provinces, which were reluctant to assume these costs. In carrying out its responsibilities for Indian education, the federal government turned to the churches, which shared the government’s goal of imparting Christian, European values. ... (In fact), residential schools were used deliberately to break down the transmission of culture and language from one generation to the next. For nearly a century, parents and grandparents in reserve communities were legally compelled to turn their children over to the custody of residential school authorities. Children were beaten for speaking their own language, and Aboriginal beliefs were labelled ‘pagan’. In many schools, sisters and brothers were forbidden social contact, and the warmth of the intergenerational Aboriginal family was replaced with sterile institutional child rearing. Many residents endured sexual and physical abuse. Hard labour and hunger were part of the experience of many children. Those who tried to run away were returned to be punished and rehabilitated. The effects of these coercive efforts at social engineering continue to be felt generations later. ... From early contact, education for Métis people emphasized religious studies, with some basic arithmetic and writing. Métis people in some areas attended residential schools, and in the northwest, the sons of affluent Métis received the formal education of the privileged, often being sent to eastern Canada or England for higher education. Missionaries provided limited instruction to the children of Métis people who followed the migration of the buffalo. However, most Métis in rural and northern areas had little access to more than primary school until the 1950s. According to the report of Alberta’s Ewing Commission in 1936, 80 per cent of Métis children in the province had no schooling at all.2 Among Inuit, formal education in the north arrived at various times. In Labrador, the first school was begun by the Moravians in 1791. From the age of five years, children were taught to read and write in their own language. By the early 1800s, the New Testament and hymn books had been translated into Inuktitut and were used to teach children and adults alike. Christian Inuit were required to send their children to school, and by 1840 most Christian Inuit could read and write in Inuktitut.3 When Newfoundland joined Confederation in 1949, the language of instruction became English, eroding Inuktitut language use. In other parts of northern Canada, formal schooling of Inuit began much later. Contrary to the experience of Inuit in Labrador, teaching in the local language was not commonplace elsewhere in the north. Inuit attended residential schools in some areas and missionary-run schools in others. In the 1950s, Inuit were encouraged to move into permanent settlements by making school attendance by children compulsory.4 With few exceptions, assimilationist education predominated in schools established under government or church authority. Although elementary day schools supported by the federal government continue to be a characteristic of schooling on-reserve, in the 1960s the federal government pursued a policy of integrating children from reserves into nearby provincial schools or boarding children with families in urban centres to attend high school. Also in the 1960s, provincial governments in the west formed large school districts in northern areas of their provinces with some Aboriginal representation. At the same time, a growing number of Aboriginal people moved from employment-starved rural areas into urban centres, expanding the number of Aboriginal students in city schools. Residential schools (continued) to operate into the 1970s. In 1972 the National Indian Brotherhood (the forerunner to the Assembly of First Nations) produced a policy statement, "Indian Control of Indian Education," which marked a watershed in Aboriginal education. This statement sent a clear, unequivocal call for local control of education by First Nations communities and parents. It recognized the failure of federal, provincial and territorial governments to implement appropriate policies to address First Nations goals for education. From 1972 on, discussion between First Nations and the state shifted to restoring control of education in all its dimensions to First Nations parents and communities. Inuit and Métis people voiced similar concerns. ... (Canada. Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Vol 3 Gathering Strength. (Ottawa: Supply and Services, 1996), pp. 434-436. Reproduced with the permission of the Minister of Public Works and Government Services, 2002, and Courtesy of the Privy Council Office.) |
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CKAP12 From Humble Beginnings: Indian Education now Flourishing in Saskatchewan The story of Indian-controlled education in Saskatchewan is a relatively new one, having developed only in the last three decades. Those close to the scene have worked tirelessly to create institutions and implement programs that responded to a 1972 policy paper entitled Indian Control of Indian Education that was penned by the National Indian Brotherhood. The momentous report, which was presented to the Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development four days before Christmas in 1972, was a statement of the philosophy, goals, principles and directions that would form the foundation of any school programs for Indian children. The paper recognized a very different set of standards that Indian parents were demanding on behalf of their children. These principles were often in conflict with the mainstream educational systems of the day and proudly stated ideals that have always been a part of Indian tradition. First and foremost was the notion that "each adult is personally responsible for each child, to see that he learns all he needs to know in order to live a good life." The statement of the Indian philosophy of education (continued): "As our fathers had a clear idea of what made a good man and a good life in their society, so we modern Indians want our children to learn that happiness and satisfaction come from pride in one’s self, understanding one’s fellowmen, and living in harmony with nature." The report went on to identify certain values which have an honoured place in Indian tradition and culture. The authors of the policy paper, which utilized the skills of the National Indian Brotherhood’s Education Committee including Rodney Soonias of the Federation of Saskatchewan Indians (FSIN), knew that any fundamental revamping of the education system as it related to Indian students would have to include values "which make our people a great race, (ones) that are not written in any book." These ideals, the report noted, are found in Indian history in legends and in culture. "We believe that if an Indian child is fully aware of the important Indian values he will have reason to be proud of our race and of himself as an Indian," the report stated. "When our children come to school they have already developed certain attitudes and habits which are based on experiences in the family. School programs, which are influenced by these values respect cultural priority and are an extension of the education which parents give children from their first years. These early lessons emphasize attitudes of self-reliance, respect for personal freedom, generosity, respect for nature and wisdom. The National Indian Brotherhood observed that there are significant differences between Native people and "those who have chosen, often gladly, to join us as residents of this beautiful and bountiful country." In an effort to overcome these differences and misunderstanding, the Brotherhood took a conciliatory and respectful approach in offering this wise counsel. "It is essential that Canadian children of every racial origin have the opportunity during their school days to learn about the history, customs and culture of this country’s original inhabitants and first citizens. We propose that education authorities, especially those in Ministries of Education, should provide for this in the curricula and texts which are chosen for use in Canadian schools." Against the backdrop of the Indian Control of Indian Education report, Indian leaders began the process of change. It was a task that proved to be frustrating as the system was prepared to transform itself only very slowly. New policies were met with open resistance by civil servants at many levels and Indian bands hoping to establish their own schools struggled to find funding. The year 1974 is regarded as something of a breakthrough year in the area of Indian control of Indian education, particularly in Saskatchewan as several bands began to take charge of the education of their children. One of the highlights took place on the James Smith Reserve in northeast Saskatchewan where the community of 1,500 took the first steps in developing their own school system. The then-Chief Sol Sanderson, who later became a chief of the FSIN, is credited with doing much of the early work in creation of a new school on the reserve, one that would see the removal of Indian students from the nearby Kinistino school, a place that had not been meeting the academic needs of James Smith band students. It had also been the scene of an unfortunate, racially-motivated incident that had been dubbed the "great louse hunt" after Indian children were sent home after being humiliated by teachers and other students. Clearly, this "whiteman’s school", with its high dropout rate among Native students and its oppressive environment, was no place for Indian children With the overwhelming support of James Smith parents, the band council ordered the establishment of a makeshift school, which would accommodate 350 students. Under the direction of James Burns, the chairman of the James Smith school committee, a number of portable classroom units were constructed and an existing gymnasium was divided into three classrooms. Within weeks the facility was operational and almost overnight the dramatic change was being labeled a success. In a January 1974 story in The Saskatchewan Indian, Burns commented on the new attitude that had emerged. Previously, the band’s school committee had spent much of its time attempting to settle beefs with the Kinistino School. Suddenly it was not just only a committee that only listened to grievances, but a committee that could give direction to the band council and band members," Burns said. "It’s something that had never happened before". Buoyed by its early success, the people of the reserve began planning for a new, permanent school, one that would reflect their values. For example, James Smith parents were displeased by the structure of the Kinistino school, which like most schools of its era, featured ringing bells and inflexible seating plans that controlled the lives of their children. Their new school, they determined, would be different. When it opened in September of 1974, the school was different. There were 62 staff members and 43 were James Smith band members. Fifteen teachers’ aids were hired, all of them parents of children attending the new school. Notably, the teacher’s aids could speak Cree, an asset that enhanced the students’ comfort levels. Other innovative measures, such as a "contract" approach that would see a student undertake to achieve a specific educational objective and the development of courses that reflected local Cree history from an Indian perspective were introduced. Meanwhile, as the 1970s moved into mid-decade, other positive events were happening in other parts of the province. In 1976, the Saskatchewan Indian Cultural College and the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College (SIFC) were officially opened. Chief Sol Sanderson again played an integral role in these developments. SIFC was created through an agreement between the FSIN and the University of Regina, which recognized SIFC as a federated college of the U. of R. From modest beginnings - a mere nine students were enrolled in 1976 - SIFC has grown to an annual enrolment of 1,300 students. The late Ida Wasacase, a member of the Ochapowace First Nation, also played a key role in the establishment of SIFC, serving as its first director from 1976 until 1982. A recipient of the Order of Canada in 1982, Wasacase was internationally respected for her dedication to Indian education. She was also named the SIFC Outstanding Indian Educator of the Year in 1990. Almost 30 years after the release of the National Indian Brotherhood’s Indian Control of Indian Education report, Indian educators and leaders have much to be proud of. But cautions Linda Pelly-Landrie, president of the Saskatchewan Indian Cultural Centre, there are many challenges yet to be met. "We have come a long way in the last 28 years," she told a conference on First Nation education, sponsored by the FSIN and held in Saskatoon last month. "We have done many things properly and as a teacher, I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing badly. I’m proud that we’re doing as well as we have with the resources we’re given." Pelly-Landrie said the pace of change has taken its toll on educators. "We are coping with change on such a scale, and of such rapidity, that we are now engaged in what I call whitewater teaching." She said. "We are paddling frantically through social rapids, trying to keep our kids and ourselves off the rocks." Pelly-Landrie also sounded a warning for educators who may have lost sight of the vision that was front and center 30 years ago. "We have moved too far left and have become white oriented. Our form of education has been to embrace the provincial system," said Pelly-Landrie. "We must relearn to trust ourselves." "Customs, beliefs and language must be part of the school program with culture incorporated into the curriculum programs, she continued. "Language and culture should be the basis for education. It is crucial for an awareness and understanding to take place as to how we want to incorporate these fundamental values in our education system." As the authors of Indian Control of Indian Education determined in 1972, Pelly-Landrie Indian agrees educators must move out of the shadow of white educational structures that poorly serve Native students. "For too long, we have depended on others to do things for us," she said. "We must learn to accept our own potential as First Nation people and demand that our needs be met based on an equal relationship. "Being governed by others is no longer acceptable." "And, just as the National Indian Brotherhood has opined almost 30 years ago, change must be undertaken in order for Indian controlled education to remain viable," Pelly-Landrie said. "Perhaps our greatest challenge will be to clear the way for a new kind of school, and foster a learning that will arm our children to face and overcome anything that a chaotic future has in store." (Goulding, Warren, June, 2001, pp. 1- 3. Reprinted with permission from Eagle Feather News.) |
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CKAP13 Settlement reached between Grollier Hall residential school students, church YELLOWKNIFE, May 06, 2002 (The Canadian Press via COMTEX) -- A group of northern natives abused as children in a Catholic residential school have signed a historic out-of-court compensation deal with their church and the territorial and federal governments. The 28 former students of Grollier Hall in the Northwest Territories’ community of Inuvik announced Monday they had signed an agreement with the Catholic Diocese of MacKenzie, the N.W.T. and Ottawa to resolve their claims of physical and sexual abuse. Alvin Yallee, 45, the first victim to come forward, said he planned to use the settlement to go back to school to take business courses to help him run an oilfield company he is launching. "I’m starting to turn my life around," said Yallee, a heavy-equipment operator from Tulita, N.W.T. He said he hoped the settlement will encourage other victims to reach deals. But he warned that it wasn’t easy. "It has been a long, agonizing trail," he explained. "One of my friends said it is a road no one wanted to go down. (But) it’s time for other people to make that journey." Federal officials say there are 10 other alternate dispute resolution programs under way involving about 600 abuse victims from residential schools across Canada. In all, more than 9,000 former residential school residents have registered claims against the federal government for abuse at the schools. The Grollier Hall deal - a pilot project initiated more than three years ago is the first of the alternate dispute resolution processes to be resolved. It comes in the wake of the federal government’s announcement last fall that it will pay 70 per cent of agreed-upon compensation. Deputy Prime Minister John Manley praised the settlement. "We now have a process which responds to the interests of survivors and taxpayers and one that maintains our relationship with churches." Norman Yakeleya, coordinator of the Grollier Hall Healing Circle, said the process was like running a marathon, with many hurdles and pitfalls but also a lot of support along the way. He said it was a test of courage and endurance to make it to the finish line. "When you get there, it’s exhausting, but it’s overwhelming," he said. "It shows the perseverence (sic) of these men." "The key to that deal was having the men participate in the process right from the start to the end. It is a very empowering process. That’s a big piece of their lives that’s been put back on track." Although no financial details of the settlement were disclosed, church officials said the deal includes an apology from the bishop of the MacKenzie Diocese as well as training, education, healing circles and counselling. "It’s a wide range of opportunities," said Father Jean Pochat. "Money was part of the settlement, but the biggest part was the healing." The victims, sent to the church-run residential school by the federal government in the 1960s, were abused by four lay supervisors who have since been convicted in criminal courts. Yallee’s abuser was sent to prison for 10 years. Pochat said the key to the settlement was building up trust between the victims and the other parties. He said it helped that several of the victims knew him personally. "Maybe the most important part was we worked in a non-hostile environment," he said. "We sat and talked to people." He said the process has been tried unsuccessfully elsewhere because trust was missing between the parties. "If you don’t establish a trust in the beginning, you’re dead," he explained. "You don’t go very far." But Pochat said some of the victims will never get over the abuse they experienced as children. "It’s a fact of life if you’re hurt bad," he said. "Their lives were messed up. You can have a normal life, but you can’t erase the trauma done." Yallee, who was sexually assaulted along with his cousin at age 13, said he kept the abuse inside for 27 years until his cousin killed himself. Although the pair were assaulted at the same time by the same man, they never spoke about it, even to each other. "We were the closest of cousins, but we never talked about it," he said. "We were ashamed of what happened." Driven by despair at his cousin’s death, he broke down and revealed the assault to a friend, who happened to be an RCMP officer. He said that when he first came forward, he had no idea that he was not the only victim. "I was totally shocked when I saw the end result that so many people that I knew that were related to me, that were sleeping in the same room in the dorm, that it happened to them," he said. "It was very painful for all those years." (Canadian Press. May, 2000. Reprinted with permission from The Canadian Press.) |
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Vocabulary articulated instrumental infrastructure inception liaison multifaceted practicum accredited The Gabriel Dumont Institute of Native Studies and Applied Research (GDI) is the educational arm of the Métis Society of Saskatchewan. It offers a wide range of educational training programs to the Métis people across the province. With its main office in Regina and sub-offices in Saskatoon and Prince Albert, GDI’s programs are delivered to Métis communities on a needs basis. In 1992, GDI articulated its mission statement as follows: "To promote the renewal and development of Métis culture through appropriate research activities, material development, collection and distribution of those materials and the design, development and delivery of specific educational and cultural programs and services. Sufficient Métis people will be trained with the required skills, commitment and confidence to make the MSS [Métis Society of Saskatchewan] goal of Métis self-government a reality" (GDI 1992a). GDI is governed by a board of governors comprised of six members, with four alternative members and an additional representative from the Métis Nation of Saskatchewan. The board members are identified by region, with two each representing the southern, central, and northern areas of the province. Members of the board are jointly appointed by the Métis Nation of Saskatchewan and the government of Saskatchewan. GDI’s day-to-day operations are overseen by the executive director, the director of university programs, and the director of finance and administration. A research and development unit reports to the executive director. GDI is funded by a variety of agency sources, primarily the Core grant to cover operational costs and a SUNTEP (Saskatchewan Urban Native Teacher Education Program) grant from the province of Saskatchewan as well as from such sources as the Métis Pathways to Success Secretariat of the federal government, Métis regional management boards (RMBs,) and local management boards (LMBs). GDI was formally incorporated as a non-profit corporation in 1980 to serve the educational needs of the Saskatchewan Métis and non-status Indian peoples. With more than a decade of experience in education and research, the institute has been instrumental in the development of technical infrastructure and the education of professional personnel for the Métis Nation. As a completely Métis-directed educational and cultural establishment, GDI is unique in Canada.1 At its inception, the institute focused on education through cultural research as [a] way of renewing and strengthening the heritage and achievement of Métis and non-status Indian peoples in Saskatchewan. It soon became apparent, however, that the institute would need to become more directly involved in education to fully serve the multifaceted needs, including the employment needs, of Métis communities. As a result, GDI established a curriculum unit in order to pursue the development of curriculum and historical educational materials. The curriculum unit primarily focused on the development of teaching materials in Métis history and culture as well as other materials intended to increase awareness of Métis history and culture, including books, videos, CD-ROMs, audiotapes, and posters. The Institute’s efforts to strengthen Métis education evolved into the establishment of the well-known SUNTEP program - a four-year teacher education program leading to a bachelor of education degree designed specifically for Métis students. In essence, SUNTEP trains Native teachers to meet the needs of Native students, and it has served as a model for Native adult education programs across Canada. In addition, GDI has succeeded in developing and delivering culturally relevant training and education programs in Métis communities across Saskatchewan. The programs are accredited and cover a wide range of areas, including business administration, law enforcement, human justice, health care, resource technology and management, recreation and early childhood education, and housing administration. GDI programs have been designed with a number of special features. First, almost all GDI programs are community-based. This means that courses leading to diplomas are offered in towns and urban centres across Saskatchewan. Students can take courses and complete their education in their own communities instead of having to leave home to take courses on campuses of universities and colleges. In this way, students can maintain their cultural and political awareness within a bicultural and sometimes bilingual context. Second, most of the GDI programs offer a sixteen-week preparatory phase that includes academic upgrading related to specific programs. This enables students whose schooling has been interrupted or whose academic standing does not meet program admission requirements to gain access to diverse post-secondary studies. Third, GDI programs offer a strong Native studies component to enable students to grow in the knowledge and pride of their heritage and cultural identity. Fourth, GDI provides a comprehensive system of supports that gives students full access to individual and family counselling. Last, each of GDI’s programs includes, if at all possible, an applied practicum phase. The development and support functions of GDI are carried out by three units: curriculum development, research and development, and library information services. Unfortunately, it has been very difficult to secure funding to carry out the very important tasks of research and development. When monies have been available, the research unit has been instrumental to the GDI and it membership in that it provides a wide range of services in the following areas: research and policy analysis, community needs surveying and assessment, program development and implementation, funding acquisition, short- and long-term strategic planning, and liaison and advisory services. Post-secondary educational programs that were developed and implemented by the research and development unit in past years have included Native human justice, Métis business administration, integrated resource management, health care administration, and Métis housing administration cooperative education programs. In recent years, the research and development unit has been greatly reduced due to funding limitations. GDI has sought funding in order to undertake a wide spectrum of research issues that are important in Aboriginal communities and contemporary Canadian society. Notable projects accomplished in past years include a research project on literacy contracted by the federal department secretary of state (now Heritage Canada) entitled "Literacy for Métis and Non-Status Indian Peoples: National Strategy" (GDI 1991) a social economic assessment of uranium mining projects in northern Saskatchewan entitled "Positions and Concerns for the Proposed Uranium Mining Projects in Saskatchewan: A Position Paper" (GDI 1992b) and a major province-wide study for the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) on the topic of Saskatchewan Métis family literacy and youth education (Yang 1993). Again, like its development function, GDI’s research services depend upon securing external funding. The GDI library was established in May 1980 in Regina, and it contains a remarkable collection of uncatalogued materials on Aboriginal rights and Métis history as well as published books and journals. The collection covers a wide variety of materials, including the political, social, and economic history of Indian and Métis peoples documented from British colonial records, Hudson’s Bay Company records, the Selkirk Papers, and Canadian government records and transcripts. The GDI library information services have been instrumental in fulfilling the institute’s goal of providing resource services for students, staff, and community. The GDI library information services are provided through two major locations - Regina and Prince Albert - to support the institute’s educational, training, curriculum, research, and other program initiatives in various program delivery locations. GDI serves 800 to 1,000 adult students each year and also oversees the Dumont Technical Institute, which is federated with the Saskatchewan Institute of Applied Sciences and Technology (SIAST). Gabriel Dumont College, affiliated with the University of Saskatchewan, was established in 1995. The majority of the GDI student population is of Métis origin. In 1992, 126 students successfully completed their course requirements and graduated with SUNTEP degrees (certificates or diplomas in the case of other programs). Between 1980, when it was initiated, and 1990, SUNTEP graduated 370 students, 80 percent of whom were female. The profile of academic and vocational programs offered by GDI changes annually, so any one year provides only a snapshot of GDI programs at a fixed point in time. In its 1995 and 1996 annual report, GDI reported SUNTEP and a Métis social work program in Cumberland House as its university programs. In addition, it delivered Métis management and entrepreneurship programs at a number of locations. The same year, the Dumont Technical Institute offered programs in adult basic education, youth care worker training, General Equivalency Diploma preparation, introduction to office management, business administration, micro computer repairs, computer applications, truck driver training, heavy equipment operator training, and a gambling addiction workshop. Saskatchewan Urban Native Teacher Education Program (SUNTEP) SUNTEP is a four-year program offered by GDI, designed specifically for Métis students, and leading to a bachelor of education degree. It is one of the family of Indian Teacher Education Programs (ITEPs) dedicated to preparing Aboriginal teachers to meet the unique needs of Aboriginal communities. Since it inception, its special educational purpose and unique features have drawn substantial attention from the research community. Some research has gone into exploring a number of issues related to SUNTEP education, including special requirements of SUNTEP programming, factors influencing students’ persistence in the SUNTEP program, elements of peer support among SUNTEP students, and comparison of the differences and similarities between SUNTEP and other Aboriginal teacher education programs. The research on SUNTEP constitutes one of the few research collections focused on Métis education, and it makes a very important contribution to our knowledge of Métis education. (Castello, Marlene Brant, Lynne Davis and Louise Lahache, 2000, pp. 179-182. Reprinted with permission from UBC Press.) |
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Vocabulary exigencies innate affiliation credo exploitation sanctity subsumed commodity secular stewardship pristine unidimensional In the Western view land is lifeless, a commodity to be bought and sold, an economic resource, an inert landscape to be shaped to the need and will of those who own it. The word "sacred" has no meaning or place in the modern Western concept of land. Rather, land is "real estate", territories, counties, states, and nations. All such concepts and entities are defined through the legal, intellectual, political, and cultural exigencies of Western society, which long ago replaced innate affiliation for places with a social intellectual credo of scientific and social progress based on the exploitation of land and resources for economic gain. The existence of an inherent sanctity of the land became the stuff of fairy tales and "primitive" Native peoples. Although many Westerners declare they love their land, their feeling for the mythic and spiritual qualities of the land have become subsumed by the modern conditioning of land as a commodity. Meanwhile, however, the notion of land as sacred has lived on in the secular notions of conservation and stewardship. After the U.S. West was "won" in the late 1800s, a few enlightened Westerners such as John Muir began to lobby publicly for the protection of certain pristine tracts of land such as Yellowstone by setting them aside as national parks. This was the beginning of the conservation movement in the United States. The Earth and the places on it have a story and a language through which that story may be told and remembered. Native peoples through long experience and participation with their landscapes have come to know the language of their places. In learning this language of the subtle signs, qualities, cycles, and patterns of their immediate environments and communicating their landscapes, Native people also come to know intimately the "nature" of the places which they inhabit. Learning the language of the place and the "dialects" of its plants, animals, and natural phenomena in the context of "homeland" is an underlying foundation of Native science. Metaphorically, learning the language of place and using that language to talk that place into being in both individual and collective consciousness of the community is one of the essential functions of Native languages. It is for this reason that Native languages are predominantly verb based and are filled with metaphors about nature that celebrate and remember participation and relationship and make up the body of Native song, prayer, and everyday conversation. Native identity and hence Native science are wrapped in a blanket of the place that has formed Native tribal life through the generations. Indeed, it may be said that Native cultures are the earth, air, fire, water, and spirit of the place from which they evolved. "From this attitude of respect, gratitude and humility, aboriginal people have acquired an understanding of their ‘relatives’ that is far more extensive than the unidimensional kind of information that is gleaned by scientists." (Cajete, Gregory, 2000, pp. 282-284. Reprinted with permission from Clear Light Publishers.) |
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Vocabulary weaned supplication merit protege elliptical bosses apex Childhood: The period during which children were nursed varied. Some women weaned their babies when they were about a year old others keep them at the breast much longer. When a child was weaned, it was given a tough piece of meat to suck and put to sleep with a woman who was not its mother. The woman slept with a paunch full of soup next to her body. When the child awoke, she fed it the warm soup with a mussel shell spoon. A broth made of the scrapings from a buffalo hide was the first non-milk food given to infants. Later, a soup made of blood and berries was fed to the child. Mothers also chewed meat and vegetable foods thoroughly and placed them in their babies’ mouths. Lullabies had distinctive melodies and were usually sung to nonsense syllables. As soon as a child was able to run about, a navel cord bag was tied around its neck so that it hung down the back. The bag, finely decorated with beads and quills, was about four inches long. It had two compartments in one the cord was stored, the other was filled with tobacco. An old man or woman might call the child and take a pipeful of tobacco from the bag. Before the old person smoked the pipe, he would offer it to his spirit helpers and ask them to grant good fortune to the child. In this way the parents assured a continual round of supplication for their child. Not all boys and girls wore these bags for only the wealthy could afford to keep them filled with tobacco. When the child reached puberty, the bag was discarded. Boys abandoned it in the woods when on a hunting trip girls laid it on the ground when they went out to collect firewood. Children were never beaten and rarely reprimanded. One informant related that as a child he habitually threw himself on his back and yelled if he disliked his food. The habit was broken when his parents placed a vessel full of water behind him. As he went over on his back, he got wet and when everyone laughed he also laughed. Children spent a great deal of time with their grandparents and relatively little with their parents who were preoccupied with adult tasks and cares. Once, in telling how the souls of the dead sometimes visit the earth, Fine-day incidentally said, "The old people come back to see their children and especially their grandchildren for the Cree love their grandchildren even more than their own children." When asked for an explanation, he replied, "When a person grows old he has more time to spend with the children and so grows very fond of them." Sex knowledge was not formally imparted, but was acquired by boys and girls largely through observation and the talk of their contemporaries. A boy often attached himself to a young man who was a good hunter and a brave warrior. The two were constant companions and called each other, NIWITCEWAHAKAN, "he with whom I go about." The young man taught the boy how to hunt and fight and was proud of his protege, since the boy’s attentions symbolized his own merit. When there was a large encampment, boys of different bands would play together and become close friends. When camp was broken, one of the boys might go off with his friend’s family. After a time the two would go to live with the other household. The boys exchanged gifts and each received many things from the other’s parents. If one died, the parents of the surviving boy sent him to live with the parent of his deceased friend for a while. The boy considered both households equally his own. Housing The primary dwelling was the hide-covered tipi, constructed on a three-pole foundation. In setting up the tipi, three poles were laid on the ground and lashed together. The poles were raised and the legs of the tripod extended. The rawhide line, which tied the poles, hung down and was staked to the ground inside the tipi. Upon this base thirteen poles were laid in counter-clockwise order. The total number of poles in the tipi frame varied with the size of the structure. The cover was hoisted by being lashed to the last pole placed in position. It was drawn around the frame and pinned together between the door poles with peeled wooden pegs. Thongs were lashed across the door poles at a height of about five and seven feet to make footrests for fastening the upper part of the cover. The pegs for fastening the cover above and below the doorway were about eighteen inches long, peeled of bark except for a section four inches wide near one side. The left edge of the cover had two holes to receive the pin. The pin was slipped into place in such a manner that from the outside of the tipi only the four-inch ring of bark was visible. After the cover had been pinned together, the woman went inside and shoved the tipi poles out until the cover was tight. The bottom of the cover was fastened to the ground by driving short wooden pegs through eyelets in the cover itself, or through looped thongs fastened to it. The doorway was an elliptical opening covered by a flap. The door flap was hung from two thongs fastened to the outside of the cover immediately above the door opening. It was made of hide stretched over the U-shaped willow frame. Two beaded bosses often covered the place where the door hangers were attached to the tipi cover. The smoke-hole at the apex of the tipi was flanked by two projections of the cover, the tipi "ears." A pole was inserted in a hole in each "ear" and was shifted about to regulate the size and shape of the smoke-hole, and, consequently, a draft within the dwelling. Twelve to twenty buffalo hides were used for a cover. An old woman skilled in cutting covers measured the hides and cut them to the proper shape. Then a feast was prepared and all the women of the camp were invited to partake. After they had eaten, they were assigned to be at various places on the cover. A bone awl was used to punch holes through which sinew thread was drawn. The ends of the sinew were not clipped, even if a piece ten inches longs protruded. It was believed that the occupants of the dwelling would become mean and stingy if the threads were trimmed. The seams on which the hair had been were outermost when the tipi was set up. When the sewing was completed, the cover was spread out and the seams flattened with awls. Women made the tipi, set it up, owned it. Therefore, a man had to get his wife’s consent to have a picture of his spirit helper drawn on the tipi cover. A back wall of buffalo hide, similar to that used by the Siksika, lined the sides of the tipi. Hair was stuffed between this screen and the tipi cover, providing insulation in winter and preventing drafts. In summer the bottom of the cover was rolled up on the poles to a height of about two feet from the ground. Ten or twelve people usually lived in a single tipi. The fireplace was in the centre, the place of honour being behind the fire, opposite the door. (Mandelbaum, David G., 1979 pp. 87- 89, 142- 145. Reprinted with permission from Canadian Plains Research Centre.) |
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CKAP17 The Extended Family of the Plains Peoples The strongest commonly held obligation was to one’s relatives, and family ties tend to emphasize the integrated nature of plains peoples’ social life. A close family, always camping together and occupying several tipis, might include grandparents and great-grandparents, unmarried brothers and sisters, parents and children possibly totalling thirty or more individuals, each of whom had a mutually supportive role. Elderly members could be cared for, the horse travois making the practice of abandonment unnecessary, and their knowledge and experience made them invaluable advisors to the young. A boy gained his first experience of hunting small game close to the camp under the tutelage of his grandfather, who also made him his first bow and arrows and taught him about the myths and ceremonies while grandmothers spent much of their time with the girls, beading dresses for buckskin dolls, making play tipis, and helping the mother instruct her daughter in the art of dressing and tanning animal skins. Like grandparents everywhere they spoiled the children, and there was a particularly close bond of affection between these generations. Supplying meat and protection was the duty of the men, and their wives were responsible for the household and moving camp. In fact, men had little say in matters concerning the home: the woman owned the tipi, household furniture such as buffalo-robe bedding and backrests made from peeled willow rods, as well as the kettle and tripod used in cooking the parfleche containers of dried meat were hers, as was any meat her husband secured while hunting. Women walked a few paces behind the men when together in public, and men wore the more elaborate and colourful costume, sat in council, became chiefs, and boasted of their sexual conquests, however, women ruled the tipis and wielded considerable behind-the-scenes influence in any major band decisions. In some nations, where residence was matrilocal, the family living with the wife’s band and family, it was the man’s direct responsibility to support his wife’s relatives rather than his own. Even in patrilocal societies, families living with the husband’s band and relatives, marriage extended obligations to other families with whom there was an interdependent relationship that was maintained through gift exchanges and mutual assistance. This began when marriages were validated by an exchange of goods, which were distributed among the respective relatives, but could continue for several generations as a marriage was often considered to be a union between families rather than individuals and might be arranged for this purpose. Many marriages, however, were romantic ones and folklore is full of references: to girls secretly making moccasins for the youths of their choice to men wrapping themselves in borrowed robes or blankets to conceal their identities while courting from fear the parents would reject their advances to visits of youthful warriors to girls’ tipis when the families were asleep to love flutes and charms, elopements and to Siksika couples going ‘berry picking’ together. A general belief that it was ‘good to get more relatives’ endorsed the concept of the extended family. It made a number of hunters available and in the event of their making a large kill, there were several women to prepare the meat and hides. This type of organization, in which the relatives acted together as an economic unit, was essential on the Plains where resources were plentiful in summer and autumn but scarce in winter it was imperative that there was a large group of people with definite responsibilities who could pool their skills. Also, children could be adequately provided for, should something happen to their parents and rarely did anyone, through age, illness or misfortune, find themselves in the position of having no close relation to turn to for assistance. The obligations of family and relatives were clearly defined and constantly reiterated, often by reference to the spiritual powers that guided actions and ultimately controlled destiny. Taboos observed by a woman during pregnancy--such as refraining from certain ‘harmful’ foods and not sitting with her back to the sun, the Life-giver--protected her unborn child and brought spiritual assistance not only for a long, healthy life but for one that would be lived ‘the right way’ in harmony with the environment, the Sacred Powers, and with his or her fellows. (Bancroft-Hunt, Norman,1981, pp. 45-46. Reprinted with permission from Orbis Book Publishing Corporation Ltd.) |
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CKAP18 Family (Maria Campbell) I should tell you about our home now before I go any further. We lived in a large two-roomed hewed log house that stood out from the others because it was too big to be called a shack. One room was used for sleeping and all of us children shared it with our parents. There were three big beds made from poles with rawhide interlacing. The mattresses were canvas bags filled with fresh hay twice a year. Over my parents’ bed was a hammock where you could always find a baby. An air-tight heater warmed the room in the winter. Our clothes hung from pegs or were folded on the floor, and in one corner a special sleeping rug where Cheechum slept when she stayed with us, as she refused to sleep on a bed or eat off a table. I loved that corner of the house and would find any excuse possible to sleep with her. There was a special smell that comforted me when I was hurt or afraid. Also, it was a great place to find all sorts of wonderful things that Cheechum had - little pouches, boxes, and cloth tied up containing pieces of bright cloth, beads, leather, jewelry, roots and herbs, candy, and whatever else a little girl’s heart could desire. The kitchen and living room were combined into one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever known. Our kitchen had a huge black wood stove for cooking and for heating the house. On the wall hung pots, pans and various roots and herbs used for cooki | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||