Thank you for the question.
I think a lot of Canadians don't understand that there are multiplier effects from these inequalities that come from government services and the lack of voluntary sector services. The children served by the underfunded child welfare system are the same children caught up in Jordan's principle and the same children trying to go to school and learn.
The Auditor General, as early as a decade ago, was raising concerns about the inequality in funding for elementary and secondary education on reserves and also calling attention to the condition of the schools themselves and the many communities where there are no schools.
You mentioned Shannen Koostachin. In many ways, she is a symbol of so many first nations children across the country. She is at once a Canadian hero--someone who we all, as Canadians, should be looking up to--and also a reminder about what the consequences are if we fail to act fully and properly.
Shannen Koostachin was from Attawapiskat First Nation. She was the daughter of Andrew Koostachin and Jenny Nakogee, a very loving family.
The only school in that community was contaminated by 30,000 gallons of diesel fuel. In 2000, when Shannen was in kindergarten, the Government of Canada brought up portable trailers and put them on the playground of the contaminated school. Members, I kid you not: I can throw a pebble from here to the translation booth, and that is the distance between the kindergarten portable and the contaminated waste site.
The children were told that this portable trailer system was temporary, that the Government of Canada would do everything it needed to do to make sure they had a proper school not sitting on contaminated ground. Three ministers of Indian Affairs promised them a school and did not deliver. Shannen would later say that was one of the hardest things.
Maybe as Canadians we get used to politicians making statements and not keeping their promises, but I for one think that the minimum standard is that you keep your promises to kids. These kids could not understand it. They wanted to learn. They knew they needed an education, so Shannen Koostachin organized the younger children in the school to write letters to the government. Maybe, she thought, if you heard in their own words what it's like to try to learn in a portable trailer that is now so rundown that the heat goes off and it's 20 degrees below zero in the classroom, you would want to act, and you would find the motivation to cut across whatever you needed to do to make sure they had a chance to learn.
But those letters did not move those in authority to change that position, so she reached out to non-aboriginal children in her grade eight year, and thousands of them wrote letters. However, not even that was enough to move the Government of Canada.
She was the chairperson of her grade eight graduation committee. She received a letter from the Minister of Indian Affairs saying, “We cannot afford a new school for you, and we don't know when it will come.” She cancelled her grade eight graduation trip, and she came down here to meet with the minister herself to ask for a new school. The minister said, “We can't afford it.” She said, “I don't believe you.” She said, “School is a time for dreams.” She said, “Every kid deserves that.”
She wanted to be a lawyer so she could grow up and make a contribution to Canadians and fight for the education rights of other Canadian children. She promised the Canadian government and the children in the schools all over the country that she would never give up until every first nations child had a safe and comfy school and equitable education. She knew that when the children in Manitoba turned on the taps in their school, out came little garter snakes. She knew of other children going to school in tents, not in Africa but in Canada. She knew something could be done so that they could grow up to be lawyers and grass dancers and cooks and your pharmacist and your physician.
She had to move 500 kilometres away from her community to go to high school because the high school in her own community was so underfunded she would have no option of going to law school.
While she was there, she was with Member of Parliament Charlie Angus, whom some of you know. She went to one of the most rundown high schools. It was one of the first times Shannen Koostachin had ever stood in a hallway. He realized after a while that he was walking alone and that Shannen was lost somewhere in the school. He went back and found her in a classroom. She was touching all of the books and looking at all the wonderful things that other children have to learn. She said to Charlie, “I wish I had my life to live over again so I could go to a school as nice as this.”
Shannen Koostachin died in a car accident in the spring of 2010. She never knew what it is to be treated equitably by the Government of Canada.
We have, with her family's support, pledged to carry her dream forward with the thousands of children who support her. I would just ask—and I know that you see many important problems in your work and that there are lots of competing interests—for the conscience and the good of the country, can't we just give these kids a proper school?
What is stopping us from doing that? What possible reason would we have for Shannen today on why that type of inequality is continuing? What would we say to Jordan? What would we say to the children who are going into foster care simply because they don't get a shot at life?
Whatever your recommendations are from this committee, I ask that you keep their images in your mind. Those are the audiences. If you can convince those children that what you're doing is the right thing, then you're providing the right example for Canadians and for Canada's future.