Thank you.
I'm a little bit nervous. I've never done this before. It's nice to see a friendly face in the crowd.
I am from Fort Providence and I've spent 20 years working in a school that I first attended in K to 8. When I attended, it was called Elizabeth Ward School, named after the first nun in the NWT to run a residential school. At that time, it was still heavily influenced by the Catholic church, so for a lot of my education, from K to eight, I was a federal day school student.
This is very much a story with my community at the heart of all I do, what we did to make it a community school and how we need to get back to that.
Right now our school is struggling because of the pandemic, because of the challenges that have emerged over the last few years. However, we all intuitively know that improving graduation rates for indigenous students in both the K-to-12 system and at post-secondary levels would have tremendous benefits in terms of the socio-health indicators in indigenous communities and on the overall GDP indicators in Canada to the tune of billions of dollars.
Such a basic statement is mired in 157 years of colonialism. How do we look at the challenges without understanding the conversations needed to include the breadth of institutional policies that govern our communities?
I'll occasionally look at my school photo from my grade 7-8 class and reflect on the 17 or 18 students who were in my class. Only four of us graduated, and the other three were non-indigenous. Then I flash forward 40 years. Five years ago, from Fort Providence, a community of 800, we had 23 post-secondary students in 11 different post-secondary institutions. The cornerstone of this success was our extensive on-the-land programming, our Dene language immersion program and alternative programming.
One of the things that carries me through my days are the challenges I see and the solutions I seek. I have read a lot about the success of programs elsewhere that have piqued my curiosity. With that mindset, when I moved into administration in 2004, I looked at what we could build upon to make it a better fit in the community.
At that point, our students in grades 3, 6 and 9 wrote the Alberta achievement tests, but I had trouble mentally wrapping my head around a test that was characterized by failure. Why would I want students to write a test that they struggled with? It's not that they were incapable of it but that they were not ready for it. Out of this, we began our Dene Zhatie immersion program, expanding from kindergarten to grade 3.
One of the frustrations I carried as we began the immersion program was that there were loads of funds available if I had wanted to do a French language program, but I had to beg, borrow and steal to implement an indigenous language program.
Fort Providence is the site of the first residential school in the NWT. Our trauma is carried back to Confederation in 1867.
Indigenous languages were integral to what we did, and from this we moved into a year-round schooling calendar so that a robust land-based school program was created. From this, there was buy-in from the community and increased levels of attendance.
At the height of what we did, and where we had our most success, was our K-to-3 students began the semester, which ran from the Friday after the August long weekend until the Friday before the Thanksgiving weekend, outside in a camp by the river. Dene Zhatie was the language of instruction, and in the end, classes focused on the language around numeracy and the science of a land-based curriculum. These students would spend two weeks in the winter at our camp about five kilometres outside the community, being transferred daily by snowmobile, again honouring the cyclical nature of the community. We did the same in the spring at another camp in the opposite direction.
In grade 4 we began to bring our students out for multi-day trips on the land, where they camped out. The students would spend a week every year out on the river with elders, hearing the stories about where they came from. The elders were sent out with the instruction that they needed to tell the stories that grounded our students in place, and they needed to live by the rhythms of the spring. If hunters wanted to get up at four or five in the morning to go out, they needed to bring the kids.
We did this in August for our grade 5-6 class and in June for our grade 4-5 class. We also sent them to a winter camp about 20 kilometres downriver from the community, camping in -20°C to -30°C weather, setting traps, setting nets and learning basic survival skills. In the spring, they spent a week or two at the spring camp down in the opposite direction.
In our junior high program, we had our young men participate in a rites of passage camp and then go out on a moose hunt. Our young women then had their rites of passage camp and were ready to fix and prepare any moose that were harvested. With a successful moose hunt, the class would be drummed back into the community and the meat distributed to community members. In the winter, they also spent a week down at Horn River, setting traps and nets and spending time with skilled community members.
If I'm going too fast, please let me know.