My Teacher Inquiry Project

Today I was going to write about team mascots, based on something I read online today.  I was mad though and decided to leave it be. Suffice it to say, my last teaching position was in a school with an Indian logo and team name.  I did bring it up with the Principal but have no idea if anything was done about it.  One of the challenges of taking on the administration is knowing how far out you are willing to stick your neck and the precariousness of my position (temporary, term-specific) meant that I was not feeling all that confident.  I will try and write a proper piece on the general topic when I am up to it.  Would like to do some follow-up research as well.  My students last year did a great unit and project on the subject but we were at a different school. Anyways...

On Monday, I start my teacher inquiry project at the BCTF.  I submitted a research question on behalf of the Aboriginal Education Association PSA (provincial specialist association), which is a different entity than the AEACommittee, which I usually work on behalf of.  I know, SO MANY acronyms that are essentially the same ones, with slight differences...I know a lot of people that confuse the two groups.  It doesn't help that many of the same people hold both committee positions and executive positions in the PSA.  The nature of the beast.  At any rate, what follows is our initial research question and the rationale for it.  The question will evolve as the inquiry meets and discusses it, becoming more focussed and perhaps less broad, I hope.  I am waiting to figure out the best methodology and documentation of the inquiry (I want to film it, but my resources are committed and I didn't book the BCTF's in time for the initial meeting.  I am also not comfortable  just showing up and setting up a camera for the group without their prior consent).  It will probably be better to gain a consensus from the group on how to proceed rather than impose my own wishes upon it.  I will also wait to hear what they have to say before I blog too much about it.

How is the learning of students affected by the health and well-being of Indigenous teachers who are streamed into enrolling and itinerant categories?


Rationale

Indigenous teachers are burning out, equity needs to be met and aboriginal students’ needs are not being met. The association would like to explore the implications around this issue and look towards making recommendations to ensure needs of indigenous students and teachers are being met.

It is a fact that there are few indigenous teachers. So much needs to be done, it is hard not to feel the need to do it all, taking on all cultural work and assisting all teachers involved. Indigenous teachers, whether itinerant or enrolling, often feel pressured to step up and meet the diverse needs of indigenous students and their communities. They are often streamed into being a cultural broker, asked to balance the needs of a western education system with the different pedagogical needs of an Indigenous way of life. While the general term for this challenging position is “living in both worlds”, it may be more accurate to say that these teachers are living in the space where these two worlds collide, which may be resulting in the loss of some present and experienced indigenous teachers. The differing value systems, as well as the ongoing legacies of colonization (lack of sense of belonging, little appreciation of cultural values, substance abuse, alcohol abuse, high death rates, high suicide rates) have resulted in a decreased sense of well-being and belonging in both worlds for the Indigenous teacher.

Additionally, the streaming tendency of the education system, the use of targeted dollars to hire Indigenous teachers to work in itinerant, Aboriginal education settings, removed from the classroom, creates issues that affect Aboriginal students’ sense of self worth. How their role models are viewed by the education system does have an effect on their own view of themselves.

Within the school system, students need support, where these issues can be addressed. Students need to see aboriginal teachers in core classes, not only itinerant staff supporting aboriginal students. Each group of these teachers are often isolated from each other and their low numbers deny them a strong voice to advocate for their needs and the needs of Aboriginal students. The Association wishes to research this issue, determine the extent of these dysfunctional experiences and develop strategies to create cohesive worldviews. Acknowledgement and respect for the diversity of different ways of knowing leads to a strengthened sense of self-worth in teachers and students.

Some Inspiring Moments this Past Week

Hi everyone,
I hope this post finds you well.  There is still snow on the ground outside, and considering it is March and it showed up at the end of February after a winter of no snow, I am impressed with it.  A short twenty minute drive away, there is no snow whatsoever.
 
I just returned from Prince George where I had the opportunity to visit the Aboriginal Choice School.  I went in my official capacity as Chair of the BCTF Aboriginal Education Advisory Committee.  I was very happy to have been able to do this and while I would love to write a more in-depth story about the visit, I forgot to ask permission to do so.  Suffice it to say, the school is going through some growing pains and faces many challenges, but I was impressed with what I witnessed and the ideas that the Principal shared were exciting.  I went in there wanting to like the school and I came out liking it.  I asked the questions that needed to be asked about curriculum and teacher training and development and got the answers I expected.  It was positive.

There was no answer to the last question I had for them though: How can I support you?  I am going to report to the AEAC what I witnessed and encourage the committee to find ways to support the teachers and students at the Aboriginal Choice School.  They are trying something different and I hope it is a success.

While I was in Prince George, I was also tasked with presenting a couple of workshops at the North Central Zone Professional Development Day.  I was very pleased to see the turnout (27 in the first session, 22 in the second), I almost didn't have enough room in the class I was given.  I was intimidated by the numbers, but I am thrilled to report that it seemed to go very well both times.  I even had a few teachers from the Choice school in attendance.  The groups were thoughtful, articulate and willing to learn, teach and share. 

I did the Working with Aboriginal Youth workshop that was designed at BCTF, although to be honest, I don't use any of their material, I have tried to make it my own by throwing out the facilitator notes and asking the group, in a circle, what are they hoping to learn by coming here today.  From there we explore the history and lived experience of Aboriginal youth that could be called shared and then move into more specific needs.  This workshop has always vexed me a little bit.  I worry about the stigma of needing a course to explore strategies for working with our youth, but I am happy to point out that the teachers present are recognizing that it isn't the students that need to change or be strategized about, instead it is the teachers and the system that needs to change to become welcoming and safe for our youth.  The feedback seems to indicate that all youth benefit from this.  The workshop is less a workshop than it is a conversation.

I also had a chance to see my Grandma and an Aunt and my cousin and her family, whom I haven't seen, or really spoken to, in years.  I almost didn't contact them to tell them I was coming, I am not good at family things, or small talk, or being social in general...  I am glad I did though.  It was a great reunion, and Grandma was very happy that I had visited (at least I think she was happy to see me).  Plus the snow in her yard was higher than I am tall, it was so cool.

In other news, I wanted to share with you that I participated in a short interview with Brian Barry, a teacher and blogger from Nunavut, for his "A Short Conversation with..." series on his blog Against the Wind.  If you are interested, it can be found here.  It was fun to be a part of it.

I want to thank Starleigh for her wonderful guest post, Where are the Berries?  It was thoughtful, exciting to read and inspiring.  Her story is an excellent reminder of everything we take for granted and the need to be open to listening and learning about all that surrounds us.  Her blog is Twinkle's Happy Place.  I did provide a guest post for her as well, and I hope that we are able to collaborate that way again.

Finally, two posts on Shannon Smith's blog Shannon In Ottawa, "Tell New Stories" and "What is your 'Why'" have been haunting me a little bit.  Part of that is because she completely stole my thunder on a planned post about Thomas King's The Truth About Stories, but also because I have been considering the importance of stories and the new means of storytelling that are available to share what we have learned and what needs to be learned for our youth, cultures and identities to survive and flourish.  Thank you Shannon, for mentioning me in your post, but also for reminding us of the need to learn and share as we do.  As well, you also have me thinking about my "why" as well.

So, all in all, I was very happy with the week that was.  Thought I'd share.

Guest Post- Where Are the Berries?

Please welcome a guest post today from Starleigh Grass, a friend and colleague of mine.  Her blog is Twinkle's Happy Place.

Hi,

I'm Starleigh and I'm Rob's virtual friend (we connect using multiple platforms) and fleshy friend (I've met the man in person!).

I'm your guest blogger for today. This post is about berries, which might seem random, but I promise that if you keep reading it will all make sense in the end.

As a youth I spent much of my life in the Okanagan Valley. My mother grew up in the Chilcotin, but left for social and economic reasons so we grew up away from our traditional territory. In the Okanagan we lived across the road from a ravine, and a few Saskatoon berry bushes grew on the edge of the ravine. My mother loathed those berries.

She said that they were dry and seedy and not good and warned us that if we ate too many we would get sick.

Nevertheless, we'd rush any berry bush we could and grope that the homely branches, first clearing out the dark purple berries, then the light purple ones, and finally we'd eat a few of the pink ones with purple botches just to confirm that they were, in fact, inedible.

She scorned those berries for their shortcomings. They had no flavour, they were mealy. We were kids, though, and we didn't care. We just thought that it was cool that you could go outside and voila, food was there waiting on a bush.

Then one year we went berry picking on the Chilcotin plateau, on my traditional territory, with my grandmother and all of a sudden I got it. Those berries... they were like blueberries but better. They were moist and soft and practically seedless. They were smaller than the berries across the road from our house but they had a hundred times more flavour.

In the valley we'd swarm a stand of berry bushes like locusts, emptying the few scrawny plants in minutes and leaving nothing for the birds. On the plateau there was full bush after full bush and you could pick dark purple bucket after bucket for hours on end.

When I reflect back to my mother's scorn for the valley berries and joy over the plateau berries I wonder what the berries represented to her. The home territory that she did not live in? A childhood gone? The break between traditional life and modern life?

When I first moved to Lillooet I experienced something similar in a literal sense, but wholly different in a philosophical sense. As I was driving during berry season I kept seeing bunches of purple along the side of the road. I needed to stop and experience the berries, not just for the visceral experience of holding the deep purple orbs of softness in my hands, but also for the spiritual experience of connecting to something bigger than myself. There is a tapestry of culture and history and by harvesting those berries I could be part of it. I wanted to integrate a traditional activity into my life and my diet. I wanted my son to feel the joy of sustaining himself through the territory which we resided upon.

I went home, grabbed a tupperware container, and returned to the bushes I saw on the side of the road. I got out and surveyed the bushes. I knew before I tasted them, but I tasted them anyhow. Valley berries. Disgusted, I went further up the road to the bank of a river. Valley berries. I went up in elevation, my heart full of hope. Valley berries. I went to the other side of a river and walked through a field. Valley berries. I went into the forest. Valley berries. Finally I gave up and harvested the valley berries. I took them home and tried to eat them plain but they were unpalatable. I put them in oatmeal and the seeds bothered my teeth.

I ate them all, grudgingly, because I don't like to waste food. Valley berries.

This wasn't just about their woody seeds or dry texture. This was about a set of values that I aspired to. I remembered tasting the good berries at a community event in St'at'imc territory. I knew they existed, I just needed to find them.

On a field trip to look at pictographs I shared my experience with the St'at'imc language teacher. "I just don't know where to find the real berries," I said, "the soft ones with small seeds that taste good." She laughed and told me that she wasn't going to tell me where her berry patch was because I'd have to find my own.

Since then I've reflected deeply on the experience of the valley berries. For my mother the berries represented something that she had left but could return to. As an urban Indian, the berries represent something that I have literally only had a taste of, but that I had never really possessed.

I've spent the winter working on finding the real berries. I've started learning the songs of the territory that I live in. I've been trying to pick up bits of the language here and there. I've been exploring the land a bit more than I did last year. I've been working hard to participate in the community. The berries are only part of the worldview. Perhaps, if I work at it, someday I will find my berries.

I read Rob's post awhile back about the title of his blog, where are the sheep, and it got me thinking, where are my sheep? I am Chilcotin, so it seems reasonable that my sheep would be the salmon. Farwell Canyon was historically one of the most productive areas on the Fraser River for salmon fishing and we were able to maintain a healthy economy and population based on plentiful fish and a mountain of obsidian.

However, while I love salmon and being on site during dipnetting, I don't really feel like they are my sheep. The berries are my sheep. My journey towards that satisfaction, though, is not as simple as going out by myself and discovering a berry patch. It is about being part of something larger than myself and learning from others and rejoicing in the culture around me.

I've spent most of my life as an urban Indian and more and more I'm realizing that that means participating in the community around me as a resident. I once said that I was a guest, but that's not quite right. As a resident I have responsibilities. I am responsible for learning about my impact on the land that I live on. I am responsible for learning about protocols. I am responsible for honoring the traditions that were here long before I came. As an educator I am responsible for learning about what the community values and transforming my classroom practices accordingly. I am responsible for helping students find their berries.

Next year I will go out again in search of the berries. Until then I will prepare myself, as a social and cultural entity, for berry picking season.

Twenty-Six Years

Teachers of Aboriginal ancestry.

Leave out your parents for now. Their teachings begin very early, before you even remember and always continue. They always teach and will always have that role in your life.  This isn't about parents today.

Teachers of Aboriginal ancestry.

You had to wait until you were twenty-six years of age before you met your first teacher of Aboriginal ancestry.  Even the Native History course you took in undergrad was taught by a non-Aboriginal instructor.  You were one of five hundred or so student teachers in the Bachelor of Education program. You had lived in Camrose, Alberta, of course, but now you were living in the big city and you were terrified and lonely and not having a good time. In fact, you had had encounters with an administrator which you perceived as racist, you had dealt with hostile advisors and a practicum school that had twenty times more students than you had people living on your reserve. The stress had made you so ill you ended up in the hospital and your practicum was over prematurely. In fact, you moved home for the remainder of the term, and seriously considered not returning to finish the program.

Her name was Seepeetza. She taught a course you took called First Nations Schooling. She brought forth a gentleness and understanding of the lived experience of First Nations people that you had never encountered in all your years in the education system. In a tumultuous and unpleasant Bachelor of Education program, Seepeetza provided a calm way of learning that you had never experienced before. She taught in a different way, one that was both familiar and alien, and one that you had never encountered in the education system. It reminds you of home.

Seepeetza took the time to know you and to share. Of the five hundred student teachers, there were three of you whom were Aboriginal, and while you had met one of the others, you had never seen the third, but you knew that Seepeetza knew all three of you. You know that Seepeetza took the time, after one of her classes to take you and that other one in the class out for tea. She would talk and let you find some sort of peace as well as ensure that you and the other student teacher were bonding a little bit so that you weren’t so alone.

After you graduated, completing another tumultuous practicum, you were humbled and tossed into the real world. The real world where your credentials as a teacher turned out to be pretty meaningless and you found your first contract as a teacher was not as a teacher at all, but as a support worker. It was during this time that Seepeetza lost her battle with cancer.

Your first teaching position was in that small K-12 school with the 60+ % Aboriginal population.  The students, and many of their parents said they were happy to have you there, in fact one of the parents wanted to write a letter of protest when you were laid off a couple of years later (you shouldn't have talked her out of it!).  You hope that it is because you are a good teacher, but you know that a big part of the reason is the same one that so attached Seepeetza in your heart: you are Aboriginal.  You are one of them and you are teaching them.  The parents like you because you have been where they have been and where their children are.  They like you because they perceive that you understand in a way that even the most thoughtful, respectful and open non-Aboriginal teacher could never understand.  To the students, you are a reflection of them that they are desperately trying to find in the world outside their reserve.  Even more, you are a reflection, you hope, of what they could be. 

And they didn't have to wait twenty-six years.

Seepeetza left behind an extraordinary legacy, including the incredible novel, My Name is Seepeetza. I have mentioned a lot of impressive gains in Aboriginal education in previous posts, but there are also many challenges that look insurmountable, partly because I perceive strong resistance to what we are trying to accomplish. Seepeetza faced the world with a quiet strength and dignity; she was an advocate for Aboriginal education.

I hope that we aren’t letting her down.

PS: The NITEP program at UBC is accepting applications until April 30 for their next intake of Native student teachers.  We need teachers of Aboriginal ancestry teaching in the public school system.  They are teachers and role models for our Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal students alike.  SFU also has an excellent program, as do many of the other universities in the province.  Having said that, there is no need to confine yourself to an Indigenous teacher education program, I didn't go through an Indigenous-focussed program.  We need teachers of Aboriginal ancestry.  Something to consider.

Some More Thoughts on the VSB Aboriginal Mini School Proposal (& a video!)

I’m on the record as supporting the idea of the Aboriginal Choice School in the Vancouver School District.  I am in the process of trying to convince the AEAC and the BCTF of the merits of the project.  I need to stress at this point that I don’t know what the project will look like and I do not know what sort of work the VSB is planning to do in the planning of this project if they choose to go forward with it.  I am trusting that they will consult with the Aboriginal people in the area, that they will ensure that it is inclusive and open to everyone, that it does not become a dumping ground for the “unwanted” students, that it makes a case for transformation by teaching anyone and everyone about the Aboriginal experience in Canada, and that the perspective of the Indigenous worldviews are integrated in such a way as to ensure that the students learn in respectful ways and to the best of their abilities.  Our children deserve that opportunity and the idea that this should not be tried because it sounds like segregation, or residential schools or racism is false.

This is a choice school.

There are concerns that have to be addressed, of course.  Those three have to be put to rest.  As well, how will the students be taught?  How will the teachers be taught?  We have approximately three hundred Aboriginal teachers in the public school system in British Columbia and not a lot of them are in Vancouver, so it is more than likely that non-Aboriginal teachers will be trying to teach an Indigenous perspective.  I have struggled with this idea for a long time.  If you refer to my previous post, you will see some of the concerns raised.  Another scholar I have studied, Eigenbrod, argues that it can be done respectfully and honestly, and while I resisted her for a long time, I did finally figure out what she meant (that will have to be another post).  How will the multitude of Indigenous backgrounds be fairly integrated?  Plus a whole host of others.

 The AEAC has not made a definite decision yet, as they have raised a number of questions they want answered before they support the idea, which is fair.  While I suspect that a number of questions cannot be answered until the VSB gets past proposing the idea, I think that it is okay for all of us to ask questions and get the dialogue going.  Even those of us in favour of the proposal need to be willing to ask questions.

Some of the things I have read about the school in Prince George has been that it has been a bit of a rough year.  I don’t think judgments can be made because of that.  It is the first year and they will all be going through some growing pains.  I am always a little amused and a little saddened when I hear that people are disappointed with the results of something without giving it time to take root.  I will be visiting the school this week to tour the place and I am really excited about it.

Christine Stewart is a teacher out of Vancouver and one of the first teachers of Aboriginal ancestry I met when I was starting out in this teaching thing.  I was scared and feeling very alone (still do sometimes) in facing the challenges in my district and in the province.  Below is a video of her speaking about the choice school at a forum in Vancouver.  She is in favour of it.