FOOD FOR
THOUGHT
A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just.
Pope Francis
A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just.
Pope Francis
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CANADA AND USA-
1. Indentured Servants' Experiences 1600-1700...
www.teachervision.com/slavery-us/resource/3848.html
Indentured Servants' Experiences 1600-1700. ... Indentured servants were
packed into the ships tightly,...
Indentured Servants' Experiences 1600-1700
BEFORE THE JOURNEY: "Many of the spirits [people who recruited indentured servants] haunted the London slums and those of Bristol and other seaports. It was not difficult to find hungry and thirsty victims who, over a dinner and much liquor, would sign anything before them. The spirit would then hustle his prey to his headquarters to be added to a waiting company of others, safely kept where they could not escape until a ship was ready for them. An easier way was to pick up a sleeping drunk from the gutter and put him aboard a vessel for America, where, with no indenture, he could be sold to his own disadvantage and with the American planter's gain. Children were valuable and could be enticed with candy to come along with a spirit. Sometimes they, and older people too, were seized by force."THE JOURNEY: The ocean journey to America usually took eight to twelve weeks. Indentured servants were packed into the ships tightly, often being held in the hold without a chance to get fresh air. "Every two weeks at sea the [indentured servant] passengers received an allowance of bread. One man and his wife, having eaten their bread in eight days, staggered before the captain and begged him to throw them overboard, for they would otherwise starve before the next bread day. The captain laughed in their faces, while the ship's mate, even more of a brute, gave them a bag of sand and told them to eat that. The couple did die before the next ration of bread, but the captain charged the other passengers for the bread the two would have eaten if they had survived."
UPON ARRIVAL IN AMERICA: Some indentured servants had their contract of service worked out with waiting American colonists who would be their masters for four to seven years. Others, upon arrival, were bought and sold much in the same manner as slaves. An announcement in the Virginia Gazette read, "Just arrived at Leedstown, the Ship Justitia, with about one Hundred Healthy Servants, Men Women and Boys. . . . The Sale will commence on Tuesday the 2nd of April."
TREATMENT BY THEIR MASTERS: Indentured servants had few rights. They could not vote. Without the permission of their masters, they were not allowed to marry, to leave their houses or travel, nor buy or sell anything. Female indentured servants were often raped without legal recourse. Masters often whipped and beat their indentured servants. One man testified: "I have seen an Overseer beat a Servant with a cane about the head till the blood has followed, for a fault that is not worth the speaking of...."
WORK IN AMERICA: In the 1600s, most indentured servants were put to work in the tobacco fields of Virginia and Maryland. This was hard manual labor under the grueling hot summer sun, under which Europeans were not accustomed to working. Overseers were often cruel, beating the servants to make them work faster and harder.
AFTER CONTRACT WAS COMPLETED: Although many masters craftily figure out ways to extend an indentured servant's bondage (through accusing the servant of stealing, impregnating a female indenture servant, etc.), most indentured servants who survived the first four to seven years in America were freed. The master was required (depending upon the rules of the colony) to provide his former servant with the following: clothing, two hoes, three barrels of corn, and fifty acres of land.
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BEAUTIFUL
DIRTY VIKINGS
The Norse in the North Atlantic
The first Europeans known definitely to set foot in Newfoundland were the Norse. Beginning in the eighth century, they burst out of their cultural homeland in Scandinavia (particularly Norway) in a series of expansionist waves of migration triggered by unknown causes — possibly overpopulation, possibly political unrest. Their notorious war galleys, known as "longships," were fast and maneuverable, perfect for swift hit-and-run raids in the sheltered seas and waterways of Europe. Going on such raiding expeditions was known as going "a-Viking," and it was by that name that the Norsemen became feared throughout Europe.
Yet the Norse who came to
Newfoundland were not fierce raiders in search of pillage and plunder. The
Norse appearance here was the final step in a relatively peaceful expansion of
livestock farmers across the North Atlantic, taking in parts of the British
Isles, Iceland, Greenland, and finally Vinland.
A Norse Woollen
Garment with a Head Covering
The Norse who
settled in Newfoundland probably wore clothing similar to this outfit which was
excavated in Herjolfsnes, southwestern Greenland.
From Geoffrey Ashe
et al., The
Quest for America (New York: Praeger Publishers, ©1971) 103.
Courtesy of the Nationalmuseet (The National Museum of Denmark), Copenhagen,
Denmark.
The Norse expansion into the North Atlantic occurred between 800
and 1000 CE, and may have been caused by a combination of population pressures
and political unrest in the Norse homeland. Norsemen appear to have left their
homeland in search of a place where their old customs and freedoms were not so
threatened. Iceland, discovered by the Norse in 860, appears to have been
settled by ca. 874 and was fully occupied by 930. Indeed, the occupation of
Iceland was so rapid that the island soon felt the pressures of overpopulation.
By 975 a major famine had struck, so that interest in finding new lands for
expansion remained strong. Rumours of lands to the west, possibly fed by
earlier Irish voyages, led to the discovery of Greenland in 982 by Erik the
Red. Three years later, a major colonizing expedition of several hundred people
was organized in Iceland and sailed to Greenland.The Norse Settle in Greenland
Eventually around 300 farmsteads were established in southeastern Greenland, clustered into two settlements. The oldest was the Eastern Settlement. The more suitable of the two for livestock farming, it was the most heavily populated region, with about 3,000-4,500 people. For this reason, the Eastern Settlement survived into the 1400s. The Western Settlement was about 160 miles further north along the Davis Strait. Though it was closer to northern hunting grounds, and had a promising beginning, it never had a population greater than 1,000-1,500. It was the first of the two areas to experience decline, so that by about 1350 it had disappeared.Though their culture was a violent one by our own standards and blood feuds were common, the Greenland colonists were not bloodthirsty sea-raiders. Nor were their vessels the classic "longships" used by Vikings in the sheltered waters of Europe on their raiding expeditions. In the North Atlantic, the Norse used stout, sea-worthy vessels known as "knarrs." Although there were limits to how much they could carry, they were more suited for carrying cargo.The knarr was also open to the elements and, though driven by a sail, it was small enough to be rowed. Most knarrs were built in Europe and exported to Greenland. This made Greenland dependent on secure trade links with Europe.
The people of Iceland and Greenland supported themselves through livestock farming and trading. The region was not suited to growing grain, and so the raising of sheep and goats dominated the agricultural economy. Stock-raising of this type, together with the impact of substantial numbers of people moving into Icelandand and Greenland, caused environmental degradation. Trees were felled to heat homes and smelt iron, and turf was stripped from the thin soils. The result was erosion and soil damage. To make matters worse, after 1250 AD, a period of climatic cooling known as the "Little Ice Age" began, causing the agricultural economy of the region to deteriorate dramatically.
Vinland
It is necessary to explain all these developments if we are to understand why the Norse failed to colonize North America successfully, for it was from these Greenland settlements, and not the Norse homeland in Europe, that the Norse explorers of North America came, around the year 1000.
Late 16th Century World Map Based on Icelandic
Writings
This map by Sigurd Stefánsson, a schoolmaster who
taught at Skálholt, dates from the 1500s. The western hemisphere place names
were derived from information contained in old Icelandic writings. Although the
original map has not survived, this reproduction was published in 1706 by
Torfæus from ‘Gronlandia Antiqua.’
From Jónas Kristjánsson, Icelandic Sagas and Manuscripts (Reykjavik, Iceland: Saga Publishing Co., ©1970) 16.
According
to the sagas, a merchant-shipowner named Bjarni was making his way from Iceland
to Greenland in 986 CE when he was blown off course by a severe storm. When the
storm ended, he found himself off an unfamiliar shore. He recognized that this
was not his intended landfall. The land was too forested, and he was too far
south. Bjarni therefore headed north, arriving in Greenland about a week later.
During the return trip, he noted a changing landscape as he progressed north,
from forested hills, to a flat, heavily forested coastline, to glaciated
mountains.
This
had not been an intentional voyage of discovery, nor was Bjarni interested in
following through on his discovery. As a merchant, he was interested primarily
in trading with established communities, not investing in risky and speculative
efforts to establish new ones. It was an attitude that would be shared 500
years later by the merchants of Bristol.
The
Greenland colonists were not interested in immediately exploiting the new
discovery, for they had just recently arrived in Greenland. Because they were
still busy establishing themselves, Bjarni's voyage did not inspire a return
trip for nearly a decade. Then Leif, the son of Erik the Red, retraced Bjarni's
route in reverse. He passed a land of rock and ice, which he called Helluland –
probably Baffin Island – and then a country that was flat and wooded, which he
called Markland. This was probably part of southern Labrador. He eventually
reached a land which the sagas describe as a land of grassy meadows, with
rivers full of salmon, and enough other resources to encourage over-wintering.
Leif gave this land the name "Vinland." The men proceeded to build
houses in typical Greenland Norse fashion, with sod-walls and peaked roofs of
timber and sod. When Leif and his crew returned to Greenland, their reports of
this new land aroused interest in further exploration.
Sod House, L'Anse aux Meadows
Courtesy of Ben Hansen. From a postcard entitled A UNESCO World
Heritage Site. Early Viking habitation at L'Anse aux Meadows, Nfld. Published by H.H. Marshall Ltd. St. John's, NL
One
such expedition was led by Leif's brother, Thorvald, who was able to locate
Leif's wintering place. Thorvald was eventually killed in a skirmish with local
natives that the Greenlanders called "Skraelings." From the saga
descriptions, it is impossible to say whether these Skraelings were Indians or
Inuit. Another brother, Thorstein, attempted to sail to Vinland but spent much
of the summer fighting contrary winds and seas before giving up and returning
to Greenland. The most ambitious effort was led by Thorfinn, and included women
and livestock. This expedition apparently remained in Vinland for two or three
years, but eventually abandoned the effort after hostilities broke out with the
natives. Thus, the discovery of Vinland was not followed by successful
settlement and exploitation of the New World.
Remains of Hall D
at L'Anse aux Meadows
Courtesy of the
Department of Canadian Heritage, Parks Canada, Federal Archaeology. ©Her
Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada. Reproduced with the permission of the
Minister of Public Works and Government Services, Canada.
Was Vinland in Newfoundland?
Where was Vinland? The location is difficult to determine because the details provided in the sagas often seem to conflict. The sailing directions suggest Newfoundland, but descriptions of lush vegetation, including grain and self-sown wheat, together with the discovery at L'Anse aux Meadows of butternuts (which have never grown further north than New Brunswick) suggest a more southerly location.The discovery of the Norse habitation at L'Anse aux Meadows gave powerful support for those who believed that Vinland was in Newfoundland. Yet L'Anse aux Meadows appears to have been a small settlement of about eight buildings and no more than 75 people, mostly sailors, carpenters, blacksmiths, hired hands and perhaps even serfs or slaves. It is probable therefore that the settlement was a base camp for repairing and maintaining Norseships. One bloomery and one smithy have been identified, where local bog iron was apparently smelted into "sponge iron," then subsequently purified and made into nails, rivets, and other iron work. The settlement was probably also a base camp for expeditions further south. During the summer, possibly two-thirds of the camp would have been off exploring as far south as the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
Sod Building
Replicas at L'Anse aux Meadows
Courtesy of the
Department of Canadian Heritage, Parks Canada, Federal Archaeology. ©Her
Majesty The Queen in Right of Canada. Reproduced with the permission of the
Minister of Public Works and Government Services, Canada. Photo by André
Corneiller.
Some women must have been present — artifacts found there, such
as a spindle whorl, bone needle, and a small whetstone for sharpening, were a
typical part of a Norsewoman's everyday possessions. Nevertheless,
archaeologists have concluded that the habitation there was little more than a
seasonal camp, never occupied for more than a few seasons, and certainly never
developing into the sort of permanent settlement which had been established in
Greenland. The consensus among scholars today (1997) is that "Vinland"
was not a specific site, but a region which included Newfoundland and extended
south into the Gulf of St. Lawrence as far as Nova Scotia and coastal New
Brunswick.The Significance of Vinland
Another important question is why the Norse failed to settle permanently in North America. How was it that they could survive in Greenland for 500 years, but could not establish themselves in Vinland, with its richer resources and better climate? Vinland was a remote place, and voyaging there was risky and uncertain, as we know from the sagas. Moreover, the Norse expeditions met strong resistance from the native inhabitants. The level of technology of the Norse was not significantly more advanced than that of the natives and this, combined with the small numbers of Norsemen in America, meant that they had no decisive advantage.
L'Anse aux
Meadows, Looking North
Courtesy of the
Department of Canadian Heritage, Parks Canada, Federal Archaeology. ©Her
Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada. Reproduced with the permission of the
Minister of Public Works and Government Services, Canada. Photo by Birgitta
Wallace
In the early 11th century the Greenland settlements were still
young and in their pioneering phase, and did not have the population nor the
wealth to support a new colony so far away — and never would have. There was
also little incentive, in that the economy which developed in Greenland did not
need expansion to America.There might have been some incentive later in the history of the Greenland settlements, as they became increasingly less viable, but by that time — the13th and 14th centuries — the inhabitants were preoccupied with their own survival, and would not have had the resources or the interest to create a new colony.
Greenland was a fragile colony, incapable of sustaining itself as climatic, economic, and political conditions deteriorated. According to Thomas McGovern, a leading authority on Norse expansion to North America, "Greenland simply did not produce enough people or riches to act as a successful base for sustained colonization attempts, and Norse Greenlanders may have seen little immediate benefit in expending either in Vinland." (McGovern, 285-308). Geoffrey Scammell concurs: "The Norse had gone as far as they were going....as the settlements in Iceland and Greenland decayed they were deprived of bases, material and incentives for any further endeavour." (Scammell 9). Greenland represented the practical limit of medieval Europe's extension into the North Atlantic.
The Norse contact with Newfoundland was fortuitous and the significance of their experience quite limited. Although they were probably the first Europeans to live in North America, however briefly, we cannot really say that they "discovered" America. As Daniel Boorstin explains, "What they did in America did not change their own or anybody else's view of the world....There was practically no feedback from the Vinland voyages. What is most remarkable is not that the Vikings actually reached America, but that they reached America and even settled there for a while, without discovering America." (Boorstin 215). European discovery of North America, including Newfoundland, in the sense of being aware that this was an new world to them, and a new opportunity, would have to wait until the era of John Cabot.
Version française
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Blog: SABLE ISLAND- NOVA SCOTIA-come visit - owned by wild
horses and nature -wild,harsh,beautiful-come visit - 2014
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Tip sheet from @MediaSmarts to help parents
talk to kids about media coverage of traumatic events: http://ow.ly/xFs69 #monctonshooting
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BLOG: CANADIAN TREASURE- Maud Lewis- 1903-1970 -
come getcha Nova Scotia on and see some incredible art - making disabilities
into incredible abilities- KICKING THE 'STIGMA' OF DISABILITY'S ARSE CANADA
STYLE /the story of Maud and Everett- incredible Folk Art Nova Scotia is famous
for/Canada film board documentary 1965 photos links
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BLOGGED: Seniors Nova Scotia
/AnnapolisValley/Canada/Global LINKS AND HELPLINES- -Mental and Physical
Health- Abuse/Kids Abuse/Homeless/Suicide/- each and every Canadian matters-
each and every global citizen matters /blogs-posts and links /thank u to our
troops, then, now always...and yours http://nova0000scotia.blogspot.ca/2015/11/seniors-nova-scotia-annapolisvalleycana.html
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1. 3.1 Introduction | Canadian History: Pre-Confederation
https://opentextbc.ca/preconfederation/chapter/introduction-3
Figure 3.1 The putative Irish
explorer, ... The 1400s witnessed the start of increasingly
ambitious sea expeditions in the ... 14.5 Atlantic Canada and
...
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2. Emigration Across the Atlantic: Irish, Italians and Swedes ...
ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/economic-migration/irial...
Emigration
across the Atlantic by Europeans during the
19th and 20th centuries, and especially during the so-called age of mass
European migration from 1850 to 1914 ...
Accentuate the positive: Change attitude to
improve life
LISA M.
PETSCHE
How to
Counteract Negative Tendencies
•Limit
your exposure to the news.
•Use
positive self-talk. Emphasize phrases such as “I can,” “I will” and “I choose.”
•Be
generous with praise and encouragement and cautious with criticism, giving only
the constructive type.
•Cultivate
a healthy sense of humour. Read the comics, watch a TV sitcom now and then or
rent funny movies. Don’t take yourself or others too seriously.
•Accept
realities you can’t change and focus on those you can influence.
•Trust
that there’s a valuable lesson in every type of adversity. And remember that no
matter what happens, you always have a choice about how to respond.
•Stay
connected to people who care. Minimize contact with those who are negative or
self-centred.
•Find
an outlet for expressing your thoughts and feelings, such as talking with a friend
or keeping a journal.
•Pick
your battles; don’t make a major issue out of every concern.
•Don’t
dwell on past mistakes, hurts or other unpleasant events.
•Look
for the good in people and situations. •Demonstrate empathy, give others the
benefit of the doubt and practise forgiveness.
•Do
something you enjoy each day: read, listen to music or take up a hobby.
•Identify
sources of stress in your life, then eliminate as many as possible and learn to
manage the rest. Practise relaxation techniques, such as deep breathing,
meditation or yoga.
•Seek
help from your primary physician or a counsellor if you continually feel sad,
angry or overwhelmed.
•Let go
of the need for perfection, and be flexible about plans and expectations. Take
things one day at a time.
•Be
receptive to learning new ways of doing things and try new activities.
•Do
nice things for others.
•Set
aside some quiet time each day; it nurtures your spirituality and helps to keep
you grounded.
•Finally,
focus on the good things in your life, such as supportive relationships, and
seek beauty and tranquility – through appreciation of art and nature, for
example.
Count
your blessings and learn to live in the moment, enjoying life’s simpler
pleasures.
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BLOGGED:
CANADA MILITARY NEWS-Halifax
Explosion 1917- nobody helped the coloureds of NS/White Trash foster kids of
WWII/Nova Scotia our black history- Human Rights and Freedoms in Canada- Nelson
Mandela-South Africa Canada Dec 7 2013
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BLOG: Canada Military News: How to change to positive thinking/fix social media f**k-ups/calming negative clients-patients/a year of buying nothing-hints/shift negative to positive/links included- this took a lot of time...so enjoy friends/talking to children about trauma /organizing a room by room clutter mess/Random Acts of Kindness lifts the soul and costs little
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On Growing Up White Trash
A writer comes to terms with the culture of her birth
by Heather O'Neill
September 12, 2012 • 1,495 words
Iam not
white trash. I grew up white trash, though. When I was brought home from the
hospital, I looked around the tiny lobby of our building and saw the dirty
walls, the broken mailboxes, and the missing tiles on the floor. German
shepherds wandered on the landings, and a beautiful girl wailed at a locked
door to be taken back. I heard the radios blaring rock ballads from open
apartment doors and the men standing in the doorways in their underwear, and I
thought, great, I’ve been born into a poor family. But it didn’t seem so bad.
Growing up, all our furniture came from the garbage.
We never threw anything out. How could you know what was garbage when our whole
building looked like it was made from trash? The clock on the wall was a
gangster that shot out machine gun noises on the hour. We had fake stained
glass unicorns hanging from little suction cup hooks on the living-room window.
We had stacks of old telephone books and a fish tank with no fish in it. It was
typical white trash decor, shocking to no one. We weren’t exactly entertaining
guests from other neighbourhoods.
By the time I was eleven, many of my friends were
always being taken off to foster care when their moms had breakdowns or got
arrested or had particularly shitty new boyfriends. Everybody had regular
visits with social workers. In the summer, they gave us free passes to the
amusement park. The Ferris wheel would turn around and around, filled with
scared white trash children with their eyes closed—a little white trash solar
system.
The white trash girls wore cut-off jean shorts and
high heels over gym socks, and tied shoelaces around their wrists. The boys
wore T-shirts with heavy metal bands, and jean jackets with silver-studded
sleeves. All of the kids had bangs down to their noses. We never saw each
other’s eyes. This was good for looking tough, and for hiding when you were
crying. All of the kids had potty mouths. The only word not spoken out loud was
“welfare.” A person could get stuck on it for years. You could be three
generations on welfare.
When I turned thirteen and started noticing boys, I
decided that my type was Judd Nelson as the teenage delinquent in The
Breakfast Club. There weren’t any jocks or nerds around. I had a boyfriend
named Shaun who wore a porkpie hat he had stolen off a snowman. He wrote the
worst poetry on earth. He was in grade seven math for three years straight. He
tried to sell photocopies of his drawings of ninjas on the street corner.
Afterward, I dated Derek, who had a pet pigeon named Homer. He lived with his
dad and slept on the couch. His dad kicked both of them out one day. Derek was
sent to live in a foster home. I don’t know what happened to the pigeon.
When I was fifteen, I had a crush on a boy named
Lionel who had a long scar on his arm where his dad had stabbed him when he was
nine. He was known for having the high score on the Donkey Kong machine at the
back of the corner store. He held up a gas station one night with his older
brother. He came over with a suitcase full of stolen cigarettes and Reese’s
Peanut Butter Cups.
I went on a date with a boy named Paul. His
grandmother was raising him. She wore a winter coat all year long, even in the
house. The peeling wallpaper of their apartment was covered in cherry trees.
There were cockroaches in the teacups that you had to shake out into the sink.
We didn’t judge each other because we were poor. It
would be like yelling at someone because it was raining. I just felt pretty and
light headed when those boys were around. They thought I was a genius because I
was the only kid from our circle who did really well at school.
When you’re a child, you become best friends with
whoever lives across the street. But when I started high school, I was placed
in all the advanced classes, and I joined extracurricular activities like the
chess club. I started to make friends from different backgrounds. We had more
in common, like books and alternative movies, and they opened up different
worlds to me.
When I was fifteen, I was walking down the street
with a boy I had recently made friends with and sort of liked. He was middle
class and very nerdy. I had always wanted to be friends with a nerd. According
to all the movies, they liked and accepted everyone. Out of nowhere, he said,
“My mother says you’re not going to do anything with your life.”
“What, is the woman a fortune teller? How could she
possibly know something like that?”
“She says you’re white trash, like the rest of your
family.”
The boy said it as if it shouldn’t even bother me. He
said it in the way that you tell a dog it can’t sit at the table because it is
a dog. He said it as if everyone knew my place in the world, so I must know it,
too. I just stood there on the sidewalk, not making eye contact. I suddenly
realized that my new friends had been looking down on me.
I changed the way I dressed. I started making new
friends who hadn’t known me when I was little. If they asked about my family, I
would tell them things I had read in Edwardian novels about aristocrats. My
father was a barrister. My mother played the clarinet for Prague’s People’s
Community Orchestra. I would even lie about my dog. It was from Paris. Its
mother was killed by a gendarme’s car.
I tried really, really hard. I went to university. I
wanted to be a writer. I lost touch with everyone I knew from childhood. But I
always felt as if I didn’t fit in and dreaded people finding out my history.
Finally, I started dating someone with a different background. He hailed from
the suburbs, from a two-storey house with wall-to-wall carpeting, prints of
Renoir on the wall, and a plastic cover on the sofa. I thought dating him would
mean that I was from another class, too.
We stayed together for years, but he had a nasty
streak. He had a way of saying the meanest things possible out of the blue when
we were alone. One day, I was flipping through a magazine, and I saw a photograph
of children in a field filled with daisies. I asked him whether he saw us
having a baby one day. He went quiet for a moment, and then he started looking
angry. He said he couldn’t see himself having a child with someone from a white
trash background.
I was startled. It didn’t matter to him that I was
educated and had a respectable career. He seemed to believe white trash was in
my blood. It was something I would pass on to my children. And who wants a baby
with a mullet in a little acid-washed jumper?
By then, I had started writing the truth about my
background. I wrote about how the basement walls of my building were covered in
licence plates and hubcaps. I thought it was beautiful, like Aladdin’s cave. I
wrote about eating pork chops while sitting on the sidewalk and watching a
television plugged into an extension cord that ran through a window. I wrote
how we collected bottles in a suitcase after festivals in the park. As I
started telling the truth, beautiful things began to emerge. And I began to be
proud of my heritage.
So my reaction was different this time. His insult
changed how I regarded him. While he had once seemed educated and clever, he
now looked unattractive, ignorant, and small minded. For all his supposed
refinements, he didn’t understand that being white trash wasn’t a genetic
disorder. It was a culture, just like his.
This appeared
in the May 2012 issue.
Heather O’Neill published her second novel, The Girl Who Was Saturday Night,
in April 2014.
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Reclaiming History: The Residential School System in
Canada
Since their first arrival in the “new world” of North
America, a number of religious entities began the project of converting
Aboriginal Peoples to Christianity. This undertaking grew in structure and
purpose, especially between1831 and 1969, when the governing officials of early
Canada joined with Roman Catholic, Anglican, Methodist, United, and
Presbyterian churches to create and operate the residential school system. This
partnership came to an end when the federal government took over sole
management of the schools, and then began transferring the control of First
Nations education to Indian bands. The last federally-run residential school,
Gordon Indian Residential School in Saskatchewan, closed in 1996. One common
objective defined this period: the aggressive assimilation of Aboriginal
peoples.
1615
Assimilation
Aboriginal education had long been a priority for both
Aboriginal and British (and later Canadian) leaders and governments. However,
the political and economic changes brought about by events in the nineteenth
century soon made it a critical one. Astutely realizing the long-term impact of
these changes on their traditional lives and cultures, a number of Aboriginal
leaders engaged in negotiations with religious orders and government officials
to create an equitable education system for all.
1780
First Nations leaders in Upper Canada like Ojibwa Leaders
Peter Jones and John Sunday, for example, worked with Methodist missionaries
and churches to enable Aboriginal people to succeed in a changing world:
together, they raised funds to build schools and to hire Euro-Canadian teachers
who would provide formal education, as well as training in farming and skilled
trades for Aboriginal children. Both sides were to profit from this
partnership: First Nations communities would have access to an education that
they believed would give their children a chance to participate in mainstream
society on equal terms. And the schools would give the missionaries a means to
teach Christian doctrine.
1800
Jones and Sunday were not alone. Anishnaabe Leader Chief
Shingwauk, also advocated for education of Aboriginal children, but an
education that combined both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal teachings. In
collaboration with the government and the Anglican Church, Shingwauk
implemented “teaching wigwams.” With the help of his sons, who were hereditary
chiefs, these schools continued to operate after his death in 1854, and into
the early twentieth century.
1820
However, there were some individuals who studied the issue
of Aboriginal education and proposed much different models of instruction and
learning than Chief Shingwauk, Jones, and Sunday. The men who served on the
Bagot Commission (1842-44), for example, proposed that the separation of
children from their parents would be the best way to achieve assimilation, and
in his Report on Native Education (1847), Egerton Ryerson, Superintendent for
Education, reiterated this idea, and also recommended that Aboriginal education
focus on religious instruction and on agricultural training.
1825
Confederation, in 1867, further complicated the matter. The
promise of a sea-to-sea Dominion of Canada depended, in part, on the settlement
of the west. However, this would prove to be a difficult goal to achieve: the
United States was already looking at the prairies with annexation in mind.
Besides, the west was already occupied. Unlike the Aboriginal people in the
east who were in the process of being assimilated into mainstream culture to
varying degrees, the western tribal groups maintained their autonomous ways of
life.
1867
Clearly, the Dominion’s new government had much work to do.
Politicians immediately got busy drafting the necessary legislation, and in the
early decades of Confederation, they passed the following two acts: the Act for
the Gradual Civilization of the Indian (1869), which called for “All Indians to
be civilized,” and the Indian Act (1876), which legally established the federal
government’s right to create laws that would apply to Aboriginal peoples. With
such legislative groundwork established, a case was soon after made to develop
an educational strategy that would completely assimilate Aboriginal children.
1876
Politicians also determined that a transcontinental
railroad would help to bring settlers to the west, and to fortify the western
and southern boundaries of the Dominion. However, the Homestead Act required
that title to the land needed to be secured before the building could start, which
set in motion a treaty-making process with western Aboriginal leaders. The
project of settling the prairies began in earnest.
1876
The promise of a good education for Aboriginal children
As railway lines and settlers began the slow-but-steady
incursion westward, they displaced and destroyed the vast buffalo herds that
sustained many tribal groups. This signaled an end to traditional lifestyles,
and Western Aboriginal leaders realized that the survival of their people
would, in part, depend on the acquisition of new skills. Specialized education
and training now became a critical issue in treaty negotiations. Large tracts
of ancestral lands were subsequently ceded to the Dominion government in
exchange for the promise of a good education for Aboriginal children, among
other stipulations.
1877
As treaties were signed, Aboriginal people found themselves
forced to move to reserve lands. Momentum began to build for an education
program that would fulfill treaty obligations, and at the same time, work to
civilize, Christianize, and assimilate Aboriginal children into the Canadian
mainstream. Politicians and educators continued to debate how this could best
be accomplished.
1878
Prime Minister Sir John A. Macdonald
wondered if the American policy of “aggressive civilization” might prove
helpful and, in 1879, he sent Nicholas Flood Davin to meet with officials from
the U.S. Department of Indian Affairs, and Native American leaders from
Oklahoma. Davin submitted his findings in the Report on Industrial Schools for
Indians and Half-breeds, also known as the Davin Report, which included a
number of recommendations on how the American policy on Aboriginal education
could be emulated in Canada. Davin had also been persuaded by the American
government’s argument that “the day-school did not work, because the influence
of the wigwam was stronger than the influence of the school,” even though day
schools had been operating in Canada since the 1840s.
1879
By the time the Davin Report was released, the idea of
separating children from their parents as an effective education – and
assimilation – strategy had already taken root. The visually persuasive example
of what could be achieved through a “boarding school” model like the Carlisle
Industrial Boarding School in Pennsylvania generated fervour to implement a
boarding school system in Canada.
1880
By the year 1880, eleven schools were operating in the
Dominion of Canada.
1880
“I am confident that the Industrial School now about to be
established will be a principal feature in the civilization of the Indian mind.
The utility of Industrial Schools has long been acknowledged by our neighbours
across the line [in the United States], who have had much to do with the
Indian. In that country, as in this, it is found difficult to make day schools
on reserves a success, because the influence of home associations is stronger
than that of the schools, and so long as such a state of things exists I fear
that the inherited aversion to labour can never be successfully met. By the
children being separated from their parents and properly and regularly
instructed not only in the rudiments of the English language, but also in
trades and agriculture, so that what is taught may not be readily forgotten, I
can but assure myself that a great end will be attained for the permanent and
lasting benefit of the Indian.” Dominion of Canada. Annual Report of the
Department of Indian Affairs for the year ended 31st December 1883. p. 104.
1883
“I feel certain that this school will be a great success,
and that it will be a chief means of civilizing the Indian; but to obtain this
result, accommodation must be made to take in more pupils, as now we can only
take in but one out of each reserve. A school for Indian girls would be of
great importance, and I may say, would be absolutely necessary to effect the
civilization of the next generation of Indians[;] if the women were educated it
would almost be a guarantee that their children would be educated also and
brought up Christians, with no danger of their following the awful existence
that many of them ignorantly live now. It will be nearly futile to educate the
boys and leave the girls uneducated.” Dominion of Canada. Annual Report of the
Department of Indian Affairs for the Year Ended 31st December, 1885. p. 138. J.
Hugonnard, Principal Qu'Appelle Industrial School.
1885
Lessons, however, did not just revolve around farming and
housekeeping. In fact, some proved to be quite political. As part of their
education at the Regina Industrial School, for example, Aboriginal students
were taken to see the execution of Louis Riel. That day, children learned that
the people who voiced support for Aboriginal rights put themselves in grave
danger. The children would have to find acceptable heroes and role models from
white culture.
1885
“The girls are being taught housework, sewing, knitting,
and some of them are especially clever at fancy work. The Rev. Father would
like a building put up expressly for girls, and also that he be permitted to
take in a few white boys. The introduction of the latter has been allowed by
the Department; and the erection of a building for girls, is under
consideration. I noticed that when the Indian boys were playing, they generally
spoke in the Cree language; and, no doubt, the introduction of some white boys,
say one to every ten, would help greatly to make them speak in English, and
thus become familiar with the language. With reference to the school for girls,
I think this a necessity. The success with the few girls already under
instruction is a guarantee of the success of the undertaking; and it is plain
that to educate boys only, they would soon go back to old habits, if the girls
are not taught to co-operate in house work. I do not think it possible that the
girls I saw at the school, with their neat dresses, and tidy way of doing house
work, could ever go back to the old habits of the Indian. These will be the
future mothers; and it is most important to have them properly trained and
educated.” Dominion of Canada. Annual Report of the Department of Indian
Affairs for the year ended 31st December, 1886. P. 146. Alex McGibbon,
Inspector of Indian Agencies and Reserves.
1886
“This branch of the Indian service has ever been recognized
as one of the most, if not perhaps the most, important feature of the extensive
system which is operating towards the civilization of our native races, having
its beginning in small things—the first step being the establishment of reserve
day-schools of limited scope and influence, the first forward step was the
founding of boarding-schools both on and off the reserves. The beneficent
effect of these becoming at once apparent, an impetus was thus given to the
movement in the direction of industrial training, which was at once entered
upon the establishment of our earlier industrial institutions ... until today
the Dominion has had at its command a system which provides for its Indian
wards a practical course of industrial training, fitting for useful citizenship
the youth of a people who one generation past were practically unrestrained
savages.” Dominion of Canada. Annual Report for the Department f Indian Affairs
for the year ended 31st December 1896. p. 291. A.E. Forget, Indian
Commissioner.
1896
In the second photograph, Moore looks slightly older. He
now wears a military style uniform, and has short hair. To the right of him is
a potted plant, and to his left we can see his cap resting on an ornate
railing. Once again, he looks directly into the camera, although this time he
appears much more confident. A side-by-side comparison of the two photographs
reveals a similar pose: in each portrait, Moore’s left arm and hand forms the
same shape. However, in the first photo, one hand touches his braid, while the
other hand touches the pistol; in the second, Moore leans against a railing,
which allows him to place his right arm on his hip while his left hand hangs
relaxed, and empty. The two photographs offer two different readings of the
Aboriginal body: the first represents an uncivilized and potentially dangerous
Indian. The second represents a civilized, unarmed, and therefore unthreatening
Indian. In fact, “Scott admitted frankly that the provision of education to
Indian Communities was indispensable, for without it and “with neglect” they
“would produce an undesirable and often dangerous element in society.”
(Dominion of Canada Annual Report of the Department of Indian Affairs for the
year ended March 31 1910. p. 273)
1897
Official opinions about Aboriginal education, the Davin
Report, and the Carlisle boarding school model, all helped to convince many
Canadians about the kind of Industrial School System they were willing to
support. In this environment, the Regina Industrial School first made its
appearance, and Thomas Moore was promoted as its model student. In the first of
the two photographs, Moore wears tribal style clothing: cloth leggings, a shirt
decorated with metal tacks, a long necklace, a breechcloth with a beaded floral
design, and moccasins. His long hair is wrapped in fur and hangs down over his
chest, and he holds a pistol in his right hand. Moore looks directly into the
camera with a blank expression on his face, and the diffused lighting in the
background provides no hint of time or place.
1897
Despite an aggressive campaign to increase the number of
students, the government was determined to keep the operating costs of the
schools at a minimum. The lack of sufficient funds resulted in poorly
constructed buildings, insufficient food and clothing for the students, and
inadequate programming.
1900
The Regina Industrial School was supposed to create an
environment where Indian children would be “civilized,” and where they would
learn the language and the skills necessary to enter the Canadian workforce as
tradespeople. Did it succeed? That depended on who you asked. Some people
celebrated the school as “one of the most successful in the Canadian west.”
Others, however, felt that maybe it was a little too successful.* Debates soon
raged in the House of Commons, as the opposition criticized government spending
on industrial schools. The Minister of the Department of Indian Affairs
attempted to defend the government’s position, arguing that “It has never been
the policy of the Department for the design of industrial schools to turn
Indian pupils out to compete with whites.” However, continued political
pressure eventually brought about a change to the schools’ original design:
Industrial schools would now focus exclusively on agriculture. Aboriginal boys
would become “handy all round farmers,” and Aboriginal girls would learn the
skills to become “excellent housekeepers.” (Memo, Indian Affairs, 1904).
1904
Residential Schools as Policy
Before long, the government began to hear many serious and
legitimate complaints from parents and native leaders: The teachers were
under-qualified, with an emphasis on religious zeal. Religious instruction was
divisive. And there were allegations of physical and sexual abuse. These
concerns, however, were of no legal consequence. Under the Indian Act, all
Aboriginal people were by legal definition wards of the state. School
administrators were assigned guardianship, which meant they received full
parental rights. The complaints continued. School administrators, teachers,
Indian agents, and even some government bureaucrats started to express their
concerns. All of them called for major reforms to the system.
1901
For the most part, government and church officials managed
to ignore these opposing voices. However, the health reports from the schools
could not be as easily dismissed. The ongoing outbreaks of tuberculosis at the
schools were taking a toll on the students’ lives. This disease spread quickly
through the poorly ventilated and overcrowded school dormitories, and the
malnourished and physically weakened Aboriginal students easily succumbed to
the infection. Thousands of residential school children died from tuberculosis
and from the many other ailments they contracted at the schools.
1905
Unfortunately, many children would die before the
government finally intervened in 1907 by sending Dr. Peter Bryce to assess the
health situation at the schools. Dr. Bryce was the Medical Inspector for the
Department of Indian Affairs, and he did not attempt to disguise the horror of
what he found. In his official report, Bryce called the tuberculosis epidemic a
“’national crime’ … [and] the consequence of inadequate government funding,
poorly constructed schools, sanitary and ventilation problems, inadequate diet,
clothing and medical care.” (A National Crime: The Canadian Government and the
Residential School System, 1879 to 1986, p. 75.) He calculated mortality rates
among school age children as ranging from 35% and 60%.
1907
Not everyone welcomed Dr. Bryce’s report, or indeed, the
similar such findings* of others. His requests for additional funds to address
some of the basic health concerns were denied. Parts of his incriminating
report were suppressed by Duncan Campbell Scott, Superintendent of Indian
Affairs, who then also terminated the position of Medical Inspector. Clearly,
the health of Aboriginal school children was not going to be made a priority.
1909
Instead, Duncan Campbell Scott turned his attention to
negotiating a joint agreement between the federal government and the Roman
Catholic, Anglican, Presbyterian, and Methodist churches. This agreement
established the structure and mandate for what would now be termed “Indian
Residential Schools,” and the contractual obligations of the churches
responsible for running them. The new “residential” schools would focus on
primary education in an effort to forcefully civilize and Christianize Indian
children. Although the change in name may have made for good public relations,
the abusive treatment of Aboriginal children continued, and the epidemics that
were killing them did not subside. Duncan Campbell Scott was determined to find
a “final solution to the Indian Problem.” He explained: “I want to get rid of
the Indian problem. I do not think as a matter of fact, that the country ought
to continuously protect a class of people who are able to stand alone… Our
object is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not
been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no
Indian Department”
1920
In 1922, after he was forced to retire from federal
service, Bryce published his report in its entirety, under the title: The Story
of a National Crime: Being a Record of the Health Conditions of the Indians of
Canada from 1904 to 1921.
1922
The Métis Residential School Experience
Métis children, initially turned away by the Canadian
government, were later encouraged to fill school spaces left by Indian
children. Métis students encountered racism from all sides: they were often
outsiders within the student body, and were also treated as second-class
citizens when they were made to work longer and harder to “earn” their education.
They were not wanted in white schools, but neither would the Department of
Indian Affairs recognize them as Indians. With limited options, Métis parents
often had to pay for children’s education, and would place them at any school
that would take them.
1910
Life at residential schools
The journey to residential schools was often a long one,
particularly for Aboriginal children who came from communities that were
thousands of miles away. Some could walk to the schools, but many others
arrived by wagon, train, boat, or, in later years, by bus. When they remember
that long journey, many Survivors recall feeling like they were walking into a
prison. When they entered the schools, they were robbed of their identities:
their hair was cut and de-loused, they were stripped of their garments and
possessions and clothed in uniforms, and they were called by “Christian” names
or by numbers instead of their own names. For the few students who had been
prepared by their parents, the schools may have initially appeared less
ominous, but for those who were taken to the schools by force, the experience
was all the more traumatic.
1923
Further Reading:
Shirley I. Williams, Ojibwe, attended St. Joseph’s
Residential School in Spanish, Ontario, at the age of 10. She is now Professor
Emerita and Ojibwe Elder in the Department of Native Studies at Trent
University, Peterborough. When ten-year-old Shirley Pheasant (Williams) entered
the St. Joseph’s Boarding School at Spanish, Ontario, in 1949, she could only
speak her Native language, Ojibwe. Shirley remembers what it was like when she
first arrived: “When I saw [St. Joseph’s] it was grey. A brick building when it
rains is dark and grey, you know. It’s an ugly day but the feeling was … of
ugliness. [T]he gate opened and the bus went in, and I think when the gate
closed … something happened to me, something locked, it is like my heart
locked, because it could hear that...[the clink of gates] ...the bus stopped
and then the sister or the nun … she came in and she sounded very very cross,
and I could just imagine what she was trying to say, because this is what my
sisters told me, what she would probably say, so I had in my mind what she was
trying to tell us, that we get off the bus [and] we go two by two … up the
stairs ... the stairs were, well it was four stories and no elevator and we had
to walk up the stairs with our suitcases. ...[at the] top of the stairs . . .
you were asked your name ... and this [is] another thing my mother prepared me
for ... so I was very proud to say yes that my name was Shirley Pheasant and
then they gave you a number and so you went down and they give you another
bundle with your chemise … your bloomers and your stocking[s] and you went to
the next person ... the last one you saw [was] the nun who looked into your
hair to look for bugs.”
1934
The type of school that Aboriginal children attended
depended on the time and place in which they lived. Prior to the “residential”
school system, industrial schools existed both on and off-reserve, and were,
for the most part, attended by children in residence. Few first-hand accounts
from Survivors of this period exist, but evidence suggests that some Survivors
had a positive school experience, and afterwards led successful lives in their
trades. These schools emphasized religious instruction, and taught farming and
skilled trades, so that their “graduates” could be productive in mainstream
Canadian society to the extent possible, given the racism of the day.
1935
Students initially learned carpentry, blacksmithing,
printing, animal husbandry, and other trades. However, instruction eventually
degenerated to ensure that Native people, no longer competitive in these
trades, would remain in the lowest socio-economic class of farmhands (instead
of farmers), general labourers (instead of skilled tradespeople), and, for
young women, domestic workers. The Industrial School Era came with a high cost
to Survivors: the surrender of cultural identity, and later, off-reserve, the
loss of Indian status. Decades later, a modified school system was established.
These schools were situated off-reserve, where children lived for the school
year or in some cases all year-round. Yet this was not an improvement over the
Industrial School model, and the early years of the Residential School Era were
plagued by abuse and neglect.
1936
Once again, underfunding was the source of many problems in
the schools. The government had devised a per capita funding formula in 1892 to
try and control operating costs: payments were based on the needs of each
individual school. But the rapid development of new schools, combined with
competition between church groups for funding, soon made it impossible for the
formula to work properly. School administrators competed for more students,
regardless of the poor condition of the school buildings. As the funding
continued to dwindle, everyone within the schools suffered. It became difficult
for the schools to hire qualified teachers. The appalling poverty of the
schools also produced impossible working conditions. Staff worked long hours
for meager wages in unsanitary and overcrowded environments. Many of them took
out their frustrations on the children.
1936
The children themselves were extremely vulnerable.
Physically and psychologically compromised by the inadequate food, clothing,
and shelter provided by the schools, students were susceptible to the constant
outbreaks of influenza and tuberculosis. They were also subjected to corporal
punishment that was sometimes so severe that they found themselves
hospitalized. In addition, many children were sexually abused. Indeed, the lack
of oversight combined with the low level of qualifications required to work at
the schools, often attracting persons unsuited to work with children and,
sadly, sexual predators.
1938
Aboriginal children separated from parents, grandparents,
and extended family – including siblings, who may have been at the same school
– suffered from feelings of acute loneliness, spiritual emptiness, and a sense
of abandonment by their families, a situation made worse as they struggled with
the need to learn a new language, and the stress of living in an unsafe
environment. The effects of abuse were profound. Some children died from severe
beatings. Out of despair, others took their own lives. Still others died
without ever seeing their parents again. Such were the “good living conditions”
that officials claimed existed at the schools.
1939
This was the environment that became home for generations
of Aboriginal children. Many would arrive as young as four or five years old, and
there they would remain for years, sometimes never returning* to their families
and communities for visits or vacations. Children weighed the risk of running
away against the cost of staying at the schools. Many decided the risk was
worth it. While some were successful, they were usually caught by the police
and returned to the schools. Others died in the attempt.
1940
Elsie Paul, Survivor Sechelt Residential School, British
Colombia “[I remember] kids never having enough to eat. I think back on those
days and I wonder was it during the Depression. Was that why there was so
little food? Was it because food was rationed at that time? I guess in my own
mind I’m trying to justify or make excuses why we didn’t have enough food.
There was plenty of food on the table of the people who looked after us. There
was butter on that table. We had fat on our bread. That’s what they put on our
bread, one slice of bread per meal. The spread that was on there was beef fat
or pork fat. When you do your duty and go to clean up the table of the
caregivers and you see a beautiful setting there and they have a good choice of
food --- . . . Mostly [at home] we lived on game, deer meat, and a lot of
seafood prepared traditionally. That was all I knew, my grandmother’s cooking.
We had fried bread or oven bread, jam or dried fruits, dried meat, dried fish
and clams. Those were all the foods I was familiar with. And to get [to school]
and to have a dish of some sort of stew put in front of me that I was not
familiar with at all --- It must have been pork stew. I remember the rind being
in the stew with the hair on it, with fur on it, and the child next to me was
saying that you have to eat that food or else you’re going to be punished if
you don’t. I think I blanked it out. I don’t know if I ate it.”
1941
Beverly Albrecht, Survivor Mohawk Institute in Brantford,
Ontario “I was 7. I was the oldest. My brother was 6. My other sister was 5.
The other brother was 4, and my younger sister was 3 … The only time I remember
talking to my brothers is Sunday. We have a Sunday dinner. That’s the only time
I remember talking to them. The boys sat on one side and the girls on the
other. … Because they didn’t want us to get along with the other girls, they
would have boxing matches to make us fight just so that we wouldn’t like the
other girls, and also, too, because they thought they had so many rules, they
thought if we fight with each other we’ll end up taking our anger, or whatever
we have, out on the other girls. … I remember fighting with my sister. She’s 2
years younger than me, but we never beat each other. We just did it. … You
don’t do it just because you want to. They did it because they wanted us to be
angry and to beat up on somebody younger. My healing? I do journaling for
myself, like I said, with my women’s circle, we make crafts such as moccasins,
dream catchers, and sometimes we quilt and things like that.”
1942
Inuit and Inuvialuit Residential School Experience
In the north, many of the residential schools or missions
were considered “day” schools, although the majority of their students came
from remote communities and were boarded at hostels next to the schools. The
curriculum of Day Schools was adapted from the curriculum of southern schools
in order to reflect the realities of life in the north. However, the effects of
isolation, divisive religious teachings, and abuse were ever-present.
1943
Abraham Ruban, Grolier Hall, Inuvik “That first night at
the Residential School I had nightmares. In the nightmares I saw the face of
this Nun and I had nightmares all through the night. I woke up in the morning
and I had wet my bed from just being disoriented, scared, and all the other
elements. She came out and all the other kids had already gone out and gotten
dressed. She came out and saw me still sleeping and realized I had wet my bed.
She dragged me out and laid her first beating on me. My parents had brought me
up basically to not take [abuse] from anyone. I started fighting back. She
first started with slapping me in the face and dragging me out of bed and
calling me a “espèce de cochon” which means dirty old pig. And she had never
seen such a low life. So this was my first introduction to this woman. I fought
back and the harder I fought the harder she hit. Then she started using her
fists on me so I just backed off and we called it even. That was the first of
many. I realized then that this would be stock and trade for the next few
years. I could see well into the future what my relationship with her would be
like. And it didn’t stop. I would get the [living daylights] kicked out of me
and I would just fight back.”
1944
A questionable education
What was being taught in the classroom? As late as 1950,
according to an Indian Affairs study, over 40 per cent of the teaching staff
had no professional training. Until the early 1950s, students in residential
schools spent, at best, half of their school day on academic subjects and the
remainder doing manual work and receiving religious instruction (Persson,
1986). In theory, academic instruction was available to the grade 9 level, but
very few students ever went that far. Instead, they received vocational
training, which centred on animal husbandry, homemaking, or common labour.
Since many schools were chronically underfunded, however, many students soon
found themselves applying these skills in ways that effectively subsidized the
schools. For example, students might grow and sell produce at local markets. Or
boys would be hired out as labourers under the guise of “outing” or
“apprenticeship” programs, while female students were put to work in private
homes.
1950
Further Reading:
Shirley
Williams, who attended St. Joseph’s
Residential School in Spanish, Ontario recalls: “In school we learned many
different subjects such as English, science, math, writing, geography, history
and home economics. The home economics consisted of knitting, cooking and
sewing. […] Every month we were assigned to new jobs. We called them ‘jobs’ and
every month we changed jobs within the school. We had ‘vocational jobs’, such
as sweeping the floors in the dorms, recreation, and refectory. Halls, stairs
and the Sister’s dining room areas were also part of our ‘jobs’, which also
include cleaning the washrooms. The heaviest jobs were the laundry, dairy and
kitchen. Many times in the afternoon we would be taken out of class to go and
work.”
1951
It is a misconception that Aboriginal children arrived at
the residential schools uneducated. They had received a previous education from
their parents and Elders that enabled them to thrive in Aboriginal cultures.
Traditionally, Aboriginal children begin their education at birth, when they
learn how to be members of their communities. Traditions and ceremonies play a
significant role in helping them develop the physical, mental, emotional, and
spiritual aspects of their identities. Contrary to the European model of
corporal punishment, native education favours guidance and mentoring, an
approach that respects the integrity and sanctity of the child. The three Ls of
Looking, Listening, and Learning also emphasize experiential learning, and
storytelling conveys cautionary messages meant to regulate bad behaviour.
Aboriginal children would have felt violated by the harsh methods and rigid
structure of the residential schools.
1952
All residential school children shared one thing in common:
the great loneliness they endured. Physically isolated from their homes, the
children became additionally isolated from one another when siblings and
relatives were separated by gender. They also became distanced from their
cultures when they were forbidden to speak their own languages. The children
missed their families, and being part of supportive communities. Thousands of
Aboriginal children died while in the care of the schools from malnourishment,
disease, overexposure to extreme weather, physical abuse, and suicide.
1953
Before long, Aboriginal communities began to experience the
full effect of the dysfunction, and indeed devastation, caused by the
residential school system. Generations of Survivors have been raised, from as
young as four or five years old, in a “family” made up of government and church
officials, and school staff. Far short of parental role models, teachers and
school administrators used harsh disciplinary methods, and neither encouraged
nor showed affection. The residential school system deprived Aboriginal
children of their traditions, and of a safe and supportive home in which they
were cherished. It produced generations of people who lacked essential
interpersonal and relationship skills.
1954
Many Survivors were not equipped with the skills to become
loving partners and parents, and had difficulty expressing parental love; many
did not know how to handle conflict in a constructive way. When these Survivors
became spouses or parents, they did not always interact with others
appropriately. The abuse and neglect that Survivors suffered at the schools
often resurfaced in their own relationships, where the abused became the
abuser. This perpetuated a cycle of violence within families, and produced
generations of “broken children,” many of whom also went on to attend
residential schools. As parents struggled with the trauma of their own
residential school experiences, they remained powerless to prevent the same
from being visited upon their own children when it was their time to attend
residential school.
1955
Grant Severight, Survivor St. Philip’s Indian Residential
School, Kamsack, Saskatchewan “I was raised by my grandparents, [and] I
loved my grandparents. I would have stayed in the bush with them rather than
being put in a Residential School. I remember missing them and the dislocation
I felt, the disconnection I felt to my family. Eventually that whole
dislocation and disconnection kind of built walls in me that took me years to
deconstruct again. The feeling of inferiority I felt --- All over the Reserve
we were happy there but when we would go outside the perimeter we would see
these White farmers who were flourishing and just wealthy. Somehow even as a
young man I used to wonder why is that? Why is it we don’t have anything and
why did I feel different when I went to town with my grandparents? We weren’t
treated with any kind of dignity. We were more or less just tolerated by the
merchants in town. That had a lasting impression on me, that feeling of not
being equal. I probably carried that into all of my other relationships later
on. Somehow it fired within my spirit anger. I really felt unfair treatment.
But at that time I really had nothing to compare that with. I just thought that
was the way it was for us people. We don’t have the closeness of family any
more. A lot of the grandparents and a lot of the parents who went to
Residential School lost that familial sense of belonging. In the course of
having grown up like that you always try to emulate the people that raised you.
If you were raised in coldness and detachment, you’re going to carry those same
ways of raising your own children in that atmosphere. I know men who really
believe that they should break the spirit of their children, to discipline them
and to control them. I remember them saying, “break their spirit, break their
spirit, don’t give in to them.” That’s exactly what happened to them. The whole
consequence of that is men don’t know how to feel, or they don’t know how to
show their feelings. There is no nurturing any more.”
1955
Winding down the schools
By the 1950s, it became obvious that the residential school
program had failed to reach its goals: Aboriginal peoples had not been
assimilated into the Canadian mainstream, and graduates were not succeeding in
their vocations. The situation could no longer be ignored. A policy of
integration was now proposed as the best way to proceed, and as the residential
school curriculum was reformed to meet national standards, the schools were
slowly replaced by day schools. These schools were deemed “the best hope of
giving the Indians [and other Aboriginal Peoples] an equal chance with other
Canadian citizens to improve their lot and to become fully self-respecting.”
The churches, reluctant to relinquish the residential school program, shifted
their focus to the care of orphans and children at risk of abuse and neglect.
1956
During the 1960s and 1970s, parents and Aboriginal groups
continued to speak out against the residential school system. However, as the
church-run schools closed, the provincial and federal child welfare programs
expanded. Yet many of these programs only divided Aboriginal communities even
further. One such program, for example, known as the “60’s scoop,” attempted to
address the lack of Aboriginal parental skills by forcibly removing thousands
of Aboriginal children from their parents, instead of helping the parents learn
better parenting skills. Instead, the children were made wards of a poorly
monitored child welfare system, and most of them were placed into
non-Aboriginal foster homes.
1960
Gradually, the remaining residential schools closed down or
were transferred to the control of Indian bands during the last decades of the
twentieth century. The last band-run Indian residential school, Gordon Indian
Residential School in Punnichy, Saskatchewan, closed in 1996.
1996
Empowerment
As the civil rights movement swept through North America in
the 1960s, organizations seeking to empower Aboriginal Peoples emerged. The
American Indian Movement in the U.S and National Indian Brotherhood in Canada
agitated for social change and, along with other developments, signaled the
beginning of what is often referred to as the healing movement. Amendments to
the Indian Act removed prohibitions that had forced traditional ceremonies
underground. And, with the guidance of Elders, Aboriginal teachings and
cultural practices reemerged in communities where these were lost or difficult
to practice. Many Aboriginal people sought out knowledge holders in other
communities near and far to revive traditional spirituality, and to
re-introduce healing.
1961
As these community-based healing efforts began to grow,
personal growth programs also began to gain popularity. Alcoholics Anonymous
made an important contribution to the healing movement by providing a
structured path for individual healing. Later in the early 1970s, federally
funded programs that addressed Aboriginal addiction, like the National Native
Alcohol and Drug Abuse Program (NNADAP), began working with Native communities.
A grass root initiative, “The Four Worlds Elders Conference” of December 1982,
brought together forty different tribal groups to discuss strategies to address
Aboriginal addictions. And treatment centres, like the Round Lake Treatment
Centre (Vernon, BC), incorporated Aboriginal concepts of healing in their
addictions program. These and other initiatives brought a greater acceptance
and sensitivity to the unique healing needs of Aboriginal peoples in Canada.
1970
Later in that decade, mainstream perspectives on healthcare
began to change, and this led to a movement that centred on health promotion
and healthy communities. The Declaration of Alma-Ata in 1978 by the World
Health Organization defined health as “not only the absence of disease” but
also as control over those things which led to health, a view in harmony with
traditional Aboriginal concepts of healing. Holistic approaches to health,
which emphasize healthy lifestyles, relationships, and communities, together
with personal growth programs and traditional spirituality and healing
practices have all contributed to the efforts to heal the intergenerational
impacts of Residential Schools.
1978
Percy Ballantyne, Survivor Birtle Indian Residential School
Culturally speaking, [First Nations] are a very kind People. I want people
to understand that, to know that, who we really are, you know, not the way they
perceive us to be. Because for too long we’ve been told what to do, how to act,
when to say things, when to speak up, who you should be, you know. The time is
here now to tell the truth, to really tell the truth and to tell society who we
really are. … We’re the People from the north in the medicine wheel. We sit in
the north. That’s who we are. That’s the real identity part of us (speaking
Native language). That’s who we are. . . . Just keep on walking in life, like I
was conditioned already with love, with care, with wise teachings from my
Elders in the community. Those are the ones that really carried me through in
life to be able to make the right choices in life, the right decisions. . . .
This is not our society. This is White society. This is not First Nations
society. This is not our life. . . . Gang life is not our life. Wife-beating is
not our life. All kinds of things that are happening, that’s not us. That’s not
our life . . . So I find different ways I can work and heal, work with other
people.”
1979
Getting to truth
Escalating social problems in Aboriginal communities, and
conflict between Aboriginal groups and the federal government in the mid 1990s
brought greater attention and focus to the destructive legacy of the
Residential School Experience. Aboriginal leaders also helped to begin a
dialogue between Survivors, the federal government, and everyday Canadians. In
1991, for example, National Chief Phil Fontaine disclosed to the public the
abuses he endured while attending Residential School. In this climate of disclosure
and dialogue, the Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) was created.
1991
Survivors
The Aboriginal children who attended and lived through the
residential school system are now known as Survivors, a term that tragically
acknowledges the many children who did not survive the school experience.
Approximately 80,000 Survivors are still alive today. Abused children are often
unable to express their feelings about the abuse because they may internalize
their anger, fear, grief, and guilt.
1997
These unresolved feelings can cause emotional trauma and
lead to re-enactment or destructive behaviours, like substance abuse or
addiction, self-sabotage, self-harm or harm to others, dissociation (the
inability to feel), and risk-taking. Survivors may also struggle with
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which forces them to re-live the fear,
helplessness, or horror of traumatic events that they either experienced or
witnessed. In PTSD, sleep disturbance, hallucinations, or flashbacks are
triggered by anything associated with the traumatic events (like a sight,
sound, smell, or taste) and, as sufferers, re-live these events. They may also
struggle with avoidance, depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues.
1998
“Intergenerational Survivor” refers to any individual who
has been affected by the intergenerational dysfunction created by the
experience of attending residential school; this includes those who have been
abused by persons who are Survivors or victims of survivors and, more
generally, those who inhabit dysfunctional communities whose roots lie in the
fracturing of family and community wrought by the generations of children who
were separated from their families. In the early 1990s, an estimated 287,350
intergenerational survivors were living across Canada, both on- and
off-reserves.
1999
Intergenerational Survivors have been indirectly affected
by the residential schools because they were raised by people who had been so
badly abused – physically and emotionally – and these people were, at times,
unable to parent their own children. In fact, the lack of parenting skills is
one of the most profound outcomes of the residential school system. It is
perhaps one of the most inevitable outcomes, too, because of the extremely
negative social conditioning of residential school students.
2000
Getting to truth
In response to RCAP’s five-volume report that revealed an
overwhelming link between the social crisis in Aboriginal communities and the
Residential School System, the government developed an “Agenda for Action with
First Nations.” This agenda led to the creation of the Aboriginal Healing
Foundation (AHF) as a means to fund community-based healing initiatives over a
10-year period. In turn, the AHF created the Legacy of Hope Foundation (LHF) in
2000. The mandate of the Legacy of Hope Foundation is to educate and raise
awareness and understanding of the legacy of residential schools, including the
effects and intergenerational impacts on First Nation, Inuit and Metis people,
and to support the ongoing healing process of Residential School Survivors.
Fulfilling this mandate helps to support reconciliation between generations of
Aboriginal peoples, and between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians.
1998
Intergenerational effects
"Intergenerational Impacts"* refer to "the
effects of physical and sexual abuse that were passed on to the children,
grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Aboriginal people who attended the
residential school system." For the past five hundred years, Aboriginal
peoples have suffered historic trauma. Today, Aboriginal people are beginning
to understand that many of their current social problems are deeply rooted in
the trauma caused by the residential school experience. This unresolved
historic trauma will continue to affect Aboriginal individuals and communities
until it is fully addressed, psychologically, emotionally, physically, and
spiritually.
2001
Basil Ambers, Survivor St. Michaels School, Alert Bay“I
was [at the school] nine years apparently. I didn’t know. We didn’t know how
long we were there. Nobody cared. We didn’t care about education. That wasn’t
the point. Survival was the thing that we cared about and survival was the only
thing that motivated us, all my friends. There’s only a little handful of us
left. That’s all. Dozens committed suicide, drowned or drank themselves to
death. Some went under with drugs. …but you’ve got to heal. That’s number one.
You’ve got to heal. And you’ve got to look at yourself. You’ve got to come to
the conclusion that you’re not a bad guy or you’re not a bad woman . . . We
need to get back to the roots of a lot of things. One of the things I tried to
promote in one of our [healing] meetings … was to get back the feeling of
respect for our women that we were losing. We no longer respected our women.
Quite often we mistreated them badly. We never got to that because of the hurt
that people had. . . .it bothers me when people come up to me and say, “You’ve
got to learn how to live, man, you’ve got to learn to accept these things. It’s
happened. It’s gone.” It hasn’t gone. The Residential Schools thing is the
biggest factor that has shaken the Indian people down to their roots and it’s
the thing that has changed our total look on history.”
2002
IRSSA
As Survivors and advocate groups pressured the government
to address Survivors’ concerns, a substantial number of class action lawsuits
were initiated. After negotiation with key Aboriginal groups and
representatives, the Government of Canada implemented the “Indian
Residential School Settlement Agreement” in
2007. The agreement provided for restitution and redress through a number of
financial initiatives and programs. Processes for the resolution of claims and
for the reimbursement of legal expenses were established, and funds were
allotted for healing and commemoration initiatives like those conducted on the
“National Day of Reconciliation.” A Funding Allowance also endowed the
Aboriginal Healing Foundation with $125 million for a five-year period.
Programs included a “Common Experience Payment” program, a Commemoration
Program, and an Advocacy and Public Information program. In addition, the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was created.
2007
The silence has been broken, and now it is time to speak.
It is time to share. Others have found solace in sharing their stories, while
others are still waiting for their voices to be heard. The TRC events,
statement-taking, commemoration, and historical initiatives at national
archives and research centres all represent Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal means
of sharing these voices and stories to all Canadians. These are the stories of
those who survived the Residential School Experience, and they are an important
part of the collective history of all Canadians.
2008
Viola Papequash, Survivor Gordon’s Residential School,
Punnichy, Saskatchewan “I say the prayers with [youth] and I talk about
Residential Schools with them. I don’t talk about all my experiences, but I do
say that I have been to Residential School so maybe youth will understand. They
are struggling with a lot of issues, the youth are, and one is identity and
self-esteem and being proud of who they are. It hasn’t been passed on from
their parents because of Residential School. So I see the younger generation
struggling with that, not knowing who they are and not knowing how to be in the
world, you know. . . . That’s our belief as First Nations that we don’t just
think about ourselves. We have to think of the next generation and the ones yet
to come. I’ll end with that. We have to think about the ones yet to come.
They’re not here yet, but we have to prepare for them. And preparing means
we’ve got to put down that hurt and that pain we carry now. We can’t let that
be our life.”
eration and the ones yet to come. I’ll end with that. We have to think
about the ones yet to come. They’re not here yet, but we have to prepare for
them. And preparing means we’ve got to put down that hurt and that pain we
carry now. We can’t let that be our life.”
2013
Apologies-
Excuses
For some
Survivors, the various statements of regret, condolence, sorrow and/or apology
offered by the churches and governments for their involvement in the
residential school system brought closure. Anglican Church Apology Presbyterian Church Apology RCMP Apology United Church Apology
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NEWS & ANALYSIS
On free speech and social media- what to do when u mess up
Sara Gon |
06 January 2016
Sara Gon says that freedom of speech does not obviate from
exercising care in what one says or writes
Free Speech and Social Media: you’re not in your bedroom
As an
active privilege, it (freedom of speech) ranks with the privilege of committing
murder: we may exercise it if we are willing to take the consequences – Mark
Twain
In the age of
social media, it’s not so much committing murder as committing suicide. Penny
Sparrow (an ideal Twitter handle?) is the latest ‘victim’ of her own carelessness.
Although
there were some laws guaranteeing some freedoms prior to the advent of
Apartheid, the Nationalist government introduced legislation to enable the
Executive to stop the publication of newspapers, magazines and books.
Only
government-controlled radio stations were allowed to operate. Television was
prohibited for a number of years. The government closed down some newspapers
and banned some journalists or prohibited them from working for news media.
Politicians,
activists and protesters were prohibited from speaking at or even attending
gatherings. Foreign journalists were denied visas for no apparent reason other
than they may expose the regime’s dictatorial
practices. Substantial periods of imprisonment were imposed for some of these
breaches.
Journalists
found ingenious ways of getting around the various prohibitions. The collapse
of apartheid was in part due to the contribution made by the liberal press.
Our democracy
has simultaneously created and coincided with untrammelled freedom of speech,
and not always to the good. Section 16(1) of The Constitution provides that
“Everyone has
the right to freedom of expression, which
includes —
(a) freedom
of the press and other media;
(b) freedom
to receive or impart information or ideas;…
This right,
however, is not absolute. It does not extend to—
(a) propaganda
for war;
(b) incitement
of imminent violence; or
(c) advocacy
of hatred that is based on race, ethnicity, gender or religion, and that
constitutes incitement to cause harm.”
Freedom of
speech does not obviate from exercising care in what one says or writes. On the
behemoth that is social media what one writes can carry the social,
professional or political kiss of death.
Prior to the proliferation
of Facebook, Twitter, comment links etc. publication in writing of racist or
defamatory remarks was confined to letters.
The former
required hand-to-hand distribution, in a manner of speaking. Generally,
therefore, there would be a limit to how many people would be exposed to the
comment, unless the media published it.
Letters
addressed to a newspaper were (and still are) subject to editing and you were
(and still are) required to give your full name and address to allow
verification of the origin of a letter, even if you wished to be referred to by
a pseudonym or anonymously.
The advent of
telefaxes didn’t make a great deal of difference as it only affected the speed
of the communication, but not the composition of it.
This changed
considerably with email. The ease and speed with which an email could be
composed and sent led to a considerable increase in embarrassing and unwise
communication. As emails replaced letters as the primary form of written
communication, people generally became more cautious of what they wrote before
sending, or saving them to be reread and reconsidered later.
The danger
has become more acute with the popularity of the social media. At the end of the third quarter of
2015, Facebook had 1.55 billion monthly active users. There are 650 million
used and unused Twitter accounts.
Facebook has,
in many respects, replaced oral social communication. Something unwise that may
have been said to a friend or a group of friends, now is written to a ‘friend’.
Facebook users forget that they are not teenagers confiding in each other in
the privacy of their bedrooms.
Social media has
encouraged a no-holds-barred approach to being insulting, rude, defamatory or vulgar. Racism, hate speech and anti-Semitism have
become currency on these media. So too old-fashioned defamation.
The High Courts
in Gauteng have ruled on defamation on Facebook. In one case the judge held the user liable rather than Facebook
itself, saying that this would have a more meaningful effect in discouraging
wrongdoing.
The judge also
noted that that the defence mustn’t just be that the words are true. They must
also be “in the public interest” NOT “interesting to the public”. If malice in
publishing the piece is proved, the defence will fail.
In another case
Wife No. 2 posted a series of defamatory statuses referring to Wife No. 1. Wife
No. 2 also tagged the husband. The posts only referred to Wife No. 1 by her
first name but made reference to the conflict between the two wives.
The judge found
that it wasn’t necessary to use Wife No. 1’s surname as the facts revealed
exactly who she was.
The judge said
that the publication of the Wife No. 2’s first post was gratuitous and intended
“to place the plaintiff in a bad light”.
The second post,
however, blatantly implied that Wife No. 1 allowed her teenage stepson to bathe
her young daughters, creating an impression of sexual deviance and paedophelia
that was “scandalous in the extreme”.
Although the
husband wasn’t the author of the postings, he knew about them and allowed his
name to be coupled with Wife No. 2. So, he was equally liable.
The difficulty
of removing tags or mentions suggests that the consequences of using the social
media can be more far reaching than past media were and much more difficult to
retract.
An adequate
apology may, repeat may, help you reduce your exposure to liability. Sparrow’s
comments comparing black people to monkeys is unlikely to be susceptible to any
form of apology.
The nature of
the apology matters and the judgments suggest –
Apologising on the same medium;Be sincere and clearly retract – be unequivocal;
Apologise sooner rather than later.
Compare Diane Kohler Barnard’s immediate and unequivocal apology, together with a preparedness to accept the Democratic Alliance’s punishment, with Sparrow whose apology just poured oil on troubled waters and included, amongst other extraordinary statements, “I wasn’t being nasty or rude or horrible, but it’s just that they [black people] make a mess. It is just how they are.”
Twitter has
the same sort of results but in a more public context. By virtue of its 140
character limitation, they are quick to write, to send and to respond to
without thinking through the consequences. Ask Kohler Barnard and, most
recently, Chris Hart, an economist with Standard Bank.
Hart tweeted:
“More than 25 years after Apartheid ended, the victims are increasing along
with a sense of entitlement and hatred towards minorities…” It is seldom about what you write
as how you write it.
One of the
problems with Twitter is that the brevity does not allow you to create context
or explanation. However many tweets you follow with, you are on the defensive
and invariably have to try to explain too much in order to convey it
effectively.
An English
court found retweeting to be an act of defamation.
Think, before
you write, before you send.
Freedom of
speech means setting words free. Imprisoned and freed words are consequential.
All words have consequences. – John R Dallas Jr
Sara Gon is a Policy Fellow at the IRR, a think tank that
promotes economic and political liberty. Follow the IRR on Twitter
@IRR_SouthAfrica.
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How
to shift negative thinking in four steps
Many of us who have spent time engaging in our own personal development have identified patterns of thinking and behaviours we judge to be ineffective.
In other words, we know what isn't working and we've taken action to correct those behaviours. Yet somehow, before we know it, we are in it again.
Perhaps one of the most insidious, ineffective and habitual patterns that re-surfaces is the spin-cycle of being hard on ourselves. It feels like a continuous loop of negative language that throttles us energetically.
Thoughts such as: I can't believe I said that, I should have done that better, sooner, differently. What was I thinking? I'm not smart enough or good enough, etc.
In the past, I've referred to myself as a recovering perfectionist.
I can always see how things could be made even better. It's a quality I view as a strength, as it inspires me to go to the next level of mastery in my career and in my personal goals. The trouble is, this strength becomes a weakness when taken to the extreme.
If you too have found yourself in the spin cycle or a similar negative pattern of thought, here is what I recommend: 1. Recognize that you are not your thoughts; you are just aware of them. You're not your thinking and you're not your circumstances. See your thinking clearly and without judgment.
2. Decide to make a different choice. In the moment, choose thinking that is self-validating and begin to create a different, positive-thinking loop. For example, think about what is working, what you're grateful for, or what you can learn from this.
3. Stop believing everything you're thinking. Your brain sends you false messages of negativity in order to keep you ‟safe." 4. The combination of self-compassion and a positive-thinking loop loosens the grip on the negative cycle and gets you moving in the right direction.
Recently, I was watching Bill Moyers interviewing Joseph Campbell on PBS. Joseph Campbell studied, wrote, and lectured extensively about the power of myths, psychology, religion, spirituality, and the essence of these stories for examining the meaning of our lives. One of his messages in the program was that we're not really seeking the meaning of life but we are ‟seeking the experience of feeling fully alive." Being in a negative thinking pattern is the exact opposite of feeling fully alive. It is our challenge to consciously avoid this negative thinking and get back to feeling good and generating joy.
Mara Vizzutti is a seasoned facilitator and certified executive coach. Over the past 20 years she has facilitated high caliber leadership programs to audiences of senior executives, supervisors and front line employees in diverse industries. She has completed countless professional development programs, the most recent being a MA in Organizational Development and Leadership.
Mara's areas of expertise include: leadership development, leadership coaching, installing coaching cultures in organizations and strategies for effective communication.
www.maravizzutti.ca, 902-477-2535, mara@newavenue.ca
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How I Calmed an Upset Patient and Prevented a Bad Situation From Getting Worse
By James Spoerl | Posted on
01.28.2016 | 0
comments
Photo: maylat / iStock
In the mental health facility I work in, there are
unfortunately many situations that require intervention to calm an agitated
person.
Because of the location and the purpose of my security department, I’m often directly involved in the calming process.
We admit many patients to the building through the core area I work in. Patients arrive by squad car or ambulance and walk, get wheeled, or are carried into our building.
We are a facility housing chronic, challenging, difficult, and high-security patients. 72 counties can send patients to our facility for review, evaluation, treatment, and care.
Because of the location and the purpose of my security department, I’m often directly involved in the calming process.
We admit many patients to the building through the core area I work in. Patients arrive by squad car or ambulance and walk, get wheeled, or are carried into our building.
We are a facility housing chronic, challenging, difficult, and high-security patients. 72 counties can send patients to our facility for review, evaluation, treatment, and care.
Many times, patients are scared, confused, angry, and even combative.
They arrive unsure of why they’re going to this facility and what they will face.
One older man with an obviously intense mental illness (obvious to me as a nonmedical staff member) was angry that he was being sent to a “mental hospital.” He didn’t see the need or reason. Therefore, he refused to get out of the transport van.
Since admissions are our responsibility, I got the call. We try to be ready for such circumstances. I gathered a team to deal with the situation. A gurney is always ready to transport those who are unwilling to walk. There have been a few times that one has been needed.
In this situation, one of the security officers began dialogue. Like many of our staff, he’s a first-generation immigrant, complete with an accent.
The incoming patient resented this, commenting something about “foreign” people. The situation appeared negative—it appeared that the officer’s message was not going to be well received by the patient.
As I mentioned in a previous article, our response to this is to substitute someone else in the speaking process.
The patient was quite pointed in that there was something he wanted to say.
I always encourage patients to state what’s on their mind, as it seems to be better when they feel heard.
Even though what this man was saying was very manic and somewhat incoherent, I tried to work with what I could make out and use it to start a conversation.
I was able to build rapport with the man and gather that he was quite solid in his convictions, seemed very worldly, and was positive that he didn’t belong at this facility.
I told him that I could bring him to people who would be able to discuss his placement and help change it if needed. He was able to recognize that ours is a mental health facility. I told him that the doctors and nurses could help guide him in the direction that he wished.
Sometimes all an angry person needs is to feel HEARD.
I find that one has to be careful not to make judgments of right or wrong
direction or make promises that cannot be fulfilled.
I can stand behind the fact that the courts have ordered this person to be here. I am able to tell the person that those who can help them live up to the mandates of the court order are in the building.
I did, in fact, tell this patient that, and reassured him that if he met with those who could help him and complied with what was expected, that his stay would be the shortest possible.
He was not thrilled with me, calling me a name at one point.
He did, however, comply with what we wanted and walked unaided through the whole building to get to his new unit. He seemed content that he had been listened to and that we were responding to his wishes.
I talked to him calmly, positively.
I find it helps to repeat the message in different ways. There has to be sincerity so you don’t come off as using a used-car-salesman approach. Our motto is “How can we help?” and that’s stamped on our ID tags. It could come off as cheesy, as that’s the same motto as a mega department store discount chain. But hopefully, the caring comes through in our speech.
The art of calming an excited person is learned through watching, listening, and reading relevant topics.
It has only been through CPI that I have been able to put together what I have learned in a single package.
It’s most helpful to have your entire arsenal of tactics and skills ready when a tense situation happens. Something will work. It’s just a question of what message and who will be listened to.
Even if you can’t prevent physical engagement with someone, the victory comes when the person’s anger is lessened, the fight doesn’t last as long as could be, and that a similar situation doesn’t happen again or as frequently.
James Spoerl is a 31-year veteran of the State of Wisconsin. He has spent 16 years in the Department of Corrections and 15 years with the Department of Health Services. He is a captain with the Mendota Mental Health Security Department. When he was young, he found disruptions thrilling and challenging. Now that he’s directly responsible for staff and patient safety, he uses every tactic he’s learned over the years to settle situations calmly and peaceably.
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Wow Search engine.... wow !
http://www.wow.com/Search+Engine
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First, the good news
Why young adults are better off north of the border
Jan 9th 2016 | OTTAWA | From the print edition
CANADIANS obsessively compare their country with a certain neighbouring
superpower. Often, the contrast is reassuring. Few Canadians would want the
United States’ lax gun laws or its ridiculously expensive health care. Economic
comparisons are usually more sobering. Canadians are less rich than Americans
and have fewer globally famous brands. Silicon Valley exports high-tech
disruption; Alberta’s tar sands produce pollution.For Canadians who feel economically inferior, a recent report comparing millennials on both sides of the border had cheering news. Canadians born in the 1980s are better off than their American peers. The study by TD Bank, called “Canadian and US Millennials: One of These Is Not Like the Other”, was headline news when it was published in December.
Canadians aged 25 to 34 are more likely to have jobs than
Americans of the same age (nearly 80% are employed, compared with less than 75%
of Americans). American millennials are worse off than their compatriots from
Generation X (the cohort that came just before them). In Canada millennials’
household incomes are 16% higher. Just over half are homeowners, compared with
36% in the United States.
Much of the millennial advantage can be traced to Canadian paternalism—that
of the state and that of the youngsters’ indulgent parents. Canada’s public
universities charge much lower tuition fees than their largely private American
rivals, so students graduate with less debt. More important is the contribution
of millennial women, whose employment rate is seven percentage points higher
than that of their American sisters. Their greater willingness to work has a
lot to do with laws that oblige employers to give new parents paid leave of up
to 50 weeks. The United States, by contrast, is one of the few countries that
do not mandate paid maternity leave.Canada avoided the housing-market crash that struck the United States in the late 2000s, thanks to prudent banking regulation. That enabled parents to help their children buy their first homes. But this points to another factor, which is less cause for self-congratulation: a big part of Canadian millennials’ wealth is explained by the barely interrupted rise in house prices. Although banks are still prudent, low interest rates have encouraged house-buying and prices are reaching scary levels. If they drop, so will millennials’ spirits
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BLOGGED: Seniors
Nova Scotia /AnnapolisValley/Canada/Global LINKS AND HELPLINES- -Mental and
Physical Health- Abuse/Kids Abuse/Homeless/Suicide/- each and every Canadian
matters- each and every global citizen matters /blogs-posts and links /thank u
to our troops, then, now always...and yours http://nova0000scotia.blogspot.ca/2015/11/seniors-nova-scotia-annapolisvalleycana.html
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1. A Brief History of Canada - 1700 to 1799
www3.sympatico.ca/goweezer/canada/can1700.htm
A
Brief History of Canada. 1700 to 1799.
1700. Louis Jolliet died. It is unknown exactly when or where. 1701-1713. The
War of Spanish Succession began in Europe.
=========
Introduction- Canada’s Chinese Canadian History
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1. A Brief History of Canada - To 1599 - Sympatico
www3.sympatico.ca/goweezer/canada/can0000.htm
o
Cached
A Brief History of Canada. Pre-History to ... Along the Atlantic coast
were the ... The harbour and the...
2. Atlantic Canada » J.J.'s Complete Guide to Canada
www.thecanadaguide.com/the-maritimes
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The first part of North America to be discovered by Europeans, Canada’s
four Atlantic provinces comprise...
3. History of Fishing in Canada - Canadian Council of...
www.fishharvesterspecheurs.ca/fishing-industry/history
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History of Fishing in Canada. ... From the early 1500s, European vessels
fished northwest Atlantic waters...
4. Atlantic Canada: A Region in the Making - Quill...
www.quillandquire.com/review/atlantic-canada-a...
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History scholars Margaret Conrad and James Hiller bring a wide range of
expertise to Atlantic Canada, the...
5. Glimpses of Atlantic Canada’s Past | Essays |...
www.historymuseum.ca/.../glimpses-of-atlantic-...
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GLIMPSES OF ATLANTIC CANADA’S PAST. David L. Keenlyside. Curator, Atlantic
Provinces Archaeology...
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