uLead Podcast

Corey: In this episode, we present a breakout session from you Lead 2024 with Jethro Urich. Jethro shares his story of being a sixties scoop survivor and his experiences as an indigenous student, teacher, researcher, and leader in an educational context. The stories we share an indigenous experience in education is the culmination of Jethro's graduate research that explores systemic racism in our Canadian education system. 

And the colonial practices that continue to marginalize our indigenous students and their families. Jetro is a teacher and current assistant principal with Edmonton Catholic Schools. He recently completed his master's degree in Educational Leadership at Concordia University of Edmonton. The focus of his research is the decolonization of education through [00:01:00] engagement and relationship building with indigenous families, elders, and their communities within the Edmonton Catholic School division. 

JETHRO'S graduate work was nominated for the Governor General's Award for Academic Excellence. 

[00:01:13] Jethro Ullrich: Thank you for coming and welcome to this special lecture, the Stories we Share, an Indigenous Experience in Education. I'd like to start with a blessing. Let us give thanks to Creator for this day and for the gifts 

of the land that we are allowed to live upon. We also give thanks to our ancestors who came before us. May they guide us in the decisions and the experiences that we live today that be good for generations to come. All my relations. Hi. Hi. And I'd also like to give a land acknowledgement. This is a personal land acknowledgement that I wrote. 

The land that we tread upon is [00:02:00] sacred and old creator decided that we need a good place to call home. And all that is good was made so that we could live here. And who are we? We are the mountains, the rivers, the lakes, the rocks, the air and the trees. We are the grass and the soil. Beneath our feet. We are the sun and the moon and the stars in the night sky. 

We are the creatures that fly, walk, swim, and crawl. We are you and me. Put here to look after our mother as she has looked after us since the beginning. We acknowledge that we share the same land here on Treaty seven. The traditional lands of our indigenous nations and the many other nations that now call this place home high. 

High [00:03:00] to give thanks. 

Indigenous people of Turtle Island continue to struggle with colonialism ever since first contact with Europeans in 1492. The lasting effect of colonization provides indigenous students. Many obstacles and challenges within our Canadian education system, in particular, the dark legacy of the Indian residential schools and the sixties Scoop has caused irreparable damage to the survivors of those Assimilative systems and to their children. 

That is because of the Truth in Reconciliation Commission and the 94 calls to action. That school administrators and teachers leaders are becoming more aware of the systemic racism that exists in education. And although it can be uncomfortable and painful at times, [00:04:00] we must unpack those mechanisms of systemic racism in our education system and how it's holding back our indigenous families, students, and teachers. 

From being able to fully participate in an education system that honors all ways of knowing and all ways of being, and by employing an ethic of care and critique, we can begin that healing process for both in indigenous families and educators to rebuild trust in our education system. My name is Jethro Ulrich. 

My spirit name, my Cree spirit name is Ti, which translated into English, means the horse that stands apart and looks out. And it was bestowed upon me by a Cree elder Dale Oasis. Some of you may know Elder Dale. And it was during a pipe ceremony and a sweat [00:05:00] lodge naming ceremony, and that spirit horse came to me for a specific reason. 

As a school teacher and a leader, it is necessary that I provide and maintain a safe space for my students to be able to thrive and grow. And it is that stallion that stands apart from the herd to protect it and to allow the herd to thrive and just and to be. So that's what I've been called to do. To stand apart, to be able to protect our indigenous students so they can find success at school. 

Now, as a requirement for my graduate studies, I had to undertake a research project. So this lecture is really the culmination of those two years of the work that I did, and also putting the hard work I put into the healing, um, and recovery from trauma brought about from the sixties scoop. And the colonization of our education system. 

Now, my in [00:06:00] initial intention with the research was to engage our indigenous families in a bison hide, scraping at our site, and to be able to learn from their stories. But as it happened, creator had different plans for me, and so instead I turned the focus inwards to undertake the sometimes painful, but the necessary steps. 

To fully understand what systemic racism looks like in our Canadian education system. This is my story told as a student, a teacher, a researcher, uh, a leader through the lens of being a Al Cre person, being Cree on a 60 scoop survivor. I really needed to do that deep dive. To look at what issues are facing our indigenous students and their families in Canada. 

And then I progressed through my graduate studies and I read more [00:07:00] indigenous research literature. It became more apparent that the focus that I needed to do, but those barriers that kept our students from finding success in our schools. And there were many factors at play, a variety of reasons of why they're falling through the cracks. 

So as the researcher and educator, I had to take that really deep and critical examination of my own role as the educator, my own role in the education system, and how it impacts the indigenous students that I teach. And the more I learned, the more questions I had about my own role as the teacher, first of all. 

How has my own education assimilated me into white society in creating an unconscious bias and a deep sense of shame towards myself and towards my own people? The second question I asked, what is it that I am [00:08:00] doing or not doing that may impair my relationships with my indigenous students and their families? 

And thirdly, how would my experience of being a 60 scoop survivor impact my attitude towards indigenous students? Those were the hard questions I had to ask myself as I unpack the experiences of my own story. But if I cannot tell my own story truthfully, how could I ever expect to listen to the stories of others? 

To be an indigenous person is to be in relationship with others, and before we can be in relationship with others, we first must be in relationship with ourselves. My research journey begins here by telling my story and unpacking it so I can understand where I came from, where I am today, [00:09:00] and where I am going. 

As the late Joseph Couture once said, each person has a purpose and a place. It's up to you. You have all the answers within you. There is within you a voice that tells you who you are and where you are. The learning and growing process that I have undergone. While completing my graduate studies and research led to this path of deep de self, self discovery and growth, and in conducting indigenous research methodology, I now believe it's necessary to recognize and account for my own experiences, my own biases, my own perspectives as the researcher. 

Therefore, I must give an account of my own story. I. Before I can even begin to understand the stories of others, I am Ne Plains, [00:10:00] Cree and Metis. And also I'm from, uh, quiche gon Beaver Hills house. Uh, what Settlers now call Edmonton on Treaty Six Territory. My ancestors and birth families, uh, come from Onion Lake CRE Nation, Buffalo Lake Metis, settlement Fort Vermilion. 

And I'm actually discovering now, uh, the Mohawk Nation as well. I'm a 60 scoop survivor, and this is my story. 

I'm the youngest of six siblings, and actually now that I've, I'm discovering more of my, my ancestry, 12 siblings. I'm the youngest or in the middle. Uh, and my birth mother was struggling with her own demons. The result of the legacy and damage brought about by the residential school system. And in desperation, she made that agonizing decision to give me up for adoption.[00:11:00] 

And I was immediately placed into foster care and made a ward of the province of Alberta, and it would be seven months until I was adopted, uh, and placed with a white family that had moved from Berkeley, California to rural Alberta. And I became a part of an assimilative system that would later become known as the sixties scoop. 

And my adoptive parents were well educated, both having at attained graduate school degrees. Uh, my adoptive father, he was once an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister. He worked tirelessly in the sixties with, uh, black civil rights in the United States. He marched with Dr. Martin Luther, Luther King Jr. 

From uh, Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, in Alberta. He became a beekeeper and a farmer, and eventually director of Family and Community support services for the town of Edson. And my mother was a clinical social worker, um, and she had worked alongside [00:12:00] adoptive agencies in California placing, uh, black American children mostly with white families. 

Uh, they're both retired now and live in Edmonton. And my adoptive parents, who I'll refer to now as my parents, they have a biological daughter, my older sister who's five years older than I am. So I grew up on a small, uh, subsistence farm. My parents were organic farmers. It was situated. 

This farm was situated in the valley, uh, along the McLeod River, just north of the hamlet of piers. If you blinked, you'd miss the town. The log cabin that we lived in was built in around 1913, and it was one of the first white settler cabins in the area. So it had no running water or plumbing. Uh, the only source of heat was a wood stove. 

Uh, we had and had a wood cook stove in the kitchen as well. Although we did have the luxury of a hand pump in the kitchen for fresh water, which was great. Uh, we [00:13:00] raised goats, chickens, honeybees, grew vegetables, sortt with herbs and berries. Um, be safe to assume my parents were hippies from California. 

So I've, I've known I was adopted as far back as I, I can remember. Um, I, I was very much loved by my family. Felt a part, very much a part of it. But as quite a few of you know, adoption comes with its own challenges. although I did have a very loving family, I still felt different and that something was missing. 

I didn't look like my parents or my sister, but that really didn't matter or become a parent until I started school, until I started kindergarten. The elementary school that I attended was situated in the hamlet of piers, and the surrounding farming community was predominantly white consisting of, uh, settlers from Ukraine, Germany, Scotland, England, uh, the Netherlands, and most of these families originated. 

They [00:14:00] came over in the early 19 hundreds. So it was a white community and I. 

My first encounter with racism was at school. I would've been either in kindergarten or grade one. While the older boy, he would've been in grade six at that time. 

And it was during recess and the older boys were playing soccer in the field. And I was a very shy child. Um, so I was kind of hanging out over by the hockey hockey rink, and the ball came my way. So I ran over to pick it up and to give it back, and that older boy came over and he pushed me down 

and he stood over me and I'll never ever forget the words as he is standing over me. He says, dirty Indian, stay down. 

Those words felt like a knife plunged into my heart. I could feel the physical pain, and I still do to this day, but it was not to be [00:15:00] the only racist incident that I would experience at school. And I could remember learning about the Indians and having to make cardstock headbands and feathers and we would decorate them with crayons or felt markers. 

Even though I was young, I knew deep down inside something was, it was wrong. Here I was an Indian pretending to dress up like an Indian. We learned only about the historical Indian as a savage race of people that once occupied the planes of Canada. There was never any mention of the Indian residential school system or the sixties scoop. 

My ancestors were remembered as Buck skin clad people using Stone Age tools and living in poverty until the white man came to save them, and I did not see myself represented in the curriculum. I'm gonna date myself a little bit here. We read books like Dick and Jane at the Seashore. 

We learned about the roles of men and [00:16:00] women in society, and there were always white men wore suits and fedoras, and they went off to work every day while the wives would stay at home and kept the household running smoothly. And at recess we would play games, uh, imaginary games like cowboys and Indians at the forest, at the edge of the school, nobody ever wanted to play the Indian because they were the antagonist. 

Everybody wanted be the cowboys who needed to subdue and eventually kill the Indians. I didn't want to be an Indian. I wanted to be a cowboy. And summers were always difficult seasons for me because my skin would turn dark and I can distinctly remember being in the bathtub as a kid trying to scrub off my dark skin. 

So I wanted to be a lighter colored like my friends, and this is something that an 8-year-old should not have to be worried about. 

So throughout junior high and [00:17:00] senior high, for the most part, I kept my head down, did everything that was expected of me, while maybe the odd shenanigans. But for a time I kept my hair long with the encouragement of my mother, and she loved my long, dark black hair. There was an incident with an airport border officer doing a spring break visit to my grandmother's. 

The inspecting officer saw me, he wanted, he asked if he if I had any drugs or alcohol in my luggage. I was about 14 or 15 at the time. And of course my mom stepped in to protect me and he said back off. And he asked me again, do you have any drugs or alcohol in your luggage? And I said, no. And he says, open up your. 

Suitcase and he tore it apart. Of course, he didn't find anything, and all I got was just move along. There's other people in line. 

I was certain it was my appearance as a visibly indigenous person was caused enough to arouse suspicion. [00:18:00] So once we returned back home, I asked my mother to arrange for me to see a hairdresser. 

And I had my beautiful long black hair cut short ' cause I was ashamed to look indigenous and I wanted to look white. I started to wear chinos and dress shirts instead of jeans and T-shirts like I used to. And the shame I felt as a brown-skinned person was overwhelming. And I wanted nothing to do with my heritage, traditions, or culture if it meant that I would not have to suffer the racism of being anything other than white. 

However, I did find comfort in safe spaces at school with my art teachers in junior high and high school. They saw me for who I really was, and they afforded me a place and a space that I could let my guard down. I could be authentic in who I really was and then I could explore, um, [00:19:00] my identity as an indigenous person through my artwork and my efforts to remain whitewashed, continue into adulthood. 

Um, I studied psychology for two years at Red Deer College and got married, uh, to my high school sweetheart. We had a child together during my second years of studies. So after leaving college, um, I enrolled in the Canadian Armed Forces and applied to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police at the same time. 

So after a year of serving in the armed forces, I, I was off to Depot division in, in Saskatchewan, uh, to train to become an RCMP officer. Now a high school colleague of mine, uh, we graduated high school together. He also wanted to be a mounty and. He was not having the same luck I was having with the application process and it really got under his skin. 

And he said, Jethro, the only reason you got accepted into the RCMP is 'cause you're native. So when I got to [00:20:00] Depo and I met all of my other troop mates, I found out that there was only three of us who were indigenous. Uh, one was black and the rest were white. So again, we were very much in the minority. 

but I'd have to say training was a very positive experience for me. I have a lot of good memories of my time at Depo, made lifelong friends, but however, my time spent in southern Alberta as a young indigenous Mounty was quite different. I had a very supportive trainer and he believed in my ability and capacity to become an exceptional police officer. 

But the racism and the microaggressions, towards indigenous people were considerable. So when it comes to microaggressions, I've heard them all. So I'll share some examples, uh, such as, oh, well you're a credit to your race. jetro. how come you didn't end up like the rest of those Indians? And I've often heard, uh, what present company [00:21:00] excluded before they launched into a tirade of how difficult it was to work with the Indians. 

So one incident that has really stuck out in my mind. Even to this day, uh, was as we were preparing to get involved in a stolen vehicle pursuit at Head smashed in Buffalo Jump, I had the four by four, police car or police truck, and we had called in the subdivision dog handler to assist, just in case we needed the dog for tracking. 

And the guys in the detachment meant this comment is a joke, but it was hurtful nonetheless. One of the guys said, uh, be careful out there, Jethro. That police dog has already had a taste of red meat. He's might come after you. 

So I left the RCMP after two years of seeing the writing on the wall, knowing that as an indigenous person, my career options would most likely be limited. So I'm gonna skip ahead a few careers. In time, I became a [00:22:00] red sealed journeyman welder, eventually leading to a career as a high school teacher. So I've been with my school division now, this is my 10th year, and now moving into an assistant principalship, uh, next year. 

So I've had to really work hard to reconcile, reconcile my past experiences, um, turning that gaze inwards, loging into that mirror, examine my own biases, my own assumptions and attitudes towards my own people. So with even within the education system, I, I still didn't see myself represented necessarily in the faculty and staff. 

So there, there's so very few of us. Um, I can probably count on one or two hands the number of indigenous teachers or staff that I've met over the last 10 years, but I'm, I'm, I'm meeting more and more, which is great, and as I make my move towards leadership, I count even fewer assistant principals or principals who are [00:23:00] indigenous. 

But I've also discovered it's so important. Have allies. Allies are critical in opening doors of opportunity and advancement. Having assistant principals and principals who believe in support in the advancement of indigenous school leaders and faculty is so important and so necessary. Although I've had people come up to me in the past and ask jetro, how come you turned out so normal? 

I'm not sure I did. at that time, at that specific time, I was not prepared. I had not progressed f far enough on my journey. I couldn't, I couldn't respond to it. I held my tongue. 

I, I really couldn't bring myself to, to challenge somebody in a position of authority at that time. But as I progressed through my graduate studies and learning more about leadership and how my own story, um, would grow and develop, I started to find that confidence to call people out and to be able to [00:24:00] call people in for those crucial conversations, especially around microaggressions. 

one that stands out. It had been a particularly stressful semester being a teacher, being a graduate student. Uh, we were neck deep in pandemic at that time. I was kind of reached the end of my rope and my graduate supervisor, she's also indigenous, she's amazing. Dr. Christine Martin. Oh, she had, she'd reached out to me, said, she said, Jethro. 

I. I have some good news for you, something I'll pick you up. I said, you're gonna actually be the first indigenous student to graduate from, uh, the master of an educational leadership at Concordia University in Edmonton. I was like, wow, that's really cool. Something groundbreaking. It's not huge, but it's something, and I really wanted to share it with my close colleagues and leaders. 

And one in particular said, wow, Jethro. Don't worry about getting your master's done. You've got it. You're gonna get [00:25:00] this. Well, he meant it as a compliment, but I have to still work twice as hard as my other, as my non-indigenous students or colleagues to be able to get to the that end point. So I called him in for a conversation. 

I said, that's actually quite racist. I do have to work hard. And he said he apologized and we're still very good friends. Um, but it was really important that I had the confidence and courage to have that conversation. And there was growth for both of us. 

So I was finally finding my voice and learning to resist the racism in our society and putting that work into leadership. Graduate studies also gave me the time and space, which I think is important for all of us to create meaningful time and space to reexamine, uh, racism that I felt towards indigenous students in their families. 

So I was that 60 scoop survivor [00:26:00] raised by a white family in a white education system. So I had learned to navigate. The uncomfortableness of being indigenous in white society so I could act and perform as a white person, and then life became easier for me. So I turned that lens, what my coping strategies, what I had learned to cope and survive. 

I turned that lens on my own indigenous students in hopes that I could guide them on this path and make their lives easier. 

But I now realize that what I was doing is perpetuating this racism and I'm learning to unlearn and to be honest, it's uncomfortable and it brings up a lot of hurt and the trauma that I internalized as a young child. 

So what has the research discovered and how is it relevant to us as educators and leaders? [00:27:00] Studies have been conducted to examine the underlying problems with indigenous education programming raised at raising graduation rates and academic success amongst our indigenous students in Canada. And I looked at studies primarily in the pro, in the prairie provinces. 

Uh, in 2018, Ghar did a study. And show that despite efforts to create an inclusive and culturally sensitive educational environment, there was still systemic and prevalent racism that was holding back indigenous students from finding success. So while having additive indigenous content and curriculum is a good step, is positive step towards reconciliation, it is still our colonial view of others, those who are colonized. 

Requires the real change. It is more important to recognize and talk openly about our own racism rather than just having inclusive cultural curriculum and [00:28:00] programming. So as that 60 scoop survivor, I had two formed racist attitudes towards my own people. I was raised by a white family in a white farmer, uh, white settler farming community. 

I. So even though I'd been raised to respect others to not speak ill of others, our prevalent way of being was still excluding others from fully participating in our, in our society, our education is predicated on maintaining a status quo. We have a vision of the student that we wanna produce at the end of their journey with us. 

Educators often have lowered academic expectations of their First Nations, Metis and Inuit students, even before they start school. And I just wanted to add a side note here who saw Sean Ard yesterday? So [00:29:00] he's now created for me a four letter F word out of FNMI. So I'll never see that term the same way again. 

I will try now to always say if I can specifically which nation a student comes from, or if they're Metis, recognize that, or if they're Inuit and we have Inuit students at our school, they are not just FNMI having this failure before even getting into the classroom, it's an attitude that comes from a deficit ideology. 

Perpetuated from systemic racist ideas that we have about marginalized people and their cultures. This is from a study that Gorsky did in 2019. These studies are then, uh, these students are racialized and categorized in contrast to the predominant culture and the lasting damage goes far beyond the individual experience. 

It becomes systemic. I'll quote here, racism [00:30:00] experience on an individual level does harm to one person, or which in turn can affect one's family and friends. But racism on a structural level goes beyond the individual. It informs our institutions, such as schools, healthcare, justice, and then it enacts and perpetuates racism against an entire group of people. 

The education system continues to be a significant source of racialization for indigenous students. So as a student, former student, well lifelong student, I often felt judged purely on my skin color and not on my accomplishments, and this is an important consideration. Reflection in my own research, I had to come to this realization. 

I must recognize and understand how I was racialized as an indigenous student and how I'm currently doing it or have been doing [00:31:00] it to our indigenous students as a teacher. This becomes a story that I can share now from two distinct, uh, worldviews as an indigenous person raised in a white settler society. 

Other studies have explored the notion of white settler resentment as another barrier to indigenous success. Uh, Carol Schick wrote about this in 2014, uh, and explored and discussed reasons for resistance and resentment, uh, towards anticolonial education in Canadian schools. Uh, she used the context of a provincially developed program of study aimed, um, about adding more information. 

And the importance of First Nations in our con, in our Canadian society. So, and as this program ruled out, uh, principals started to notice resistance from parents and from students. Uh, shik focused on the resentment held towards indigenous culture [00:32:00] in contrast to white settler society. So this racism is learned at an early age, and it's rehearsed and it's reinforced. 

And through how we learn as students. So it's not necessarily a direct attack as I'm, as I learned, but it, it becomes systemic. So I can relate to this. Looking back at my experiences as a young student in the 1970s and the 1980s learning, uh, school learning materials and resources exemplified an ideal that was not indigenous. 

Never showing people of color. And of course that's, that's changed. We've come a very, very long way. But we were never represented, um, as people of importance. We were represented as historical figures living off the land. We never learned about the important people in our cultures. We just weren't seen as relevant [00:33:00] to modern society at that time. 

So on my reflection, I can see how we perpetuate as educators, this racism system. It's not intentional by any means, but it's because we are products of our education system 

and it's there to help maintain that white space that's comfortable for us. To be able to navigate within Shik had identified three types of white racial knowledge. Uh, it's first knowing who you are as a white person, secondly, knowing where to traverse the social landscape. And thirdly, um, how to act in, uh, racially acceptable ways. 

So when you identify and are accepted as a white person. Navigating society becomes so much easier. You're no longer moving against the current of society. Uh, Charlotte Reading describes this is relational [00:34:00] racism in the context of everyday interactions, I'll quote, racism occurs when a person experiences discriminatory behavior from people that he or she encounters in his or her daily life. 

Um, an example I could use is going to the drugstore. I feel the need to pick up and buy a toothbrush if I wanna buy a bottle of mouthwash is experiencing just small everyday encounters or being followed by a loss prevention officer in a department store. So being aware and identifying of this resentment. 

In the context of school now is crucial in being able to move forward with reconciliation and to be able to work with our indigenous communities and our students. So for us then, what's next? What can we do as educators, as leaders? We can shift our focus. One way, uh, [00:35:00] is to include indigenous ways of knowing the challenge, how we as teachers have been traditionally trained and how we train new teachers. 

So I'll give a quick summary of complexity theory or ct, and it has its beginnings in science and systems theory and it's used to describe change. CT focuses on the interactive aspects of living social systems and how they evolve or adapt through cooperation and competition. Now the key element borrowed from CT is the interactive aspects of social systems and how it's relating to our educational systems and what CT is integrated with Indigenous ways of knowing how we as teachers interact with students changes completely. 

And what is challenged the most is the ideology of competition for Marx. So for, in [00:36:00] order for students to maximize their learning and that of their own community, either their classroom learning community or the school, three principles need to be utilized. One, and this will kind of turn some of you on your heads, perhaps put the learning of, and this is from a student's perspective, put the learning of your peers before your own. 

So your learning is now more important than my own. Create work that will benefit seven generations to come. A lot of you, I'm sure are familiar with this philosophy. Think about seven generations from now. What am I doing? What am I learning today that's going to have that ripple effect? Thirdly, and we've heard this time throughout this conference, find your own passion in the course content and use it to energize the community. 

And this is from a students. Perspective, not the teachers necessarily from the students. [00:37:00] Find your own passion in the course content and then use it. Use it to energize the classroom. These principles foster relational accountability in the learner in the classroom. The focus has shifted away from the competitiveness and the interests of the individual to serve the needs of the community. 

And in time it will foster a passion for lifelong learning, not only in the student, but in us as well. It reenergizes us, 

but we can also learn from relational ways of knowing. In terms of our, our own approach to research, um, Sean Wilson discusses this paradigm as a relationship with truth. So we as researchers do not exist. Externally to the research. Um, we're not external to what or whom we're researching, but we become in relationship to the subject. 

So we cannot separate ourselves from the research. We [00:38:00] become a part of it as soon as we engage in that work. Wilson goes on to talk about how in indigenous epistemology is also based on relationship, and I'll say even within the Cree language, objects are not named but described in how we relate to them. 

So this is not a pen. This is the thing that I use to write with, or the thing that I use to communicate with. I'm in a relationship with it. It's not just a thing. So when we engage with others in relational ways, we are really engaging with their stories. And I'll quote, give a quote here from Kovac Narratives give space for transformative possibilities and teaching and, and learning. 

And the stories is an implied, is implied in research discoveries. This includes qualitative research where we know that behind every statistic there is a story. Story is a [00:39:00] powerful communicative event. It is the sharing of story and witnessing of story and the learning from the story that the indigenous, uh, elders know that holds the potentials for shifts in consciousness. 

So then we as educators must also move away from cognitive imperialism to indigenizing our education. Marie Batist defines cognitive imper imperialism as a form of colonization that denies people of their language and their cultural integrity by maintaining a legitimacy of only one language, one culture, one frame of reference. 

So from an indigenous perspective. Cognitive imperialism is and has become the systemic mechanism used to value and discredit indigenous ways of knowing, resulting in loss of culture, language ceremonies, [00:40:00] and our own ways of transferring knowledge from one generation to the next. So many indigenous families still fear that our education system will continue that assimilative process and the, and the colonization of, of their cultures. 

So for, for us as educators to make significant changes, we must first acknowledge that framework universities. Also play an important role in making this paradigm shift. These are the institutions where teachers are trained and implicated in perpetuating cognitive imperialism. So many universities all have made significant changes by offering indigenous programs of study or inco incorporating indigenous language and culture courses into their programs taught. 

Knowledge keepers, language keepers, [00:41:00] elders, the U of A Trent University. These are examples who have made those practices. They have indigenous people teaching these ways of knowing and being in their education classes. 

there's one last part that I think is really important, especially concerning our faith and spirituality, especially for those that come from, maybe a Catholic school division or a faith-based school division. So for myself as a practicing Catholic and educator, I feel I have a unique and special relationship with our church communities, our faith communities. 

That we're called to serve our students and their families in a way that strengthens everyone's relationship to the creator. Now, I'm sure most of you, all of you are, uh, familiar with Bloom's Taxonomy in regards to, um, education. We have our cognitive domain, psychomotor effective domain. Those are our [00:42:00] KSAs. 

So in order to augment and complement Bloom's taxonomy. The Cree medicine wheel offers a fourth domain, so within the majority of Medicine Wheels and Turtle Island or North America, these Medicine Wheels, one of the representations, the wheel is split up into four equal quadrants. They represent the mental, physical, and emotional and spiritual aspects of people. 

So that fourth quadrant of spiritual is actually missing from the KSAs. 

It provides a critical element of human development from an indigenous way of knowing. The creme medicine wheel is holistic and it's relational, and it's a model for human development. So on the outset it looks actually quite simple and it's very different from, uh, a Eurocentric model that is widely accepted in academic [00:43:00] circles. 

There are parallels between the models and the Cree medicine wheel has deep indigenous teachings embedded within it. Deceptively simple, but is very deep. So there are three main ideas that should be remembered concerning the medicine wheel. First of all, it is not a top-down hierarchical model. It is circular and it's unending. 

So it doesn't necessarily have a beginning and start, but it continues moving forward through time. But we come back with our lessons. We come back to the beginnings and revisit and grow. It contains wisdom and knowledge that's been passed down from generation to generation. Secondly. At a simplified level, it teaches us to focus on external and internal development throughout life being divided into four quadrants, representing our childhood, adolescence, our adult [00:44:00] years, and our elder years. 

It represents our physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional wellbeing represents by feelings, relationships, respect, and caring. I. And then thirdly, the medicine wheel is deeply embedded in Cree indigenous culture, a culture that is in danger of being wiped out to the loss of our indigenous worldviews, our language, our knowledge systems, traditions, and the environment. 

So it is critically important that this model of human development be utilized in the healthy development of our indigenous students, of our teachers, and others. Medicine Wheel teaching support, human development through different stages of life and are always connected to the natural world. So using this model allows teachers, and especially those who are faith-based teachers who are familiar with the KSAs to augment and add that forth realm [00:45:00] of spirituality in how we teach. 

The medicine wheel teachings have relational connections to the natural world, and then forms, links with learning from place. So having our students understand where they're learning. It's the context of the land, be it on reserve in a city, on a farm. The spirituality is also entwined with healing and allows the necessary space for introspection. 

And able to reconcile convergent ideologies. And here's a quote from Terni participants described how spirituality was critical in their negotiation of the dual realities of Eurocentric schooling practices and aboriginal epistemologies. They considered the wisdom and the spiritual traditions of the framework for creating classroom environments that are actually conducive to learning. 

So without spirituality. Healing can never [00:46:00] be realized within the indigenous context. Spirituality must be a part of it. We must allow space for that to happen. So in conclusion, all our students deserve an equal chance of success in school. So our sphere of influence as leaders and teachers reaches further than we can ever imagine. 

So how we approach our pedagogy. And our leadership within our indigenous students and communities has a direct implication on their success. And for generations, we've expected indigenous students to bend to our will and learn our Western European worldviews. But the research is showing that we as teachers need to take that step back and then be able to create space, create space for self-reflection, and become relational with one another. 

Importantly, [00:47:00] and Sean Wilson says that relation is in the relationship that one has with the truth. So thus, an object or thing is not as important as one's relationship to it. So when we as researchers become reflexive, we must reengage in a relationship with ourselves, share our stories, and rediscover where we came from. 

Where we are right now and where we're going. I wanted to close, this with a poem. Um, it was an assignment in grad school through a curriculum course, and our pro said you could, you could demonstrate your learning any way you want to. It's your choice. And of course, there was one smart alec that said, can we do an interpretive dance? 

And she said, well, if you can demonstrate your learning through that dance. Yes. So I followed up by saying, can I write [00:48:00] a poem? And she said, if you can demonstrate your learning what you've taken away from this course. Absolutely. So this is the poem curriculum. Uh, stories. 

It is the stories that we weave that make us whole 

as a single thread. We stand alone isolated by our own narratives, a voice standing in the dark with no points of reference other than the threads of our own story. Only when we begin to weave our stories and listen to others' stories that we truly begin to grow, we begin to weave, twist, and braid these stories, binding them to our consciousness and spirit. 

A young native boy stands alone at the edge of the schoolyard. His [00:49:00] long black hair moves with the breeze. He feels the earth beneath his feet, the place where his ancestors once walked, but he doesn't know that yet. A soccer ball rolls his way. He wants to play and goes to retrieve it, but a shadow comes over him. 

The boy is pushed to the dirt, sudden jarring. But more jarring are the words. Dirty Indian, stay down. The words hurt more than the fall, and they cut deep into the boy's spirit leaving a mark. The boy will carry this mark for the rest of his days. He believes these words. Why wouldn't he? The boy doesn't see himself in the books he reads, the movies he sees. 

The teachers he learns from, the boy doesn't see himself. He believes [00:50:00] this, and he carries this mark for the rest of his days. A teacher stands at the front of a classroom. All eyes are turned, focused and waiting. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air between the teachers and the students. It's like a dark, heavy curtain that only knowledge can push aside. 

The students are waiting for it. They've been trained for it passively waiting for that dance to begin. We teach, they learn, they sing our song, and we sit in judgment, learn the words, know the steps, be just like me. So I've passed this torch of knowledge. Bringing light to those who stand in the darkness. 

And I'm such a good teacher, aren't I? I'm standing alone on the gravel banks of a river and I've pulled my [00:51:00] canoe ashore and I gaze upon the landscape. The water is dark and swift, a gathering place for my ancestors. We are connected to this place and we know it by name. The river gives life and it can take life. 

It's a place for us to meet and to learn from each other. The river also has knowledge to give and has been here longer than we have been, and the rocks beneath my feet have been there even longer. They are the old ones and they are telling me stories of about how we came to be. And all I have to do is to be silent and listen, but I struggle with that. 

Sometimes I feel that my own story is more important and that the stones are just stones, but they're wiser than I am, and they sit patiently until I'm [00:52:00] ready. I'm back in my canoe and I'm paddling upstream. The current is swift and relentless, and my lungs, my shoulders, my back are on fire and I dig deep with my paddle and I feel like I, I make little progress, but I must keep moving forward. 

The good hunting grounds and the trap lines are there, that is where I need to go, and I meet others along the way. I meet an elder and his grandson. And they too wish to return to their ancestral hunting grounds at set traps. In the winter, we travel together in my canoe and the work seems not so difficult anymore. 

As the elder and his grandson lean into the work of moving us forward, we paddle together in unison. The rhythm of our paddle strokes and the beating of our hearts is like a drum. It is the beating heart of our [00:53:00] mother. When we make camp in the evenings, we tell stories. We learn from each other, we see each other. 

I become the student once again, learning from that elder, learning from his grandson. They hold stories from their ancestors, and now I hold those stories too. They are precious gifts given to us from the creator and from those before us. and when we tell and share these stories, we give a little piece of ourselves to others. 

We become a part of others, and when we stop and listen to their stories, they become a part of us. The elder and his grandson have departed having found the trailhead to their hunting cabin, and although they have left me alone, I'm no longer alone. They still travel with me on my journey. I carry them in my [00:54:00] heart and I'm back in the classroom, but I no longer stand alone. 

My ancestors are standing with me. The elder and his grandson are standing with me. All eyes are turned, focused and waiting, waiting to tell their stories. We complete. An unending river of consciousness. Bound by our stories and experiences, our narratives are woven together to create a beautiful tapestry, rich in content, culture and history. 

The thread of my own story is tightly interwoven with others becoming stronger, resilient, and dynamic. So we begin the dance. Now we co-create the steps. We teach each other, we learn from each [00:55:00] other. We sing our song and we celebrate together. My students have moved along in their journey, graduated no longer walk these halls, and I don't feel alone in front of the class anymore. 

Their stories are a part of me. And I pass them along to the new students. I carry them in my heart. All my relations high, high.