Isaak

The past three days have been tremendous. I've written and rewritten this post in an attempt to succinctly capture my experience but prose can only go so far.

On Monday we walked along a trail to get to the school district office for a meeting with all the principles and superintendent. Nat and I had some time to kill between this meeting with the superintendent and a meeting with our vice principal. We crossed the street in front of the high school and found ourselves on a natural path along the Gold River. We walked in to the glacial meltwater and showed up for our meeting with river sand in our shoes.

Gold River Secondary (GRSS) is small. 90 students with an average class size of 12. The only drama class in the school has one grade 12 student. About half of the students are Mowachaht/Muchalaht Nuu-chah-nulth while the other half are white or international students from Japan or South Korea. I find myself saying this everywhere I teach, but really truly, the kids at GRSS are great. They are friendly, open, polite, and enthusiastic to talk to newcomers. The vice principal talked to Nat and I at length about the Nuu-chah-nulth concept of isaak, basically respect for all. I wanted to learn more about this so I found E. Richard Atleo's book, Tsawalk: A Nuu-chah-nulth Worldview. Atleo describes: "isaak (respect) necessitates a consciousness that all creation has a common origin, and for this reason isaak is extended to all life forms" (Atleo 15-16). So far, all the students at GRSS have demonstrated this kind of meaningful respect. When I ask them how their morning/afternoon went or how they are feeling today, they don't provide a clipped, glib response because they have been taught to, but instead answer truthfully, look me in the eye, and then ask me about how my day is going.

Nat and I are very lucky that our arrival coincided with "culture week" at the school. Tuesday morning was spent with a Nuu-chah-nulth special guest educator from Port Alberni. In the afternoon, the elders taught cedar weaving, beading, and cape design to the school community. There is singing every lunch. I made a few cedar roses and a cedar bark headband. One of the main reasons that I went into education is so that I, as a settler, might do whatever small part I can towards reconciliation. One of the main reasons I chose the rural CFE option was to experience how Aboriginal Education is done in schools with a large number of First Nations students and a closely connected community. Almost all of B.C. is (stolen) First Nations land, therefore shouldn't all classrooms on this soil attempt at meaningful incorporation of First Nations pedagogy, forms, and content? I'm sure I'm naive, but based on what I have seen so far, it seems that that GRSS is making good progress towards accomplishing this goal.

Although Tuesday was a dream, by Wednesday I was eager to teach and the PhysEd teacher kindly welcomed me into her class to play drama games with her students. As we played, I saw the First People's Principles of Learning in action. In teaching the drama game "karate chop" to mixed grade levels, the older students reminded the younger: learning takes time, learning takes self-reflection, "think of how great we'll feel when we all work together and achieve the rhythm of the game!" (this is every drama teacher's dream!)

At lunch, a few students from the elementary school came to join the culture week festivities today and I spent lunch hour eating fry bread and chatting with these elementary students about their favourite Nuu-chah-nulth songs. When we had washed our hands of the delicious greasy fry bread, the boys joined in the songs while the girls danced: "Ms. Brodie did you see me dancing?" Needless to say, I'm looking forward to spending the day at the elementary school this Friday and next week.

I'm learning quickly about rural life. I missed wings night at the pub this evening and I'm sure I'll hear about it tomorrow. The closing of the only grocery store last November is a symbolic event and the very real ramifications of this are still discussed. More seriously, evidence of community is the fact that students and staff all seem to be grieving the loss of four people that passed away in a car accident at the beginning of March. Grief is palpable when it is felt together. I'm starting to feel properly welcomed into the community, and in turn, I'm feeling the grief for these people I never met.

Just as emotions have fewer places to hide in a smaller community, so too does politics. All this week, a heavy machinery simulator from VIU has been parked outside the school. Students sign up and are able to test out what it feels like to drive an excavator, a gravel truck, forestry machinery, and various other heavy machinery. On Tuesday morning, I went straight from watching students simulate clearcutting to watching students listen to Nuu-chah-nulth educator Lisa Watts as she discussed the Nuu-chah-nulth protocol for carefully harvesting lumber for long houses or canoes. The contradiction of these two perspectives side by side struck me. However, what struck me more was that despite their differences, these perspectives on the forest seemed to function separately, but side by side. The respect necessitated by sharing a common home seems to outweigh the apparent contradiction.

Isaak?