Adding To The Picture

An essay from a former Indian Residential School student

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

This is a guest post originally written in 2017 by former Indian Residential School student, Canadian author and playwright, Mark DeWolf.

After remarks were made in the Senate Chamber on Tuesday, March 7, 2017 by  Conservative Senator Lynn Beyak regarding the Indian residential schools, there has been a firestorm of criticism, condemnation and calls for her resignation. Here are some of those responses. 

The Liberal Indigenous Caucus issued a statement calling her comments  “ignorant and harmful.” Indigenous Affairs Minister Carolyn Bennett said the  comments were “ill-informed, offensive and simply wrong." 

Conservative MP Cathy McLeod, Opposition Critic for Indigenous and Northern  Affairs, suggested the Senator should inform herself about the Indian residential  schools, and added, “What’s important for her is to reflect on the comments,  reflect on how her comments hurt people who are already struggling.” 

NDP MP Romeo Saganash told reporters: “We’re talking about genocide here,  and no one can say that there were good parts of genocide and bad parts. It’s  like saying, ‘Well, there are some good sides to what Hitler did to the Jewish  community’.” (This is the same Romeo Saganash who, as a student at  LaTuque Indian Residential School, was a member of the school hockey  team that was flown to Switzerland to play in an international hockey  tournament, an experience that few Canadian youth could even dream  about.) 

Globe and Mail columnist Tabatha Southey wrote: “It’s difficult, times being what  they are, for Canada to stand out in the Wingnut Olympics currently in full swing,  but Senator Beyak seems determined to own the podium.”  

NDP MP Georgina Jolibois said she was “sickened to hear the views expressed”  by Ms Beyak in the Senate. Talking points that came from the Conservative  Caucus said the Senator's comments were “disturbing and hurtful to the many  survivors [of the church-run schools] who suffered the devastating effects.” 

National Chief Perry Bellegarde of the Assembly of First Nations said: "It's  disappointing that these misinformed attitudes still exist after all the work by First  Nations and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring light to this dark  chapter in Canada’s history.” (Mr. Bellegarde may not have read the entire 

TRC Final Report, which includes material that Senator Beyak made use of  in her speech.) 

Judging by the headlines, what really got people riled was the Senator’s attempt  to speak on behalf of "the kindly and well-intentioned men and women and their  descendants ... whose remarkable works, good deeds and historical tales in the  residential schools go unacknowledged for the most part, and are overshadowed  

by negative reports.” The Senator added, "Obviously, the negative issues must  be addressed, but it is unfortunate that they are sometimes magnified and  considered more newsworthy than the abundance of good.” 

Senator Murray Sinclair, the former Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation  Commission, had an immediate comment to make: “I am a bit shocked, Senator,  that you still hold some views that have been proven to be incorrect over the  years, but, nonetheless, I accept that you have the right to hold them.” (This is  the same Murray Sinclair who, in a letter to the Calgary Herald on August 5,  2010, wrote: “While the TRC heard many experiences of unspeakable  abuse, we have been heartened by testimonies which affirm the dedication  and compassion of committed educators who sought to nurture the  children in their care.  These experiences must also be heard…”) 

Judge Sinclair was responding to a column by Calgarian Lea Meadows that  appeared in the Herald on July 30, 2010, headlined "Residential schools  generate anger but also pride."  Ms. Meadows, who had worked in human rights  and conflict management for more than 20 years, had written that both her  mother and grandmother had attended Indian residential schools, and that her  parents had taught at day schools on the reserves and at Indian residential  schools. She wrote about “the deep hurt my family feels at finding their work  routinely described as ‘abusive’ or ‘cultural genocide’, and said her mother told  her that her days at Brandon Indian Residential School west of Winnipeg  “included some of the happiest days of her life.” 

Ms. Meadows went on to say of her mother: “Indeed, because of the education  she received there, because of the support she was given by her teachers there,  she was identified as a girl who could succeed at university. She did succeed.”  After graduating from university, Ms Meadows' mother worked as a teacher on  reserves in northern Manitoba. “[She] believed that she had been given a great  opportunity by her teachers [at the Indian residential school].  She was  determined to provide the same opportunity for other aboriginal girls and boys."

Ms Meadows' father was a United Church minister and a teacher at the same  schools. “He too felt called to serve,” wrote Ms Meadows. “For my parents, this  was not just work; those reserves were home. They lived in community with their  students, the parents, and ultimately their friends. Between them, my parents  spoke three aboriginal languages: Saulteaux, Cree and Ojibwe. They were  literate in Cree sylabics.” 

Ms. Meadows said she most definitely would not deny that great harm was done  to a great many students in the Indian residential schools, and she stressed it  how important it is to speak out against it. 

But she also wrote, “To label the schools themselves and all who worked there as  evil, and to describe everyone who attended a school as a ‘survivor’ is facile –  and it dishonours those who were truly abused and did have something horrific to  survive…. At the end of the day, I will not apologize for my parents’ service with  and for aboriginal people.  Indeed, I will defend it.” 

And here is what Murray Sinclair wrote in response to Ms Meadows’ 2010  column: 

“We [the TRC] will provide Canadians with a permanent record that  weaves all experiences, all perspectives into the fabric of truth. [Lea]  Meadows and others with the courage to step forward honour all of  us.  We are grateful.” 

Anyone reading the Final Report of the TRC will find that it does indeed include  testimony and other evidence that shows the residential school system as a  complicated mix of good and bad, some of the “bad” stemming from attitudes and  policies that Canadians in 2017 would not support, but which at the time were  considered enlightened and sensible. 

Some courageous indigenous Canadians have spoken out on behalf of the  “good” done by residential schools. In her speech to the Senate, Senator Beyak  quoted internationally-renowned Cree storyteller, accomplished playwright,  novelist and classical pianist Tomson Highway who has worked compassionately  with indigenous inmates over a great many years. A recipient of the Order of  Canada, lauded by Maclean's magazine as one of the 100 most important people  in Canadian history. Tomson Highway has said: 

“It's the same with the [Indian] residential school issue.

“All we hear is the negative stuff; nobody's interested in the positive, the  joy in that school. Nine of the happiest years of my life, I spent at that  school. . . 

“You may have heard from 7,000 witnesses in the process that were  negative, but what you haven't heard are the 7,000 reports that were  positive stories. There are many very successful people today that went  to those schools and have brilliant careers and are very functional  people, very happy people like myself. I have a thriving international  career, and it wouldn't have happened without that school.” 

In her speech, Senator Beyak said that Tomson Highway “has had little negative  feedback from the indigenous community, because he also takes seriously the  trauma of the residential schools for others. He worked for many years after  university as a social worker, with broken families and inmates, mixing the  challenges they face with the humour and spirituality of Aboriginal culture.” 

The Senator's attempt to inject some balance into the highly-charged national  discussion about the Indian residential schools has been met with a deluge of  negative opinion and extreme language. She has been accused of equating IRS  staff members with “well-intentioned and kindly” concentration camp guards in  Nazi Germany. 

A March 15 editorial in the Dryden Observer that dealt with Senator Beyak’s  speech said, "Her comments are quite indicative of a generation that grew up  much closer to this, who still see the many shades of gray in an issue that has  grown black and white in the modern media landscape.” But the author then went  on to say that the tales of horror should supersede "any attempt to rationalize or  justify what happened as well-meaning.” He further went on to make a  comparison between IRS staff and members of Hitler’s SS. 

The blinkered view that many in the media — and as a result, many  Canadians — have of the residential school system has not gone unnoticed. A  highly respected historian whose book on Canada’s relationship with its  indigenous peoples is often referred to by academics and commentators once  wrote the following: 

“[the story of residential school staff] is the sort of story that the country  badly needs to hear. Sadly, whether or not it will listen is another  question… I’ve long recognized that there is only a simplified, black-and white account that resonates with Canadians.”

In December of 2015, Cece Hodgson-Macauley, an indigenous columnist for  Northern News Services and founding chief of the Inuvik Dene band, wrote in her  column about her community’s reception of the TRC report: 

“An Anglican minister apologized. It was all one-sided. So, of course  many questions are needing to be answered, people are asking the big  questions - with an investigation so huge and country-wide, how come  we only hear one side of the story? “  

Chief Hodgson-Macauley, who in March of 2017 was honoured for her work in  politics by Indspire, an important Indigenous-led registered charity that “invests  in the education of Indigenous people for the long term benefit of these  individuals, their families and communities, and Canada”, went on to say in her  2015 column, 

“The Truth and Reconciliation Commission is too one-sided. The real  truth will come out.” 

“The elders … are afraid to speak up and tell the truth. The truth will  come out because people are not dumb. They will realize they only heard  one side of the story.”  

But attempts to present another side of the story have been made. The May 4,  2008, issue of the Calgary Herald contained a column with the headline "The  good side of the residential school story is valid, too.”  That column was written  by celebrated Ojibway author/columnist Richard Wagamese who, as Canadians  learned with sadness, died recently at the early age of 61. 

On learning of that untimely death, National Chief Perry Bellegarde of  the Assembly of First Nations tweeted that Wagamese “profoundly told the  stories of our peoples.” One of those stories appeared in that Calgary  Herald column, in which Mr. Wagamese said the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian  Residential School in Kenora had an overall positive effect on his mother. 

“My mother has never spoken to me of abuse or any catastrophic  experience at the school.  She only speaks of learning valuable things  that she went on to use in her everyday life, things that made her life  more efficient, effective and empowered….” 

Wagamese also said: 

“As a journalist since 1979, I've heard people credit residential schools  with the foundation for learning that allowed them to pursue  successful academic careers. Others tell of being introduced to skills  that became lifelong careers, and still others, like my mother, talk of  being introduced to a faith that guided the rest of their lives.” 

While he said it was absolutely necessary to document “horrendous experiences”  and “soul-killing incursions”, he said it was also essential to hear from 

“those to whom the residential school experience might have been a  godsend, or at the least, a stepping stone to a more empowered  future. Because those kinds of stories happened, too. They happened  to my mother and others like her. To be brave and go against the flow,  and tell Canada that for some native people, the residential school  experience was not exclusively a horror show is to tell Canada that we  have grown as nations of people, that we recognize that truth means a  whole vision and not just a selective memory. If native people use this  opportunity to show that they are capable of seeing beyond hurts and  invasions and rampant disregard for our lives and future, we show our  neighbours that the heart of us was never broken, that we were never  conquered, that we have not and will never be assimilated, and that we  have retained our dignity despite everything that might have happened  to us.” 

Wagamese concluded by saying,  

“Tell all of the stories. The good along with the bad. Lead by example  and use this opportunity to create harmony, to create a more balanced  future for all of us. Such is honesty. Such is truth. Such is the  foundation of forgiveness and such are the bones of reconciliation.” 

If only all Canadians would read and heed Richard Wagamese’s wise and  healing words. 

But thanks to native leaders, certain vocal supporters of the Aboriginal cause,  and, sadly, the media, words like these are not being communicated to the  Canadian public. Terry Milewski, well-known CBC reporter, when phoned by a  former IRS staff member who tried to point out that good things also happened in  residential schools, said abruptly to her, “That’s not a story!” and hung up. Tabitha  Southey, when taken to task for lampooning Senator Beyak, refused in high 

dudgeon to even consider the possibility that the story of dedicated, kindly and,  yes, well-intentioned staff members might have a place in the long and  complicated fabric of the IRS system. 

And there has been a good deal of distortion and manipulation of that story.  Posts to the Wikipedia entry on the IRS system have omitted very relevant  information and included highly questionable statements. An information kiosk at  a TRC National Gathering actually stated that 150,000 children were compelled  by the Indian Act to attend residential schools, a claim that is patently false.  Similar statements have been repeated so often, they are now considered gospel  truth.  

Highly emotional language has been used to distort the facts. One frequently  sees the statement, “They had their entire childhood stolen from them,” but while  some IRS students were enrolled for as many as 10 years, the average length of  enrolment during the entire IRS period was about 4.5 years, which means that  just as many students only spent a single year in a residential school. Judging  from the $26,000 average amount paid to former IRS students under the 2006  Common Experience Payment (CEP) made under the Indian Residential School  Settlement — $10,000 for the first year of attendance, $3000 for every year  beyond that — the average length of enrolment for former students still alive in  2006 was no more than 5.3 years. One can only wonder how the number of  years enrolled was determined for the elderly and infirm applicants, who were not  required to show proof of enrolment to obtain the CEP. 

The claim that “150,000 students were torn from the arms of their family” is  likewise specious, as a very large percentage — arguably the great majority — of  IRS students were placed in residential schools by parents who either feared the  legal consequences of not enrolling them or who wanted their children to get the  “white man”’s education. In the last decades of the IRS system, parents had to  complete an application form before enrolment took place. The picture painted in  media reports of indigenous parents weeping as their children are dragged away  is not totally inaccurate, as many have testified to that happening, but the  emotional impact of such a scene has been used to distort the public’s  perception of what actually went on in most cases. 

The consequences of failing to put a child into a residential school have likewise  been exaggerated and distorted in public statements. It is often claimed that  parents who hid their children from an RCMP constable, Indian agent or school  official faced “imprisonment”, when in fact the Indian Act of 1920 stipulated that a 

parent who failed to enrol a child in school — any school, not just a residential  one — was “liable on summary conviction before a justice of the peace or Indian  agent to a fine of not more than two dollars and costs, or imprisonment for a  period not exceeding ten days or both.” In 1920, $2.00 was the price of four  pounds of butter — about $27 today. 

The fact that an estimated 25 - 30% of indigenous children never attended school  at all during the IRS period suggests that the threatened penalties was not taken  seriously by everyone, and the number of indigenous parents actually jailed for  failing to enrol their children in school is very low. Removing a breadwinner from  a family and thus increasing poverty and community distress made officials very  reluctant to apply the terms of the Indian Act. 

The selection of photographs to accompany media stories about the residential  schools further hammers home the narrative that all IRS students were unhappy  captives in a cruel and repressive system. Images of sombre, even miserable looking children certainly capture some of the emotions that consumed many  students in many residential schools, particularly during certain periods. But  tellingly, photographs of students who look happy, well-fed and well-dressed —  and a trove of such photographs exist in the fonds of church archives, if not  elsewhere — only appear if the story focuses on attempts by Indian Affairs to  paint the IRS experience as a beneficial and generally happy one for native  children.  

If there were happy IRS students, and if, as Senator Beyak claimed, there was  “an abundance of good” in residential schools, why have so few statements in  defence of the schools been made by former students? Two quite natural  explanations come to mind. First, IRS “survivors” who have sensibly taken  advantage of the one-time payment to residential school “survivors” — on  average, about $26,000 each — are naturally reluctant to now proclaim “It  wasn’t all that bad.”  

Second, there can be very few indigenous Canadians who are not aware of the  now-universal condemnation of the schools, and the way that “national disgrace”  is being used to gain public sympathy and support in their leaders’ efforts to  wring increased funding and other positive action from the federal government.  Former students know how politically incorrect it would be to swim against the  tide and possibly weaken their leaders’ negotiating position. Much has been said  about the courage displayed by IRS “survivors” in telling their stories, but even 

more courage would be required of an indigenous person who today wanted to  say publicly, “Those were the best years of my life.” 

If reluctance to come forward were not enough to silence those with positive  stories, encouragement of negative testimony and suppression of “the good side”  of Indian residential schools have also reduced the chances of Canadians  hearing that equally valid “truth.” Ironically, the contempt heaped upon Senator  Beyak and the fawning media coverage of the critics’s statements has brought  testimony to the Comment section of some websites. In March of 2017, one  person posting a comment to the National Post said: 

There was a time I was working for the Church at a former residential  school in northern Alberta. I’ll always remember an older resident coming  up to me, telling me that the white lawyers had come into town, and they  were all going to get lots of money for signing something against the  residential school. Then, fifteen minutes later, he told me that he wished  the children of the town could get the same good education that he had  received at the residential school. 

That comment was followed by another: 

What we need is a real T&R inquiry, not a sham led by those who stood to  gain by claiming that the schools were completely and unendingly evil. 

And that led to this comment: 

There was an off-reserve native woman interviewed on TV a number of  years ago. She had received $40,000 as compensation for having  attended residential school. She went on to say that had nothing but fond  memories of her residential school education, and that although she did  not need the money as she had a successful career, she planned to put  the 40K in a savings account for her grandchildren’s education. Like you,  I agree that the unending negative narrative is false. 

The mendacity and the agenda-driven selectivity of those whose recent  comments contradict what they themselves have said in other years does those  individuals no credit. Self-righteous judgment, passed upon their fellow  Canadians who, for the most part, are no longer around to speak for themselves,  has been all too common, and that judgment has frequently been made by those who know only what they’ve been told by others, speaking not from personal  experience, nor from serious research into the subject.  

Those who have conducted research and reached certain conclusions from  documented evidence face the enormous hurdle of getting anyone to consider  their findings. In 2001, a National Post article by Richard Foot described the  research conducted over six years by John Siebert, who at the time was working  as a researcher for the United Church of Canada. According to Foot, Siebert’s  research suggested that other, far more harmful causes than residential school  enrolment lay behind the challenges currently facing indigenous communities in  Canada. For pointing out that only a small minority of indigenous children ever  attended a residential school, for suggesting that only a fraction of IRS students  were forcibly removed from their homes, and for arguing that the system was  therefore not the main cause of poverty and related social dysfunction among  Canadian Aboriginals, Mr. Siebert was roundly condemned and his argument  disavowed by the United Church. Tellingly, Mr. Siebert, who had been labelled a  crank and a defender of the indefensible, went on to find employment in 2005 as  Executive Director of Project Ploughshares. 

The fact that the current distorted narrative about the Indian residential schools is  now finding its way into schools should be of great concern. Just as children 60  years ago were given textbooks that extolled the early European explorers and  Christian missionaries, and gave short shrift to the indigenous experience as  colonial powers began invading the continent, students in today’s schools may  very well be taught a similarly incomplete and biased history. 

Attached is a photo of staff members at one Indian Residential School, St. Paul’s,  on the Blood (Kainai) Reserve in southern Alberta. More than words can ever do,  it reveals the kind of person who, not required to serve as nuns and priests often were, chose to take employment as teachers, supervisors and support staff in  IRS institutions. The presence of several tribal members reminds us that there is  a story there too. 

Looking at the faces of these IRS employees from the early Sixties, one can  understand why many former students remained in friendly contact with former  staff for years afterward.

Mark DeWolf is a retired teacher of English language, literature and drama, living in Halifax, Nova Scotia. A playwright and musician, he supports Indigenous organizations such as Inspire and Reconciliation Canada, and whenever possible reaches out to Indigenous Canadians, particularly those whose family history includes enrolment in a residential school. He also attempts, whenever possible, to counter inaccurate or misleading statements about the IRS that appear in the media. His Blackfoot name is “Little Yellow Hair”. He maintains contact with members of the Kainai First Nation.

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Thanks for reading. For more from this author on these topics, checkout - Why I Speak Out - by Mark DeWolf