We have an Elder at our school

I work at school that is not on a Metis Settlement or in a First Nations community. It has a majority of students that would identify, using school terms as FNMI, or First Nations, Metis, and Inuit. Our school is also very diverse with many cultures that are also strong in their beliefs and practices. As an Indigenous woman who went through the local school system it was important for me to support all students and especially “our” students. After having a student move from a remote Cree speaking community and hearing him preferring to speak Cree but not having people, including myself that really understood a lot of the language, I reached out to an Elder and asked her if she would be willing to come and just spend some time talking to him in school. Being able to build that connection for him. It was amazing to see how much his face lit up every time they would talk. Soon other students asked me how come he was the only one who was able to do that. I decided to go and speak to the principal of the school. This eventually led to us having a full time elder in residence at our school. I was asked by someone why it mattered and I answered it just does, which isn’t really an answer. So I had to ask myself “why is having an elder in residence good for the mental health of our students?” I thought a lot about it and this is the best way I could explain it.

I am an Indigenous woman and as such I explain things through story and the context of things relationally. This is how I will explain to you why having an Elder is good for the mental health of our students. As an Indigenous person it is important to me that we have cultural connections at our school. When I was a student going through the local school system there wasn’t always a good and accurate reflection of Indigenous people in our schools; as time went on that changed slightly.

I remember how in grade 4 we were offered a language choice but neither Cree nor Michif were offered at that time. I would have really liked to have had that exposure to my language. My parents did not speak Cree at our home because my mother could not speak it because she is English. My father is fluent in Cree as it was his first language. For myself I would hear it at church as the sermon was half in English and half in Cree. I would hear it when visiting family and friends. I would hear it when my dad would see people he knew up town so I was surround by it but did not speak it. I guess you could say my life was infused with it but not in a way that helped me to speak it.

In grade 9 we were offered Cree language but it was not taught by a Cree speaker. Rather it was taught by the French teacher and while she was nice, when we students would bring up cultural experiences she could not relate to us and we would often try to explain it to her. She would then tell us that we needed to move on and was not able to put those experiences we were talking about into a context. She would put on the tape so we could listen to the lesson and we would move on. It felt like our language and experiences weren’t important.

Throughout the grades we learned about Indigenous people as though we were dead, extinct and savage. We learned that people were crazy and bad; we learned that we were put down in the rebellions that were simply something minor and not anything big in the Canadian context; while my family taught me something else. My family taught me that one of my Mosom’s was killed in the great war and that his body was treated badly and we were not able to bring him back home. I was told we were not allowed to do anything and we were not allowed to ask questions or talk about our culture. If we participated in cultural practices we learned we were not allowed to let anyone know in case we would get in trouble. I heard from my family that schools were bad and that they hated us because we were “Indian”; that schools took away our language and our culture and were a place that mistreated us. In fact I heard stories from my cousins about how terrible teachers could be.

What I learned without knowing it was that this great war my family talked about, the one where we lost family, where people starved and died was not world war 1 but the 1885 north west rebellion. It was a war of survival and it was not actually a rebellion as much as it was about sovereignty. I was learning from my family a version of Canadian history. I learned that we had a way of life before colonization and that it was good. We had our own political governance structures, our own independence, our own revenue and that all these things allowed us to be who we were. I learned that when the Europeans came we lost that. I learned that there were treaties designed to allow the new people to share the land with us and I learned that did not happen. We lost a lot of our way of life through legislation that was imposed on us and through schools that were created to erase from our memories who we are. All these things have created legacies of both historical trauma and Intergenerational trauma.

So why am I telling you this, my children went through this school system trying to also connect with their identity, their culture and their language. They had a few opportunities, through a Cree language program, native arts classes and the opportunities given to them in high school. They had class debates where they were told by classmates that it was a long time ago and they should just get over it. My son asked me why his grade 7 social studies book called us savages and when I asked him what he learned he said that we are not very well educated and that our culture is mostly gone. This did not contribute very well to their positive identity. As my children are now adults one of the things that have discussed is the power of having someone who reflects who you are in the school.

The Elder at the school now was in the school when I was in high school. She did not have this same role and was not allowed the same conversations that she has now. We often talked and while I didn’t tell her anything personal it was really nice to have her there. She was around at the high school when my children were there. My kids knew that she would understand and that she would be a support if she could be. If she was allowed. These were not her roles at those times. We connected it because of cultural connections. She understood when I said I’m going to another funeral and didn’t say “how many funerals can you go to” making it seem like I was lying. She simply said I understand, that must be hard. She didn’t ask questions and didn’t say anything to my teachers.

In high school we also had another Metis lady who was good to talk to and when my cousin was murdered I tried talking to her about it but she wasn’t allowed to talk to me because again that was not her role. She told me that she was sorry but that she would get into trouble if she did talk to me about it. I could not talk to anyone else about it as there was nobody there who would understand. The two ladies that could have understood were limited by expectations surrounding their job.

Having an Elder in the school would have helped me. Having an Elder in the school would have helped my children because there are somethings that you do not have to explain why its happening they simply know. They simply nod and understand. Having that person who understands; that you are going to a wake, that you are having a rites of passage ceremony, that this is the 5th grandparent you have lost, is important. It allows you to be connected in a positive and healthy way, it creates comfort and safety and allows someone to explain the cultural aspect to your teacher when no one else can so that you do not have to. Indigenous people need those relationships, those connections and the understanding that it brings.

Having an Elder at the school allows staff to Indigenize the content and bring the curriculum into context through the oral histories and traditional teachings. It build a student’s pride in themselves, their language and cultural. It teaches other students that stereotypes that exist are not truths and it allows those students to connect with a culture that they might not otherwise be exposed to. It gives pride to parents and the community as a whole and it allows us to see that even though schools were a place that tried to make us forget who we were, that this school, our school is trying to help heal that wound. It helps not only the school, the students, the families but it helps everyone and that is why it is good for students mental health.

Walking

I am walking, feeling the rhythm, I hear the distant beat of drums. They call to me, telling me to come home.

I try to find my way, I stumble and fall, I rise and follow the sound, growing stronger like a heartbeat. I hear the voices of my ancestors calling me, “Nosim, you will be ok, granddaughter do not be afraid, you will find the way.” 

I walk closer to the earth, feeling more grounded and connected as I stand barefoot on the earth. I search, sometimes stumbling as my walk gets closer. I feel the heartbeat of the earth as I walk under the sky. I know that Creator is showing me the way. I am walking back to myself, back home, finding comfort in the old ways. 

Ceremony calls. I let go of my pain. I let go of my fear. I am walking a new yet old road.

I am walking, feeling the rhythm, I hear the not so distant beat of drums. They call to me, telling me I am home. 

Broken Bowl – The story of my bowl

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The broken bowl, the idea is that we are all similar to bowls, we carry around with us the experiences of our lives and somehow we are able to put ourselves back together. This doesn’t always happen right away but it does happen. It is a process that we sometimes need help with and sometimes we are able to do this ourselves. I had thought of doing this project previously but had not stopped to take the time to gather what I needed. When my supervisor asked me if I would help her with it I thought that it was a good chance to try it out.

As we sat at the board room table painting the gesso on the bowls I was contemplating. I considered what I would put on the bowl, what would it reflect about my grief and loss. I thought about how my parents had separated when I was in grade 7. I thought about the addictions and violence that was in my childhood home prior to their separation. I thought about all the people that I loved and had since lost over time. All these experiences contributed to who I am, they have made me the person that I am and shaped the destiny that I have followed. I put these thoughts aside for a bit while I went back to my regular work day but I felt unsettled. I went online and looked at some quotes on grief and loss. Some were so depressing and some were way to “I shall overcome”. These experiences sat with me while I ran a group for self esteem and I continued to feel as though I needed to let go of some of the thoughts. I was glad to be able to start the project. I knew what I wanted to start with.

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When I went to break the bowl and I had a difficult time to do this. I didn’t want to many shattered pieces; it was as though I didn’t want to have as many broken pieces of the bowl as there might actually be in my life. I also felt guilty breaking the bowl as it did represented part of me, I asked my husband to do it for me. I had to explain the idea behind the bowl and as always he helped me. I brought it back to the office to begin this process. I placed all the pieces out on the table and contemplated. Then I decided that the place where the bowl had been broken was similar to my heart. So I decided to paint a red heart around the hole. This was the start of a several hour process. I then decided that I wanted blue sparkle paint over the top of the heart and black sparkle paint at the bottom. The reason for the sparkles, without the darkness there is no light. The reason for the blue above is because when I feel sad I go outside, turn my face towards the sun, close my eyes and look up. The sky makes me remember that there is light when there is darkness.
Next I drew. I decided that it would be easier to draw what I wanted to paint. I decided at that point to draw like I was a little kid. So I drew my family. I drew my mom between two of the broken pieces because my mom was always trying to keep us together. It didn’t always work and if the power of love and her will could have kept us all ok, it would have.

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I drew all of us holding hands because we always went everywhere together. Sometimes as kids we hated that, there were 5 of us kids and we all received the same amount, no one ever really got anything more than the other. We even used to divide a box of smarties between all of us and any extra went to my parents. I put my dad on the other side of us kids because of the separation and his leaving. On the same side as my dad I drew a house. We lived in a trailer that had green stripes on it.

We lived in Kikino Metis Settlement, so I drew trees because we were always climbing trees and outside exploring. I also drew the river because in the summer we would go swimming in the river almost every day with all the other kids on our road.

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When I painted the sun it was high in the sky but underneath the storm clouds is a sunset because everything changed and my life living out of town and being free to roam around ended when my parents separated. The sunset is attached to the black because I thought I would never get over losing my home, the land that I used to run barefoot on and the freedom that I had.

My family continued to change and that broke my heart. It was like there was a huge hole in my heart and I thought everyone who met me could tell just by looking at me. I turned inside myself for a long time. It then felt strange to glue the bowl together again. It felt like I should be able to make it look the same and hide the cracks but I couldn’t. Then I remembered that my experience created who I am and it doesn’t define me. Its just a part of me.

Once it was time to paint the inside of my bowl this too was hard to decide what to do. There was a huge hole in the side of the bowl. I tried filling it with some of the pieces from the bowl and while it covered it up it didn’t change the fact that there was a gaping hole in the bowl. Then I saw a heart that I had been given by a stranger at the truth and reconciliation event in Edmonton. I decided that I would put that on the hole. This heart said compassion. I thought it was a reflection of how other people have helped me to heal and move forward as well as a reflection of self-care. So I glued it over the hole. I’m not perfect, I have healed some of my emotional pains but it will always be something that stays with me. I painted the inside of the bowl black and then turquoise. I then decided that although the cracks will always be there I have learned some things about myself and being resilient so I decided that I would use sparkle glue to make the cracks stand out but they are the same colour as the paint so its really only if you look closely will you have the benefit of seeing the beauty that comes from the breaks.

Finally I put 4 quotes into the inside of my bowl. These quotes both remind and encourage me. The first is written on the black teardrop in the center of the bowl. It says “The darkest of nights produces the brightest stars.” Again to remind me that even in the darkness I can shine. The next quote is “Sometimes in tragedy we find our life’s purpose.” This is because I became a counselor because of my experiences and I try to help others with theirs. The third is “It is perfectly okay to admit you’re not okay” This is to remind me that I also have to take care of myself. The last quote is personal and a quote by someone named John Graham. It says “I survived because the fire inside of me burned brighter that the fire around me.” This is to always remind me that I am alright and that I can be alright. In all the difficult situations that have happened in my life, I have walked through the other side.

What is your bowl’s story?

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“The darkest nights produce the brightest stars”

Medicine Gifts 

One summer several years ago when we were camping at mile seven. My Aunt, my fathers first cousin, Alsena met us there. We had been camping for several days when Auntie Alsena joined us. One afternoon we spent picking medicines and ĺearning about the plants that we were picking when Alsena told us that her friend Diane was going to meet up with us. She had camped there with us before. When Dianne showed up she had brought sage and sweet grass with her. We learned about creating sage bundles and sweetgrass braids. Once we finished making the braids and bundles we took them and hung them up to dry in the breeze off the lake. 

Then we began to clean the roots and prep the medicines. As we were cleaning the medicines Dianne and Alsena were telling stories of the medicines and how we got them. 

One of the medicines was spruce gum. This medicine, spruce gum, was/is used as an antiseptic. It helped to hold skin together when someone was injured. It was/is used to treat colds and is added to other medicines depending on the need.  The story we were told was about the gift of spruce gum and how badger gave it to us. The badger told the people how to use it for medicine and food. Alsena said that one man was lost in the bush for two weeks in the winter and he ate spruce gum to help sustain his body. 

There are so many plants that can help people with their health, it’s important that we keep this knowledge strong and that we spend time with those who know how to treat people.