Drums

Because I am writing an oral history unit for the 8/9 Nuu-chah-nulth (NCN) class for next week, I sat in on their lesson today to get a sense of the group. Some experts came in from the community to finish the drum making unit and because they had some leftover supplies, suggested we each make one ourselves. We scraped the fat off the elk hide, punched holes, and strung the hide tight over the frame.

This experience also gave me time to reflect on aboriginal education for First Nations students. When I told various people that I was coming to teach in Gold River, many gave me a knowing look and said: "Oh that will be hard". The not-so-covert racism of this statement infuriated me at the time, and now that I am here, it infuriates me even more. Yes, the impacts of residential schools and ongoing colonialism are still very much felt. Yes, many of our Nuu-chah-nulth students face challenges beyond their family's control that affect their school performance. High school is hard enough as it is and we are only just beginning to properly talk about decolonizing schools. Despite these challenges, like all the students at Gold River Secondary, my Nuu-chah-nulth students are some of the sweetest, warmest, and most genuine kids I've ever met.

I'm sure that I'll be saying this many times over in the the next week, but I wish the CFE was longer. As I was leaving school today, I waved goodbye to a student that helped teach me how to make cedar roses, and who I then helped with a bit of homework catch-up. She is a talented poet and shared some of her work with me yesterday. In the moment, I thanked her for sharing her work with me and told her that it was beautiful and sophisticated, but I didn't get the chance to properly tell her why, or how much it meant to me that she chose to share it. As I walked out the door, I remembered that I will be away tomorrow and she will be away on a school trip next week. I'll leave her a note, but it will not be the same. As educators, we get used to giving a lot to our students. It's a heartbreaking feeling when students give a lot of themselves to us, and for whatever reason, we aren't able to give back. I never even told her that I myself got through high school by writing poems, or that since arriving in Gold River, I have savoured filling 20 pages of my little notebook that I keep just for poems.

5/3/17

W and K are testing their new drums.

-You didn't string it tight enough.-

-- At least I scraped the fat off properly.--

Their drums echo through the old HomeEc room,

One sweet and silver, one like chocolate, both sacred:

Ricocheting off white enamel, yellow linoleum,

And landing to reverberate the rib bones above my stomach,

That little fist-shaped muscle.

The drum is more powerful than the sword.

Am I ever lucky to be a bystander.