Do you recall Charlie Brown’s frustration at not being able to understand the meaning of Christmas?
There he was, surrounded by all the wonderful trappings of the season, but because he couldn’t feel
Christmas in his heart none of it had any meaning for him.
I confess to having a similar experience with my understanding of our First Nations neighbours. While
my home is graced with beautiful carvings, and a Garner Moody bracelet from my husband has rarely
left my wrist in twenty years, I’ve felt that my insight didn’t extend much beyond art appreciation.
But lately things have begun to change. Through my work in the education sector I’ve learned more
about the challenges many First Nations communities face, and in numerous presentations on
graduation rates and learning outcomes I’ve seen that First Nations students as a group are lagging
behind their fellow students. I’ve followed newspaper articles on treaty settlements and the justice that
is finally being sought, and in some cases won, for the crime we call “residential schools”. I’m more
aware of the plight of a people that are at once both my neighbours and a community so far removed
from my white existence as to be almost invisible.
But what can I do about it? I watched the Opening Ceremonies of the 2010 Olympics and was awed by
the presence of so many First Nations peoples. But where are they the rest of the time? I love being
greeted at our airport by such a wonderful array of native art, but where can I find the artists? I’ve been
having trouble reconciling the very public celebration of First Nations culture, almost as if it were our
own, with the gritty reality of native life for so many aboriginals.
Two years ago SD45 began an aboriginal education initiative, partnering with members of the Squamish
Nation to bring a greater awareness of aboriginal culture into our schools. Bob Baker and the Eagle
Song Dancers have become frequent visitors, and through story, song and dance they bring their history
alive for our students. Bob had everyone on their feet dancing at Gleneagles the day I was there,
including the parents that had been invited to watch. I danced as a frog.
Rick Harry has joined forces with our students, guiding them in the creation of some stunning carvings.
As the carvings are completed a brushing ceremony is held, with the soft touch of cedar boughs
intended to provide each carving with a spiritual welcome to its very mainstream Canadian home.
But is this enough? Like Charlie Brown, I‘ve felt frustrated because I just don’t feel like I get it. What
are we really trying to do?
I finally got my answer in our December Public Board Meeting, where in my capacity as SecretaryTreasurer I chaired the meeting until the new Board was sworn in and accepted office. I started the
meeting with an acknowledgement that has just recently comprised the opening of our Board meetings:
“Tonight I would like to take a moment to acknowledge that we are on the traditional
land of the Coast Salish Squamish Nation. We are proud partners with members of the
Nation in learning and look forward to continuing this important work together in the
future.”
As I spoke those words I finally found what I’d been looking for, because I felt their meaning in my heart.
I realized that I wasn’t just paying lip service to a new tradition. I was publically acknowledging that
right there, in that room, I was conducting a meeting on what was once First Nations land. For the first
time I truly felt that I was a newcomer, that my culture was not the first culture.
At the January meeting we had an update on our aboriginal education initiative, and both Bob Baker and
Faye Halls, fifth daughter of Capilano Chief Simon Baker, were in the audience. They took the
opportunity to speak, with Faye making us all laugh when she talked about the challenge of fielding
questions during a recent classroom visit. “I’ll bring more bannock next time, to keep them busy” she
said. Drumbeats filled our boardroom as Bob ignored a sore throat brought on by a day-long potlatch to
sing a family song for us.
I can’t fix the old wrongs, and I don’t know whether our work in the schools will inspire our First Nations
students, or whether they need inspiration in the first place. I hope I’ve been using the right words, but
I don’t even know enough to be sure I’ve been politically correct here. What I do know though, is that
I’m grateful that our First Nations neighbours have agreed to partner with us, because thanks to their
willingness to share, what I finally, truly feel in my heart is respect. And that’s a good start.
Huy chewx aa.