A Residential School Victim

My assignment for school was to write a short diary entry from the perspective of a residential school student or teacher. I choose to write it from the student's point of view.

For those of who have no clue as to what a residential school is, well it's basically when the Churches across Canada and the Canadian Federal government decided to put First Nations children into boarding schools, where they learn about Christianity and English or French. They were forcibly taken away from their parents and sent to these schools. They were not allowed to contact their parents in any way. The First Nations children were assimilated into the ways of Christian Faith. They were stripped from their rights of speaking their mother tongue, wearing their traditional clothing, and heritage. Residential Schools is a very dark legacy which is planted in Canadian history.

I remember sitting in my mother’s lap as she stroked my long black hair. I heard some voices coming outside from our home. I remember asking her who was it, when three men and my father became visible. They said I had to go with them, and have an education. My mother instinctively wrapped her arms around me, and told them that I was perfectly fine living here. Through force they snatched me out of my mother’s safe arms and took me away.

I was sent to a residential school, there were lots of children like me, who were taken away from their parents. Our school teachers told us we were here to learn about Christianity, and by doing so we were not allowed to speak our mother tongue. I was horrified. Children who spoke anything else besides French or English were punished. A girl about my age was whipped until her back was bleeding. Never again did she dare speak her mother tongue again. I myself never said a word in my mother tongue, I usually stayed quiet, afraid if I ever said anything I would be punished.

My beautiful long hair was cut short and we wore uniforms. The girls usually wore dresses while the boys wore a pant suit. We were not allowed to wear anything that symbolised our culture. What would my mother and father think of me?

At the schools we learned about Christianity, and we learned French or English. For the rest of the time boys learned about farming and trade, and the girls learned how to cook and sew. We provided our own food from the farm land, and in most cases the food was spoiled we would still have to eat it. It tasted horrible, but it was better than getting just bread and water most of the time.

Some nights I sit on my cot and think what life would have been like if I hadn’t attend a residential school. I thought I would have been more like my mother, beautiful, sweet and confident. I would be more culturally enriched, and wouldn’t be afraid of talking to other people. I wouldn’t be so depressed anymore, feeling hopeless and confused. I often think about the day when I return home. Would everyone accept me back into their arms? Or would I be another one of those lost souls, yearning for a do-over in life.

- A Residential School Victim