TAKING CONTROL: POWER AND CONTRADICTION IN FIRST NATIONS ADULT EDUCATION By CELIA HAIG-BROWN B.A., University of British Columbia, 1968 M.A., University of British Columbia, 1986 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of Social and Educational Studies) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA April 1991 © Celia Haig-Brown, 1991 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of SoC-H^H S ^ ^ c ^ r i f>rv STUOVC-i-The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada DE-6 (2/88) ABSTRACT This dissertation is an ethnography. It explores the ways that people within a First Nations adult education centre make sense of taking control of education. Michel Foucault's open-textured analysis of power frames the research. He argues power not only represses but also "forms knowledge and produces discourse." Control and power as used by the "new" sociologists of education, and the National Indian Brotherhood in its policy statement Indian Control of Indian Education further locate the study. Extensive use of the participants' words allows a consideration of meanings inscribed in discourse. The study is based on a year of fieldwork including interviews, observations and the researcher's direct participation as a teacher in the centre. It places expressions of people's understandings of control within a series of contextualizations. The centre exists in contemporary Canadian society. Documentary evidence of British Columbia's First Nations efforts to control formal education and re-presentation of the centre's twenty years of growth and development illuminate an historical context. The study examines the current significance of the building where students find "a safe place to learn." Biographies, furnishing additional context for people's words, situate the study in relation to life history. Their engagement in a variety of the centre's programs provides the immediate context. Students and teachers explore what it is to be First Nations people seeking knowledge which will enable them to make choices about employment and education in First Nations or mainstream locations. References to the document Indian Control of Indian Education reveal its continuing significance for those people who are taking control. Study participants ii identify as crucial many of the issues raised within the document such as Native values, curriculum, First Nations and non-Native teachers, jurisdiction and facilities. At the same time, their discourse reveals the complex process of refining the original statements as policy translates to practice and people ponder the implications. A final chapter, something of an epilogue, argues that the dialectical contradiction is a useful analytical tool for examining the dissonances which arise in attempts to meet First Nations needs and desires within a predominantly non-Native society. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract ii Acknowledgements vii INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 1. DISCOURSES OF CONTROL AND POWER 5 Sociology of Education: Control and Power 5 Foucault and Power 10 Culture 14 Indian Control of Indian Education 19 Conclusion 25 CHAPTER 2. DOING ETHNOGRAPHY: SOCIALLY CONSTRUCTING 27 REALITY Knowledge as a Social Process 27 Acknowledging the Human Element 29 Ethnography's Tools 32 Beginning the Relationship 37 Watching and Learning 44 Interviewing: The Conversations 46 The First Reflection 49 Second Reflections 52 Re-visions 57 Gender Analysis 59 Summary 62 CHAPTER 3. HISTORICAL FRAGMENTS: FIRST NATIONS CONTROL 64 IN BRITISH COLUMBIA McKenna-McBride Report 68 A Safe Place to Learn 76 The Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia 80 Special Joint Committee 85 Adult Education 94 iv CHAPTER 4. BECOMING: A HISTORY OF THE NATIVE 103 EDUCATION CENTRE Out of Conflict 105 Structure and Philosophy 108 Students 113 Department of Indian and Northern Affairs 116 Growth and Transition 123 Native Adult Basic Education 127 Pan-Indianism: An Issue? 129 Community-Based Education 133 Continuing Growth 136 CHAPTER 5. A SAFE PLACE TO LEARN 143 Indian Control of Indian Education: Facilities & Services 144 The Physical Space 146 The Students Comment 153 The Board Comments 159 The Staff Comments 162 Conclusion 165 CHAPTER 6. THE PEOPLE AND THEIR HISTORIES 167 Indian Control of Indian Education "Teachers," Students and Others 168 Students and Their Histories 169 The Board 180 The Staff 185 First Nations Staff 186 Non-Native Staff 196 Conclusion 201 CHAPTER 7. CURRICULUM PRACTICES: CENTRE ACTIVITIES 203 AND UPGRADING The Document 204 Major Centre Activities 207 Upgrading Programs 213 The Process 214 NABE 1 219 NABE 2/3 222 Culture Classes and Life Skills 225 Outreach Native Adult Basic Education 230 College Preparation 231 Conclusion 232 v CHAPTER 8. CURRICULUM PRACTICES: THE SKILLS 236 TRAINING PROGRAMS Native Family Violence and Community Service Training 239 Native Public Administration Program 243 Micro-Computer Office Training 246 Native Health and Science Career Preparation Program 249 Implementation 252 Research as Conversation 253 Other Programs 260 Conclusions 263 CHAPTER 9. TAKING CONTROL: WHAT THEY SAID 265 The Document Revisited 266 Power, Knowledge, and Truth 268 Native Values 271 Community Involvement 275 Funding 278 Policy Decisions 283 Teachers 285 Curriculum 289 Student Control 291 Native Education Centre and First Nations Control 295 Control and Change 300 Conclusions 307 CHAPTER 10. CONTRADICTION, POWER, AND CONTROL 309 The Dialectical Contradiction 310 Particularities 312 The Principle Contradiction and What the People Said 314 Cultural Self-Hatred 320 Success, Growth, and Bureaucracy 323 Urban First Nations 328 Contradiction Transformed 330 Bibliography 335 Appendix A 354 Appendix B 360 Appendix C 366 v i ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS To all the people who allowed me into their lives in my pursuit of understanding and truth, I am extremely grateful. I thank those First Nations people who, despite all the misrepresentations which they have previously endured, continue to work with non-Native people with patience and humour. And the non-Native people who "fight by their sides" and who took time from their demanding work to talk with me and help me. To the board members, the administrators, the teachers and, especially the students of the Native Education Centre, I am forever indebted. I only hope that somehow the understandings herein may prove in some way useful to the enduring struggle in which the people there are engaged: the struggle for justice, control, and the possibilities which lie with power. I acknowledge the students of the Native Indian Teacher Education Program, who passed through the Kamloops Centre between 1976 and 1987, and the Secwepemc people of the area for piquing my interest in the process of First Nations control. I also want to express my appreciation to Jane Gaskell, my advisor for her critical guidance, her relentless encouragement and her confidence in the women of the world to get the job done; Elvi Whittaker for taking me to heights of enthusiasm about ethnography from which I hope never to descend; and Kogila Adam-Moodley for her critical comments throughout the process. I acknowledge the other students in Social and Educational Studies, the Native Indian Teacher Education Program, and Adult Education at U.B.C. who provided stimulating and critical places for discussion. I want to thank my mother and father for giving me the privilege of books and a thirst for learning with people about their lives. I want to thank my children, Sophie, Josie and Roddy Vayro, for not allowing me to neglect them as much as I might have, for insisting that a mother must play with them sometimes. And my partner Bob Smith for being there, in all the places, so I could get this done. vii 1 INTRODUCTION Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. The guy's writing it, give him a chance to do a little hooptedoodle. Spin up some pretty words maybe, or sing a little song with language. That's nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don't have to read it. I don't want hooptedoodle to get mixed up in the story. So if the guy that's writing it wants hooptedoodle, he ought to put it right first. Then I can skip it if I want to, or maybe go back to it after I know how the story come out. Mac in "Prologue" to Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck This ethnography, like all writing of research, is a piece of interpretation. Reflecting conventional anthropological ethnographies it documents, from a particular perspective, a study "performed in some 'place' and with some 'people'" (Whittaker 1986:xix). It is an effort to go to the limits that "historically-informed, interpretive sociology can achieve" (Moodley 1983:321). It incorporates "previously established knowledge pertinent to the area," or what might be called historical evidence, bringing this documentary knowledge into a relationship with information provided by people historically involved with the 'place.' Field work, work conducted directly in the place with people, was the primary means used to create the knowledge within this document. "Fieldwork rests its ultimate sanctity and validity on the elusive, and at the same time invaluable entity, human experience" (Whittaker, xx). The knowledge is constructed in interaction amongst study participants within an historically, geographically, and socially situated place. The study struggles against a positivistic, scientific orientation to presenting research. While others may find some general significance herein, it does not seek to generate or confirm universal theory or even to generalize. It acknowledges the reflexive nature of doing research: the fact that the researcher's whole embodied self is the primary instrument of research (Dobbert 1982:5). In an effort to present 2 interpretations beyond those of the principal researcher, each chapter includes the transcribed words of the other study participants. Their words allow heteroglossia, "a multiplicity of social voices" (Bakhtin 1934-35/1981:263), to enter the ethnography. At the same time, their transfer from one time and place to a new context changes the meaning of the utterances. Similarly, the reader's history and context will further transform what is written. Like all ethnographies, this one is incomplete. It is a presentation of people's interactions and understandings in a particular time and place around some particular topics. Theory and method become inseparable. I can give you what I tried to do and how I tried to do it, what I saw and heard, and what I did with my understandings of those interactions. But I can only give you chunks of what the Native Education Centre is. I can only give you selections of what happened there in my efforts to have you see it as I have come to. I have done all I can to understand it and to express that understanding in a way that is acceptable to the people with whom I interacted in coming to this understanding. I have done this so that I can claim some truth in what I present: so that I can show you that it is not just I who say these things. There are other people involved with the centre who concur with my views or who, at least, have reached some point of acceptance of the interpretations presented here. As Culhane Speck said: Therefore, this is a true story . . . . There are many, I know, who are as familiar with the events documented here as I am, who will read these account[s] and say, "That's not the way it was at all." But I am confident that there are none who could say "That's not what happened" (1987:14). While I take primary responsibility for what is written here, I make no claims to being an omniscient observer. The truth I offer is a cautious one. Conducting research and writing ethnography are, necessarily, processes of selection. The researchers and writer negotiate substance and method, the what and the how. As 3 with theory and method, these decisions are intertwined; the substance frames the method and vice versa, in a complex series of mediations playing back on one another. The writer, ever conscious of the other study participants, chooses what to look at, what to record, how to look, how to record, what to analyze, how to analyze, how to order, what to write and how to write. She listens to responses to these choices and revises accordingly. She selects from seemingly endless options a single way to present the work. And at some point, she must be satisfied that the project is ended. Never complete, just finished. This ethnography, then, is a re-presentation of what some people connected with First Nations education have to say about "Indian control of Indian education." Their words are placed within a series of contextualizations based on the story of some people in a place and their activities. As the study progressed, I re-formed what was said in light of my experiences with the people there and in recognition of the need for a particular type of document. In structuring the chapters, I have tried to lead the reader through the process in which I was involved, to replicate the temporal and spatial bases of the development of my understandings. On the other hand, I begin at the end with a synthesis of non-Native academic and First Nations discourses (Mac's hooptedoodle) settled on only after the bulk of the fieldwork was done. I present pieces of the document which focused my attention and of several other documents which address "Indian control." I present some history. First, there is my history and the reasons I came to pursue this topic in the way I have. Then, there is a history of First Nations struggles to control their education in this province, culminating in a history of the centre itself. This history is the beginning of what I call the story this document tells. It is a story of the Native Education Centre, a story of people taking control in one particular place that may have implications for others in other places. 4 I present, as do most conventional stories and ethnographies, a setting—the physical details of the centre. For the people who work there, this material space becomes much more than the planks, glass and cement of which it is made. I select and order words of the people with whom I spoke to show how they gradually expanded my understanding of the place as defined through their interactions there. The centre is a community centre, a place to belong, for those people who have often found the city outside its walls alien and hostile. The people are the board and administration, the staff and the students. They tell me bits about themselves: where they came from, how they came to be here, and how they see themselves. They tell me about practices: what they choose as practices, what they do in the centre, and what they see done. Within this series of contextualizations, re-presentation of fragments of people's beliefs and practices, I place what the people said about "Indian control" in our exploration of its meanings. The final chapter looks back over all that has been said and done and selects some aspects for further consideration. I return to "hooptedoodle," to a discourse which relates what I have seen and heard there to what others have seen and heard elsewhere. Contradiction, the tension which drives the development of First Nations control within the larger society and the power relations which surround that tension, becomes central. 5 C H A P T E R 1 — DISCOURSES OF C O N T R O L A N D POWER For me, power is the problem that has to be resolved. Michel Foucault (1978/88:104) N o matter how much money your band may have or how much power it may say it has, if there is no power to make decisions then it has no power at all. Once you have your decision-making power clear, it makes no difference what form it takes because your people will know they are in control. Rosalee Tizya (1990:18) In 1971, Michael F. D. Young edited a collection of essays Knowledge and Control: New Directions for the Sociology of Education."1 From 1972-1977, Michel Foucault wrote the essays included in Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings. In 1972, the National Indian Brotherhood presented to the government of Canada its document, Indian Control of Indian Education. This chapter (and aspects of those which follow) connects these events and their considerations of power, control, knowledge, and education. It contributes to the discourses which have developed out of the events. The dissertation as a whole establishes a relationship between these documents, and the words and practices of people working (to control education) within a specific context. S O C I O L O G Y OF E D U C A T I O N : C O N T R O L A N D POWER While discourses on control are far from new, Young collected papers expressing some of the emergency concerns of Europe's "new sociologists of education" and North American curriculum sociologists such as Bernstein, Bourdieu, Keddie, Davies, and Blum. In his introduction "Knowledge and Control," Young acknowledges the importance of research on "class determinants of educational opportunity." Moving beyond a mechanistic explanation of reproduction theory, he suggests that sociologists 6 begin to move to explanations of how pupils, teachers and knowledge are organized (and it is only through such explanations that we shall be able to develop alternatives), [so that] existing categories that for parents, teachers, children and many researchers distinguish home from school, learning from play, academic from non-academic, and "able" or "bright" from "dull" or "stupid" . . . be conceived of as socially constructed, with some in a position to impose their constructions or meanings on others (2). By questioning assumptions such as "what counts as educational knowledge," the papers in the volume indicate a move to the sociology of knowledge (Berger and Luckmann 1966) as central to sociology of education. Bernstein's famous treatise on framing and classification explains changes in the organization of educational knowledge and their consequences (Young:8). Science and rationality are recognized as social constructs: Robin Horton (1971) suggests that those members of the public in Western cultures who "believe in" Western science to the exclusion of awareness of alternative systems of thought have more similarities to than differences from groups such as the Kalabari villagers of Africa (1971:262). Other papers focus on aspects of organization, definitions of knowledge and comparative perspectives of cognitive styles. Subsequent to this work, some sociologists chose to explore schools as sites of reproduction of the existing social order in more depth, especially its capitalist divisions (e.g. Anyon 1981; Bourdieu and Passeron 1979; Bowles and Gintis 1976;). The critical approach, insisting on the social construction of explanations and integral to Young's collection, led others to see the limitations of viewing power relations as solely reproductive. These sociologists working in specific locations recognized a significant lack in reproduction theory. They incorporated into their work a view of human agency, often derived from Gramsci, that made visible the active roles of students, teachers, and others working in education. The people were not passive recipients of the dictates of those supposedly in control. 7 Researchers focused on these more specific analyses to reform theory. Individual classrooms were increasingly the focus of the specific studies Young and others felt necessary for adequate explanations of social constructs. The results of these studies emphasized resistance (e.g. Willis 1977), and the relationships between knowledge, teachers, curriculum, and power (e.g. Apple 1979,1982; Shor 1980; Giroux 1981; Young and Whitty 1977). An amorphous group developed of these and other sociologists of education. Focusing their work on class analysis, they became known as neo-Marxists. Despite the early promise of comparative perspectives such as the consideration of different cultural groups in Horton, subsequent studies rarely addressed ethnicity or racism issues. Similarly, gender analysis was too often ignored. Feminists with many perspectives and from many disciplines, called, and continue to call, for gender as a dimension necessary for rigorous analyses. They criticized, and continue to criticize, those who make women invisible in their works (e.g. Delphy 1970, McRobbie 1980). People of colour and their allies insisted that racism and ethnicity are also necessary considerations for situated, specific analysis of the social constructs relevant to education. While the "new sociologists" often paid lip service to the important interconnections of ethnicity, class and gender (e.g. Apple 1986), their works tended to skim over issues of ethnicity. Calling for "rigorous, durable, and compelling explanations of the reproduction and persistence of racial inequality in schooling," McCarthy points out that American curriculum theorists and sociologists of education have been far more forthcoming in their examination of how the variables of class, and more recently, those of gender, have informed the organization and selection of school knowledge and the reproduction of subcultures among school youth (1988:265). 8 More recently, McCarthy (1990) examines the "politics of difference" around race and curriculum. Aronowitz and Giroux (1985:101-2) openly acknowledge the lack of "race" consideration in resistance theories. Some sociological studies do focus on ethnicity. England's "Blacks" (defined in at least one instance as immigrants from both India and the Caribbean countries) have been the focus of educational analyses (e.g. Barton and Walker 1983, Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies 1982, Stone 1981). In North America, Ogbu (1974, 1978) has considered ethnicity and ethnocentrism, and their effects on students. Showing an affinity for reproduction theory, he articulated a "job ceiling" which limited expectations of and possibilities for students of colour. Although his focus is predominantly black Americans, he does include Native-Americans and Hispanics in his theorizing. Li (1988,1990) looks at the intersections of racial oppression and class based inequity within Canada. In North America, multiculturalism and multicultural education are the labels often given to areas of educational study in which sociologists address aspects of ethnicity. Some multicultural educational theorists (e.g. Lynch 1987; Friesen 1985; Kehoe 1984) working to translate theory to action write of prejudice reduction as a goal. While they imply that prejudice is something which can be reduced, they too often fail to address the assumptions underlying such a claim. They have an admirable end in mind, but some neglect serious consideration of the social and historical context of the "prejudice" they seek to reduce, the muticulturalism they seek to enhance, or issues of control and power underlying racism which surfaces as prejudice and stereotyping. Rather, they focus on schools, teachers, students and classrooms as isolated locations of change, and continue to try to generate rules from their work. Other sociologists looking at multiculturalism as a social construct acknowledge that it has been little more than a government policy designed to 9 placate so-called ethnic minorities. They feel too many theorists of multicultural education have found that the solution to ethnic inequality lies "in educating people about cultural difference, and [in] psychological strategies directed at changing prejudicial attitudes" (Young 1987:10), while neglecting the social context of this inequality. Most of the studies in the field of multiculturalism emphasize populations other than First Nations people. As Moodley notes, some people see this omission as appropriate because aboriginal rights and land claims differentiate them from other groups in Canada (1983:318). Existing literature on First Nations education in North America may be loosely categorized into theoretical studies, evaluations, case studies, surveys and descriptions. Susan Philips (1983), Barbara Burnaby (1982), and Judith Kleinfeld (1975) focus respectively on cultural incompatibility and communicative competence, language education, and effective teachers. Evaluation reports such as those of Hamilton and Owston (1983) and those listed in Hebert (1987) focus on specific aspects of First Nations educational projects. Anthropologists such as King (1967) and Woolcott (1967) completed ethnographic monographs which focused on non-Native schooling for First Nations students in particular locations. More (1988) and the Canadian Education Association (1984) have been instrumental in documenting existing programs and changes in First Nations education. Many descriptive articles document the development of programs (e.g. Archibald 1986a, 1986b), schools (e.g. Gardner 1986) and occasionally a school district (e.g. McKay and McKay 1987). Finally people such as Verna Kirkness (1986) put forward ideas for people working in First Nations education to ponder and build on. This study will contribute to an existing body of theses and dissertations which investigate the relationship of First Nations control of education to particular aspects of current theorizing within sociology of education (e.g. Kouri 1983; Bleecker 1982; Kelly 1980). F O U C A U L T A N D P O W E R The work of philosopher-historian Michel Foucault speaks to the increasing complexity for which the new sociologists mentioned above were calling. In particular, the development of his "tool-kit" (Cousins and Hussain 1984:225) with which he pursues an examination of power relations offers seemingly endless possibilities for rigorous, historically based and specific research. I find a number of his approaches to research compatible with my own. His "open-textured"2 analysis, his insistence on the specificity of analysis, his acknowledgement of the productive aspects of power relations, particularly of resistance, and his concern with local knowledge and its dependence on the elimination of "the tyranny of globalizing discourses with their hierarchy" (1976/1980:83) all work to inform my research analysis. His attention to disqualified, subjugated knowledges and their concern with "a historical knowledge of struggles" (83) calls to mind the lack of attention paid to ethnicity in much of mainstream educational writing. Is it that not only the memory of, but also the hostile encounters themselves remain confined to the margins of knowledge? This dissertation joins a discourse of the struggles over education in which First Nations people have been and are engaged, bringing it into the educational apparatus called the university. I hope that it will serve in some degree to challenge "the effects of the centralizing powers that are linked to the institution and functioning of an organized scientific discourse within a society such as ours" (84). I hope that where First Nations are concerned, it will "make the present situation comprehensible, and possibly, lead to action" (Foucault 1978/1988:101). The considerations which arise out of a specific institution in its context, the expressions of the people who dwell there, are diverse and yet specific. For those who would compare, the study may serve as a moment of comparison as they pursue their own work. For those who seek Geertz's thick description, the study offers that. The ways that people talk about "Indian control of Indian education" are presented within a series of contextualizations which give them their specificity. The discussions of sociologists of education around control, summarized very briefly above, serve as a starting point for the analysis of this study. It is Foucault's incomplete and provocative "analytic of the relations of power" (Cousins and Hussain 1984:225) which provides an appropriately open arena for considering the relations of power and control around education evident in the field work and documentary research which are central to this study. Power relations are integral to the struggles between First Nations peoples and non-Native society and among First Nations people themselves, and educational practices are one of the ways in which power relations have been established and power circulates. Hinting of social reproduction theory, Michel Foucault begins an investigation of power by focusing on repression. However, he refuses to settle with a singular theory as he looks first at analyses which offer power as "essentially that which represses. Power represses nature, the instincts, a class, individuals" (1977/1980:90). Inverting Karl von Clausewitz's assertion that war is politics continued by other means, Foucault poses a politics that sanctions and upholds "the disequilibrium of forces that was displayed in war." Developing this thought further, he suggests that "[t]he role of political power . . . is perpetually to reinscribe this relation through a form of unspoken warfare; to reinscribe it in social institutions, in economic inequalities, in language . . . " (90). For First Nations people, the warfare has been reinscribed in schools which have, along with many other things, helped maintain economic inequities and assaulted the original languages. Foucault concludes this examination of power relations by shifting his focus from a couplet, struggle-repression, to struggle-submission. Coincident with critics of reproduction theory, he establishes that repression is "wholly inadequate to the analysis of the mechanisms and effects of power" (92). Subsequently, he posits one of his major theses that power is not merely a "force that says no" but, more than that, one which "traverses and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge and produces discourse" (119). Furthermore, reminiscent of Willis's explanation of resistance and Gramsci's counter-hegemony, he claims that . . . as soon as there is a power relation, there is a possibility of resistance. We can never be ensnared by power: we can always modify its grip in determinate conditions and according to a precise strategy (1977/1988:123). The public encounters of First Nations peoples with government officials revealed in the discourse of the documents and the accounts the study participants give of their own experiences in the Native Education Centre demonstrate some of their efforts to modify the use of power through resistance. The power relations discussed as this study unfolds show both productive and repressive aspects of power, which are incidentally not to be taken as existing in binary opposition to one another. Rather, they are simply a couplet on which Foucault chooses to focus some of his discussion of power. The ways that Foucault examines power, particularly this evolution of his discussion from power as repression to a much more complex recognition of the productive aspects of power relations also speaks to an evolving understanding of "Indian control of Indian education." The repressive aspect of power leads to moves to control education while the moves are simultaneously productive aspects of the power relation. A variety of approaches to and understandings of "Indian control" arise with resistance to being controlled. This variety serves the struggles to take control by leading to articulation, then to refinement of the discourse, and to an indication of possibilities for action as well as the action itself. This analysis of power relations informs the way I present my research with its representations of control and power relations. 13 Foucault suggests that rather than address the question "Who exercises power?", one needs first to ask, "How does it happen?" And in order to address that question, one must describe the relations of power in a specific, local place (1978/1988:103-4). Relations of power are revealed in people's relationships with one another. The most rewarding points of study for Foucault are the mechanisms of power as revealed in people's interactions with one another. Like Blumer (1969), he seeks meaning in these interactions. Like the ethnographer, he seeks local knowledge. As an historian, he finds the local knowledges in documents while most ethnographers focus on fieldwork as a source. While Foucault refuses to generalize, by his actions of producing works whose intended audience is the world of academe3 but whose focus is localized, subjugated knowledge, he indicates that he sees value in bringing these knowledges into the institutions in order to oppose and struggle "against the coercion of a theoretical, unitary, formal and scientific discourse" (85). This dissertation is an effort to contribute to that project. Rather than emphasizing the control of the federal government, the study places its examination of control over education in the practices of the Native Education Centre, what Foucault might have called a place of power at its extremities, in its ultimate destinations, with those points where it becomes capillary, that is in its more regional and local forms and institutions (1976/1980:96). The study demonstrates through examination of people's practices and what they say about them something of how mechanisms of power function in the centre. Of particular importance to my work is the degree to which Foucault's analyses inform analyses of control in the Native Education Centre. While one might be tempted to say both the content and the form of his work hold significance for this study, I would not separate the two. They are inextricably inter-related. As 14 Bakhtin has stated, "Form and content in discourse are one, once we understand that verbal discourse is a social phenomenon" (1934/35/1981:259). Those ethnographers struggling with the conventional demands of academe which have too often insisted on this separation reiterate that what is said and how it is said are interdependent (Clifford and Marcus 1986). It is his refusal to be confined to a singular normative theory of power (or anything else) which ultimately makes Foucault's analysis of power so attractive to one who works across cultural boundaries. It also makes his work compatible with sociology of knowledge. As Fraser has suggested "Foucault's work ends up asking questions that it is structurally unequipped to answer" (1989:27). In work in the world of academe which attempts to move beyond the theories built on conventional assumptions, in the postmodern world with its "crisis of confidence in [so-called] western conceptual systems" (Lather 1990:1), perhaps it is important to pose questions rather than seek answers at this stage. In some sense, Foucault's limitations identified by Fraser enable us to do just that. CULTURE In Michael Young's collection, Horton articulates the significance of comparative work across cultures. Foucault talks of specific and local knowledge. In this study, with First Nations people, I worked across cultures and found this aspect of the study highly significant. Before moving on to examine the final piece of literature in this chapter, the document Indian Control of Education, I want to present some of the assumptions about culture with which I began my research. Although the document does not define culture, much of the discussion in it focuses on cultural differences and negotiation between cultures. This study examines the relationships of people from a variety of First Nations cultures and from the majority European-based culture. Raymond Williams has said culture "is one of the two or three most complicated words in the English language" (1983:87). The brief investigation of culture presented here articulates some of my assumptions about culture. Beginning with two conventional definitions, one reads in the Oxford English Dictionary that culture is: "A particular form or type of intellectual development. Also, the civilization, customs, artistic achievements, etc., of a people, esp. at a certain stage of its development or history" (1989:121). The main shortcomings of this definition are that it diminishes the dynamic aspects of culture and is an effort to see culture in isolation from history, "at a certain stage of its development." The Random House Dictionary defines culture as "the sum total ways of living built up by a group of human beings transmitted from one generation to another." The implications that culture is somehow transmitted intact between generations and that only that which is transmitted is culture, are reductionist. On the other hand, use of "a group" and "a people" implies that in speaking of different cultures, one is "referring to a very basic kind of difference between them, suggesting that there are specific varieties of the phenomenon of man (sic)" (Wagner 1981:2). In this thesis, as in much of contemporary sociology, differences, dynamism and accompanying change must be explicitly recognized as integral to the meaning of culture. Culture is not a static notion but is constructed socially in people's interactions, historically and contemporarily. Accentuating the notion of flux, which is fundamental to this research, one may add that it is important . . . to assert not what culture is but what it does. Culture serves as a medium through which individual human minds interact with one another in communication . . . [It] is a dynamic field within and through which individuals make contact with one another. It lies, as it were, between people and is shared by them . . . [T]o live within culture is to be able to understand, albeit in a partial way, the experience of those around us (Stenhouse 1967:13). This understanding is significant to elaborating the relationships amongst groups of First Nations peoples and the non-Native people in this study. These include those relationships between teachers in the centre, the non-Native research coordinator and other study participants who are primarily of First Nations origins as well as that of the dominant non-Native society and the education centre. The mention of partial understanding is of particular significance. While Stenhouse suggests that members who share a culture may understand one another in some partial way, this study looks at the efforts of people who are of different cultural backgrounds to understand one another. The complexities of these attempts are intensified by the fact that the people often have very different histories and experiences of the world, particularly in terms of relations to power. At the same time, as they work together on common projects, they come to share aspirations and chunks of histories—"the cohesiveness of similarities and the complementarity of differences" (personal communication: Moodley 1991). And always power continues to circulate amongst them. A second major assumption about culture for this study is tied up in the notion that "culture is ordinary" (Williams 1958/1989:3). While it is still possible to find those who refer to First Nations as dying cultures, increasingly, people acknowledge that the governments' attempts to assimilate First Nations people have failed. Governmental power is not merely a repressive force. An excerpt from an examination of the British working class suggests strong parallels with First Nations cultures in Canadian society both in terms of power relations and in terms of cultural production. Williams comments: There is an English bourgeois culture, with its powerful educational, literary and social institutions, in close contact with the actual centres of power. To say that most working people are excluded from these is self-evident, though the doors, under sustained pressure, are slowly opening. But, to go on to say that working people are excluded from English culture is nonsense; they have their own growing institutions . . . [C]ontemporary culture is [not] bourgeois culture . . . . There is a distinct working-class way of life . . . with its emphases of neighbourhood, mutual obligation, and common betterment. . . [It] is in fact the best basis for any future English society . . . . A dying culture and ignorant masses are not what I have known and see (8). While generalizations are dangerous, in this particular example, it is possible to substitute First Nations for working class and Canadian for English to make a most appropriate statement about current relations in Canada. The degree and impact of contact with the centres of power, such as funding agencies and accreditation gatekeepers, is a primary concern for those at the extremities who have been involved with the development and maintenance of the centre. Sustained pressure is slowly forcing some of the doors open. And educational institutions are concrete and ever-changing examples of the proliferation of First Nations institutions and the on-going renewal of their cultures. A recent comment by George Longfish, an artist and professor at the University of California, who was born on the Six Nations Reserve in Ontario captures the re-creation of culture which he sees. Stand on the back of the Turtle, our mother, and look at the land and wonder what it would have been like if Columbus would have been successful in his pursuit of India and avoided the eastern shore of this continent. Wipe your Indian hands on your Levi jeans, get into your Toyota pick-up. Throw in a tape of Mozart, Led Zepplin or ceremonial Sioux songs; then throw your head back and laugh—you are a survivor of a colonized people. Paint what you see, sculpt what you feel, and stay amused (1983/1989:22). Like Williams, "dying culture and ignorant masses" are not what Longfish writes of and not what I see in the work in which I have participated. With the vibrance of restructured and revitalized cultures, the power which penetrates the centre, circulates through all who participate there. As Horton claimed in his 1971 article alluded to above, assumptions of culture are most likely to be recognized in interaction with members of other cultures. It is within a border region, at the interface of cultures, that one comes to understand their significance. At that point, facing differences, people may recognize their assumptions and begin to articulate them. They must examine what they have taken for granted if they are to work with others across and within these differences. For a researcher of one culture meeting with study participants from other cultures, for a student from one First Nation meeting a student or teacher from another, . . . the understanding of another culture involves the relationship between two varieties of the human phenomenon; it aims at the creation of an intellectual relation between them, an understanding that includes both of them (Wagner 1981:3). The notion of an active and developing relationship predominates. Doing ethnographic research, the work of this study, necessitates the "bringing together of two equivalent entities, or viewpoints" rather than a singular analysis or examination with its "pretension of absolute objectivity" (2). A researcher uses her culture to study the notion of culture and the cultures of others. Her culture shapes the way she views the world and leads to the abandonment of claims to absolute objectivity. Rather, Wagner argues, one must strive for relative objectivity, an effort to recognize the influence that one's culture has on forming perceptions. The recent insistence of many ethnographers on declaring certain details of their backgrounds so that the readers may place research within the context of these details is based in this understanding. In this work, the cultures considered are First Nations cultures and a dominant, majority non-Native culture. While it is clear that the separation of these cultures in the current Canadian context is almost never complete, there are real differences in histories and experiences which justify a consideration of real differences of cultures. How may one regard these cultures? To begin, the dominant non-Native culture is presently made up of people of immigrant ancestry who do not identify the original peoples of this continent as ancestors. This dominant culture has been and continues to be controlled primarily by white, bourgeois males of northern European background. While there have been some inroads made by oppressed groups, such as workers, ethnic minorities and women, these men continue to hold most publicly recognized positions of power in government, industry, the family, and other social organizations. Clearly within any culture or group, there are many variations and always those who struggle for change and redistribution of control. Groups, cultures and control are all dynamic concepts, as changing as the time and space they occupy. First Nations cultures, in all their diversity, are traditionally based in a tribal lifestyle. There is a strong land-based community focus. First Nations life styles are "more often gynocratic than not and they are never patriarchal" (Allen 1986:2). Most importantly, First Nations cultures are themselves a range of different cultures. In B.C. alone, there are 26 languages and at least as many distinct cultures. It has been said that the main thing First Nations people have in common is "the white man." One might add their experiences of racism as a corollary. INDIAN CONTROL OF INDIAN EDUCATION While the "new" sociologists of education, Foucault, and others were working in universities refining their thinking about knowledge and control and the best places and ways to study their relationships, some First Nations people in very different cultural and social contexts in British Columbia and other parts of Canada were continuing their strategic planning by refining their official statements about control over education. Years of working toward control and dissatisfaction with the current state of education prompted the writing of the document, Indian Control of Indian Education. People knowledgeable of the issues surrounding Native education generally accept that Indian control of education is a positive move. However, the literature on Native education reveals that educators, researchers and writers only cursorily articulate the assumptions behind this belief and rarely debate their validity. Wirth has said: The most important thing we can know about a man (sic) is what he (sic) takes for granted, and the most elemental and important facts about a society are those that are seldom debated and generally regarded as settled (1936:xxii). Within the discourse on "Indian Control," there are many assumptions: some springing from the document discussed here; others arising in other contexts, in particular from the experience of being a First Nations person in this country at this time. This section offers some discussion of the tenets of the document as a starting point for the situated analysis of the example of "Indian control" which follows. The authors of the document spoke from positions of power within their various communities, ones which they had developed in interactions there. First Nations people, while participating with members of the dominant society in power relationships, also interact with one another in their own communities, in relationships of power to survey, normalize, and to produce influences of their own. In the early seventies, these activities were manifested in many ways including the preparation of the document. It comments specifically on the process of integration which has been a major thrust of the federal government since 1962 (Hawthorn, 1967:90). The following comment summarizes the National Indian Brotherhood (NIB) view. In the past, it has been the Indian student who was asked to integrate: to give up his (sic) identity, to adopt new values and a new way of life . . . . The success of integration is not the responsibility of Indians alone. Non-Indians must be ready to recognize the value of another way of life; to learn about Indian history, customs and language; and to modify, if necessary, some of their own ideas and practices (25-26). The kernel of the document lies in its concluding statement. It acknowledges the particular view of power relations inherent throughout: "There is one alternative which has not been tried before: in the future, let Indian people control Indian education" (28). Indian Control of Indian Education became a strong rallying point for those involved in Native education, even those who never read the document. For many of the latter, who were familiar with education through their own experiences or those of friends and relatives, the document was unnecessary. They had found other ways to arrive at an understanding of these experiences and to participate in action based on them. The document was, in a sense, an articulation of aspects of their assumed cultures. It served as a generalized articulation of directions developed in a variety of contexts over the years. It is a fragment, a break or rupture in a discontinuous presentation of efforts to control. Its apparent significance is somewhat deceiving in that there are those who argue, as I do in Chapter 3, that efforts to control education have existed at least as long as formal, European oriented education for First Nations people has existed. Prepared by the Working Committee of the Negotiating Committee of the National Indian Brotherhood (NIB), the document Indian Control of Indian Education is based in knowledge gained through experience with education of a group of First Nations people. The importance of focusing on local knowledge in any attempts to control education is central. This emphasis on specificity would have pleased Foucault. The document selects local control and parental involvement as integral to improving education for First Nations children. The preface establishes that the document is a statement of the "philosophy, goals, principles and directions" the NIB recommends, always with the implication and often with the articulation of the need for considering local context. The emphasis on local control has encouraged divergences based on the needs and concerns of particular communities. Because the NIB is a national group, it addresses the concerns of a great variety of nations. By including the emphasis on local control, the document acknowledges the need for diversity within this unified statement. The four main areas presented for consideration are responsibility, programs, teachers, and facilities. All of these are discussed from the point of view of stated beliefs, an "Indian Philosophy of Education." Beginning with the understanding that each Native adult is responsible to see that children know what they need in order to "live a good life," the authors, "modern Indians, want our children to learn that happiness and satisfaction come from pride in one's self, understanding one's fellowmen (sic), and living in harmony with nature." They call for education which allows children to be shaped by general cultural values of "self-reliance, respect for personal freedom, generosity, respect for nature and wisdom." They also suggest that it is essential for all Canadian children to learn about First Nations history, customs and culture in order to appreciate the differences amongst people. Demanding "radical change in Indian education," the document cites two goals as central to their project: "to reinforce Indian identity" and "to provide the training necessary for making a good living in a modern society." Their contradictory aspects are not addressed in the document. While asserting that only Native people can direct education which will meet these goals, the authors maintain that "it is the financial responsibility of the Federal Government to provide education of all types and all levels to all status Indian people, whether living on or off reserves." Again the contradictions inherent in such a relationship remain unstated. The statement of philosophy concludes that education should 23 serve: "as a preparation for total living, as a means of free choice of where to live and work, and as a means of enabling us to participate fully in our own social, economic, political and educational advancement" (3). The first major section of the document outlines acceptable practices related to jurisdiction. Speaking from an implied position of power and moving beyond statements of right to practical aspects of involvement, it calls for governments, both provincial and federal to involve First Nations as equals in their agreements as part of local control. Because the NIB is an organization of bands, it cites Indian bands as the appropriate participants in agreements. Bands should assume responsibility for budgets, types of schools, staffing, and administration among other things. Because so many Native children are attending public schools, Native people should be represented on school boards. The second section of the document addresses practices associated with curriculum and Native values. Sexist language aside, I know no clearer statement of Native people's directives for localized curriculum: Unless a child learns about the forces which shape him: the history of his people, their values and customs, their language, he will never really know himself or his potential as a human being . . . . The lessons he learns in school, his whole school experience should reinforce and contribute to the image he has of himself as an Indian (9). The document then goes on to articulate the possibilities for on-going change in curriculum: A curriculum is not an archaic, inert vehicle for transmitting knowledge. It is a precise instrument which can and should be shaped to exact specifications for a particular purpose. It can be changed and it can be improved (9). Implying the importance of local context, these changes must involve Native people in curriculum development. In addition, the authors, like many critics before and since, (e.g. Hawthorn 1967, McDiarmid and Pratt 1971, Manitoba Indian Brotherhood 1974) recommend removing materials which are "negative, biased or inaccurate" in their presentation of First Nations peoples. This section of the document includes specific reference to adult education, vocational training and post-secondary education and points to the need for trained people in Native communities. The third section of the document addresses teachers. It states first that. . . Native teachers and counsellors who have an intimate understanding of Indian traditions, psychology, way of life and language, are best able to create a learning environment suited to the habits and interests of the Indian child (18). As written it is unclear whether the intent is that any Native person is best able to work with Native students or whether only a Native teacher who has a particular understanding is best able to work with the students. This point has become a significant one as many Native run institutions work at hiring Native staff members. The authors further recommend that all non-Native people working with Native children take "compulsory courses in inter-cultural education, native languages . . .and teaching English as a second language" (19). Finally Indian paraprofessionals should be hired in positions "which serve as a training ground for professional advancement." This move allows for increasing control as the paraprofessionals can work their way into positions of increasing influence. The fourth section calls for the replacement of substandard facilities with new ones, the construction of schools in communities, and the acknowledgement of the need for diverse facilities depending again on local needs and concerns. While this may not seem like the most significant aspect of taking control, buildings may serve as important symbols of First Nations control as well as provide a defined physical space and the possibility of a community centre. The definition of control of education in the National Indian Brotherhood's document serves as a summary of the concerns expressed and the action called for. Control is "the right to direct the education of our children." It includes the "freedom to choose among many options and alternatives" and to "make decisions on specific issues." These choices are to be based in "a suitable philosophy of education based on Indian values adapted to modern living" within a local context (3-4). The authors anticipated this right to direct their own education would be respected by others, and that choices would be made and acted on. Numerous and varied interpretations of the notions expressed in the document have produced a wealth of practices—programs and projects all which could presumably claim a degree of fidelity with the intents of the original statement. In the Native Education Centre, students come to develop skills they need for further education and employment, and, at the same time, to develop, maintain and enhance their cultural understandings. Within the centre, they become part of a group unified by common histories, experiences, or aspirations. CONCLUSION This dissertation has importance both to educational theorists concerned with analysis of power relations and control of education and to people who are engaged in the process of defining First Nations control. Power relations evident in the process of development, the people's perceptions of control and the relationship of the educational institution to mainstream society are in themselves significant to the discourse. To paraphrase Eisenstein (1988), while I am indebted to Foucault for parts of my analysis, my work is not meant to be an explication of his. Neither is it meant to serve the development of universal theory. Rather the specific focus on First Nations cultures emphasizes an aspect of analysis which has too often been ignored. Focus on cultural diversity and the racism which too often accompanies the differences associated with particular cultures is central to this dissertation and offers much to the development of a discourse which must do more than pay lip service to diversity. Practically, this thorough examination of a particular case of Native-controlled education proves enlightening in a number of ways. The study contributes to a rather thin body of published literature on Native-controlled institutions (e.g. James 1989; McCarty 1989; McCaskill 1987; Bashford and Heinzerling 1987). It may prove useful as a contribution to the discourse of other First Nations groups who are engaged in taking control. Because there are some parallels between groups who have been marginalized and silenced, this study may also have some practical implications for other people participating in taking control of their education—community groups, feminists interested in education, and various other minority groups who seek alternatives to existing institutions. Notes ^One may argue that these events have some common roots arising out of the same dissatisfaction with existing power relations as the worldwide student unrest of 1968 (McEvedy 1984:191). It is however beyond the scope of this paper to pursue that claim. 2For the term "open-textured" I follow Eisenstein who uses it to "point to the relational status of meaning. In other words a thing is both what it is and what it is not, and what a thing is not is endless" (1988:8). Original emphasis. This use resonates with the notion of contradiction as the identity of opposites, developed in Chapter 10. 3Foucault also acknowledges being "delighted that historians found no major error in Surveiller et Punir and that, at the same time, prisoners read it in their cells" (1978/1988:101). CHAPTER 2 — DOING ETHNOGRAPHY: SOCIALLY CONSTRUCTING REALITY Every time a white person stands up to talk about Indians, I get knots in my stomach. Verna Kirkness Director of the First Nations House of Learning University of British Columbia KNOWLEDGE AS A SOCIAL PROCESS Ethnography, as research, is based on the direct study of human beings in interaction. Epistemologically, ethnography claims that knowledge, while always tenuous, is best established by doing fieldwork, i.e. research with people in their natural settings. As people interact, they create their social realities, (Berger and Luckmann 1966) and derive meanings for the things in their lives from this interaction with one another (Blumer 1969:2). Ethnography is research based on these tenets. As such, it resembles the routine ways that people make sense of their lives. It focuses on the intersubjective negotiation of meaning in what Schutz (1967) calls the "lived-in world" of people in "face-to-face" situations. Reality lies in the mutual examination of the world by all the study participants including the principal researcher. The ethnographer begins to establish authority important to the written results by spending time in a place talking with, acting with, and watching the people who dwell there. Ethnography offers the possibility for a researcher to collaborate with other study participants in creating the kind of knowledge recognized as valid by people in academic institutions. Simultaneously, it is based in an approach to the world which, although it challenges the scientific model of knowledge building, cannot escape it. It arises in contestation with the logical-positivist approach which would give us an objective value-free knowledge. It exists in relation to what has been variously called the Western, European, white, bourgeois, rational, male dominant ideology. It is peopled with members of splinter groups who are struggling to make more democratic the business of creating knowledge. Ethnography has failed miserably in aspects of that struggle. Feminists point to women's limited and distorted visibility in traditional ethnographies (e.g. Bell 1983). Members of studied populations feel unrepresented or misrepresented in ethnographies (e.g. Owusu 1978). Addressing the concerns of those who see ethnography as "soft," subjective research, ethnographers seek to validate their work, to claim some truth in what they produce. Clifford organizes these struggles to establish authority into four categories. The classic ethnography exemplified by Malinowski's works (e.g. 1922, 1935) relies on "unique personal experience" (Clifford 1988:26) and training in "the latest analytic technique" (30) as the bases for authoritative work. Those taking interpretivist approaches regard culture as a series of texts and the work of the ethnographer as that of interpreting those texts. In the two former modes of authority, Clifford points out that the other study participants disappear as the text is constructed (40). The dialogic ethnography is one which moves beyond the traditional single voice to include the words of another, usually major, study participant. For example, in Nisa: The Life and Words of a Kung! Woman, Marjorie Shostak (1981/1983), alternates her observations with translations of Nisa's comments on the same subject. Moving a step further, Clifford calls on Bakhtin's heteroglossia to suggest the polyphonic ethnography. While acknowledging the difficulties inherent in such an approach, he sees this type of ethnographic authority arising from several study participants having the opportunity to create and control the outcome of the study as well as the process of developing it. The inclusion of extensive quotations from the other study participants, the opportunities for their editing and comments are two ways, this study has attempted to establish authority. Lather (1986) suggests reconceptualizing validity to include the catalytic so that valid 29 research becomes that which stimulates action on the part of the study participants. My hope that this study will serve as some catalyst for action can only be realized by others over time. This study is an ethnography. It is an investigation of the ways that people associated with a particular First Nations adult educational institution talk about and act on their understandings of First Nations control. As an ethnography, it does not seek to make generalizations about all such institutions. Rather it presents "thick description" (Geertz) in a particular context which may serve someone else as a guide to the study of other such places. Each detail presented becomes merely an hypothesis when one moves to a new context. Constant comparison reveals the specificities of any different location of First Nations control. A C K N O W L E D G I N G T H E H U M A N E L E M E N T In the process of exploration which is ethnographic research, one may choose to acknowledge the self-reflexive character of study. Those who see "knowledge as contingent" (Whittaker 1986:73; Gould 1990) insist on the importance of documenting such details. Other anthropologists view the presentation of self as ". . . 'confessionals' tainted either by surreptitious attempts to write autobiographies or by publicizing unnecessary closet guilt" (Whittakenxx). I identify with the former and feel it most important that a researcher acknowledge her impact on the world she studies. She is irrevocably a part of that world (Hammersley and Atkinson 1983:15). Conceding this, the conscientious researcher attempts to make explicit her assumptions (Lather 1986). She must do this cautiously lest she be accused of narcissism or doing "vanity ethnography" (Van Maanen 1988). In this study, the fact that I am a white woman of privileged background working with First Nations people in an institution designed for and run by First Nations people on a topic of current importance to them is significant. Let me offer an explanation of why I chose to address the diverse meanings of "Indian control of Indian education." Having been involved in First Nations education in a variety of capacities over a number of years, I know how significant this phrase "Indian control" is. I had even begun to use it uncritically myself and offer it as the solution to what ever problems continued to plague too many First Nations students in educational institutions from pre-school to university levels. I was fascinated and drawn to the phrase when I saw the accomplishments of a local cultural education society which strongly advocated First Nation control. The Secwepemc Cultural Education Society, located in Kamloops in the same building where I had been working with First Nations teachers in training was engaged in curriculum development, primary research, the establishment of a museum and archives, and publishing among other things. In a time of funding cutbacks in provincial education, the society managed to find operating grants to run a burgeoning enterprise. If this was "Indian control," and people said it was, then "Indian control" must be good. The apparent irony of a non-Native person talking about "Indian control of Indian education" while working in First Nations education was not lost on me. But I persisted and I do persist. In a summer course with Afsaneh Eghbal, an anthropologist of Iranian origin who insisted on critical approaches, I was forced to question my assumption that Indian control of Indian education was "the answer" to the problems which First Nations students were encountering in education. I had developed this view in interaction with many colleagues and students over a number of years. By the time I had finished with her course, I had formed a strong desire to discover what "Indian control" meant to the people, including myself, who used it so freely. I wondered if they saw similar things or different things from one another and from me. I wondered most of all what my role as a non-Native person might be in "Indian-controlled" education. If I was to support the principle of First Nations control, it was important that I understand what people meant by it, especially what people intimately involved with First Nations meant by it. I became very concerned with the document Indian Control of Indian Education and pondered its relationship to what I had heard people saying. I remembered that when the document had first appeared in the seventies, I had not read it, feeling somehow that it pertained to First Nations people and not me, focusing instead on my role of working with student teachers who just happened to be of First Nations origins. Like most concerned teachers, I knew that students' origins were significant: I wanted to know personal and cultural histories and values of the students with whom I was working. But I had no delusions of being an "expert" in First Nations education. And I held to the myth that somehow I could be outside the politics and that, more than that, I should be, if I were to do my job properly. My parents had led me to the belief that if one appears non-partisan, one can appear above politics and perhaps closer to some "objective truth." Shades of this understanding persisted. I also sensed that as a non-Native person, I should not concern myself with First Nations politics; that was for First Nations people alone. I did not judge my position as political in either a partisan way or in the broader sense, which proclaims that education itself is a political act (Shor and Freire 1987:13). My original interest in conducting a study like this one came with my experience with student teachers and with my knowledge of a variety of First Nations projects around education, particularly the Secwepemc Cultural Education Centre mentioned above. I had been around First Nations people for most of my life. I knew what schools had done with First Nations children. I remembered my own elementary schooling from 1952 to 1958 when many of my classmates were from the local reserve and integration was in full swing. When I got to high school and the streamed, "ability-grouped" classes of the day, I was never again in a class with a single First Nations student. No one talked about this fact; it was assumed to be appropriate. In my adult life, many people told stories of their experiences at the infamous residential schools. In my magisterial research, I came to a clearer understanding of the power relations between First Nations people and the so-called dominant society within that institution. Many of the students in the residential school resisted the culture to which they were to concede. Families and communities provided enough support and cultural understanding that many of the students withstood the efforts of the church and government to have them abandon their cultures of origin. (See Haig-Brown 1988a). I saw the Native Education Centre as a place to investigate more current relations within the context of an "Indian controlled" place. The notion of "Indian control" seemed inextricably bound to power relations. My magisterial work served as a foundation to an investigation of people's understandings of "Indian control." I became interested in the relationship of these understandings to the official policy statement of the National Indian Brotherhood which represents the interests of many First Nations groups across Canada1 It seemed to me that a thorough investigation of people's perceptions of Indian control within a single institution could bring me to a clearer understanding of what people meant. E T H N O G R A P H Y ' S T O O L S The primary tools of the ethnographer, whose whole self is the instrument of research (Dobbert 1982:5) are interviews and observation. The ethnographic interview (e.g. Hammersley and Atkinson 1983; Spradley 1979) is open-ended but with some stated structure and purpose. I have come, through this work, to call these interviews research as conversation. Although the emphasis is clearly on one side of the conversation, this is often the case with intense personal talks. It provides like all open-ended interviews, an opportunity for the participant to direct the willing interviewer in their mutual exploration. At the same time, I often felt that I should disclose some aspects of my life which related to what the person was saying in reciprocity for their trust and sharing with me. At one point near the end of an interview, I started to talk about my father. Celia: I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm supposed to be interviewing you. Joseph: No, that's all right. It's nice to listen to you because I prefer coming and giving an interview or more or less a conversation which I'm looking at right now and not an interview (Field note: July 5, 1988). The interview is formal in that it usually occurs in a separate room, with minimal disturbance. For this research, the conversation was recorded and a schedule of questions loosely guided our talk. Unless I forgot, I gave a copy of the questions to the other person so that they had some idea of what directions our conversation might take. Towards the end of the interview, I would glance over the questions to see if there were any major areas which we had not addressed. Usually, I found that most of them had been. The formal interview often resembled very strongly the intense and intimate conversations one occasionally engages in with a close friend, perhaps over a meal. We sometimes went out to lunch for these conversations, partly to find a somewhat private space, removed from the centre where people could speak more freely and partly so that I could reciprocate for the time and knowledge people were bringing to the situation. Perhaps, because it is only rarely that people have the full attention of another adult human being with the sole purpose of understanding their experience, the interviews often became very intimate. "In interviews, I ask people to stand naked, to bare themselves, to expose" (Field note: July 5,1988). This sense of intimacy may lead the study participants to take some risks in their disclosures. 34 They may later regret this openness or they may feel very positive about having had the opportunity to talk about aspects of their lives in such detail and for a purpose. People may ask that the tape recorder be turned off when they speak of details which are particularly painful or are not common knowledge. On those occasions, I respected people's right to tell me something in conversation which they saw as separate from the study. I did not make notes or use these incidents although I find that a number of them stick in my mind. Informal interviews, so close to everyday conversations, or what I have come to call research as chat, are also important in ethnographic research. These may occur at any time, once a researcher becomes familiar to the other people in the place of study. I usually recorded these chats after the fact as field notes. They often served as opportunity for people to follow up on more formal interviews or simply to comment generally on the day's significant events or details they thought I might be interested in. Observations involve spending time in a natural setting, the everyday world of the study participants and gathering information from that location itself and from the interaction which occurs there. The inescapably "unnatural" aspect of the setting is the intrusion of the researcher. Participant-observation (e.g. Agar 1980:114), also an important component of my research, draws on direct participation as an "insider" in a place. In this study, I worked as a student in lectures, workshops and in some culture and life skills classes, and as a teacher in the centre. I went through all the complexities of an initial interview, negotiating salary, planning lessons and answering to the administrator regarding the organization and delivery of the class. This kind of participation may bring a sensitive researcher closer to the "native's point of view," a notion introduced by Malinowski (1922 in Kaberry 1957:72) and highlighted in Geertz (1976). When working with members of traditionally exploited and oppressed groups, a person must continually ask whether ethnography is not just another form of colonization. This form, more subtle than the last, may be so subtle that even those with the best intentions and supposedly critical approaches fail to see that they continue to serve the dominant ideology. Clearly I do not believe that the work I am doing is contributing to oppression or I would not do it. But it is a very real question which we must persist in asking ourselves in light of the many others who have gone before us exploiting in the name of knowledge, serving self, not those with whom we work. Despite this caution around exploitation which I felt necessary to consider, ethnography is a particularly appropriate form when doing cross-cultural research. It has, of course arisen primarily out of anthropology which, regardless of its many shortcomings, has had "other" cultures as a focus of study since its inception. As shown above, ethnography provides opportunity for the sensitive interviewer and the interested co-investigator (study participant) to develop mutual understandings as they work together. While not essential to conventional ethnography, participant involvement becomes possible at every stage in a carefully constructed study. From the framing of the research questions to the final written report, the researcher has the opportunity to structure her work in interaction with the other people participating in the study. In my work, I began this process by encouraging people to read my proposal, which was based in previous experience in First Nations education, and make suggestions. At an initial staff meeting, some people sought confirmation that their input would be taken seriously. For First Nations people, this possibility for participation holds special significance. Many people involved in First Nations education object to the strong Eurocentric bias of the language and concepts in some studies conducted by academics (Notes February 1988). Much research based in First Nations has been extremely exploitative. While Whittaker acknowledges that "all research is exploitative" (1986), First Nations people have been subjected to too many researchers who use the information they gather for their personal and professional benefit without giving anything back to the people. In addition, failure to check back with the people can led to inaccurate and unfair representations and a sense of objectification on the part of the "studied subjects." There is another reason that ethnography is a particularly suitable approach to research with First Nations people. The behaviour of the trained ethnographer is in some ways congruent with the behaviour expected of learners in many traditional First Nations cultures. Learners are expected to listen and observe. While there are clearly limitations to this analogy, ethnographic interviews and observations do emphasize learning through listening and watching. Learning the language of the people, the ethnographer attempts to come to know the world of the other study participants with as little disruption as possible. At the same time, one must be constantly expectant that people may censor their comments based on their beliefs about who you are. In one interview, a young man referred to "the land which we once may have had." Since I firmly believe that aboriginal rights have never been settled in British Columbia, I responded, "You still have." Joseph: Well, we still do. I don't really know sometimes about the terms that I should use, you know. Celia: I know. You're being polite, right? Joseph: Well, I guess so, you know. Actually I don't know if I would hurt your feelings in any way, or else if I should, if it would. Celia: People are very polite. This opening led to his description of a racist incident in a bank after which he "could just feel the anger building up." His politeness was leading him to protect me from thoughts and incidents which he felt might be interpreted as anger towards me. BEGINNING THE RELATIONSHIP People doing research engage in a process called gaining access. For me, it conjures up a vision of breaking down a gate or coming with a search warrant. I prefer to think of the start of research in which I participate with other human beings as beginning a relationship. I could begin the work only because other people accepted me as a worthwhile confidante. While their acceptance was merely permission to conduct an interview, in many cases there was an implication that this interview held the possibility for more work together and even friendship. In some way, my eventual acceptance as researcher began with my initial contact with the Native Education Centre (NEC) in the winter of 1986-87. At that time, a person from the centre phoned me to see if I would be interested in developing a curriculum for a science and health careers preparation program for First Nations adult students. I was interested for two reasons. I had heard about the NEC over the years and I was curious about it. I also wanted to do some work to encourage First Nations students to enter science and health careers where they were desperately needed. In the back of my mind was also the possibility that the NEC might be a site for doctoral research if I decided not to return to Kamloops to conduct research there with people with whom I had already developed a relationship. I have a commitment to initial work with First Nations people only on their invitation. Once the people in control have some opportunity to come to know me, I feel less hesitant about asking permission to conduct research. I was eventually hired to prepare the curriculum outline in the summer of 1987. By this time I had begun to frame my research proposal and had decided to compare two examples of what the people involved could call "Indian controlled" education. 38 At the same time, I agonized over the suitability of centering my research in First Nations education. Ipondered whether doing research for my own benefit could possibly be justified. I read extensively what people of colour, particularly feminists, had to say about white people working around them. Little of it was positive. I considered my ten year history of direct involvement with First Nations education and my lifetime of passing, but important to me, involvement with First Nations people in a variety of contexts. I could not deny that or pretend it did not exist. I knew the politics. I knew the exploitation of First Nations people in which academics had engaged for generations. And I recalled a few non-Native people who had contributed to First Nations struggles in some important ways. I thought of Freire's discussion of those who commit class suicide and work at the side of the oppressed. Were there parallels in the work I wanted to do? Could this work be useful to the people with whom I wanted to continue to be involved? I became familiar with the literature on action research. Sol Tax argues that the ethnographer "should operate within the goals and activities initiated by the groups seeking to direct the course of their own development" (in Chambers 1985:22). Perhaps I could do work which would contribute in some way to the struggle of First Nations people to be heard. I thought of Judit Moschkovich's comments that it is not the duty of the oppressed to educate the oppressor (1981:79) and wondered if my work might contribute in some acceptable way to the education of my racist brothers and sisters. I also recognized that educational institutions like the Native Education Centre exist in a border land between First Nations cultures and mainstream employment and higher education. This was the same border world in which I had worked as an employee of the university with First Nations students. I also pondered the on-going debate about the suitability of non-Native writers writing about First Nations people's experiences. I knew the charges of 39 appropriating First Nations stories and misrepresenting the people. Recent developments in experimental ethnography played an important role in my eventual decision. Through reading and discussion of the current soul-searching going on in the field of ethnography, I came to understand that no individual can adequately represent the experience of any other. An ethnographer, while acknowledging that she can never come to a full understanding of another's experience, must try. This intense work at the university brought some clarity to the work I was doing among people whose social and personal histories diverged so greatly from my own. I came to accept myself as a member of a "border culture" no less significant because I was there by choice (Haig-Brown 1990). By the time I had completed the science curriculum outline, I had decided that the NEC would be a good place for my research. About that time, I was invited to sit on a committee called the First Nations Federation of Adult Educators, a group of administrators of First Nations institutions from around the province. The NEC administrator had prompted the groups' formation as part of his efforts to encourage cooperation among educators working with First Nations adults. I volunteered to work with two others on a research proposal to the provincial government which was successful. It resulted in my participation as researcher retained to prepare an overview of the NEC in the spring of 1988. At the same time, I approached the advisory committee of the teacher education program with which I had worked to see if I could use their program as comparison with the NEC as an alternative model of First Nations control. That request was denied. The comment conveyed from the committee was that First Nations people should conduct such research. Although I felt hurt at first, I recognized the legitimacy of such feelings. Refusing to abandon my goal to do something other than add to the already predominate literature on non-Native people, I turned my focus to the NEC. 40 Because the administrator was away in South America, the assistant who was taking his place raised the issue at a board meeting. It was tentatively approved. I continued working on a proposal and the ethics committee forms. When Samuel, the administrator, returned, he made it clear that I should meet with the staff and students to get their approval. In late April of 1988, he agreed that I could present my proposal to the staff meeting on May 11 and the student meeting on May 17. I prepared a short talk, selected my clothes—not too formal, not too sloppy—and crossed my fingers. I settled myself in the classroom where the staff meeting was to be held. People wandered in slowly, curious about me. "Have you joined the staff?" "Oh, you're a special guest. You have money for us?" I laughed and said, "Guest, not special, but no money. Sorry." Gradually about thirty people filled the room. I was first on the agenda. I knew the staff was tired after a day of teaching and would have little patience with long winded academic jargon. I began with three reasons I had for choosing this study: A question about where the strength of First Nations participation in the education centre comes from; the fact that academics are, for the most part, ignoring First Nations education; and that I liked being a student. I briefly described the kind of research I would do, not statistics, but ethnography, talking to people to come to understanding. The kinds of questions I would ask were about their education backgrounds, what brought them here and, most importantly, what First Nations control means to them. Finally I talked about initial contact by letter to give every opportunity to say no to an interview, my strong desire for input at all stages, and anonymity where necessary. I finished. Then [the administrator] dropped the bombshell. He said that basically in order to proceed, the staff would have to approve my coming by voting. I might have freaked but, under those circumstances, one can only perform calmly as if this is important but not as if the earth under one's feet is trembling (Field notes: May 12, 1988). They then had the opportunity to ask questions. They were stimulating and thought-provoking. I found my excitement at the possibility of working with the people asking these questions growing. They included: "If you're doing ethnography, will we have a chance to have input on what you're going to research," some questions about logistics of the vote and my lack of clarity about the Native Adult Basic Education program being different from regular Adult Basic Upgrading. The final question was the clincher, "What's in this for the Native Ed Centre?" I felt that I had stumbled on the action researcher's dream. I responded that I could make no promises, that if it looks good, it may be helpful in negotiating funding. But that the primary benefit would be to engage in a process together with an opportunity to reflect on the work done here in a slightly different way than in the day-to-day interaction with one another. The administrator also responded that funding was unlikely to be affected but that public recognition could result. This was an opportunity to communicate to others what the staff already know themselves and having a Ph.D. student do it was worthwhile. He also pointed out that what I was doing was not an evaluation like the one that Echols and Kehoe (1986) had conducted earlier. I had not been hired to evaluate and make recommendations for the future of the centre's development. Another teacher talked about what she saw as advantages. She referred to my initial presentation in which I mentioned that academics talking education often ignore First Nations people. If I could contribute to their paying attention, it could have an eventual effect for the NEC, one not necessarily directly measurable, but nevertheless significant. I was thrilled at her understanding but felt a little uncomfortable with the fact that she was non-Native. Here were two white women in complete understanding trying to convince the staff, some of whom are First Nations, to "let me in." I was asked to leave the meeting at that point so that they could vote. I went out to the central hall to wait. I walked around and looked at things. There were three students in the room: two doing work and one guy who I kept thinking was the janitor but he wasn't. I sat down gazing into space, fretting a little. He came over and introduced himself. "I'm Tony," and started chatting. He's been in Vancouver for a year and a half. Quit drinking two and a half years ago. He's a student in the NABE 2/3 class from the Prince Rupert area, Tsimshian. He almost immediately began talking about what he was learning in his class. A film on mercury poisoning—in Wisconsin, I think he said. He said, "The best thing they teach about at this place is respect for the land." He felt people were not thinking about their grandchildren but only about making money. We talked for awhile and then I had to leave. I shook his hand and said, "I hope I see you next Tuesday." I had told him about the staff meeting and that if I was approved, I could come to the student meeting. [The staff meeting had not ended but I had to get home to children.] . . . . So that was my day. I went home with very mixed feelings, but also a sense of calm. This decision by a staff, the majority of whom know me only through the fifteen minute presentation I gave, would affirm a direction I was hoping to take for the next year or would deny me the opportunity. I could do nothing at this point (May 12,1988). At 8:42 the next morning, my phone call confirmed the staff's acceptance. The next group to approach was the students. After the staff meeting I was feeling very apprehensive, hoping I would not have to get by another show of hands. At the student meeting, I had only five minutes to talk. I went over the main points covered in the staff meeting, using slightly more casual language. In explaining ethnography, I said, "I like to talk to people." I also emphasized that I was a student myself. Finally that their views of First Nations control are important to me. They applauded when I was done. I found later that they almost always applauded speakers at student meetings. Three people approached me indicating an interest in being involved. I explained that I was not prepared to interview yet, but that I was delighted they were considering it. That was it. There was no suggestion of a vote which was in some ways disconcerting because it seemed that adult students should have the chance to present a group decision. But I had stressed that, as with the staff, only those who chose to be involved would be. Although the board had already given approval verbally through the assistant administrator, I really wanted to give them an opportunity to respond to the proposal which I was in the process of finishing. I arranged to attend the meeting in late August and sent copies of my proposal to each member asking for input. At the meeting, I did a brief overview, assuming people had had the opportunity to read the proposal. I explained that I really want feedback, that I can change the proposal and will if they have any concerns. Eva and Sophie both speak very favourably. Samuel asks about access to the final product without going through U.B.C. I explain that it is no problem and also that I will share the copyright on any published material—not that anyone will get rich. I encourage people to call me or contact me if any questions or comments come up (Field notes: August 24,1988). At that point I felt that the relationship had really begun. Other human beings, staff, students and board had met me, heard me speak, responded to what I had said and agreed for the most part to let me work with them. Only the staff had an official vote that I am aware of. Some told me that three of the staff voted against my coming. One came to me later to explain that she only voted against to protest what she saw as too little time to consider the implications and discuss it amongst themselves. After reading my proposal, she had decided that she approved of the work. Another was said to vote against anything that the administrator was in favoured. Direct consent for individual interviews and classroom and meeting observations was a longer process. I had decided to do fifty interviews, somewhat arbitrarily, using Diane Persson's (1980) Blue Quills study as a guide. I circulated 44 sheets to all the classes asking for written permission from the staff for me to observe classes, for volunteers to participate in interviews, and for the names of students who would agree to be interviewed. Once those were obtained, I selected a number of classes to focus on and began my work in earnest. The last request for consent was one I had not anticipated. It was related to my participation as a teacher of one course. I agreed to do the teaching, thinking that it would add a wonderful dimension to my research. It was only after a student raised it on my second day in the class that I realized I would need to get the students' permission to conduct research specifically as a part of my teaching. My field notes include the comment, "Ah, ethical being. What blinders we have. So many permissions and this perhaps the most obvious one, a captive audience" (November 16, 1988). I also realized that I was now in a difficult position. There was a power differential between me, the teacher and them, the students. I had to be very sure that they had every opportunity to say no to my research without feeling that there may be some ramifications in terms of marks or even in my attitude toward them. I decided to circulate a letter again explaining my work and my particular interest in the class. I then asked another of their instructors, the program coordinator, to raise the issue with them and to give them every opportunity to say no, emphasizing that there would be no backlash if they did so. Fortunately, they agreed. W A T C H I N G A N D L E A R N I N G Although I did some work before and during the summer of 1988,1 really felt that the work began in September with the new classes starting and most of the permissions in place including an approved proposal. I decided to focus on observations to start with. I sat in the library and read annual reports. I sat in the main central room, talked to passers-by and listened to conversations around me. I went to the annex in a nearby office building where a number of the programs were temporarily located while the addition was being built. I sat in on the classes of the programs on which I was deciding to focus. I looked at how people's understanding of "Indian control" translated into action within the centre. I wandered around, looking at architecture, bulletin boards, and people engaged in many processes. I felt uncomfortable often. The building was very crowded. The classrooms were often filled to capacity. I tried to find a far corner to sit in during classes so that I would not detract from the students' work. At one point, the coordinator of one program asked me not to come to a class any more because there were just too many people in the small room. At beading class, I felt that the teacher should not spend much time with me when there were other students who were there by right. I was there only as a guest. I worked in the small library and watched to see if any student needed or wanted my space. And through all of it I thought about First Nations control. I could not keep my eyes off the many exciting things going on around me which might or might not relate directly to the topic of study. I made field notes, always pondering which details to select from the bombardment of sensory perceptions in any given environment. My notes themselves comment, "Is this a field note? All this mind rambling? I should be recording the physical details" (May 29,1988). The ethics of field notes bothered me early on in the research. The question of timing is one issue. If one writes while observing, the details may be more immediate. They can be no more complete as the hand moves only so fast and the mind must still select from millions of stimuli. As you write about one thing, you may be missing another. Often, people feel quite comfortable coming up and asking, "What are you writing?" The same is true if one records a conversation in the place of research. I eventually took to writing notes after the fact to avoid having to appear secretive about what I was writing. I sometimes wrote notes which were suitable for public viewing at the scene and wrote others elsewhere. Following the recording of a very private conversation during which I had reminded the person that I was doing research, I wrote the following: Now I'm worried about this book. Obviously not for public consumption. Even with what I have written, I feel the censor at work. What is written can be read. What is written remains, but is interpreted in an ever widening cycle of possibilities (May 29,1988). A few days later: (Later). I had to stop writing. I realized that I do not want to be secretive about what I'm doing and if someone walked up to me and said, "Oh, what are you writing?" I wouldn't want them to read these notes. I also feel I want a secret, secret field book with my really personal gut reactions to what's going on . . . . So interesting. I guess I mean I don't want to appear secretive (June 1, 1988). I never got such a book. I decided that some things were best left unwritten. After about three months focusing on observing, there came the time that I felt that I knew most of what I would see when I went to the places. They became familiar. There was always some new piece worth recording, but the overall operations became somewhat predictable. I realized then that I was finished with the general observations, that in some limited way, I "knew" the place. Although there was no tidy separation, no day when I left observing, the time came when my focus shifted to interviewing. INTERV I EW ING : T H E C O N V E R S A T I O N S The interviews form the nucleus of the study. I set out to investigate what people said "Indian control of Indian education" meant to them. In order to provide a context for what staff said about control, their interview schedule began with questions about their roles in the centre. Their histories including some personal details emphasizing their involvement in education further located their 47 statements. The third section of the schedule dealt directly with people's beliefs about control. What does "Indian control" mean? Is it important? Is this place "Indian-controlled"? Are you familiar with the document called Indian Control of Indian Education? The fourth section goes on to look at a specific statement from the document which focuses on Native values. The final section deals with the relationship between the education for individual students provided by the centre and general social change for First Nations people. All schedules end with the question, "What questions should I have asked you which I didn't?" in order to give the person interviewed the chance to say the final word. The schedule for the board was very similar but included a section on change in the centre. The student schedule was slightly differently worded but covered most of the same areas. (See Appendix A for schedules.) I initially contacted people in writing, asking for volunteers. Staff received requests in their mail slots; staff asked students in their classes to sign a sheet indicating interest. (Appendix B) Some people completed the forms and returned them to me. Twenty-three students volunteered to be interviewed. Seven instructors agreed to be interviewed and six of those were agreeable to having me observe in their classrooms. One refused. Other people approached me, without completing the forms, and indicated their willingness to participate in the study. Oral consent for observations came from five other programs. The people in the programs were all willing to be interviewed although one person decided not to participate after arranging for two different meeting times. She did not indicate what her concerns were. As the study progressed, about twenty additional students indicated their willingness to be interviewed. I then followed up on a number of those who signed one or the other of the forms. A number of people approached me before I had circulated the requests. Three students volunteered immediately after my first presentation at the student meeting. One staff member whom I had never met came to me in the library and asked what I was doing for lunch. She said that she wanted to talk to me, preferably away from the centre. We arranged to meet for lunch (Field note: June 2,1988). Because I had decided to interview about fifty people, I was in a position to choose amongst the volunteers. After two or three initial interviews with staff and students, I found that the greatest concern with First Nations control was coming from the staff. Students, as might be expected, were focusing on their more immediate educational concerns although control was clearly a part of those concerns, as becomes evident in later chapters. I chose three programs in which to interview five students each and eventually included two students from a fourth when these students approached me. I interviewed twenty-three staff: administrators, instructors, co-ordinators and clerical workers. Because there were some changes in staff during the time of my study, I did interview two different staff members for two of the programs. Students also moved from one program to another and one student who had volunteered to be interviewed became a staff member before I followed up and spoke with her. I approached five of the nine board members and all agreed to be interviewed. Every person interviewed signed a copy of the U.B.C. Ethics Committee approved consent letter and received a copy of that letter. (Appendix B). Despite the rather extensive list of questions on the schedule, we did not necessarily follow it or cover all of the topics. I tried to leave lots of space for people to present issues that they thought I should hear. During the conversations, one person reworded a question that he thought should be different. Another brought me back to some of the questions which we hadn't discussed which were important to her. Two people simply said, "That's enough," when they grew tired of talking or ran out of time. My desire to know the person's history in order to place their ideas of control within that context occasionally led to our spending so much time on life history that we talked very little about control. On two occasions, I planned to return for follow-up interviews, but never did. I began my interviews with students, then moved to board members and finally focused on staff members. Because I had done a brief ethnographic study for the First Nations Federation of Adult Educators, I had interviewed some staff members before my study began, although with a different emphasis. The students provided a clear definition of the kind of people the centre attracts: primarily those who have had some negative experiences with school previously or who have been away from school for some time. Some of them had thought about self-government and First Nations control before coming to the centre, but many of them were being introduced to the terms and their significance. This introduction came indirectly in classes through looking at history of First Nations peoples and more directly through presentations by the large variety of guest speakers at the centre. The board members, most of whom have been involved in First Nations education in many capacities, had all thought extensively about First Nations control. Most of the staff were also very aware of the moves by First Nations peoples to control education. Some of the two latter groups had knowledge of the document; most had not read it. Almost none of the students knew of the document. THE FIRST REFLECTION I interviewed twenty-three current and two former staff members, seventeen students, and five current and two former board members. Two other former board members did not agree to participate. Some of the staff were also former students. One staff member had belonged to the board previously. All of the tapes were transcribed by me and two other people whom I hired to work with me. This in itself was an experience. Although we had clarified issues of confidentiality, I had not anticipated the impact of the transcribers' asides. Both occasionally commented on what they were transcribing. The comments from one were pleasant interruptions, but interruptions nonetheless, as I read through transcripts. At one point, she wrote, "[The long lovely sound of water being poured]" which was actually tea at the table of the person with whom I was talking. Elsewhere, she commented, "Autonomy means real respect for the other, and the other could be a tulip. [I don't know if the word is really "tulip," but I like the sound of it!]." The word really was tulip. These were minor distractions compared with the editorial cuts and comments made by the other transcriber whose credentials I should have checked a little more closely. He frequently had trouble understanding what people were saying and just put an (I) to indicate that he could not transcribe at that point. He seemed somewhat selective in what he could hear. For example, in one transcript, he typed the following: Joanne: I feel the strength. (I) . . . the guys, we don't have too many guys in our class, but native men are nonconformist. When I listened to the tape as I did with all of his transcriptions, I heard: Joanne: I feel the strength. Being with Indian people. But I also feel it being with women. Like, I really—there is a strength there. So, I'm a female chauvinist. I keep on bugging the guys. We don't have too many guys in our class, but Native men are known to be chauvinistic. In the middle of another transcript was the comment: "(tape does something weird here—eating sound a la exorcist [?])." In another is the comment typed around a word he was having difficulty with, "(this is NOT racist, many of these people simply do NOT enunciate?!) this obviously makes my job much harder)." Unfortunately, I did not read this transcript until near the end of the interviews he transcribed or I would have looked elsewhere for a transcriber. There were other remarks about the speed with which I spoke, "in a machine gun-like staccato," amongst others. I had not expected these complications because on the one other occasion on which I had hired a transcriber, we had developed a relationship previously. She never wrote comments on the transcripts. Accurate transcripts are most important to me. Losing context and expression, I remain committed to the idea that there is some kind of truth inherent in at least getting the words right. When I want to re-present what people have said, I use extensive quotations. When these quotations are clearly separated from the words of the ethnographer, readers have available at least portions of the primary sources on which the ethnography is based. It is then possible to consider alternative ways of organizing and presenting what people have said. Although she is writing about quoting others' writing, Josephine Donovan notes: . . . I have elected to include liberal citations from the theorists themselves because I wanted to convey the flavour of their rhetoric as well as the substance of their ideas, and so to be as faithful as possible to the detail of their thought (1985:xii). For people whose traditional cultures are oral, I feel it most important to include their words verbatim in order to preserve that aspect of their speech. Clearly moving the word from conversation where its context includes a particular environment, history, body language, and expression and to transfer it to paper where it lies still, waiting for a reader in some other context, transforms it beyond recognition. Yet, I believe that the printed word can convey much of the speaker's original intent if the writer places it carefully and sensitively in its new context and seeks approval for that placement with the person who spoke. This is a truth for which the ethnographer strives. S E C O N D REFLECTIONS When I got to what I see now as second reflection stage, I did two things. I began to struggle with a way to organize this wealth of information I had garnered. And I began to review and investigate further some notions from the literature that seemed to me integral to the study: culture, contradiction, and power relations. The first was significant in that the study investigated people of First Nations cultures working for control of education; the second emerged from the work as it progressed. Power relations as developed by Foucault was the final investigation which eventually came to frame the study. I found it most appropriate to what I had seen in the centre and in the work which I had done with First Nations people before. I found that I could incorporate it into the study, which was in a sense already complete, without doing violence to the understandings to which people had led me. Indeed, it seemed to clarify and inform the issues which were raised in my interactions in the centre. Again, my work is not meant to be an explication of Foucault's. It is not intended to serve the development of universal theory. It is not the definitive analysis of First Nations control of education or even of the Native Education Centre. It is a representation of one person's efforts to understand a place through fieldwork circumscribed by the world of academe. It is an effort to represent in a way acceptable to all the study participants and to a university doctoral committee an open-textured analysis of some experiences and interactions between human beings and between human beings and text. As text itself, its usefulness, cohesiveness, truthfulness lie with the readers as well as the writer. This is not to downplay my responsibility for any error this work may include or pain it may cause people, but to acknowledge the degree of control which lies beyond me, the power relations between me and others. This effort to bring together my empirical work with some theoretical writing was a major effort: I struggled with the desire to present the study as I had done it, always knowing that I could only achieve some limited re-presentation. My desire to make it speak to those in the world of academe, to contribute to the discourse of control and education in a way that could not be ignored or marginalized, required that at some point I surrender to theory. The study of contradiction, which I have now placed in Chapter 10, was the first step in this tactical submission. After a long time in "the field," in the centre, I found myself frequently thinking of contradiction. At the same time, my thoughts were not of logical contradiction, but of a tension central to the development of the centre and of many of the students who were working there. The final chapter brings together some pieces of what people said and did with my own conceptual "digging" around the notion of contradiction. I wrote the conceptual parts before I worked through the interviews and added the empirical work after the other chapters on the centre. Next, I began the process of coding the interviews. I decided against the computer despite the fact that nearly all my transcripts are on disc. I felt more comfortable with pen and paper, reading and re-reading, and trying to find a pattern that would bring organization. I began making notes and attaching them to each interview. Out of these notes, I identified emergent categories. The list grew and grew. As I closed the cover of one file folder and moved to the next, I forgot what I had seen. A sense of chaos reigned. My partner recommended coloured highlighters. I collapsed the categories to a manageable six, began marking the files in technicolour, and making lists of references on particular topics. At first I wasn't sure how it would work. It was a tremendous relief after the first chapter using the marks to find that they worked quite well. By the time I got to the process chapters, I could see that it worked very well indeed (Note May 23, 1990). At this point, "working" meant that what I considered the salient points were coming into focus in one category or another. I tried to visualize chapters based partly on my proposal and more clearly on what I had seen. Eventually, when the writing was nearly done, as I pushed through all the chapters with a major edit, I realized that all the chapters are about control. Each one is a tentative approach from a particular position: histories, geography and physical space, the people, the programs and curriculum, the direct words and finally relationship of control to a theoretical construct which appealed to me, contradiction. Contextualization is important. It spirals through the thesis with each chapter. After the fieldwork was over but before the writing of the ethnographic chapters, I decided to include an historical overview of First Nations taking control of education, referring to a variety of government transcripts and other documents. Our reliance on existing documentary evidence to reconstruct the shifting relations between First Nations people and Euro-Canadians around education is a problem which leads to a sense of discontinuity. It is a problem with historiography which Foucault claims remains to be resolved (1978/1988:100). Taking his understanding of the fragmentary nature of historical representation and directing it to the present, it becomes apparent that it is impossible to present a complete view of anything. Indeed, this is a difficulty which ethnographers are articulating and with which attempting to deal (e.g. Clifford and Marcus 1986). Historical documents, because of their predominantly Eurocentric focus are particularly limiting in attempts to reconstruct First Nations' roles and responses to the changes occurring in their lands. Nevertheless, I spent a number of days in the library of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs looking for First Nations responses to education as revealed in documents. I used this as the initial historical chapter to argue that First Nations have been seeking control for a long time. I used an interview with the first teacher-manager of the centre along with news clippings and other articles to reconstruct some of the history of the centre as the next layer of context. From there, I moved to three "P's:" the place, the people, the practices. More context. In order to make sense of what people say about control, one can place their words within a physical context, the place and in a social context, with people. Ultimately, their practices as revealed in programs and curriculum in the centre demonstrate further the complexities of control. In Chapter 9, the people speak specifically about what control means to them. Another step in organizing came with another spiralling move, a return to the document Indian Control of Indian Education in each chapter of the ethnography proper. The four areas of focus: responsibility, programs, teachers, and facilities fit compatibly with the organizers I had chosen. The more I considered the document and its emphasis on local control, the more I realized how comprehensive and appropriate to a wide variety of contexts it was. From these considerations the chapter outline became firm. As I had been pursuing the literature on contradiction, I began to write a chapter which focused on the major concepts in the study. By the time I was done, I felt satisfied that this research could play some role in the thesis but not as the central organizing focus that I was still seeking. My committee felt strongly that it was something of a tangent. This chapter had since disappeared into segments throughout the thesis positioned where they relate to the things that people told me. The next chapter I wrote was the history of the centre. I was by this time craving to use the interviews, the words of the people rather than just my own and those from books. Moving out of the history chapter, I was somewhat clear in my direction. One chapter of the ethnography after another rolled on to the pages. At times I was frustrated with the tedious process of putting into text the thoughts of yesterday and the day before. Talk is so much more efficient but so soon gone in my culture. As I worked at the chapters, I wondered constantly if they were meaningfully organized. May 20,1990. I have just finished the draft of People which I find most unsatisfying. I ended it with a section on Samuel. But the disconcerting part is that I am laying out segments of people's histories which seem significant to me without saying why they are significant. I am laying them out in such a way that they speak to my eventual deeper analysis or disruption of the way things are. It seems too narrative and not enough of substance. And at the same time I am very aware that everything I have done so far is an analysis, an overlay of what I think is important about what I experienced and observed. Somehow the way I am laying out the pieces of lives without a lot of commentary is an effort to present the information which I gathered through participation with others with minimal disruption. That way those who are reading can see more clearly the process which leads me to the conclusions and deeper observations with which I end the thesis. But perhaps I am not saying enough by following this tactic. This uncertainty persists. But I feel that my decision to proceed this way was well grounded. It is in some ways an attempt to resist theory for as long as possible, which is, of course, theory in itself (de Man 1986). In another way, it is a resistance to linearity. My experiences at the centre were not linear. I did not clearly understand one thing and then move to another. Rather with each person with whom I spoke and with each day I was there, my understanding deepened. I now see each chapter as a sign of this deepening understanding which spirals out to the final two chapters on control and contradiction. While their focus is specifically control, all the chapters are about control. Each one is another layer which serves simultaneously as foundation and as source for the following chapters. By the time I got to the chapters called "Practices," I could see the end in sight. As I reviewed the interviews and field notes time and time again, I began to see that many of the important points had been incorporated into the three chapters already written. With only two remaining, I could see how other pieces would fit nicely into them. At the end I planned to write this chapter you are reading. For a variety of mundane reasons, I jumped to the initial draft of this chapter before the final two, but returned to it at the end to complete several sections. RE-VISIONS In this work, I brought what I wrote back to the people. I could not go back to all the people if I ever wanted to finish, even if I could have found them all. But I worked with some members of each group, board, staff and students, seeking criticism. I see analysis as a series of deepening disruptions. Disruptions, ruptures, with the intent of presenting a clear description as the foundation for a clear argument. Or explanation. And circling back, all explanations are hypotheses. I test this set by taking it back to the people to see if my explanation-description coincides with theirs or is at least not a violation of theirs (May 20, 1990). On taking a part of one chapter and the whole of another to some study participants as I was still writing, I received very helpful comments. Two of the people asked that I drop the pseudonyms and use their real names because they felt that I had done a fair job of re-presenting what they had told me. They also asked for specific changes in wording to reflect more accurately the way they see. One person asked that where I had used the word "begged," I substitute "asked." "I've never begged for anything in my life," he said. One person wanted me to include her clan and band name with her name. In some nodding deference to external validity, I gave one chapter to a First Nations student in another program who found the analysis suitable and sensible. I found this reality check reassuring. Sometimes I worried that people asked for no changes out of politeness. At other times, I wondered how I could be so patronizing (matronizing) to think that a person when asked would not say what she thinks. With the initial draft complete, I took the thesis to the centre for formal feedback. I left ten copies in the library for circulation. I distributed copies to a few key individuals as well, just to be sure they had every opportunity to respond. These included the five board members, five staff and two students. I attended a student meeting and held two special meetings for board, staff and student comments. At these meetings, six people attended. One brought feedback from current students who were in the two of programs described. I also made myself available for individual meetings if anyone desired. Three people participated in these; four phoned me. I spent hours on the phone with some who were too far away for meetings. And there were suggestions for changes. A few factual details—Cree was offered as a night school course once—to some concerns about the need for a subtle shift in emphasis. One person asked me to change one word in a direct quote. No one else requested any changes within the quotations. In one place, a personal detail was too clearly associated with an individual and I needed to restate it with more anonymity. Some graduate students with whom I was working insisted that I should also have taken the transcripts back to people. I chose not to do this primarily because I use relatively little of each interview. A person could spend hours editing and reworking the transcript from which I might use only a sentence or two. I feel that asking people to spend too much time on work that, in the end may benefit only me, is unfair. I also feel that if they see the way I have used their words in the thesis, they can make a clear statement of whether they approve of my use of their words. On the other hand, I have given copies of the tapes and transcripts of their interviews to study participants who wanted them for their own use. Other than the person with whom I spoke, the transcripts are available only to me. As the study draws to a close, I do regret failing to send a transcript and tape to only one participant. As he read the draft, he found his words surprising. In an ideal world with infinite time and money, perhaps it would be better to take all the transcripts back. This world has neither. Ultimately, I made some adjustments to the text in order to represent people in ways they deemed appropriate. GENDER ANALYSIS I struggled intensely with the role that gender analysis would play in my work. Many of the First Nations women, in all the roles they have in the centre, are clearly very powerful people, very intimately involved in the power relations there. I am a feminist, becoming stronger every day. While gender issues are as significant with First Nations people as they are in all cultures, I did not systematically address gender issues throughout the study. In the face of the racism of the majority society, I found myself focusing more consistently on culture and ethnicity. Gender and class issues, evident in the following chapters, require additional, similarly intense study. First Nations gender issues, because of the diversity of cultures represented in B. C., require specifically situated analysis. The racist nature of society complicates these issues further. Within many First Nations communities, as in the larger society, there are women dealing with and working against men's oppressive ways. In a recent article, one woman referred to this situation as part of the legacy of colonization. Ardith Wilson, of the Git'ksan Nation commented on the Indian Act, that special compendium of federal law which applies only to First Nations people, and which Lee Maracle, a Vancouver author, has cited as evidence of Canada's apartheid system. Wilson considers the Act patriarchal, a male model which the Department of Indian Affairs has promoted. She points out that this non-Native system "never did envelop the system that we had in the feast house." While recognizing the traditional respect afforded women in her society, she said, "We cannot look at the world through rose-coloured glasses. Wife abuse, rape and child abuse are all realities" (Haig-Brown 1988b:20). In a recent article, Osennontion, a Kanien'keha:ka woman, summed up the complexity: . . . . I could never separate my gender from my origin . . . . We attempt to get the "others" to understand that we encounter problems and obstacles that often times go far beyond those that are referred to as "women's issues" . . . [D]espite the fact that these "others" claimed to want to support us "in the struggle" . . . we often times cannot distinguish the "female" view from the "male," and so we find ourselves dealing with maternalism, as well as paternalism. In Nairobi, at the Women's Forum, I was especially appalled with the behaviour of women toward other women . . . (1989:14-15). The roles of First Nations women in traditional cultures, the history of their issues, is significant to a consideration of gender. Conventional anthropology has been challenged for too often basing its analyses in an ethnocentric view of women's roles as inferior. Etienne comments: Overtly stated acceptance of the status quo is less prevalent today among anthropologists than it was several decades ago; but implicit or explicit belief in the universal subordination of women, if not in its inevitability, continues to obstruct efforts to understand both other societies and our own (1980:2). If one questions the universal, one comes to understand that the struggles of particular First Nations women are different from those of other First Nations women and non-Native women. Again acknowledging the serious problems which accompany any attempts to generalize about the various First Nations cultures, I return to Allen's statement that they are "more often gynocratic than not and they are never patriarchal" (1986:2). Gynocratic in Allen's work is used interchangeably with gynocentric and refers to a woman-focused world view. Osennontion comments, In our Nation, while there is no question that the woman is the central figure in the scheme of things, our official government leaders are still men . . . this, too, becomes the responsibility of the women, for we have to select and groom the men for these positions." (14) Because of the complexities of the relationships within the centre, and because I was caught up in the other aspects of the struggles there, I did not do justice to gender issues. At the same time, my concern with gender is revealed in this section and throughout the study. I included a question about gender relations in most of the interviews which stimulated varied responses. Some people had not considered gender an issue; others shied away from it. One person asked that I turn off the tape recorder before she responded. Still others raised gender issues and feminism as part of their responses to other parts of the interviews. I include here a few examples of these vastly differing views. On one occasion, a young student spoke very forcefully about her feminism. I'm a feminist. I don't care if you don't like what I have to say. But I'm going to tell you now that you're not going to leave women on the bottom. We can be just as powerful—if not more powerful—than men in any position. And nobody's going to tell me any different as long as I'm on student council. A non-Native instructor credited her success with students to her "feminist background" which had given her insight into people taking control of their lives. On the other hand, a female board member powerful in her various roles of work with the centre and elsewhere spoke disparagingly of aspects of the feminist movement: One of the main difficulties I had with the it [women's liberation], it was just like that old scenario of the people who are oppressed becoming the oppressor . . . . I also feel that groups such as that will try to latch on to our struggle . . . . I learned that lesson about 1975, when in Toronto, the Marxist-Leninists took into their ranks a high profile Native man and used him. She went on to speak of the strength of women, traditionally and now: In our own history, but also since recorded history, women have always been the ones who have done a lot of the work, the ground work and a lot of the clearing. Even in the Indian movement, it really has been a lot of the women have done the work. Just in my own thinking, I haven't read it anywhere, but about what has happened historically to Native people and Native men feeling, I don't know if emasculated is the right word, but something like that because of what's happened to us in colonization. I think that because they were typically the ones who were out there providing for the family, the woman was sort of in the background. When the reserve system came in and the cash economy came in and the welfare and all that, Native men just lost a whole lot of their inner strength and power. Somehow, because of a need, a necessity, or maybe it was a natural sense from within, that women have had to step in. As far as it being significant, I don't really think that it is that significant when you look at it that way, in terms of our history and what has happened to the men. I really feel, I don't know if it's sympathy or what it is that I feel, for a lot of the Native men because it's tragic. A lot of Native men have been able to pull themselves out of that, but for some it has just broken their spirits. It's true for Native women too, but I think maybe to a lesser extent. Another female board member said succinctly: "I've never thought of Native women as secondary. We are important to our Nations. If it wasn't for us, we wouldn't have anybody." These samples demonstrate some of the complexities of gender issues which the people who work in and around the centre see. The difficulty of doing justice to an analysis which addresses class, ethnicity and gender is one with which researchers continue to struggle. Throughout the presentation of the research, there are clear gender issues. There are also clearly powerful women, students, staff and board. I have not singled them out because, as the quotations above indicate, their relations within the centre are not single, gender issues. At the same time, gender cannot and should not be ignored. SUMMARY Let this then be called the methodology chapter. It is much more than that to me because I feel that ethnography is more than a simple method. Its epistemology assumes the social construction of knowledge. Its purposes are congruent with those of theorists like Foucault to reveal local knowledges in our efforts to understand. With him it insists on a degree of relativism which prohibits grand theory from directing the process or rising out of it. The chapter lays out for you some of what I did and some of how I did it. In that it gives you method. It also tells you much of what I thought about and in that it gives you more than method. Its purpose is to prepare you for what follows and I hope that, in company with chapter 1, it has done that. Note l rThe National Indian Brotherhood has been renamed The Assembly of First Nations, partly in recognition of the important roles women have played as key actors and policy makers. C H A P T E R 3 — H I S T O R I C A L F R A G M E N T S : F I R S T N A T I O N S C O N T R O L I N B R I T I S H C O L U M B I A The successes of history belong to those who are capable of seizing these rules, to replace those who had used them, to disguise themselves so as to pervert them, invert their meaning, and redirect them against those who had initially imposed them; controlling this complex mechanism, they will make it function so as to overcome the rulers through their own rules. Michel Foucault (1971/1977:151) Just as "Indian government is not something that has developed recently" (Little Bear 1984:183)1, First Nations2 efforts to control education are also not new. Although the National Indian Brotherhood's (NIB) document Indian Control of Indian Education (1973)3 is frequently cited as the first expression of concerns about education (e.g. Barman et al, 1987:2, note 1), it is actually only a notable event4 in a long history of First Nations efforts to control education. The power struggle around education, described in documents5 since at least 1916, emerged as governments and missionaries increased their presence and their demands in First Nations territories. Throughout these documents, the statements of First Nations people resonate with the understanding of control articulated in the NIB document: the right to direct education, to choose among options and alternatives, and to make decisions on specific issues. The speakers focus on concerns related to physical facilities and their locations, to teachers, and to programs available for First Nations students. Then as now, there is a call for education equal to that of non-Native students.6 This equality called for is not one which would obliterate First Nations cultures, but one which would enable those who participate to make the choices referred to above. Before non-Native settlement and the influence of Christianity permanently changed the life styles of British Columbia's First Nations peoples, education was the responsibility of the community. While there is a danger of reductionism in speaking generally about the diverse nations within British Columbia, some examples demonstrate the kinds of education in which people engaged. Rita Jack says of the Secwepemc: The methods used to teach skills for everyday living and to instill values and principles were participation and example. Within communities, skills were taught by every member, with Elders playing a very important role. Education for the child began at the time he or she was born. The child was prepared for his (sic) role in life whether it be hunter, fisherman, wife, or mother. This meant the child grew up knowing his (sic) place in the system . . . . Integral to the traditional education system was the participation of the family and community as educators (1985:9). Schooling was not separate from daily activities and education. Children were integral parts of the community and were expected to participate with adults in whatever way their skill level and physical development permitted. They learned by watching a task being performed many times and gradually taking on more responsibility for it. Only at puberty were children removed from the community and educated separately (e.g. Harris 1974:9; Hill-Tout 1899/1978:47). In the evenings, elders recounted parable-like stories emphasizing ethical concepts, history, and myths important to the people. This life long education was not only for the children but for all the community members. In the mid-nineteenth century, missionaries began introducing early models of European formal education to the First Nations. Day schools on reserve and larger boarding or industrial schools became increasingly common. The federal government joined forces with the church in efforts to "Christianize and civilize" First Nations peoples by supplying funding support and establishing legislation designed to ensure school attendance. The focus for education was the children. Indeed, the definitive report which led to the establishment of the system of schools included the following comments: 66 . . . as far as the adult Indian is concerned. Little can be done with him (sic).... If anything is to be done with the Indian, we must catch him (sic) very young (Davin 1879:2/12). First Nations people, on the other hand, saw adult education as most important in their increasing involvement with non-Native people. As this chapter reveals, they frequently raised the possibility of education for adults and school leavers in their moves to control. When government and church officials ignored First Nations' efforts to participate in the structuring of an effective education for their children, the resultant education was often unsuccessful. As a result, there has been increasing demand for adult education as those who left school as youths look to education for change in their lives. Documents indicate that First Nations peoples have consistently used meetings with government officials to attempt to direct and make choices about the new, formal education. First Nations people's testimony from these documents demonstrates the persistence of their directives to government officials as well as the refinement of the presentation of their demands as they came to know and participate in the non-Native society encompassing them. First Nations people articulate clearly in the documents examined here that they have never been conquered.7 The public encounters of First Nations peoples with government officials, revealed in the discourse of the documents examined here, hold the possibility for an analysis of the simultaneously productive and repressive aspects of power relations. The First Nations' presentations are, to a degree, submission to the dominant system, but their consistency reveals a tactical submission which struggles against it. Their presentations are not those of a submissive people. This chapter's somewhat discontinuous examination of First Nations people's efforts to control their education is an initial genealogy8 of control, beginning with its ties to power as a repressive/productive relation. It brings to light genealogical fragments of local knowledges, interred in documents, and renders the bits capable of "opposition and of struggle against the coercion of a theoretical, unitary, formal and scientific discourse" (Foucault 1976/80:85). It moves beyond an analysis which sees relations of power with the government as merely repressive. These documents show First Nations people variously struggle and submit in their efforts to take control. They struggle by presenting their views of how their children should be educated. They submit to learning the negotiation system of the Euro-Canadian society in order to better control it. They submit to aspects of the power which represses and find in that submission forms of knowledge and discourse with which they challenge the power. And throughout these interactions, they retain a knowledge of their own power tied to the land. They learn the laws of the non-Native society, their rights within it, and continue the process of seeking control on these grounds as well as on their own. A fundamental contradiction arises from the very goals of the opposing groups. For the most part, governmental policy9 has worked toward the annihilation of First Nations cultures. First Nations cultures, on the other hand, have sought to participate fully in the new society building upon their traditions rather than abandoning them. Indicative of this split, Peter Kelly spoke of the Indian taking "his place in the body politic" (Conference Minutes 1923:110), while government officials spoke of "absorbing" the Indian into the body politic (Scott in Miller 1978:114). The discourse within documents studied here demonstrates a similar dissonance arising from these contradictory goals. In selections from The Report of the Royal Commission on Indian Affairs for the Province of British Columbia (British Columbia 1916), documents related to the Allied Tribes of British Columbia (Conference minutes 1923; Canada, 1927), and the Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Appointed to Examine the Indian Act (Canada 1947; 1948), First Nations people consistently assert their concerns about education. They make specific recommendations for direction and change on such issues as choices of boarding10, day, or public school, selection of teachers and curriculum, and planning programs and facilities for the future. While the nature of these concerns changes from nation to nation and over time, the desire for control does not. The government's desire to exercise power also remains constant. Despite the fact that First Nations people were speaking out, government officials were not listening. The repeated concerns expressed in all the documents indicate that the action for which First Nations people were calling, access to the education system of the "white man," did not occur. The government officials responded only to those requests compatible with established policy directions which ultimately sought the annihilation of the First Nations cultures. MCKENNA-MCBRIDE REPORT The McKenna-McBride report is a four volume Royal Commission Report (British Columbia 1916), named after the federal commissioner and the premier of the province who signed the original agreement on September 24,1912 (10-11). In this agreement, there is no specific reference to schools or education as the subject of inquiry. Although the general statement indicates the role of the commission is to "investigate the condition of Indian Affairs in British Columbia," the terms of agreement all focus on land. The Commission's primary task was "to adjust the acreage of Indian reserves in British Columbia" (10). Despite this, the report acknowledges that, "On every occasion where meetings were held with the Indians, they expressed their views freely on questions of administration . . ." (20). The relationship between land and education is one tied directly to understandings of power. With the continuing encroachment of settlers on First Nations lands and the colonizing mentality of power-seeking governments, traditional ways of living were disrupted and traditional education no longer solely sufficed. Despite this, First Nations peoples continued to see the land as theirs. On at least one occasion in the hearings, the connection between land and education was clearly laid out. In a meeting with the Scowishan Band11, the following exchange occurred: Question: [Commissioner] Which do you think would be better, a day school or a boarding school? Answer: [Chief Jimmie] I wish to see a good, nice industrial school here, in which the children would obey and the Government would buy their clothing and teach them, but as it is now, when my children go only to school I have to buy clothes and food for them, and it takes nearly all my money. The Government should buy the clothes for them. Question: Where do you think the Government is going to get all the money to do all that with? Answer: I think if the Government got hold of all our land, they ought to have enough money to look after the Indians (New Westminster Agency: 334).12 Perhaps this connection between land and education was not one the commissioners wanted reiterated: they subsequently dropped this line of questioning. Despite the commissioners' reticence, people in a number of bands demonstrated their understanding of the connection in other ways. Some felt concerned that discussion of education would be interpreted as acceptance of the extinguishment of land title. In the Bella Coola Agency transcripts, Chief Moody Humchitt and Jacob White, a Bella Bella Indian, both stopped testifying about anything when the commissioners would not talk about land title first. Jacob White: I want to know why you are asking all these questions. The Chairman: It does not matter for what purpose we are asking these questions. All you have to do is tell the truth (Bella Coola: 62). Also refusing to testify, Chief Jim of Kitwanga Band, said,". . . all we are asking is to get our land back" (Babine:14). Albert Williams, spokesperson for the Kitwancool Band, elaborated a similar perspective. After Williams said he did not want to address the school question, the commissioner tried to assure him that his comments on "doctors, schools, and a farming instructor" had nothing to do with the land question. Williams's response indicated his continuing concern with the relationship between the two questions, Witness: Where does the Dominion Government get the money to pay these doctors and preachers who come amongst us? Mr. Commissioner MacDowall: Answer: From the white people all over the country. Witness: Question: Is it not the taxes they get from our lands that they have taken from us? Mr. commissioner MacDowall: Answer: No. It is from the custom duties that they get from bringing things across the ocean. The Dominion Government does these things and it has no land in this province except what it buys. The Provincial Government administers the land, so the money the Dominion Government spends on the Indians comes from the white men and not from the land at all. The records show that "At this point the meeting closed" (Babine:9). Similar scenes were repeated with many northern bands and some in the Okanagan and Williams Lake Agencies. Many band representatives and some individual band members did co-operate with the commission by responding to their questions. As well as inquiring about such details as the number of livestock, cleared acres, or churches, the commissioners frequently asked about schools. Variations of the question above about day or boarding school and of the following occurred: Do the children from this reserve go to school anywhere (NW:351)? Is there any school on this reserve (NW:351)? Why don't you send your children to the public school there (NW:346)? In responses to these questions and in unsolicited statements, First Nations people indicated their awareness of, and often their dissatisfaction with, their children's schools and education. Many of the people interviewed recognized a need to use non-Native education to deal with the changes that were occurring in their territories. Although interpretations of suitable education changed over time, they consistently implied a desire for an education parallel to that of non-Native children, an education which they felt was not available to them and one which would be useful in their new circumstances. In his opening comments to the Commission, Chief James Stacker of the Pemberton Band said: Now as soon as the white man arrived in this country, we began to get wise that we needed education—that education was as necessary to the Indian as to the white man—that they might become wise. So that all the Indians here think that is necessary and they all agree to it (New Westminster: 357). In an exchange with the chair of the commission, Chief Mathias Joseph of the Capilano Indian Reserve suggested a relationship between alcohol consumption and inferior education in his call for useful education: These sisters are French. They don't know when school time is over, and they don't teach my children anything. And I am asking you Commissioners here for more education. I have been to school myself. I go through the eighth book, but all I know is to drink liquor, nothing else. And J would like to see my children like the white man so that I will be proud of him and the government will be proud of him. (My emphasis.) The Chairman: Surely you cannot say that the nuns teach your children to drink? Chief Joseph: No, perhaps, no. But they did not teach them useful things (NW:37). Some people saw literacy as the key to successful adaptation to living with non-Native people. Chief Harry Peters of the Sam-ah-quam Band, proposing a school closer to home, said: And my children—they want to learn to read and write. I sent my first children to school but it was hard for me because the school was so far away (NW:372). Chief William Peeps of the Soda Creek Band complained that the children coming out of school do not know how to read and write. "They stay ten years there and when they come out they know nothing" (WL:142). He went on, "The Indians want the children to go to school and learn everything, just like a white man" (WL:143). (My emphasis.) Others also spoke of wanting children to have an education which would serve them in their adult lives. Expressing his desire for choice in education, Chief Stacker said: We want our children when [they] go to school to learn a trade, such as blacksmithing, carpentering and all kinds of trades just like the white men do. We have been sending our children to the Mission Junction a long time, and we have noticed that they never went very far ahead. So I am telling you we want an industrial school here (NW:357). (My emphases.) Directly addressing adult education, the commissioners raised the possibility with Fred Whelsown of the Musqueam Reserve #2, a young man who had become a plumber, of First Nations people apprenticing for trades as non-Native people did. He gave them a clear message of the need for separate training facilities. Question: Well, if you can go out and learn a trade, why can't the other Indians do the same? Answer: The conditions that I had to go through, I would not like to mention them. Mr. McKenna: You mean that the Whiteman does not give you a fair show? 73 Answer: Witness here cries bitterly and says he would sooner not be asked to recall the hardships he had to undergo while serving his apprenticeship as a plumber (NW:70). Adhering to the non-Native sex-role stereotyping of the day, Chief Kelly of Lacomen focused on females in his call for more advanced and useful education: And then there is another thing. There is no reason at all why the Government should not take two or three of the smart girls out of the school and train them to be nurses so that they would be able to treat the Indians who are sick. I fought a case of pneumonia that my wife had and I came near losing her. Whereas if we had one or more competent nurses, in my opinion, a great many lives could be saved which are now lost through lack of proper attention. And if the Government would train three or four girls, I think it would be a fine thing (NW:427). Interestingly, he prefaced these comments with a call for the teaching of music to all students. Chief Bob of the Clinton Band, when asked if they would send the children to Lillooet said, "It is only this that would make a difference: They have a different language in Lillooet from what my children talk" (Lytton:108). He articulated the assumption that the children should maintain their language of origin as well as attend the non-Native school. As Redford (1979-80) has shown, before 1920, one of the most common ways that First Nations people registered their disapproval was to refuse to send the children to school. That year, when enrollment become compulsory (The Indian Act, 1927:2170), this form of control became more difficult, but was not abandoned completely (e.g. Haig-Brown 1988:86-87). In 1894, "a school attendance clause had been inserted into the Indian Act" in an effort "to maintain adequate enrollment in industrial schools" (Titley, 1986:90). Once children had enrolled, they were required by law to continue. People refused to send their children because they could not pay the expenses associated with schooling, because there was sickness in a particular 74 school, because punishments were felt to be unduly severe, and because the children were needed and wanted at home. Many people expressed the right to financial assistance for schooling as traditional hunting, trapping and fishing territories were limited and disrupted by settlement and new laws. Chief Stacker of Pemberton said, "Since the white men came in, they are trapping over our ground and the Indians are squeezed out" (NW:358). While refusing to discuss schools, Albert Williams of Kitwancool stated: "[Hunting] has fallen off quite a bit since the white men came into this country" (Babine:24). Chief Joseph Kelly of Lacomen expressed his concerns about finances and schooling: We cannot help saying we are awful poor and I can tell you there is no joke about it. We have to work pretty hard to make a living. And some of our people have had to send their children to Tacoma because there is a school which supported the children . . . . This holiday they got a letter saying that they could not keep any Canadians over there . . . . I spoke to the parents and I said "Turn them into the Mission School," but this they were unable to do 'cause there were no clothes for them. So now the children don't go to any school (NW:426). Others talked specifically of the expense of sending the children to schools farther away, this time with the clear statement that proximity permitted home visits. Distant schools were unacceptable. In response to a question about children attending school, Chief Stacker commented, We send them, but very few. And when vacation comes we haven't got enough money to bring them home and send them back again. And that is why we want a school right here (NW:361).13 He had spoken to the commission earlier and said: Now there are Indians who wish to put their children in school, but being short cannot afford to supply them with clothing when they are in school. So gentlemen, all these people here wish to have a school— an industrial school—where the Government will supply them with clothing, books, and everything necessary for them when they are in school (NW:357). Some of those who were able to continue aspects of traditional work saw boarding schools as desirable in that the children's education would not be interrupted and their basic needs might be met. While calling for a school nearby, Chief Stacker explained his preference for an industrial school over a day school as follows: The reason for that is because a day school they have to come home every night and their mother and father would be out fishing and they would not get anything to eat (NW:361). Chief Paul Douglas of the Douglas Band echoed others who wanted their children close to home: "I could send them [to the boarding school] if it was not too far away" (NW:401). Chief Paul of the Skookumchuk Band affirmed that a boarding school would be best "A little ways up the road, about half a mile" (NW:384). Others flatly refused the idea of boarding schools. When asked about sending children to Kamloops, Chief Francois Scotty of the Ashcroft Tribe said simply, "We don't approve of the children living here going away to other schools" (Kamloops:112). Johnny Titlanetza of Cook's Ferry Band stated clearly, "We would rather have a day school if possible because when the children go to a boarding school they are just like being lost to us" (Kamloops:138). Implicit in these statements is that the children would have more direct access to home. That way, they could receive the benefits of non-Native education and still remain within the influence of their families and communities. Nowhere is it apparent that First Nations people were abandoning their children to the Europeans. Rather they were seeking control over their children's education. They wanted the children to be a position to learn the skills necessary to live as First Nations people with the invaders. A SAFE PLACE TO LEARN Finding a safe place for the students to learn was often a source of concern. The children's physical well-being was paramount in the reasons many witnesses gave for avoiding some schools. While there was a strong desire for education, it was not to be had at the expense of children's lives and health. Chief Mathias Joseph of Capilano said, I don't want my children to go to a boarding school because they don't feed them so good. But if I have an Indian public school here like white men, I can look after them (NW:38). (My emphasis.) In other agencies, parents were concerned about the severity of punishment and the overwhelming work loads their children suffered. Many chiefs in the Williams Lake Agency initially refused to testify because of a letter which they had received with advice from their lawyer, Mr. Clark. He recommended that they wait his return from England where he was pressing the Secretary of State for the Colonies to submit the original petition from British Columbia Indians to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in order to deal with the question of land title. The commission was refusing to address the issue. However the severity of concerns about the school there prompted some individuals and eventually some of the chiefs to present their concerns. Basil Simon testified that "They locked me up in a room all day and never gave me anything to eat and sometimes for two days" (WL:22). Chief Too-sey of the Too-sey Band reiterated the plea for education, "we are so anxious to have our children taught," while condemning the Mission school outside Williams Lake: The Mission School is pretty sharp for the Indians. The boys over at the Mission work and they get tired. And then they hike out home by themselves. And I don't like putting the children there (WL:73). Chief Anaham Bob concurred. Claiming that the people at the school whip the children, he added: Three of them died in the school. The treatment of the children at the school is pretty rough and the children sometimes run away in consequence. One time, three boys started off home. On the way, they caught a cold and when they reached home two of them died. They had no clothes on them and coming through the mountains, they caught a cold and died (WL:87). Chief Louis of the Stone Band said none of the children on his reserve were attending school, "I have tried once to send them to school, but they died on us and we don't try any more. It is too far to send the children to school" (WL:100). When questioned, he said that children died at the school. "I have an idea that they worked this boy too much," he offered as the cause of one death (WL:101). Chief Baptiste Williams of the Williams Lake Band pointed out that the children "haul the dirt into wagons . . . work on the farms . . . cut the wood . . . (they have lots of stoves there)" (WL:138). Similar concerns were expressed in the Lytton Agency. Head Chief Klawaskut commented about St. George's School: No, the Indians are not satisfied at that school.... The children run away and just run up on the hills.They don't go home. One of the reasons I am sorry for is (sic), I think some of the children might freeze to death when they run up on the mountains . . . . I have asked some of those boys, but they say they are frightened of the teachers. Of course, you know that a man when he has a boy, he corrects him and uses a stick on him. The teacher is trying to correct them and they are afraid of him (Lytton: 139). Chief Charlie of the Kanaka Bar Band told of taking his grandson out of the school because he was punished. One other boy from the reserve had attended, but "He was punished so bad by being slapped on the ears that he would not go back" (Lytton:204). Many chiefs said that they did not send their children to particular schools because there was no room. Chief Charlie of the Matsqui Band stated about the school at Mission in the Fraser Valley, "I went over to the priest there to try and find an opening for the children, but he told me there was no room for them" (NW:144). While this may not appear to be a form of control, Chief Johnnie of the Harrison River Band indicated otherwise. He interrupted another witness who claimed that more of the children did not attend the school at Mission because "there is not enough room for them down there," to say: I want to tell you why we don't send more children to the Mission school. A good many of the children when they leave the Mission school they are very unhealthy. I sent two of my boys to that school. They were very strong when they went there. But after they came home, they both died . . . . I think they were worked too hard at the school and got consumption and they died. In the summer time, it is very hot down there at the Mission and they have to work very hard (NW:235). Illness played a role in other parents control of their children's education: they often refused to send their children to schools where health problems existed. Chief Joe Hall of the Scowlitz Tribe explained to the Commission why their children also no longer attended St Mary's Mission School. We have had complaints about that school and a great many other children come out sickly . . . . Sometimes consumption and we get afraid to send any more there . . . . Because the Mission school there is no partitions to the rooms and all the children sleep in one room (NW:417-8). When a commissioner pressed him about this concern, Chief Hall explained: . . . The reason why I say it is because I was in that school myself when I was a boy and with other boys. And they took consumption and died. And that is why I know the school is not safe . . . . The other school [Sechelt] they have doctors to come and examine the children. During all the time I was at Mission, I only saw a doctor once (NW:419). Many other witnesses referred to health problems at various schools as the reason they do not send their children there.14 One can only wonder how many of those who said there was no room at a particular school really had other concerns. People also cited age as a factor in their children's absence from school. Sub-chief Johnnie Lewis of the Upper Sumas Band said that two children from the reserve who were "about ten years old," were not attending school "because we think they are rather young yet and we will send them later" (NW:164). To the consternation of the commissioners, Chief George Cooper of the Swoohalie Band acknowledged that George Doctor, a band member, was not sending his children aged eleven, nine and eight because they were too young (NW:212). On the other hand, Head Chief Paul Klawaskut of the Lytton Band said that some parents of children "about fourteen years old . . . reckon they are too old to go to school and those that help their parents, they don't send them to school" (Lytton:137). In some places, where the "white people" did not object, First Nations people exercised control by sending their children to public schools. Chief George of the Seeacham Band described his experience: I used to have a son going there, but the Indian Agent used to get after me and told me that it was not right to send the boy there because he would learn the white people's fashions. But I did not care about that (NW:346). This comment is particularly telling in light of the First Nations concerns with wanting an education "just like the white man." Apparently the Indian Agent had other views. Despite his objections, Chief George continued to send his child to the school. Chief Harry Joe of the Squatisse Band said that people were satisfied with their children's education at the public school nearby where they had been asked to send them. On occasion, children were invited to attend in order to meet the numbers required to maintain a public school in a particular area. Others who tried to send their children to public school and found their way blocked kept their children out of any school. Chief Hall acknowledged that the children on his reserve could not attend the public school at Harrison Mills. Because the white people would not allow Indian children to go there. We sent two there one time and the Council they made a kick and we had to take them away (NW:419). 80 Isaac August John of the Katzie Band declared: "The Indian children are not allowed to go to the public school on account of the objection of certain of the white ratepayers" (NW:93). The segregation of First Nations children from the public schools was based partly in funding arrangements: the federal government assumed responsibility for First Nations education at Confederation. On the other hand, comments like the one of the Indian agent above hint of the racism which led Europeans to regard First Nations people as inferior and not to be educated as white children were. THE ALLIED INDIAN TRIBES OF BRITISH COLUMBIA In 1923 and 1927, the Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia met with government officials to challenge the outcomes of the McKenna-McBride hearings. Again education was a topic of concern. Again this inquiry demonstrated the inseparability of concerns about education from concerns about land title. In 1915, a number of interior First Nations had met to form a support group for the 1913 petition by the Nisga'a for the recognition of land title, sent to the Privy Council in London. By 1922, in an organization arising out of this meeting, twenty-two bands had joined to form The Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia (Conference Minutes 1923: foreword 1978). In 1923, the Allied Tribes met with Duncan Campbell Scott in an effort to persuade the federal government to reject the recommendations of the McKenna-McBride Commission. The government hoped the outcome would be a tripartite agreement among the Allied Tribes, the dominion and the province (Taylor 1984:73). Neither goal was achieved, but the meeting did provide a forum for the continued expressions of concern about education and their recommendations for change. The repetition of many of the directives which First Nations peoples had given during the hearings from 1913 to 1916 is a strong indicator that the original ones had fallen on deaf ears. People sought education which would bring people "to the position where they are on equal footing with the white man" (Conference Minutes 1923:118). Representative Reverend Peter Kelly emphasized a number of points reminiscent of those raised in the McKenna-McBride Report. On August 9, 1923, he made some general comments about education. He first spoke of schools while presenting the chiefs' views on medical services. As so many had commented in 1914-16, little medical help was available. As a result, diseases spread unchecked from one student to another. Kelly spoke specifically of day schools of which he had direct knowledge while skirting the issue of boarding school, commenting, "no doubt medical men are brought in from time to time" (111). He spoke of the importance of education for dealing with the exercise of Euro-Canadian power. Using inclusive language, perhaps indicative of the traditional respect accorded women in many First Nations cultures, Kelly commented: Take the executive members of the Allied Indian Tribes—I don't say this in any way boastingly—but just pointing out a fact that I think in almost every instance a member was picked because his fellow tribesmen saw that he could present their views—I mean she included in that—could present their views intelligently. Somehow, although it may not be admitted in so many words, they feel that one who has had educational training is able to bring any grievances before the Indian Department, or the Government, better than one who has not (116). Echoing statements made in 1913-1916, he pointed to the need for vocational training and higher education. "To be able to read and to write and do elementary kinds of arithmetic, I do not think is quite enough" (117). Using agriculture as an example, he again demonstrated the people's desire to have the same types of education as those available to white students. For illustration, the white people who are farmers realize this. Although they have brought their sons up on the farm, the necessity of sending those boys off to agricultural college exists, because new methods, progressive methods, are found necessary by these old farmers if they are going to maintain that general upward progress. Now, if that is true in the case of those who have had such extensive experience in farming, how much more is it necessary in the case of those who have had no training at all (117)? He went on: "The Indian has not had the chance of going to any of the vocational schools or technical schools" (117). Speaking specifically of higher education, Kelly referred to Carlisle School in the United States as an exemplar of the type of institution which might meet the needs of the students. I have noticed these young men who have been through Carlisle School, they come out with a certain amount of feeling of independence. They feel somehow that they have been brought to the position where they are on equal footing with the white man. And it gives them a feeling of confidence. Now I do not say that that in itself is enough . . . . We would like to have an institution where our men and women would be so fitted that they will be able to take their place in the larger public life of this country, and feel that they are equal to any life (118). Duncan Campbell Scott's amazing response to these statements follows: If anybody else would like to make a concrete statement as to education, it will be well. But I think practically enough has been said. Although I would like it placed, as you did the fishing question, in a more concrete form. Mr. Kelly: I think it could be done. Dr. Scott: For instance, on a half page of foolscap, the Minister could get your mind on the question of education (118). (My emphasis.) With that the meeting adjourned for the day. Reverend Kelly returned the next day with some additional specifics as well as repetitions of the suggestions he had made in the first meeting when Scott, at least, appeared incapable of listening. He began by saying: We realize that today we must confine ourselves to something definite; but at the same time until actual negotiations are entered into, we find it a little difficult to talk about all the details of adequate system of education. Any one who gives that a thought can see that point at once (118-19). He went on to call for qualified teachers for the schools. He asked that those who pass into high school be allowed to participate in high school instead of finding their education terminated through lack of local facilities, refusal of public schools to allow them entry, and lack of funding to travel for high school. Pointing to his own time at Chilliwack Industrial School where he spent half his school days and all his summers farming, he called for provision to be "made for those students to spend their time on something that will fit them for the battle of life." He was from the Queen Charlotte Islands where "farming is not a necessity; we did not have land for farms; and farming was a useless thing for myself" (120). He continued to address the problem of what he called industrial schools where children spent "perhaps, three hours in attending classes, and the other half a day going out in the fields." The First Nations delegates felt "that savours of child labour." Again demonstrating an avant garde awareness of what Dale Spender (1980) has called "man made language," Kelly stated that rather than young boys engaged in "hard labour . . . such as clearing land," . . . we would like to see a system put in operation where these boys—of course, that applies to girls too . . . will have to be out to the task with something in view . . . qualify the students for something very definite (121). Finally, he called for financial assistance for "Indian boys and girls who are aspiring to be qualified doctors or lawyers" (121). Almost four years later, the Allied Tribes again met with government officials to discuss claims. This time a Special Committee of the House of Commons and the Senate met with some chiefs in addition to those representing the Allied Tribes. While the time elapsed was perhaps too short to expect implementation of the directions suggested in 1923, so little action had resulted that Rev. Peter Kelly even used the same examples to address the committee. It appears from their responses that the committee members had not taken the time to familiarize themselves with the transcripts of the previous meeting. In an interchange over land use, Kelly commented: This is the point I wish to make: gentlemen if the white people, after hundreds of years of agricultural life, find it necessary to send their brainiest boys to agricultural colleges so they may learn still further how to till the soil how much more necessary is it for the Indians to learn the primary principles of agriculture? Hon. Mr. Stevens: That is sound . . . . That is sound commonsense and you will have a sympathetic hearing here (Canada 1927:156). Acknowledging the repetitious nature of his directives, Kelly referred specifically to the 1923 meeting. . . . the present Minister of the Interior and Doctor Scott will bear me out that I stressed this very thing in my address before the committee in Victoria: that is that we should have such intensive training for the Indians as would enable them to earn a decent living among the civilized people of to-day (158). Perhaps in an effort to separate educational concerns from the larger issue of title, Kelly went on to point out "that education is the duty of the State to anybody, not just the Indians." He again called for "Not only agriculture, but vocational training for Indians. That is what we have been demanding" (159). (My emphasis.) In a telling comment on the possibility of extinguishment of land title by acquiescence, Kelly elaborated his views of the ability of government officials to indicate they have heard what First Nations people have said. I think this is the very point on which we differ. One member says that it has died a natural death, if I may put it that way, because many years have elapsed since the matter was discussed, or at least been acknowledged or recognized by the government, and it has not yet been dealt with (170). (My emphasis.) Acknowledgement and recognition of educational directives were not forthcoming as a result of this meeting. Neither was there any settlement of land title. The committee's report however was only a temporary setback for the First Nations people. Their "grievances remained very much alive . . . and would surface again and become the nucleus of new organizations" (Taylor 1984:85). SPECIAL JOINT COMMITTEE In 1946, they did indeed resurface, in a new form in a new context, but many of them strongly reminiscent of the educational directions the people had called for in the previous documents. Again people came to present their concerns with a sense of their struggle, using the tools of the Euro-Canadian society to strive for control. The Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons appointed to examine and consider the Indian Act provided another forum for the expression of First Nations concerns about their education. Delegates from British Columbia met with the committee on a number of occasions. Bands and support groups submitted briefs as well. The right to present concerns was only a token concession. At the second meeting, The Honourable Mr. Castleden gave notice of motion to involve "at least five Indians" to represent five parts of Canada by sitting in on all the deliberations and being available as witnesses. He based this motion on a call for democracy because: . . . the amendment of the Indian Act will establish for years to come, the type of control which will determine the standards of life, training and perhaps, the very existence of, these subordinated human beings to whom democracy is denied in Canada . . ." (Canada 1947a:ix).15 His motion was tabled. Eventually the committee agreed to have one member of the Six Nations Band to attend the meetings and organize the presentations of all the First Nations in Canada (39-40). This concession was not to be seen as a response to Castleden's motion which remained tabled when he did not present a quick way to select appropriate representatives from each of the areas (415). Clearly demonstrating their unwillingness to listen to First Nations people, the officials favoured their own discourse as they silenced the others. While refusing to have First Nations representatives monitoring the committee, members did agree to hear submissions from interested organizations. From British Columbia, Chief Andrew Paull of the North American Indian Brotherhood and Reverend P. R. Kelly of the Native Brotherhood of British Columbia spoke. Andrew Paull began his presentation with some strong remarks about the lack of First Nations representation on the committee. Pointing out that First Nations peoples had called for a Royal Commission to look at both sides of the issues, he saw the current set of meetings as ones where ". . . you are sitting as a committee investigating yourselves . . . you have no Indians on your committee" (420). Chief Tom Jones of the Cape Croker Reserve in Ontario, a teacher himself, presented the N.A.I.B. position on education. . . . we are not given a free hand in our schools. I mean by that we have no board of trustees . . . we want state education, we want the control of our schools because the very existence of our children and our posterity depends on that... we are living today in a different age, we are living in an age where education is paramount, of outstanding importance for all of us . . . . It is therefore for that reason that I made that the first, the most important step we wish to take up, education; to have it in our own hands so that we may enjoy much that we hope for (430-431). (My emphasis.) In 1947, members of the Native Brotherhood returned to give further direction to the committee. Guy Williams representing the "Unaffiliated Indians of British Columbia" stated: "It is the feeling of every Indian parent that the school system should be changed . . . . Education is the answer to the Indian's problem. It will lead him into professions; it will lead him into trades; it will lead to a situation where the Indian will be self-sustaining" (1947b:777). As the hearings progressed, people presented very specific directives about education. This time, they insisted on taking more time than that which could be confined to the "half page of foolscap" Scott had called for in 1923. Their recommendations, not always unified, focused on several areas. They continued to seek an education which would permit their active involvement in Euro-Canadian society while retaining and developing aspects of their traditional cultures. Phasing out residential schools, more day schools, access to public schools and opportunity for higher education, both academic and vocational, were frequently addressed. The need for qualified teachers was reiterated in briefs and presentations from around the province. There were some comments on curriculum and on facilities. While people had asked for boarding schools during the McKenna-McBride hearings, the qualifying factor was that the schools be close to home so that contact with family and community might be maintained. This had not happened for most bands. It was a move in direct opposition to the government policy of cultural annihilation. The schools which were located close to reserves, most of which were established before the hearings, did not permit the children to visit their homes frequently anyway. By this time, many more people had experienced the residential schools either directly or through their relatives and friends. The Songhees people of Victoria submitted a brief demanding that "All residential schools and those under church jurisdiction should be abolished as it estranges the children from their parents during the school years" (1947a:858). Major MacKay, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs in British Columbia, acknowledged, "that one of the great weaknesses of the Indian residential school system is that there is a lack of contact with the Indian home" (1947a:129), something First Nations people had said clearly in 1916. The Lower Kootenay Reserve Band demanded "Children to come home on Christmas and New Year's holidays if the parents wish them" (1947a:865). The Fort Good Hope band said, "Only if the schools could be built closer to our homes, we should be glad" (814). Although their evaluation of "mission schools" opposes the sentiments expressed by a number of the chiefs in 1916, a non-Native support group, The Okanagan Society for the Revival of Indian Arts and Crafts of Oliver, B.C., recommended: A new system of education should be established. Mission schools of the past have performed much devoted work, caring for children when parents went to hunt for fish, but the task now facing them is beyond their powers either as regards money or personnel. They are not able to provide an adequate modern education . . . " (1947a:633). If they were to be retained it should be for "underprivileged children," said Chief Andrew Paull (456) and members of the "Stahlo" Tribe (849). The ten chiefs and councillors of bands in the Stuart Lake Agency concurred and added "and children from remote bands where Day Schools are impracticable" (874). Chief Maxime George, echoing concerns expressed about Williams Lake and Lytton schools in 1914, called for a day school. The reason for asking for a day school, at one time children ran away from Lejack (sic) Indian residential school, Fraser Lake, B.C., two have frozen to death while running away, because of the poor care and treatment at the school (1947b:826). Clearly, no controls over the operation of the residential schools had managed to curb the "poor care and treatment" often cited in the earlier hearings. The government officials, if they were listening, had not acted effectively on the directions they were given. Some people, in efforts to deal with the immediate shortcomings of the residential schools, spoke of specific changes needed, again reiterating the demands expressed in earlier documents. In another non-Native support group's presentation, reference to the American boarding schools where twenty years ago children were still required to do "manual labour connected with the operation and maintenance of the schools" included a note "Still the case in Canada today" (1947a:629). The Allied Tribes had spoken strongly against such exploitation in their documents of 1923 and 1927. Reiterating the concerns of Chief Mathias Joseph in 1915, the same support group made reference to the effects of nutrition on I.Q. and called for "proper supplies of food" for First Nations children in schools (621). The 89 Lower Kootenay Reserve Band called for "more schooling hours . . . change of teachers and principals, no sisters, less spiritual teaching, more mechanical, and farming or such" (1947a:865). They preferred a day school on reserve. The call for more day schools was fairly general (1947a:456,849,874; 1947b:854,826). No consensus existed on the topic of denominational versus non-denominational schools. For some the topic was insignificant (1947a:446). On the other hand, Peter Kelly of the Native Brotherhood and a moderator of the United Church argued that "education should be strictly non-denominational" (1947b:798), while the Catholic Andrew Paull, representing the North American Indian Brotherhood, stated, "I am in favour of denominational schools" (1947b:890). The most often repeated directive was for qualified teachers (e.g. 1946:849). Peter Kelly announced, "That is the aim, to have qualified teachers . . . " (1947a:445). When recalled and questioned the following year, he again stated that generally teachers in the Indian schools were not as well qualified as those in provincial schools (1947b:800). Concurring, Andrew Paull demonstrated his awareness of the non-Native system of qualification. He said: Answer: And, they should be qualified teachers. Question: What do you mean by "qualified"? Answer: So that they may have teacher's certificate that they can teach. Question: Under the Indian department or under provincial laws? Answer: Provincial laws. Thomas Gosnell of Port Simpson appeared before the committee in 1947 with an example of the unqualified teachers active in his area. As chief councillor, he visited the schools "to see what is wrong with Indian education." . . . on one of my visits during school hours when I came into that room I saw the teacher at the desk taking a comb and combing the hair of a little pet terrier with the children flying around in the room throwing books at each other. I asked the teacher, "Is this recess time?" "No." "What is this? Is this a school or what?" "No, this is school hours." "But what has the dog got to do with it?". . . . "I threatened to fire her . . . . At the end of the term the Indian agent got rid of this lady. One or two years later I went on my roamings up and down the coast and I found the same teacher in the Skidegat (sic) school, the very same teacher that was fired. Mr. MacNicol: Still combing the dog? The Witness: I did not see the dog this time (1947b:790-l). Other First Nations people wanted regular inspection of the schools by both provincial inspectors (1947a:791) and band inspectors (1947a:849). Two non-Native support groups were noticeably active in submitting briefs. The government officials also successfully ignored their suggestions, ones which were contradictory to the goals of assimilating First Nations peoples. The Okanagan Society for the Revival of Indian Arts and Crafts reminded the government officials of the Annual Report of the Indian Affairs Branch of March 1942 in which they referred to the possibility of providing "special courses of study for Indian Day and Residential School Teachers" (1947a:620). They noted: It is appalling to think that authorities had not realized the necessity for specially qualified instructors until 1941 . . . . We would like to be assured that the Department is actively planning for the training schedule now, so that the program may be established as soon as personnel becomes available" (620). The non-Native Society for the Furtherance of British Columbia Indian Arts and Crafts stated in regards to teachers and other professionals working with First Nations people that: It is essential that the trained personnel selected . . . be equipped with a knowledge of the history, customs, temperament and traditions of the districts in which they serve (1947a:606). In a statement of support accompanying this brief, Mr. Anthony Walsh "internationally known as a teacher of Indian children" added: . . . the educational policy of the last two generations has not been a success . . . . One of the main causes of this failure has been that teachers have failed to take into account the fact that they were working with children of a different background than their own. We can never hope to bring about successful Indian education until teachers are willing to do research work into the background of the people with whom they are working and living" (1947a:846). Indubitably, this research would lead the teachers, and perhaps even the government officials, to the importance of listening to what First Nations people were saying about the educational needs of their children. When the committee asked Rev. Kelly his views of the provincial curriculum, his response indicated the desire for a more local control. We think that however well our system is prepared, that is to say by the Indian department, directed from here [Ottawa], it would still be, in a measure, segregation (1947b:835). He preferred the provincial system, "We think a system under the province would help the people advance more rapidly and we are in favour of that" (835). Chief Tom Jones stated,"... we want the public school curriculum that your communities enjoy" (1947a:433). In addition, some bands such as the Cowichan (1947a:870) focused on public schools as desirable. The clearest indication that government officials had not been listening to First Nations peoples' previous presentations on education arose out of the statements on higher education. On at least two occasions, witnesses referred to the 1927 discussions held between federal officials and the Allied Tribes of British Columbia. An unnamed "Indian leader" is quoted: In the year 1927 the Parliament of Canada provided that any Indian child who showed promise would be assisted in learning any of the professions . . . but that promise made by the Government. . . has not yet been carried out (1947a:621). Andrew Paull cited specifics which suggested that while officials had responded to one request, their hearing recovery was unfortunately temporary. In 1927, they [the department] were asked for better education If you examine their report you will see that they agreed that this money would be used for Indian study. After 1927 several Indians went to technical schools . . . . They went through their courses with flying colours. Then the Indian education department shut the door and would not let anybody else go . . . to technical school, normal school, or to the university (1947b:888). He went on to mention four well-qualified and highly-recommended boys for whom the Indian agent had denied access to technical school (889). Peter Kelly, William Scow, and Thomas Gosnell gave additional examples of refusal of funding for higher education. Indian agents had refused funding for both Scow and Kelly's own children on the grounds that their parents could afford to pay. Gosnell had heard a young man's presentation the month before, at Massett, of a similar circumstance (1947b:811). In addition to funding for technical schools and university, there was a concern that the number of grades in schools be increased (1947:883) and that support be given to those who decided to pursue further education and resultant employment (882). Increasing teachers' pay was another way of improving the schools by encouraging qualified teachers to stay (884). Stuart Lake chiefs and councillors called for: Establishment of vocational training centres, so that our boys and girls after leaving school, may learn useful trades and occupations, and High School facilities be made available for those who qualify for higher education (1947a:874). Thomas Gosnell focused on the differences between a public school and a day school in his community. You can talk across to the other school. They are developing pupils there up to the eighth and ninth grades and they go into higher education. Yet in our Indian school within a stone's throw, it's the 93 same old routine. You get to the fourth grade and you are too old to go on to higher education . . . . We blame the Indian department school system (1947b:791). The statistics used by the Commissioner of Indian Affairs for British Columbia confirms Gosnell's sense of things. Of approximately 4100 enrollments in B.C. schools in 1946 (1947a:161), 24 were in high school (165). Just as Andrew Paull had emphasized in 1927, agricultural training was again cited as priority, this time for adults, by the United Native Farmers' Organization of the Stahlo Tribe in Sardis, B.C. "The Department should provide scientific methods of farming in order to educate Native farmers along modern scientific farming." They also stated that high school, college and university education should be financed by the federal government (1947a:849-50). The Fourth Report of the Special Joint Committee recommended "revision of those sections of the Act which pertain to education." The ensuing years brought some changes but again not the education which First Nations people were seeking, not an education which would give their children the same opportunities which non-Native children had. ADULT EDUCATION 1 6 As the children's education was showing little improvement, the need for adult education could only increase. The continuing lack of success of many First Nations people in the school system led to renewed efforts on the part of First Nations people to establish relevant and compatible adult education. Non-Native people and organizations joined in the call for improved opportunities. In 1950, in British Columbia, a Provincial Advisory Committee on Indian Affairs was established. Both Native people and non-Native were members. By 1954, the Annual Report included the statement that, during the previous five years, "approximately 100 Indian boys and girls had attended the Vancouver Vocational Institute" (British Columbia, 1954:6). Subsistence allowances were paid by the Apprenticeship Program of the Provincial Government. Fifty percent of the "boys and girls" came from out of the city of Vancouver and most were in the twenty to thirty year old range. Over the next ten years, the reports of the Advisory Committee document the increasing numbers of students at W I and other vocational institutes such as Nanaimo and Burnaby. The Extension Department of the University of British Columbia conducted band leadership courses annually. The dearth of full time students in the universities was decried to little avail. The 1959 report included the following which hinted of what was to come for adult education on reserve. The Vancouver School Board had developed an innovative program, a sewing course for women on the Musqueam Reserve in Vancouver which was believed to be the "first of its kind in British Columbia" and which was "was being watched with interest by the Vancouver and other school boards" (British Columbia, 1959:9). In 1957, the Canadian Association for Adult Education (C.A.A.E.) included one of their first comments on First Nations adult education in their annual report. W. R. Carroll wrote of "initiating new program services to special groups such as Indians and new Canadians" (C.A.A.E. 1957:n.p.). The following year the Chairman (sic) reported the successful launching of the National Commission on the Indian Canadian (N.C.I.C.). It was designated to be a consultative body, not one to initiate programs. The commission originated with an Ottawa study group led by Rev. P. A. Renaud, O.M.I., the Director of the Native Community Development Bureau of the Oblate Fathers in Canada. The group consisted of senior civil servants and others whose work brought them in contact with "Indians and the so-called 'Indian Problem.'" For the next two years, the N.C.I.C. served primarily as a clearinghouse, collecting and distributing information about First Nations education to interested people and organizations. John Melling, hired from Leeds University, directed the commission which began publication of a bulletin and organized a conference on the Canadian Eskimo. A major study conducted in 1958 (Hawthorn, Belshaw and Jamieson) directly acknowledged the need for adult education in the province of British Columbia. Recognizing three categories of people who might benefit, the report pointed to migratory seasonal workers faced with long winters in isolated communities where trapping was reported to be in decline, less isolated people seeking alternative vocations or improved qualifications, and people in positions of serious community disruption who might benefit from concentrated community development initiatives. Commenting that the latter group would require serious commitment of time and funds, the producers of the report recommended an experimental mobile unit which could visit three communities for six week to two month periods on a trial basis. In 1960, the National Commission on the Indian Canadian separated amicably from the C.A.A.E. and became an independent body called the Indian-Eskimo Association (TEA). It sought to establish a relationship with Band councils and one of its first tasks was to prepare a brief to the Joint Parliamentary Commission on Indian Affairs to examine, among other things, the social and economic status of Indians. Over the next eight years, the recording of Miss Lola M. Bratty's 1966 service as consultant to the IE A was about the only acknowledgement in the C.A.A.E. annual reports of First Nations education. In 1965, the British Columbia Advisory Committee on Indian Affairs included the comment that the B.C. Indian Arts and Welfare Society had been working with the Indian-Eskimo Association to establish a British Columbia branch. In 1961, the National Superintendents' Conference keynote address raised the issue of adult education. The Director of Indian Affairs, Lt. Col. H. M. Jones, commented: The importance of and the need for an effective adult education program has long been recognized. It has been retarded only due to the urgent necessity of devoting our energy to the building of a first-class school system; but the day has now come to enter the adult field with vigour. I would suggest that we pay particular attention to the development of a program of academic upgrading and social orientation for selected groups as a means of preparing them either for immediate employment or for vocational training leading to early placement in jobs (Jones 1961:12). While he mentioned the possibility of "purely academic education of the class-room variety," he implied that this should be a goal for children; his real concerns lay with "those thousands now past school age," whose options appeared not to include university or professional training. Significantly today, many of the First Nations adults now "past school age" are choosing to go to school and prepare for university and professional training as well as for vocational training. The B. C. Advisory Committee, in its 1963 report, included some details of the 101 students at Vancouver Vocational Institute: The girls trained in beauty culture, practical nursing, power sewing, and secretarial and commercial courses. The men took training in carpentry, auto mechanics, diesel engines, machine-shop, electronics, and welding (British Columbia, 1963:9). The most startling aspect of this quote is the division of the students into "girls" and "men". The gender division of their training was usual at the time. Interestingly the report also stated that "12 young men and women were studying at the University of British Columbia" (9). (My emphases.) It went on to say that the Indian Affairs Branch was beginning to show interest in the provincial Advisory Committee. At the 1964 A.G.M., Indian Commissioner J. V. Boys announced new plans and policy of the federal Indian Affairs Branch to move into community development including adult education. Nineteen sixty-four was also the year that First Nations people had their next major opportunity to speak to governments about education. The Hawthorn survey begun in 1964. The Ministry of Citizenship and Immigration approached a number of scholars to study "the situation of the Indians of Canada" (Hawthorn 1967:v). While the individual voices of those who addressed the research team are for the most part buried in the report, Hawthorn and his team made significant efforts to speak directly with First Nations people from across Canada in order to assess their situation in a number of regards including education. Sixty-five adults and 125 adolescents were interviewed. In order to guarantee anonymity, the names and bands to which the study participants belonged were omitted and the results generalized. In relation to children, parents expressed their preference for integration in public schools over attendance at residential schools, based primarily, Hawthorn suggests, in their own negative experiences at the residential schools rather than any confirmed opinion that the public schools could provide an education like the "white people's." Echoing a now common theme of First Nations people addressing governments on education, Hawthorn wrote: It was based on the idea that segregated education had not helped them achieve their goals of employment and "a better life" and that white people seemed to achieve such things. They felt the discrepancy might be eliminated by having their children obtain the same type of education as white children . . . feel that such learning will help their children interact more than they can with non-Indians on an equal basis (138). (My emphasis.) At the same time, Hawthorn was aware of the problems with curriculum materials used in public school classrooms and, although curriculum was not one of the areas mandated in the study, recommended the elimination of "inaccurate, over-generalized and even insulting texts" (13). Most significantly, the report acknowledged moves to self-government as positive ones which indicate "the need for full consultation with the Indians" (26) and again "full participation by the Indian people under their own leaders" in the development of government policy. Hawthorn mentions adult education only in passing (105, 171). In 1965, the focus of the Annual General Meeting of the Provincial Advisory Committee was Education and the Indian People. The report states: . . . the greatest barriers to the Indian pupil's educational progress may be deeper and more subtle than an inferiority in ability or intellectual capacity. In order to improve the educational life of the Indian child, it is necessary to recognize there is a difference in Indian and non-Indian values, attitudes, and way of life, and that one is not necessarily better than the other. Attitudes need to change on both sides of the fence; we must stop regarding the Indian as an inferior person, incapable of making a decision about his (sic) own life, and the Indian must stop expecting us to be both rejecting and paternalistic (British Columbia, 1965:6). The report went on to say that the Indian Affairs branch had sent five community development officers to Indian communities and were sharing the funding for one other with the Province. A Regional Advisory Committee was elected by the Native people to represent their concerns to the federal authorities (8). In 1965, there were 301 students enrolled in vocational programs and "only" 18 at university (12-13). The following year, the annual report of the Provincial Advisory Committee documents that Indian Affairs in co-operation with Public School Boards was delivering adult education courses in literacy, basic skills, homemaking, navigation, first aid, farm mechanics, carving, and cedar bark weaving. The 1967 annual report commented that education continues as a grave need of the Indian people of the Province. There is a need for programs that will prepare young native pupils to cope with the problems which the Canadian culture of today presents and, at the same time, value the traditions of their ancestors (British Columbia 1967:6). In 1968, the federal Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development was listed as a donor to the Canadian Association for Adult Education for the first time. In 1969, the Saskatchewan division acknowledged as one of its most critical 99 needs in adult education "to include educational programs for deprived populations such as Indian, Metis, urban and rural poverty groups." (C.A.A.E. 1969:A.27) The Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development continued as a donor. Two years after the Hawthorn report, disregarding its recommendations (Weaver 1981:6), the federal government produced a white paper which "proposed a global termination of all special treatment of Indians, including the Indian Act" (4). It was partly in response to this document and partly as a continuation of the struggles to control education that the National Indian Brotherhood presented the document Indian Control of Indian Education to the Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Their refined restatement of concerns expressed in earlier documents indicated, that despite the movement from residential school to provincial schools, there had been little fundamental change in the experiences of First Nations students. First Nations peoples reiterated their pleas for control over staffing, programming and facilities in order to give their children an equitable education. They continued to call for education "to reinforce Indian identity and to provide the training necessary for making a good living in modern society" (National Indian Brotherhood 1973:3). The 1969 report17 of the Provincial Advisory Committee mentions the significance of the federal government's new White Paper on Indian Affairs, the establishment of the First Citizen's Fund, a provincial funding source for First nations people, and an increasing shift to local school districts so that eighty percent of the classes were administered through local school districts with input from local Indian people in many cases. By 1970, this had climbed to ninety percent. When schools continued to fail First Nations children, adult education played an increasingly important role. As the next chapter demonstrates, in the Native Education Centre, achievement of the goals, of the NIB, became a central concern. For First Nations people in the cities, away from home reserves and/or non-status, 1 0 0 finding an educational institution to meet the two goals for which the WIB were calling was particularly difficult. Some band members felt commitment to an opportunity for First Nations education in the city; others felt that funds should be limited to band community use. This conflict continues to be an issue and led to moves to diversify funding discussed later in the thesis. Notes S^ee also Cassidy and Bish who point out that responses to the White Paper of 1969, which preceded the Indian Control document, was merely another indication of long standing moves toward self-government evident since "contact with Europeans" (1989:11). 2The use of the words First Nations serves to indicate the distinct and separate histories, territories, and languages of the aggregates of aboriginal people which existed in what is now called North America, and the primacy of those nations. It is interesting to note the 1875 use of nation in "Report of the Government of British Columbia on the Subject of Indian Reserves" where it is stated "that each Nation (and not tribe) of Indians of the same language be dealt with separately . . . "(British Columbia 1875:9). This reference demonstrates that government officials were aware of the existence of some things called "Nations" with which First Nations people could be identified. 3The document was presented to the government in 1972. The version with which I am working gives 1973 as the date of publication. 4Foucault describes an event as "not a decision, a treaty, a reign, or a battle, but the reversal of a relationship of forces, the usurpation of power, the appropriation of a vocabulary turned against those who had once used it, a feeble domination that poisons itself as it grows lax . . ." (1971/1977:154). The presentation of this document to the government, written in a vocabulary appropriate to government, is clearly an event. 5The documents examined in detail in this chapter are The Report of the Royal Commission or Indian Affairs for the Province of British Columbia, documents from 1923 and 1927 related to the Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia and the Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Appointed to examine the Indian Act. 6I have added emphasis on quotations where this plea is particularly evident. 7For example, Peter Kelly stated clearly in a meeting between the federal government and the Allied Tribes of British Columbia, "We have not been conquered," to which Hon. Mr. McLennan responded, "Well, call it peaceful penetration in British Columbia, fortunately" (Canada 1927:156). Andrew Paull also raised this issue in 1927 report of the meetings described above, he stated,"... one paragraph of that report which states that the refusal of that committee to allow our claims was due to the fact the committee said the Indians in British Columbia had been conquered by the British. Now, that is historically incorrect" (Canada 1947b:885). 8While I feel affinity with the genealogies of Michel Foucault, this chapter is only a beginning. Foucault claims that genealogy "requires patience and a knowledge of details and it depends on a vast accumulation of source material." (1971/1977:140) This chapter focuses primarily on three sets of source material. In all likelihood, there are other materials which could add to the analysis presented and 1 0 1 which would lead to a much more extensive work than the present thesis can accommodate. On the other hand, Foucault talks of genealogy recording events "outside of any monotonous finality;... it must be sensitive to their recurrence, not in order to trace the gradual curve of their evolution, but to isolate the different scenes where they engaged in different roles" (140). This chapter presents events, not in any final way, but as a collection of different scenes related to the process of taking control. 9See Fisher 1977:146-174; Titley 1986:201-204; Haig-Brown 1988a:25-28. 1 0While the commissioners focus on differences between day and boarding schools in their questions, some of the First Nations people refer to industrial schools. For example, in the Lytton Agency transcript, one commissioner, who has been told that St. George's School is an industrial school, later again asks the witness, Head Chief Paul Klawasket if the school is day or boarding. Although both Titley (1986:76) and Redford (1979-80:41) indicate that the Department of Indian Affairs differentiated between boarding and industrial schools, the commissioners, for the most part, appear unaware of the distinctions. In all likelihood, this use contributed to the continued blurring of the terms. In British Columbia, the schools under discussion during the Royal Commission hearings do not adhere to the criteria which Titley outlines as characteristic of the two around the turn of the century. ^Throughout this chapter, I have maintained the names of bands and the spelling of those names as they are in the documents. 1 2Throughout this paper, references to transcripts of The Royal Commission on Indian Affairs for the Province of British Columbia are given by agency and page number. The two abbreviations which are used are N W for New Westminster and WL for Williams Lake. For all others, the agency name is written in full. The transcripts used are those in the library of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. 1 3 I have taken some liberties with the editing of the quotations, primarily around punctuation. I have tried to be extremely cautious in this editing not to change meaning but merely to smooth the reading. For example, in the transcript I have available through the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs, this response was transcribed as a single sentence: "We send them but very few and when vacation comes we haven't got enough money to bring them home and send them back again and that is why we want a school here." It seems unlikely to me that this sentence was spoken without pauses of any kind. 1 4 F o r example, in the Lytton Agency transcripts, Chief Johnnie of the Shawlook Band comments,"... it seems that there is only one school at St. Mary's Mission and there is always sickness at that school. And we are afraid to send our children to that school." (293) Chief Jimmie Joseph of the Ohamie Band echoes these comments. (302) John Harry of the Swoohalie band in the New Westminster Agency said of Coqualeetza, "My oldest girl has been to school and she got sick at school, and that is why I don't send the others" (213). ^References to the Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons appointed to Examine and Consider the Indian Act, Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence, will be given by year and page number. I used one volume from each year for the purposes of this genealogy. These volumes are the ones in which major presentations for British Columbia were made. 1(>This section differs from most of the rest of the thesis in that it does not focus on the concerns and words of First Nations people or those non-native people directly involved in the daily delivery of educationational programs. It is a fruitful area for further ethnographic work, particularly interviews with those people silent in this section. It is included to provide some chronological coherence to the thesis. 102 17The 1969 education section repeats the first paragraph of the 1966 report. The first paragraph of the section on education in the 1968 report is repeated in the 1971 and 1972 documents. One wonders how serious the Director was about his involvement with education during those years. 103 CHAPTER 4 — BECOMING: A HISTORY OF THE NATIVE EDUCATION CENTRE . . . as soon as there is a power relation, there is a possibility of resistance. We can never be ensnared by power: we can always modify its grip in determinate conditions and according to a precise strategy. Michel Foucault (1977/88:123) This chapter introduces a specific site with its localized knowledge, "a place of power at its extremities" (1976/1980:96). Tracing power and control within this context, the chapter begins with another "fragmentary" history, that of the Native Education Centre (N.E.C.) the focus of this study. It places current relations of control in the centre historically and reveals some of the practices in which people engaged as power relations developed in and around the centre. It relies predominantly on interviews with two long-term administrators, documents such as annual reports and articles related to the centre and, to a lesser degree, on interviews with former staff and board. First Nations women and men, with a few key non-Native supporters and workers, organized and worked together to create an education centre different from existing institutions, one which would reflect First Nations control of education. Students returning to school as adults are seeking change. While their previous educational experiences have been ineffective or of limited duration,1 they now see a value in education. For First Nations students, interrupted education is very common. In 1968 when the centre began, and still today, this lack of success indicates the need for a change in the nature of education available to those seeking to improve their lives through participation in education. First Nations people, with some non-Native people, have worked to control education in order to develop institutions more responsive to their needs. In this sense the work of making this centre was and continues to be a challenge to existing power relations between First Nations people and the majority society. At the same time, the need for funding and recognition by institutions outside the N.E.C. is a submission to existing power in which education serves a normalizing function. As the last chapter indicates, just as First Nations people have worked for control, non-Native people have attempted to define education for First Nations students since the first schools began in the province. Within the centre itself, power relations are revealed in on-going interactions over the definitions and delivery of appropriate education. From its inception, First Nations people have worked for control within the Native Education Centre in order to offer Native adults an alternative educational experience to that available in existing institutions. The people working to establish and later keep the centre wanted to address control in two ways, in terms of culture and credentials. They focused on both the delivery of acceptable mainstream education and, concurrently, the enhancement and development of First Nations cultural understandings. Mainstream education refers to education which employers and institutions of higher education recognize as equivalent to comparable public education or, in the case of skills programs such as microcomputer training, to private or provincially recognized institutions. This recognition would ensure that students could leave with a credential in hand which would serve them beyond the centre. Culturally, the centre's board and staff seek to provide opportunities for the students to investigate their heritage, their current social context and to grow in their knowledge and understandings of the significance of being First Nations people in contemporary society. The contradiction of these two goals is an important part of the unfolding of the centre. Mainstream education for the most part has paid little attention to First Nations people's lives and histories. But students want the tools of mainstream education in order to improve their lives. At the same time, the centre staff seeks to offer an education which does not do violence to students' lived experiences by 105 denying their place in the world and making them invisible as they co-exist within the dominant society. Specifically, First Nations cultures and histories are included in the curricula offered in the centre. OUT OF CONFLICT The original centre developed out of a specific conflict. In 1968, First Nations people, many of whom were women, struggled directly with the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development (DIAND) over funding. A meeting of the powerful Native women's organization, Indian Homemakers Association of B.C., "a society which takes in a much broader range of interests than baby care and domestic skills" was held in Sardis. The organization is the oldest non-profit provincial Native organization in B.C. The Indian Advisory Committee's 1968 report documents what it calls "a drastic change" in the Homemakers' role to a more "sophisticated" participation in Indian Community affairs. (British Columbia, 1968:10) As an independent voice for Native women and families throughout B.C., the organization has long demonstrated its ability to respond independently and quickly on a variety of matters.2 In a newspaper article of June 17,1968, an important meeting of the Homemakers was detailed. Disgruntled with cutbacks to their clubs, "since they had become more of a pressure group," the final straw was the withdrawal of funding for delegates to attend the annual meeting. The group met anyway, changed their constitution and registered under the Society's Act. Striking "out for independence from the Department of Indian Affairs," the women focused on why "they aren't treated like other citizens." Acknowledging that "the men don't really understand what we're trying to do," the chair commented that they would go ahead just the same (French 1968:n.p.). An association newsletter at the time stated clearly that one of their desires was to begin to influence personnel changes within the Department of Indian Affairs, a step in the process of taking control. Specifically their concern centred on Ray Collins,3 an adult education specialist who had been working around the province. We were dissatisfied with the proposals by the Branch [of DIAND] in the cut-back of the adult education program which we had waited for for years . . . . We found out that the Adult Education specialist Mr. R. Collins who had been with us for three years and who had assisted us in getting started with many of our programs in sewing, cooking, community programs, handicrafts and upgrading courses would no longer be available to work with us in the continuation and extension of those needed areas of education . . . . We decided that many of our employees of the Branch over the years that worked with us were removed without our knowing. It is time we think that we should be considered when there are changes being made in personnel and programs which we believe are helping our people. (My emphasis.) . . . After carefully considering alternative actions, it was decided . . . to stage a march to the Regional Office [of DIAND] to meet with the Minister and the Commissioner. This was done (Indian Homemakers 1968). The Province of Tuesday, June 18, 1968 reported: About 70 Indians marched with protest placards to the old post office Monday to complain about the education, welfare and job opportunities to B.C. Indian Commissioner J. V. Boys . . . . But he refused the Indians request to bring in Ray Collins 55, "adult basic education teacher" whom the delegation says has been taken out of the field and put in to an office . . . . The Indians like Collins and want him back in the field they said. Carrying signs which included "Reactivate Ray Collins," "We Demand Justice Now," and the perennial "What about the B.C. Land Question?", the marchers represented several Native groups as well as the primary organizers, the Homemakers. The Sun in its article about the march included comments from Mrs. Evelyn Paul, of the Indian Advisory Board, that "members of the Indian Homemakers Club feel that department officials dislike Collins because he helps Indians too much." Ray Collins had been hired by the Department as an Adult Education Specialist to work with First Nations throughout the province. After completing a short training course in Ottawa in 1965, Collins began working "in the field" around British Columbia with several bands organizing adult education programs either at their instigation or, at his suggestion, with their consent. Native people responded positively to his work and the numbers of programs offered were growing. After about three years, he found his position terminated. In a letter addressed to the Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development, Collins requested reconsideration: The recent "managerial decision" of the Region to terminate my position this July is difficult to understand. Especially is this so, since last year I was told that even with enlargement of the staff, there would be more than enough work here . . . It seems that it is regressive and uneconomical for the elimination of a position that requires an extensive training, a depth of understanding that only comes with wide experience, travel and study, and at a considerable expense visiting the Indian communities throughout this Region (Collins 1968:1). Rumours circulated that Collins's job description had been changed in order to accommodate the hiring of a friend of the person in charge. A 1975 article in Indian Voice, the Homemakers' newspaper, added, "One of the complaints lodged against him was that he fraternized with Indian people instead of maintaining a professional manner." Despite the protest and Collins's request, the Department of Indian Affairs did not give the Native people what they were asking for. They continued with their plan of working with the Province and its school districts to decentralize adult 108 education. Their plans had not taken into account urban First nations people. As a compromise, they offered Collins an alternative position in adult education, that of manager-teacher with duties to establish an Indian adult education centre in Vancouver. Whether this centre had been planned before the protest or whether it was a design to pacify the people without disturbing the changes in policy and personnel which had already been implemented is worthy of further investigation. The development is, however, a clear reflection of the productive and repressive aspects of power relations and of the contradiction within the development of the centre. While they did not get what they were asking for, the department's compromise yielded important results for urban First Nations people. The N.E.C. continues to make important contributions to their education. S T R U C T U R E A N D P H I L O S O P H Y The Indian Education Centre was born in September 19684 in downtown Vancouver with Collins as principal. It was established across from the Greyhound bus depot in a former drafting room of Vancouver Vocational Institute the institute which had served vocational education for provincial First Nations students during the earlier years. The centre had two main goals: to help First Nations people prepare for employment or for enrollment in further education courses and to ease the transition to the city for those coming from the interior, northern parts of the province, and from jail. As the "very unique centre" opened, a news clipping of the time reported: [The] principal has a very person-oriented, student-oriented school for Indian adults wishing to improve their educational standing. Classes of about 15 each permit individual and small group learning situations in a friendly and cooperative setting . . . . There is continuous enrollment and graduation . . . . Close interaction is maintained with the Indian community. Visitors are welcome.5 (Collins n.d.) Although it was frequently threatened by funding cuts, the centre operated for the next ten years under Collins's guidance in much the same way. Always faced with the contradiction of providing education acceptable to the majority society to people who had been oppressed by the system which the education represented, he worked to establish a balance between the opposing demands. Starting from a position of respect for the adults with whom he was working, Collins provided instruction in reading, writing and mathematics with an emphasis on every day living and on preparation for further vocational or academic training. "Indian History and Handicrafts; Some Geography and Science, Typing and Drawing-Drafting; etc." were also advertised as part of the curriculum. A community focus was most important from the inception of the centre. The extent to which relatives and friends were encouraged to participate in the centre was almost unheard of in adult education offered in school districts and vocational schools. Clearly, the small size of the classes facilitated these activities, but even with growth, they have remained an integral part of the centre. Collins commented: They [the students] got so they would bring their families in and their children and their grandfathers and their mothers and their friends in and we would have Christmas parties. We would have really good Christmas parties and birthday parties and Halloween parties. And they'd go out bowling and they'd got to the park and we'd go to various Indian conventions and we'd get the Indian chiefs in and the leaders of the different organizations would come down and talk to us and visit with us. So it was basically a help, a friendship centre with education and help and assistance and backing. They had a home there. They'd go out and come back. And they knew that they weren't to sit in the back of the room. That it was . . . their place when they were there. In January of 1969, four months after the centre started, the city required a move as the site was considered unsafe. In 1971, the centre moved again, from the two 110 converted offices at 525 West Pender to larger premises in a government building on Howe Street. Informality continued to be essential. As one article commented, "The students are men and women whose formal education ended 20 years ago. They can come here with their hopes and ambitions and not be put down by a conventional classroom atmosphere so remindful of early failures" (Norcross 1971:46). The coffee pot, stereo tape deck, television, pictures and articles on current Native issues on the walls, ping pong and pool tables and "irregular seating arrangement" provided a welcoming site for adult students. Collins's former work with business and other schools gave him a sensitivity to power relations: I've been in various job situations where I was the boss of men. I had been in big plants and labs, also in a number of the schools and I had this feeling that there was this threat all the time. The students were threatened; the men were threatened. I began to think that this isn't the right way especially in the schools to have it, so we, I decided, we decided we'd drop all of it. They were my friends in there and I was their friend . . . . So this was a fundamental attitude that wasn't too common. It still isn't common . . . . When I found out that someone was trying to interfere with that, well then I'd have to tell them I wasn't going to stand for that. And I would tell the superintendent, if you get some of those ideas, just don't show up here. And if you do show up, you're going to find you're very uncomfortable. So they got the idea that they weren't going to give their bureaucratic harshness down in the school. This clearly articulated commitment to work against the repressive tendencies of power produced a number of notable developments. Peer tutoring and counselling were encouraged. A particularly poignant example with overtones of family interaction illustrates the two-way benefits of peer tutoring. Dora Cook, a band councillor on numerous committees at home, is upgrading her formal education from Grade 6 level. She comes to a difficulty in her math. She turns to a much younger student for help, rather than to Collins. It's not that she lacks confidence. The young boy, as she very well understands, does (Norcross 1971:46). (Original emphasis) Some students found the atmosphere unusual at first and took a while to get used to it. Collins reported that one student commented, "It can't be a school because there are no threats here." But, he said, when they got used to it, they liked it very much. Collins developed some curriculum materials with an emphasis on Native content and combined these with the use and adaptation of standard adult education materials such as Mott, Saskatchewan Newstart, Cambridge Adult Basic Programs, Laubach, Follet, Stech-Vaughan, Britannica, Reader's Digest and SRA. In describing the program to the Canadian Guidance and Counselling Association National Conference, Collins commented: We are continually trying new and better ways to get involvement and participation, relating our skill development programs to real situations, and using problem-solving approaches, discussions, and group co-operative work as much as we can . . . . Monthly academic achievement tests indicate progress and proficiency levels for graduation . . . (1974:37). In recognition of the need to be accountable to the Indian Affairs Branch and also because one of the goals of the centre was to teach mainstream skills, testing was an important part of the school. Assessment tests including non-verbal ones, used in conjunction with other types of "information gathering," provided a reasonably good estimate of work needed for students beginning their studies. Personality and aptitude tests were less successful, but served their purpose. They [personality tests] were useful in that when the students were going to take them at some other place, they wouldn't be scared of them because they'd already gone through them. Actually, the tests weren't very reliable. These were the tests that were being used in industry and business and we'd use them and look at them. We'd try them out . . . . We also had aptitude tests that we used and we questioned. These comments on testing reflect the contradictory demands which the centre was facing. While the tests were not useful in themselves either for the purposes 112 intended or as supplements to the curriculum, they served as important preparation for students looking to further employment and education which in all likelihood would include such measures. The measures were however always used cautiously. Collins commented, "If the tests didn't do what I thought they should, I knew they were no damn good." In his work in the centre, Collins focused on the importance of the teacher's counselling role to students' success in the program. Only through trust, confidence and friendship can the counsellor-teacher-social worker or manager develop a productive interpersonal and intragroup relationship . . . .Our attempts to develop openness, trust and respect begin with the initial meetings and frequently these are a follow-up. The new students, group members, are often friends or relatives of former students (1974:36). In an interview in 1989, Collins indicated that he had made efforts to create a school based in an alternative philosophy to that of many schools and businesses. Significantly, when I returned a draft of this chapter to him, he greeted me with Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed in his hand. He commented that although reading and writing were the base for the program, more important was that the students went on and went out proud having accomplished what they set out to do. They free themselves, from the myths. They come in believing the papers, believing the premier, and they need to be "demythed." The lies can't keep on going. We can't ignore the Government of Canada, the CPR, multinational corporations. The lies are there; the semi-genocide is there and has to be shown. The centre has to have power and freedom to do this. The funding to do that. For too long, these people have been covering up their own evils. Freire, he feels, substantiates these ideas on education and has played a major role in his work. "Social democracy in the classroom" was one of his goals. Qualities of teachers which he sees important are not the usual stuff of teacher education courses or hiring interviews. 113 You know, you can learn something, but if people are going to get the most from it, you have to have trust. People have to love each other very much and trust each other . . . . Doesn't matter what they are really, what race or religion or anything else . . . . Their reading and writing and arithmetic are really secondary. It gets them something to start from and to go from there, but the basic one is establishing a friendly relationship, a trusting, friendly, hopeful, encouraging relationship. S T U D E N T S Beginning in 1968, there were 12 to 14 students enrolled in the school at any one time although the maximum did creep up to 20 on several occasions. Between 1968 and 1978 the years of Collins's tenure, 876 students had enrolled in the school. Generally they were aged between 18 and 35 with one or two 16 or 17 year olds, "special cases," and a few in the 45-55 age bracket. The average age was 23. There were about equal proportions of male and female students. While most students set their goal at grade 10 or 12 depending on their career aspirations, they entered the centre with a variety of backgrounds from only basic reading skills to a more advanced "dubious grade 8." Flexibility was an important value. One early typewritten brochure announced that students should enrol on September 4,5,6 "or when you are ready;" that age levels of Indian men and women were 18-45, "more or less;" and that the length of the course was 4 months "more or less." Continuous intake contrasted with the regimented admission dates of many other adult education institutions. It was an important consideration for a program designed to attract First Nations seasonal workers, such as fishermen, net menders, cannery workers and fruit pickers, as well as people going on parole. Flexibility in program length allowed for a wide range of educational backgrounds. The same brochure shows the curriculum reflecting efforts to juxtapose conventional adult education with some focus on First Nations issues. It refers to the program offered as Adult Basic Education with instruction in Arithmetic, Writing and Reading for Grades 1-8 and coaching for grades 9 to 12. It also mentions the teaching of Indian History and Handicrafts; an Indian library and films; visits by Indian leaders and band members and resource persons; and visits to the Indian Friendship Centre and Indian meetings. Many of the students came from communities outside the urban area where population was growing without matching job opportunities. Single people in particular were moving to the cities. At the same time, almost half of the students came as referrals from counsellors, teachers and social workers in a variety of social problem areas. School "pushouts," seasonal workers and women with grown children were returning to school. In a conference paper prepared by Collins (1974:36), a list of profiles of the students included the following. Noreen has raised the children and . . . she wants a restart from her former grade 5 level... to go to college for a social worker certificate to do social work in Indian communities. Evan is a young married man with two children who started in mill work at 15 after getting his grade 5, but is now on welfare and wants upgrading to become a bookkeeper. Cora is a chief's daughter, band councillor and an Indian artist who wants an educational restart for personal development or upgrading leading to university. Jan was brought in by his social worker as he was in trouble with the law from a home without a mother and an ailing father. [He is] a school drop-out in Grade 7 and at 17, without experience, unable to find work. People came primarily to upgrade for further vocational training or academic work, many looking for a job that would put an end to their dependence on dangerous or boring labour or the vagaries of the social welfare system. Excerpts from a variety of writing assignments which students produced in the mid-seventies demonstrate their efforts to make change in their lives. While clearly seeking personal change, in so doing they are challenging existing power relations as well. 115 "There is a better future in completing your school than there is in logging. Especially if you have a wife and kids." "That's what I want, a job I enjoy. The jobs I don't enjoy are being a waitress or a bus girl. I want a career and that's what I'm trying to do, I'll stay in school and training until I get what I want." "I came back last year and finished grade 10. I figured that's as far as I would go, but I did fairly good. Matter of fact, it wasn't any problem. So here I am continuing." For some, the idea of helping others, working for tribal change, and developing confidence were paramount. One woman commented, "I will better myself. I want to help my people and to talk for myself and my tribe. I won't be afraid to stand up and face for what we want." As is too often the case with educational institutions, follow-up studies were not conducted. Making no reference to gender, an article about the centre in its early years comments: An extensive survey of students' careers after leaving the Centre has not yet been made; however, a number of students have graduated from the course and are completing secondary and post-secondary educational programs or have gone on to their chosen careers (MacLean 1971?:131). Students spent an average of two or three months in the centre before transferring to other education, training or job placements. In one report, success rate measured by graduation or going on to employment is documented between 74% and 90% for five years selected between 1969 and 1975. In the same report to the department in 1975, Collins listed the following examples of success: Two Indian students who started with us have completed high school and college and are now social workers with the Indian communities. Three others are professional carvers with their own businesses. One manages the best Indian craft store in Vancouver and another is the secretary in an Indian education office. One who was a part time student is now an ordained minister in an Indian community and another is a business manager of an Indian cooperative business (n.p.). Although one might guess which students were male and which female, these details are not included. Frequently articles and reports about the centre include comments that former students drop by the centre, maintain contact with it and most importantly refer their friends and family members to it. These are seen as signs of its success as a community based institution. D E P A R T M E N T OF I N D I A N A N D N O R T H E R N AFFAIRS (DIAND, DIA, I N A C ) 6 Most students responded positively to the centre, the teacher, and the program, but funding and on going support from the DIAND continued to be a point of controversy. Every few years there were moves to cut funding and close the centre. First Nations people, supported by a few non-Native organizations and individuals, rallied to stop the government's efforts to trim budgets. One wonders if comments from students such as the one on page 114 who plans to speak for her tribe were not also part of the reason that the centre was so often threatened. Particularly in B.C. where aboriginal rights and land title have never been properly addressed by either federal or provincial governments, educated First Nations people may appear a threat to the politicians who ultimately direct the public servants in DIAND. Collins certainly believed this to be the case when he stated, DIA didn't want to educate the Indian people, it wanted to keep them ignorant. It wanted to help them just to the minimum to keep them quiet. If there was the odd soft-hearted guy, get him out. They [DIA officials] wanted to keep their jobs. The officials had created a role for themselves and First Nations success would render their positions obsolete. At one point, DIA cut back living allowances for students. The provincial department of Human Resources took over. Students were directed to their bands which in turn sent them to Human Resources. This was a major step for the centre in their efforts to control. Collins points out that Jan Foulkes was instrumental in simplifying funding procedures for students and, through Canada Manpower, diversifying the centre's funding. Further diversification became a central issue as the years went by. In an earlier interview, Collins commented on the regular assaults to the centre: It was their [First Nations peoples'] school. They knew it was their school because every once in awhile, Indian Affairs would say, "Well, we're going to save money . . . . We're going to close the school." And then the Indian men and women [would respond], "We heard this. We think this is not a very good idea." Well, the Indian Affairs officials didn't want them sitting around the table, about 15 or 20 Indian men and women talking to them. So they changed their mind. Well, they might in another two years get a new official in and he'd forget about this . . . . Indian people would get together and say, "Well, we don't want this school closed." And they'd make a petition . . . [The superintendent] would get these petitions and statements up there. And it would get in the Indian Voice newspaper and he said well, he didn't like this. So he'd get his boy down there to come and tell me that he had any more of this, he'd put the padlock on. In 1973, a letter from Nasaika Lodge Society, a hostel for Native women, responded to a concern about closure of the centre pointing out its unique role as an alternative to other educational institutions. We have found it [the centre] to be the most effective means of helping Indians gain the learning skills and self-confidence needed to continue their education at. . . other large education centres. We have helped our clients enrol in a variety of schools . . . . Time and again we have seen that our clients cannot function in a big setting, particularly one in which Indians are in a minority . . . . After some months with Mr. Collins, they are much better able to adapt to one of the other education centers. This letter implies that students face racism in the other education centres. It is more directly stated in a composition written by a student: "I then came here and found out how different it was from a public school and how there was no discrimination." The centre was one of the few places in the city where First Nations people were in a majority. This fact is not discussed directly in many of the early written materials about the school perhaps because at that time people generally spoke less directly about racism in Canadian society. The assumptions that Canada was not a racist society or that racism would go away if it were ignored prevailed. Collins confirmed that there was an underlying assumption that one must be positive in public presentations about the centre. At the same time, he pointed out, racism was a topic of discussion amongst the students. Another threat to the centre's funding and its survival came in 1975. Collins reacted to the possibility of closure by soliciting support from a variety of community groups and individuals, both Native and non-Native. Response was immediate and clear and the regional director received many letters of protest. They demonstrate the levels of approval which had built up for the school in its eight years of operation and are representative of the moves to maintain the centre's funding despite continued efforts by DIA to cut back on funds, presumably to balance a budget somewhere. The Vancouver Indian Friendship Society's executive director in her letter included a copy to the Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister of Indian Affairs as part of her tactics. In this case, she submitted to using, or one might say appropriated, what had been tools of the dominant society in an effort to make change for First Nations students. Letters to Parliamentary Secretaries are not part of traditional First Nations culture. She commented that the news of the potential closure . . . distresses me greatly as the school for adult Indians has provided a great service to Indian people who otherwise would not have attempted to upgrade themselves . . . . Our people need it, let them continue to have this kind of school (Cantryn 1975). Pointing to the shortcomings of existing education for First Nations students, "fifty per cent of Indian students do not go beyond grade six level and sixty-one per cent do not reach grade eight," the Chief Administrative Officer of the Native Courtworkers and Counselling Association of B.C. added: If one is at all sensitive to the responsibility towards each individual that he (sic) be given the opportunity for education, it can be seen that this is in some measure being fulfilled by the . . . centre. It is aimed at aiding those who were formerly lost in an antiquated system (Campbell 1975:2). The Allied Indian Metis Society, another organization working for social change, operated and continues to operate a halfway house for men on parole. It has used the centre to raise the parolees' education levels to enable them to find employment. The executive director, clearly focusing on the importance of First Nations participation in control, commented, "As the education centre originated from the requests of Indian men and women, I again urge that serious consideration be given to keep this school in operation" (Anderson 1975). An editorial in The Indian Voice expounded on the prospect of closure and then articulated the level of frustration First Nations people were feeling with the threat to such an effective and needed operation. We feel that closing the . . . Centre would be a big mistake. Economically speaking, in the long run, the centre is very feasible because it is taking people who lack education and making them into the people who can produce and who are financially secure . . . . If the Department of Indian Affairs is going to close down this school, they will be hurting the people they should be helping. Who gives a damn about economics anyway, especially when it comes to helping people (1975:4)? The irony of the final comment emphasizes the frustration the writer was feeling. Funding for the Department of Indian Affairs project might appear extravagant in the short term. He was arguing to consider long term benefits. The B.C. Association of Non-Status Indians, the Native Information Centre Society, Bell-Irving Insurance Agencies, Vancouver and District Public Housing Tenants Association, Pavilion Indian Band, and Squamish Indian Band were only a few of those protesting the 120 closure. Letters from current and former students, a college counsellor and former probation officer, and a four page petition filled with names added to the pressure. The strategy worked. Following this retreat by the federal government and the continuation of funding, the centre operated for two years without threat until 1977 when Collins reached retirement age and DIAND saw another opportunity to move on closure. At that time, the centre was operating with the advice of an Indian Advisory Committee. First Nations people, many of whom had participated in this group, decided with this incursion to change tactics. Having heard that DIAND was planning to cut back on funding to the centre with Collins's retirement, First Nations people met in October 1976 to begin planning to ensure its continuance. A person who was a board member at the time reported that a group of about twenty people working for various Native organizations in the city got together and started meeting with DIAND. They asked questions like "What do you think you are doing cutting funding to this successful centre? Let us come up with some answers [for its continuance]." The people drew up and submitted a proposal to DIAND in June 1977. By December of the centre's tenth year of operation, no response was forthcoming. An anonymous comment in a document (Collins 1977) about the centre, entitled "Education of the Urban and Migrating Indian People" circulated to a conference held in December 1977, again underscores the frustration people were feeling with the lack of cooperation from the department. The Indian people need this centre very badly and we should not have to request and request and request. Indian Affairs, in this region at least and in education in particular needs changes and quickly for they should help and not put us down and put us off. The Minister Faulkner, who is known for his understanding and responsiveness, should be aware of our frustration and disgust and anger. After months of persistent organized resistance to the cuts, assurance finally came from DIAND that their share of the funding would be available over the next few years. A woman who had worked with B.C. Association of Non-Status Indians said, "The fight was long and hard, but it was fun too. It took a lot of energy, a lot of conviction and a lot of determination." Indian Homemakers had again been active in seeking the department's backing. A letter dated Dec. 14,1977 called for full and necessary supports without delay and also requested the delay of retirement for Collins. The latter was not approved. The Indian Education Committee for the centre decided to apply for recognition as a society in order to be in a better position to apply for grants from a variety of funding sources and thus to become less dependent on the department. In an open letter to The Indian Voice, a member of the Committee and of the Indian Homemakers Association of B.C. commented on the importance of this move in terms of First Nations control: "The Tndianess' that is needed for language, heritage, culture, identity, and the strengthening of self-respect can be developed only or mostly through an Indian controlled education centre." (Hamilton 1977?) Her comment is indicative of the growing articulation of the importance of First Nations people being in positions of control and some of the issues which are important to many advocates of such control. In March of 1979, a non-profit society was incorporated with the purpose of community input into the operation of the centre. A board composed of First Nations people elected by the First Nations members of the society at an Annual General Meeting took over the administration and management of the centre. With Collins's retirement came the end of the first phase of the centre. While his way of being had enabled a strong degree of First Nations participation in the centre, with his retirement, First Nations people made official their continually increasing presence through the establishment of the society. Collins, with strength and 122 persistence, had worked with many First Nations activists to lay the foundations for this process of moving to control. His respect for other human beings and his increasing ability to diminish his role while actively supporting the participation of First Nations people was fundamental to this move. In an interview in 1989, he acknowledged the importance of working with people for change and made clear his role was not one of leader but of advocate and partner.7 I was with it, but they did it. And I couldn't have done it myself anyway. They were ready, willing and prepared. One was in the takeover from Indian Affairs for the continuance of the school . . . It was after the end of the afternoon and these two men sat down with me and said what can we do to be sure that they don't close the school down after you retire? . . . And they said we'll set up a meeting . . . . We'll invite the leaders, interested Indian people to it and we will proceed to set up a . . . Native Indian Education Committee or Society . . . to take over the management and operation of the centre. And they did this and there were about fifty people there . . . and they went ahead with this and from there made the necessary arrangements with Indian Affairs for the continuance of the school. And they managed the finances they got from Indian Affairs and they proceeded to get additional finances. A current board member has been involved with the centre since it opened on Howe Street when she was referring students to the centre from her position as executive director of the Indian Centre. She also "was helping Ray Collins with his demonstrations for funding against the Indian Affairs Department." Her sense of Collins involvement with the school is that He was always consulting with the Native community on different issues and he certainly didn't consider it as his school. He always considered it as belonging to the Native people and has always taken a lot of pride in having worked with the Native community, the same with the development of that school and the operation of the school. For non-Native people working with First Nations people, this distinction is most significant. Too often, non-Native people with their own agendas have claimed to work collaboratively with people while continuing to dominate and colonize. Perhaps people, such as Collins, are able to work with people to facilitate change within existing structures. On the other hand, one may ponder the school was Collins's school despite his efforts to ensure otherwise. While his efforts set him apart from other less benevolent managers, the involvement of First Nations people was, in some senses, at his behest. His vision, one of a sensitive non-Native person, but a non-Native person nevertheless, figured prominently in the practices of the centre. Beneath the layers of talk, there is an implication that the centre belongs to the Native community because Collins says that it does. At the same time, this brief history of the centre demonstrates that First Nations people, particularly the Indian Homemakers were very involved in lobbying the government initially, in maintaining the centre when it was threatened, and in ensuring that Collins stayed working with them in some capacity after his termination as field worker. The practices which reveal the power relations between the Department of Indian Affairs and the people, the Department and Ray Collins, and the people and Ray Collins demonstrate the complex and contradictory nature of these relations. The establishment of the society and its board which officially took over direction of the centre is a only an example of the continuing shifts in the power relations. GROWTH AND TRANSITION From July 1978 to September 1981, growth continued at the centre under the guidance of two short-term administrators hired after Collin's retirement and explicitly directed by the new board. Provincial programs such as Basic Education Skills Training, Basic Training and Skills Development, and Basic Job Readiness Training were added through cooperative arrangements with Canada Manpower and Vancouver Community College. The society, in an acknowledgement of the centre's dual role of upgrading and counselling, also negotiated funding for a transitional counsellor to work with students on personal problems and vocational planning. A fulltime secretary bookkeeper joined the staff. With its official registration in 1979, the society established seven goals for the centre. Echoing the original purposes of the centre, they remain virtually unchanged today and are: 1. To help meet the educational needs of the people of Native Indian origin who have made or are making a transition to urban living; 2. To provide central and suitable facilities where educational meetings may be held; 3. To encourage fuller participation of people of Native ancestry in educational and community affairs; 4. To assist in and to undertake if necessary any educational program or activity designed to promote the welfare of Native people in the community; 5. To aim for the creation of better understanding within Indian groups and between Indian and non-Indian groups and citizens for the general benefits of Native education; 6. To plan and develop with agencies of the governments, churches, businesses and benevolent organizations, the increase and improvement of educational, occupational and other beneficial services and facilities for Native people in the community; and 7. To manage and operate an Indian Education Centre.8 A First Nations woman who has worked for the centre, was a board member at the time the society was incorporated, and was introduced to the Centre through her work with Native people on "skid row" said: The concept, from my perspective was that, [for] the street people,... or Native Indians,... special needs,... is that it's okay for you to go to school. It's okay for you to get the smarts . . . . If you have severe social barriers, it's easy to say, get a job; it's easy to say do this and that. But if you've got social handicaps, either perceived within yourself or put 125 there by society or a combination of both. [Pause] So the reason we went from there is that I felt these people needed a chance. They needed something more than just education; they needed something to feel good about themselves . . . . Most of them have no idea of their roots or culture. Otherwise they wouldn't have a problem in the first place. To give them a sense of direction or a feeling of self-worth or self-esteem, basically that's how I perceive the Centre to be and that's what I see it doing and accomplishing. This comment exemplifies a perceived shift in power relations. The board member felt responsibility and was in a position to make some decisions for the people who were coming to the centre as students. In her job, she could choose to recommend the centre to students or not. As a board member, she felt direct involvement with ensuring that the centre continued to address "something more than just education": self-worth and self-esteem. Following the establishment of the society, annual general meetings were held. In September of 1980, at the end of the society's first year, achievements listed in the minutes included expanded space with a boardroom, private offices for staff, expanded classroom space and a new telephone system. A new set of tests administered at admission time, Test of Adult Basic Education (T.A.B.E.), was introduced as a way of directing students to appropriate programs. It remained in use until 1989 in the centre when it was replaced by the Canadian Adult Assessment Test (C.A.A.T.). It too is used diagnostically, not as an acceptance or rejection mechanism. In addition to running the centre, the society also organized a major conference in Vancouver in October 1979. The Board and members of the society decided that they could create a better understanding of Native education through this conference. Over 200 delegates from a variety of private and public organizations came together to discuss urban Native education in the context of the ever-increasing Native presence in Vancouver. Activities of this kind demonstrate an important development of the Centre's mandate. It was no longer just to prepare 126 students for employment and education in the city, but also to prepare the people of Vancouver to recognize the students as integral parts of the human make-up of the city. This organized work against the oppression of First Nations people intended to promote an understanding of First Nations people as members of distinct and thriving communities continues to be an important practice of the centre. In 1981, the person who was to be the next long-term teacher-manager and to play a major role in the success of the centre was hired. Samuel, a draft dodger of Menominee origins, left Chicago to come to Newfoundland. He found his way from there to Edmonton for teacher education at the University of Alberta. In 1972, he began his first formal work with First Nations people: the demanding job of teaching a Department of Indian Affairs special education program to Blackfoot children in Gleichen, Alberta. I read Paulo Freire in 1972 and I had to try to figure out how to make it happen . . . . But if you do that stuff and you're serious about it, it's a lot of work. You can't take the fucking curriculum off the shelf and say, see I make a good Freirian. You got to start at the beginning . . . I really worked hard in Gleichen and then died for a year. Went to work with special ed kids in Calgary and then resurrected myself at this high school [in Cochrane]. I really put in a lot of time, learned a lot about teaching about that time. Beginning at the beginning and working with the students to develop a curriculum which related to them was a hint of what was to come for the Native Education Centre. In 1977, he focused his seemingly endless energy in Calgary, volunteering to work organizing the Plains Indian Cultural Survival School with First Nations people of the area. They were concerned about their teenagers who were not happy in the regular school system. They lobbied the board to set up this alternative, And went to the school board meeting in Calgary about the Plains Indian School.... I spoke. A guy named Harley Crowchild spoke from the Sarcee Reserve; a woman named Marcella Lightening who was the head of the Friendship Centre . . . . We brought about 190 people to the meeting. Elders and young people and parents, kids and they voted nine to zero in favour of the proposal. Was that ever a surprise!...So then we opened in '79. I worked there for two years and that was a hundred times harder than working here. Age level is very important. Establishing something of a pattern for himself, he left there exhausted from trying to accomplish for the students all that was humanly possible and more. He also found working under the direction of a school district very confining. It all worked except for one thing. There cannot be an outside government agency [so directly] involved in anything that I do in the future. 'Cause it won't work for me . . . [I]t's worked and it continues to work in Calgary with a lot of hassles . . . that I don't get along well with in terms of those hassles. Like school board interference and shit. And . . . wanting to know why John A. MacDonald's picture isn't in the school. I don't need to be a part of a thing that I even have to answer a question like that, let alone have the fucking ignorance of a person to ask it. That was the end of that. You have to have some dignity when you come to the bargaining table about what you're doing. And when you deal with people like that, you don't have any dignity left. He went next to Vancouver, to teach at an alternative school run by the Squamish Indian Band. When it closed, he applied for and was accepted at the Native Ed Centre as adult education coordinator, teaching and managing the centre. The centre began a process of change, growth and development. A student recounts her first contact with him. I know that Samuel was the one who started this whole thing. I remember a long time ago when he wanted to start here, a Native school, everyone thought he was crazy. Who is this weird guy? . . . Some people were really listening, but a lot of people were just, who is this guy ranting and raving about Native education and such. NATIVE ADULT BASIC EDUCATION By this time, two years had elapsed and another major funding crisis arose. This time, it was not the Department of Indian Affairs, but Canada Manpower and Immigration which challenged the centre. The moves to diversify funding had not eliminated threats to programs. Three weeks before school was to open for the 1981 school year, a BTSD program funded by Canada Manpower and sponsored by Vancouver Community College (VCC) was suddenly withdrawn. The result could have been devastating to students and the centre, but the new teacher-manager transformed this trouble into an opportunity to make a major curriculum change. In a significant step in the process of taking control, he established the program which became the hallmark of the centre, the Native Adult Basic Education program, replacing the culturally inappropriate VAST materials with new ones based on First Nations content. The centre's staff all worked diligently to overcome this funding setback. Through extensive consultation with supportive people, primarily Judy Minchinton and Patsy George of the Ministry of Human Resources and Adrian Blunt, program co-ordinator for Continuing Education at VCC, Samuel and the other staff established a new and very different program. While it formalized some of the initial projects of the centre's program, such as First Nations history and crafts, more importantly, it expanded on them to make stronger and more concentrated Native content throughout the curriculum. While the program continued to address reading, writing, and mathematics skills consistent with other adult education programs, the new materials were based solidly in content with relevance to First Nations students. The reform of curriculum and teaching methods for the Native Adult Basic Education program has served as the foundation and guide for programming fundamentally different from that available at community colleges and other adult education institutions. While the academic component was to remain central, occupying sixty percent of the student's time, increased emphasis on Native process and content reshaped the program. Units on personal development including cross-cultural considerations, the individual in society, land claims, self-government, and community development continue to serve as organizing foci for the teaching of reading, writing, social studies and science. The cultural program which included instruction in art, leatherwork, drum making, hide tanning, and beading was to occupy twenty percent of the students' time. It was to serve partly as a change from the demands of the academic work, but also as a practical study of aspects of some First Nations cultures. The annual report written by Samuel comments that: Cultural in the context of this component means skills related to the material culture and it was conceived that students learning and practising these skills would develop a greater sense of personal awareness of being Indian and feel some pride in producing art and/or crafts that were Indian in nature. The cultural component has changed somewhat over time, but remains controversial. One concern is which of the diverse cultures of British Columbia should be represented. Some critics, focusing on leather work, bead work and hide tanning, suggest that it is inappropriate to teach "prairie Indian" culture on the Northwest coast.9 Of course, at this urban education centre, there are representatives of First Nations from throughout the province and even the country. The unifying value of students participating with other First Nations people in an activity based in First Nations cultures should not be dismissed lightly. PAN-INDIANISM: AN ISSUE? Of interest to this discussion is another discussion that has developed in other contexts. Some people have expressed concern that those who have lost contact with their cultures of origin, in restructuring their First Nations identities, will identify with a so-called pan-Indianism to the detriment of their separate cultures. In a recent article, R. Carlos Nakai comments We need to realize that we don't think homogeneously either . . . . The philosophy from a band or a family is from individuals thinking together, comparing notes with each other. The onslaught now, with the New Age idea of Indians, is that all Native people are supposed to think one way about one thing or another . . . . We don't work that way, we are not products of an externalized system of theosophy. Our theology deals with ourselves and our relationship to ourselves and the world. Our philosophy is the same thing: our relationship to our mental space and our physical space. That's important (1989:38). The idea that a relationship to a particular physical space or part of the land determines who people are is integral to all First Nations cultures. Nakai goes on to question pow-wows as a confusion to those who would know their traditions. It started up in 1932. We took all the society dances and turned it into one big thing and called it pow-wow. Their original intent was to get the tourists off the train and into Pawnee Oklahoma to buy the stuff that we made by hand . . . . Well, a lot of those songs have words. The words talk about how we are. But they've been changed so that now the focus is somewhere else. What we're doing is allowing the American people to let us confuse ourselves. While pow wows are not an emphasis of the centre, many urban students participate in them as one of the ways that they can establish contact with other First Nations people. They are aspects of some cultures which may become significant for people moving to or raised in the cities. They take place from Musqueam and Squamish territories in Vancouver to Micmac territory in Cape Breton. Helen Carr takes a different perspective from Nakai's on pan-Indianism. In a recent article, she examines the appearance of "hero twins" in narratives of a number of First Nations cultures. She argues: When the National Indian Council was founded in 1961, one of its aims was to "recognize the inherent strength of the American Indian heritage" (Steiner 1968:295) . . . . Since then, emphasis on Pan-Indianism and on a common heritage has grown among Native American political groups . . . . Liberal whites have of course decried the earlier colonialist attitude that saw all Native Americans as one amorphous and brutish other. To emphasize the difference between Sioux and Iroquois, Zuni and Pima, has rightly seemed of fundamental importance to any growth of understanding between Euroamericans and Native Americans. However, this segmented view of the different groups of Indians has helped to perpetuate a sense that their culture consists of limited, simple units, and has obscured the existence of traditions and forms of knowledge shared in much the same way as, for example, cultural traditions in Europe and Western Asia. What is needed is not the occasional sentimental generalization about Indians as ecologists or mystics, but a serious consideration of their cosmologies, philosophies and arts in a way that acknowledges the long history of complex interrelations and borrowings (1986:1). She emphasizes the value of the development of an understanding of the commonalities which First Nations share. For people who may have little idea of how to get in touch with members of their cultures of origin, particularly their "home" communities, the opportunity to explore one culture's skills and traditions often provides a moving experience in which a recognition of unity in diversity becomes paramount. Many students attending now speak highly of these opportunities and their importance in coming to an understanding of being of First Nations descent. A contradiction between being a centre for First Nations people which is then a centre for no particular nation arises and, in many cases, may be transformed. Ray Collins, responding to these ideas in a draft of this chapter, focused on Ernie Phillips, a Shuswap dancer who incorporates dances from other First Nations cultures into his repertoire, and others who have danced at the Native Education Centre. Collins points out that when Phillips danced, "It brought people together; it went over really well." His current vision of curriculum captures his understanding of the relationship between self, nation of origin and the collectivity of First Nations. It consists of three or four concentric circles in which one "starts out with self and moves out to all the greatness." He sees self as central, moving out to a number of separate and different tribal groups forming one of the circles. "When through, the students have vision of themselves as part of the great people covering the continent." Also in 1981, the new transition counsellor developed a third component of the program, "life skills," which was designed for fifteen percent of the students' time. The students themselves were to develop the remaining five percent, called the "leisure" part of the program. The NABE program complete with the original time allotments continues as a most successful and unique upgrading program. It is a program which often proves successful for students who have found other adult education programs and institutions hostile and alien. Its emphasis on First Nations content continues to serve as a model for the creation of other programs in the centre as well as for other First Nations institutions seeking to develop similar programs. Initially, the board was very involved in the daily activities of the centre. One former board member commented: We worked hand in glove with the administrator. We tried to set up policies and programs . . . . To make it grow and work we developed life skills, incorporated life skills, and eventually what you see now, the cultural and life skills. Later in the centre's development, the need to separate board and staff became an issue with increasing size, it was no longer feasible or desireable to work so closely. Results at the end of the first year of NABE were exhilarating as 19 out of 23 students passed their General Education Development test, a mainstream measure of high school equivalency recognized for entrance to colleges and universities. Annual reports since that time pronounce: "The 1981/82 school year proved that Indian education, which encompasses Indian materials in all aspects of the program, can be a successful endeavour." In this case, the success encompasses both First Nations concerns as expressed by those people associated with the centre and those of evaluators in other institutions. Further consultation with the community college involved and with the post-secondary department of the Ministry of 1 3 3 Education led to the creation of a manual for a Native Adult Basic Education (NA.B.E.) program piloted in the centre in 1982-83. COMMUNITY BASED EDUCATION Samuel, the teacher-manager, saw and continues to see the NABE program as central to the offerings available to students. He holds strong views about the relationship between a community base and success with adult students in basic education. His actions have yielded a continuation and clear augmentation of Collins's original efforts. When I first came on, that's when we were dealing with ABE at a literacy level or ABE at an intermediate and advanced level . . . . The students at the beginning . . . not many had come to grips with the cultural and personal problems and why they were here. So we spent a lot of time developing a community base. That was my first objective when I first came here that we had a community base . . . . So we started. The first thing we did was have a Christmas party, potluck dinners, newsletter. Then we put on our festival for the first time. We did it all with 23, 24 students and two staff. In a 1988 interview, he expressed his ardent commitment to community-based education: . . . a community-based school is a school that serves the community. It's not that the community serves the school. It's got to be the other way around. We have, Diane [a current counsellor and colleague] and I, have this concept that there is a school without four walls. It's something that happens less here than it used to . . . . That's part of my oppressiveness with the staff here, that people feel that this is a college and it isn't. It's a community-based education centre. Big difference . . . That's the philosophy, part of the philosophy of me and the centre from the days that we started. That's not always the philosophy of the teaching staff and, of course, that's not always the philosophy of the students now because the students are here for an agenda that's maybe different.... We hire staff with the idea that we want people to become involved in activities and they do. But it's not like part of it. It's like extra-curricular rather than part of the role. He defines community as "anybody in this community." Translated into action, for him it means "we"—presumably staff at the centre—are consistent "in terms of information going into the community about what we are doing and making sure that the community is welcome here . . . . Our basic objective is that we never try to turn anybody away." He feels that an organization is built by being inclusionary, not exclusionary. The centre, staff and students must be constantly aware of the need to serve the community—those who come to the centre. He wants people to see the centre as a "caring and warm environment." Samuel remembers a group of "Black kids who came from Georgia" writing back to the centre that their visit there was a highlight of their trip. And ultimately, "that's not going to have any payoff for the Native Ed Centre, but you're going to have wonderful payoff for Indian people." His concern with community includes those within the centre. A current student recalled a particular incident with Samuel in the "warm and caring environment." Having the impression that "he is a pretty strict guy most of the time," when this student was struggling with his program and was called to Samuel's office, he thought that "this was it," that he would be asked to leave. Instead, Samuel offered to help him and he decided against quitting his program. Pointing out that he "knows the name of every student in there," another woman commented that Samuel is not just there because he's got the title of administrator. He's there because he is genuinely concerned about every single student getting their education and bettering their lives . . . He's a spiritual man. He believes in spiritual ways. He supports the spiritual aspect of Indian living and he also supports no drugs and alcohol which is really important to Native communities as of now . . . he teaches respect for the elders too. 135 She also noted that he "knows when every student has been missing two or three days . . . . He'll read the counsellor's reports . . . . And like if you have been sick, he'll come to you and say, 'Oh, you had the flu eh?1" In his first year, Samuel organized the First People's Cultural Festival. His level of involvement included being there at six in the morning to light the salmon barbecue fires and after midnight when the last guest left. The annual report indicates that 600 people attended. As well as serving as a fund raiser, the festival provided opportunity to create an awareness of First Nations presence within the city. Widely publicized, it allowed other First Nations people to come together with the students and staff of the centre in recognition of an urban Native community. Non-Native people from around the city attended and saw a different view of First Nations than the one to which they were usually exposed. That year, students participated in a field trip to Arizona. Funding was expanded to include the support of the community college, Ministry of Human Resources, Vancouver Foundation, Secretary of State, First Citizens' Fund, Ministry of Education, Royal Bank, Canada Council, Gulf Oil Canada, Bronfman Foundation, Canada Trust, and Canada Manpower and Immigration. The move continued to find more diverse sources of funding and a degree of certainty that no one funder could threaten the centre's viability. This annual report and subsequent ones end with comments which include specific goals for the future of the centre. Usually, by the following year, the expressed goal was achieved. This report indicated the need to work for certification of the new NABE program at the community college and to seek a new and larger facility. 136 C O N T I N U I N G G R O W T H By September 1982, Samuel, staff and board had worked to relocate the centre in a renovated glove factory somewhat removed from the downtown core but more accessible to the east end of the city where many students and prospective students were living. A new manual outlining the curriculum for the Native Adult Basic Education was ready. The Ministry of Education had agreed to fund the NABE program through the community college. Vancouver Community College, King Edward Campus, nominally supervised the program and successful students received college certificates as well as those of the Centre. The Department of Indian Affairs sponsored a lower level NABE for those students needing more time to prepare for high school equivalency. Canada Manpower and Immigration provided funding for additional support staff. The major growth of the centre which continued through 1989 had begun. Association with the community college placed the centre in a position of needing to articulate the unique aspects of its programs so that it be seen as more than a duplication of services already offered by the college. The refinement of curriculum directions and the formalized statement of these refinements served as important strategy in ensuring the continuance of the programs and the centre itself. Again a strategic submission to the majority society was an intermediate step in gaining more control over the curriculum and general operation of the centre. At the same time, with the board's guidance and the administrator's persistence, the centre gained more legitimacy in the eyes of funders, employers and other educational institutions through its association with the college and became more valuable to students seeking careers and further education outside the centre. Setting up a non-profit society, the centre demonstrated legitimacy beyond the informal involvement of First Nations people. After carefully documenting the statistical success rates of students in terms of the GED, diplomas from the college and the centre and their impressive attendance rates, Samuel comments in the annual report: The spin-offs of the NABE program were hard to gauge in statistical information. Many students found the Centre a warm and friendly environment that created strong ties to the centre and to the other students involved in the programs. A family spirit was developed and a feeling of strength and unity was created. This fostered various student organized events which furthered the Indian identity of the students and the community base of the centre . . . The Centre was more than a place to upgrade educational credentials and learn various Indian material cultural skills; it was a place that respected and valued Indian ways and Indian people. Many students found this a great motivator and incentive to work at reaching grade 12 equivalency. This statement indicates clearly the centrality of First Nations presence to the students as they addressed basic education in writing, reading and mathematics. It also focuses on the program's dual goals: to lead students to success in reaching grade 12 equivalency as well as furthering Indian identity and respect for Indian ways and people. The statement also hints at the power relations which exist within and around an institution which is encouraging minority people to succeed in terms of mainstream educational goals. It suggests contradictions which lie within teaching diverse peoples material cultural skills which may not be the skills of their traditions and, at the same time, valuing "Indian ways and Indian people" regardless of their personal and cultural histories. People are valued in this place because they are Indian! And they are valued by other people who know that to be Indian is not a romantic notion but a lived experience which in some salient way is different from that of the non-Indian.10 In 1982-83, the major community activities were the Second Annual First Peoples' Festival, field trips to spiritual camps in the U.S. and Canada and the first graduation ceremony. The ceremonial celebration of students' successes proved to be very moving and important. Many of the students had never before been successful at any school program. Celebrating that success with family, friends and community members intensified the moment as a life passage and a community celebration. Over the next few years, under Samuel's leadership, the centre became more stable and added programs slowly. An additional basic literacy program, a college preparation program, and a tutoring centre brought increasing numbers of staff and students. By 1985, the glove factory was growing too small and the society looked to a new facility. Samuel was instrumental in tapping the funds for the new building. In 1985-86, the centre moved into splendid new long house facility funded in large part by Canada Employment and Immigration with contributions from others including the city. Samuel sees this building and the style of the people in it as inextricably tied to the notion of community within the centre. His firm commitment has led to some conflict as he insists on the centre being a place for students. When I'm here, it's never going to be a place where staff dress apart from the students, act apart from the students. I mean I had a huge battle with staff at the time whether we should even have a staff room. They said it's easy for you to say, you have an office. So they convinced me that we should have a staff room. And now that we have one, I will never tell a student that they're not welcome in there. It's their building as much as it is my building. The only thing is I care a lot more maybe than the students do, than the staff do, because of all the work that's gone on to build it and to get it to the stage that it's at. So I get upset when I see people damaging the building whether it's intentional or not intentional. He went on to point out that no one has ever written on the walls or broken anything intentionally. Pride in the building is one focus of his interaction with the students. The society added three new skills training programs: Native Public Administration, Automated Office Training and Pre-automated Office Training. The graduating statistics of these programs were most impressive. "Pre-auto" had a 96% completion rate with 20 out of 23 moving on to Automated Office Training. "Automated," as it is commonly called, had a 92% completion rate with 19 out of 22 graduates finding work. Public Administration graduated 13 out of 20 students. Eight of them found work within ten weeks of the program's start. The annual report states: Given these major challenges, the Society responded to the new facility and programs with exemplary results. The new facility proved to be an educational and cultural plus beyond the Society's expectations and the Native and non-Native community responded with overwhelming support for the Society's endeavours. Clearly with a million dollar facility as a base, cutbacks in funding were less likely to occur. In addition, the energy and commitment demonstrated by Samuel, other staff and the board members who attained the funding and carried out the project was a clear demonstration to those who wanted to participate in this worthy cause that they were dealing with serious educators. These committed supporters expected the facility and its programs to live beyond a funding year and would ensure that was the case. By 1987-88, the year preceding this study, the centre boasted nine programs having added three in the previous year: Native Family Violence Counselling and Community Services, Native Hospitality and Tourism Management, and Native Criminal Justice and Law Enforcement Training. The daily student population had grown to 191 students making it one of the largest Native adult institutions in Western Canada. Seven off-campus programs in Native Adult Basic Education added another 106 students. Three hundred, sixty-one students were enrolled in the Centre's programs and there were well over 50 staff members. As the centre developed between 1968 and 1988, power relations shifted. These relations existed between teacher-manager and funders, supporters and funders, board and funders, board and teachers and, although it is not documented here, in all likelihood, between students and teachers in a complex series of intersections. Looking at the fragments of those interactions presented within this chapter, one may see the complexities. First Nations people have played major parts in securing and maintaining staff and funding for the centre. Their direct involvement has moved from volunteering support through confrontation with the Department of Indian Affairs in marches, letters and petitions to participation as board members of the non-profit society which sponsors the centre. Working closely with the first administrator whom they recognized as an unusual and special ally, First Nations women and men demanded increasing formalized participation in the way the centre should be structured and run. The role of administration shifted from Collins being the sole person formally involved to Samuel being responsible to the board and the staff at the centre. His energy and enthusiasm, his commitment to the community, and to First Nations curriculum contributed much to the creation of a unique place. In an interview, when asked what his role was, he responded: I guess over all, chief executive officer of the society. What that means is that I'm responsible for everything that goes on in the centre. That doesn't mean I have to do everything. I'm responsible for programs, staffing, funding, equipment, maintenance, everything. Everything that makes it what it is. As the ensuing chapters clearly show, power relations within the centre and between the centre and forces outside shifted as the people there continued their efforts to offer and to receive the best education possible. Notes 1 Hawthorn documents a "a 94 percent loss of school population between grades one and twelve. The national rate for non-Indian students is approximately 12 per cent" (1967:130). 2Some of these sentences are paraphrased from a letter written by Rose Charlie, the President of the Indian Homemakers' Association to Kahtou, Monday, December 25,1989. Vol. 7, No. 25, p. 9. 3Ray Collins passed away on November 18,1990, two days after my last phone call with him. A package of material with a note came in the mail on November 19. I am forever grateful to him for his major contribution to the shaping of this chapter including some very helpful suggestions on an initial draft. 4While the Annual Report for 1987-88 gives the date of the creation of the Centre as 1967, several news articles in a file lent to me by Ray Collins, the original administrator/teacher, indicate that the starting date for the centre was September 1968. (e.g.. an article from Indian Voice. October, 1972: n.p.; an undated press release, and a list of enrolment figures from 1968-1977). 5This article was part of the material lent me by Ray Collins and included no date or other reference. 6The federal department responsible for First Nations people has changed its name several times during the life of the centre. It is referred to as DIA, the Department of Indian Affairs; DIAND, the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development; and more recently as INAC, Indian and Northern Affairs Canada. 7In my interview conducted in February of 1989,1 challenged Collins with the question "How much of all this [referring to the activity in and around the centre's changes and protests] was you and how much was them [referring to First Nations people with whom he was working]? At the end of the interview when I gave him an opportunity to address any questions he felt needed more attention, he came back to this one again. ^These are taken from the Annual Report of the Society for 1988-89 (Green 1989). The only wording change from 1979-80 is in goal 2, which originally said "To provide central and suitable facilities where education, counselling and guidance services will be available and educational meetings may be held." 9The use of hides is common to cultures where the climate is drier than on the coast. Coastal people traditionally used other materials for clothing such as cedar bark and, in some areas, wool. Decorations on clothing are more commonly made with the shells of sea animals rather than beads. It is significant that members of many British Columbia nations in the interior of the province tan hides and do beadwork. 1 0Genovese (1972) writes of a "black nation" within the United States. He suggests that Afro-Americans hold special status as a "nation within a nation". He says: Some historians, black and white, interpret the Afro-American experience as a separate national experience; others, black and white, interpret it as a more or less ethnically distinct component of a single regional or national experience. The closer one looks at the quarrel, the clearer it becomes that no such formula can account for so rich and contradictory an experience (xv). First Nations peoples' many cultures and their distinct histories with the land which continue to have economic, political and emotional ramifications today accentuate these questions. C H A P T E R 5 — A S A F E P L A C E T O L E A R N It's a place to build patterns for yourself, to learn how to go to school, to learn how to study and to feel good about learning. It's a safe environment to learn. And that's what's so good about it (Theresa). Anthropological ethnographies often include maps (e.g. Evans-Pritchard 1940/1982; Bell 1983). Geographical location is considered significant to readers' understandings. They can then locate themselves relative to the people with whom the study has been conducted. In this first chapter on the Native Education Centre as it was at the time of the study in 1988-89,1 locate the centre geographically, i.e. in relation to other places we may have been. I also situate it in terms of what the people who know it have to say about its most important features, both physical and experiential. Locating the centre as it figures in people's experiences is an effort to re-present it in such a way that readers may use these described experiences as points of comparison with other situations, both personal and institutional. I have chosen to begin with some of my own description. Selections from the words of other study participants follow. Rather than organize what people said about the centre into categories I feel are appropriate, I have presented what people said in relation to the group to which they belong. In this way, I attempt to replicate more closely the way that my understanding of the significance of the centre to various people developed. It also emphasizes that the meanings of the centre as a place in this document have been created by the people who work there as they interacted with me. Power relations are affected by the physical locations in which they occur. Power moves between people in places. The contextualization of power locates it specifically and locally. While Foucault locates his studies of power within historical documents and the discontinuities he finds there, the major part of this study took place in a defined physical space permeated with the meanings which people give to it. They often cited the building as an indication of and a contribution to First Nations control. This chapter, as do those which follow, relates an aspect of the Native Ed Centre to a specific section of the document Indian Control of Education. The document came to serve as part of the frame for this dissertation. Its major sections coincide with the divisions into which people's comments and my observations fell as I began coding and organizing for re-presentation what people had told me and I had seen. INDIAN CONTROL OF INDIAN EDUCATION: "FACILITIES A N D S E R V I C E S " "Facilities and Services" is the fourth area dealt with in the document Indian Control of Indian Education and the one with which this study begins. Because the document pertains, for the most part, to First Nations people on reserves, the authors assume a land base in their discussion. As a result, their recommendations focus on the replacement of obsolete school buildings on reserves with modern well-equipped facilities, the construction of band schools on those reserves which are committed to such a move, and the establishment of group homes for students who must attend school off-reserve. The final portions of the section deal with the ratio of Native staff to students being 1:20 and the need for research on which to base planning and decisions. While the specific relevance of this section to the Native Education Centre (NEC) appears to be an historical one, closer examination suggests important connections. In the case of the NEC, the establishment of a land base was of particular significance. Historically, as alluded to in Chapter 3, First Nations people were pushed from their land onto reserves which were, however limiting, at least a place to call home, often with important historical significance. With the exception of members of the Nations who traditionally occupied the lands and continue to live on reserves in the area, many First Nations people moving into and living in the urban centres have no such place. For peoples who have clearly stated that the land is the culture (UBCIC 1976), a physical space to relate to remains important. This connection to place was especially consequential to First Nations women who married non-Natives. Under Section 12 (1) b of the Indian Act, they became non-status or, in the eyes of Canadian law, non-Native. If they subsequently left their husbands, they found themselves and their children, in many cases, alienated. They no longer had a legal right to live on reserve. First Nations women struggled hard and long to change this discriminatory legislation. Bill C-31, passed in June, 1985, ended it. One might be hard pressed to argue a direct connection between this legal battle and an appreciation of the centre as a safe place to belong. However the possibility exists that the centre could have a special significance to those women who have had their already limited access to their land withdrawn or threatened. A safe physical space would have special meaning to such people. Over the years as it developed a little history of its own, the NEC became a place where First Nations people, both men and women, could go and feel at home. Initially, the space was rented and temporary. As Chapter 4 indicates, the newly expanded centre stands on land purchased and controlled by a society composed of First Nations people. In a sense, the place then has become legally and, maybe more importantly, popularly recognized as land again owned by First Nations people. One must, of course, make this a cautious recognition in light of existing aboriginal title through out British Columbia. As the history of the centre shows, the creation of a community centre was of prime importance for the two long term administrators associated with it. Most communities develop around some defined physical place. Those who come from outside the lower mainland, particularly those from rural areas, may feel alienated in the city and seek some sense of belonging to a place. Those who have always lived on reserve may have a strong sense of place based in that land and be seeking a place with which they may feel some similar affinity. Those who have never lived on reserve may begin to feel a sense of place as they realize that First Nations people own, run and occupy this place and that it is shared with other First Nations people. While it is possible to achieve this sense with any physical location, the facts that the centre is housed in a building reminiscent of the plank houses of many coastal cultures, and that its surrounding botanical garden contains many plants used traditionally by First Nations people in the province, emphasize that this is a First Nations place, created by and existing for First Nations people. THE PHYSICAL SPACE The Native Education Centre is located in a light industrial area of Greater Vancouver, a rapidly growing area of one and a half million. It is on the east side of the city in a neighbourhood that was residential but has since been taken over by light industry such as warehouses, repair shops, small merchandise distributors, and car lots. Nearby, heavily trafficked Main Street, Kings way and Broadway intersect. The busy district houses an older shopping mall, a series of small restaurants, neighbourhood banks, a night club, and a shoe and boot repair shop among other odds and ends. The immediate context of the centre includes an Italian ice cream manufacturer, a medical equipment outlet, a car repair shop, a three story apartment building and a small parts distributor. During the day time, parking is always at a premium. Directly behind the centre, to the north, the parking lot overflows. The parallel slots are filled and other cars are parked crosswise behind them. Usually these drivers register at the front desk in case the others want to leave before they do. On all sides, street parking is occupied. I found a space that was usually empty about a block away. Once too often, I parked close to a curve which is actually designated a street corner and found my car towed when I left for the day. To the west, an unkempt older house remains as a reminder that this was once primarily residential area. During the study, its companion house met its demise. The society purchased it and built an extension to the centre demolishing the house and cutting away the bank that it had stood on. Efforts to purchase the second house met with failure. Hinting of an oasis in a desert of concrete, pavement and unattractive aging buildings, a botanical garden surrounds the south, east, and part of the north sides of the building. One is struck by the immediate sense of green, the clean and well raked gravel walks, the landscaped hillside. A few of the original plantings have died; some have been recently replanted with continuing hope (Notes March 2, 1989). The plants are all ones useful and important to First Nations peoples in B.C. Most have signs so that a person can take a self-guided tour. According to one brochure, there are forty-six plants including kinnikinnick, devil's club, salal, soapberry, alder, yew, yellow cedar and many others. While there, I saw some members of staff really involved with the plants, particularly during the hotter summer days when watering them was a priority. While the initial stages of the garden are a very pleasing surrounding for the building, eventually lush natural vegetation will enhance the already beautiful setting. The building itself stands in stark contrast to those around it. West coast cedar and windows stand warm, brown and wet in the winter drizzle. Modelled on the coastal cultures' long houses, huge beams and posts provide the main supports. One of the students, Theresa, commented, "That's a really sacred building because those logs were brought down from the Nishga people. They were carved up here at U.B.C. and they were carried down by the Musqueam people. And then they were blessed by the Nishgas." Cool days, smoke curls from the chimney. A massive totem pole carefully placed to face the rising sun stretches upward beyond the roof from its position of honour around the ceremonial door. Opened only occasionally for very special events, it was used once in the time that I was there for an open house community dinner. Carved by Nisga'a master carver, Norman Tait, the pole is identified by a nearby plaque. Wil Sayt Bakwhigat The place where the people gather This totem pole is dedicated to all Indian People who have gone on before, to those who currently struggle for our survival and to the generations yet unborn. Pole Raised-June 28, 1985 Master Carver-Norman Tait, Nishga Urban Native Indian Education Society, 1985 (1988-89 Year Book: Native Education Centre, n.p.) Students and staff enter each day down the gravelled path through heavy wooden plank doors. A ramp to a side door provides handicapped people access. In the new addition, a glass door for the tutoring centre shows white gyproc and wood interior with brightly coloured couches and chairs. Another door leads in off the parking lot on the back side of the building. Through the main doors, one enters the large central hall. The receptionist's desk with word processor and a variety of program brochures is on the left. A practical and pleasing pebble-studded concrete floor brings the gravelled walk indoors and continues the natural theme started outside with the garden. The large circular central firepit immediately draws one's attention. It is based in rock masonry, surrounded by glass doors. A copper hood suspended by chains guides the smoke to the chimney and out the peaked roof high above. Floor to ceiling banks of windows frame the north and south sides of the building. The interior echoes the 149 natural cedar planks of the exterior. Tiers of thick wooden slabs form conversation places in each corner of the room. One corner is reserved for smokers. A square of similar benches surrounds the fire pit. Lights are suspended from the ceiling by chains and are also surrounded with natural wood. Overhead skylights let the weather in. On the east wall, on either side of the closed ceremonial door, are pictures of elders contributed to the centre from a display at Expo 86. A display case houses a variety of leather goods, beading and other works which the students produce in their culture classes and which are for sale. I learned later that they alternately produce one item for the centre and one item for themselves. On the west end of the room, on school days, students sit at tables and chairs studying or visiting. On community celebration days such as the Christmas party or the open house, the room is filled to overflowing. Hallways branch off to the classrooms, and stairs lead to the library, staffroom, offices and more classrooms. On the second floor, the library and the administrator's office windows overlook the main hall. Behind the stairs is the kitchen where breakfast and lunch is available each day at a minimal cost to students. On the walls leading to the kitchen and classrooms are large bulletin boards filled with school and community announcements. On September 13, 1988, the former included a call for nominations for students' council, a poster announcing an Inter-campus Native Student Network dance, and a rally at noon to protest cutbacks to student funding to be held at Robson Square. Community announcements covered Vision 2000, an aboriginal language conference to be held in November; a pow-wow on September 30, October 1/2; an A.A. Round-up to be held the same weekend; the First Nations House of Learning; Tillicum Native Centre; Native Tutoring Centre; Gary's Moving and several others. In the classrooms, the dominant impression of wood persists. A squared log beam runs the length of the room over the windows and out into the adjoining 150 space. Another beam about two and a half feet wide runs across the room. The door has a large log support. Rough wood frames the windows. Three internal log beams cross the tongue and groove ceiling. Walls are gyproc, freshly painted pale beige. Adding to the natural light from the windows, four overhead high intensity lights buzz a little. Outside the windows, on a late summer day, water is spraying: sword ferns, huckleberry and a little maple tree are all visible. In this northern exposure classroom, behind the ferns, is the parking lot. An older small beige station wagon stares in around the ferns. Across the alley is a warehouse. The people there call the tow truck as soon as an unknown car is parked there. During one community event, I watched a long discussion between a visitor and the driver as they prepared to tow the vehicle. I forget who won. On this particular day it's very hot, still clearly summer (Field notes: September 2, 1988). Students, who will not be in class until the following week, will sit at beige formica-topped tables with brown chairs formed, in this case, in a square which ironically is the closest to a circle the furniture can come. The circle is an important First Nations symbol, often seen to be in opposition to the linear nature of cultures of European origins. On the walls, there are a few things of note. Twined branches encircling two white feathers and beads on leather thongs hang on one wall. On the door is a somewhat tattered poster with the slogan "Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children." The clock has a Native face painted on it. The teacher in this classroom has just begun work here and I assume will make his mark on the room with his students. I think of my first visit to this classroom at the staff meeting in June. Running the length of the room was the graph of a time line. I clearly remember two dates. The first was 1492 with the comment that a nameless, lost European arrived on Indian land. The other was 1763 and The Royal Proclamation. Despite the time I had worked with First Nations 151 people, I did not know what it was. My serious education on the history of land claims began. This proclamation by the British government required that aboriginal rights to land must be extinguished through treaty before settlement by the British. It was not applied in British Columbia and has become one of the foci of land claims negotiation in the province (Still 1990:B1). Other classrooms vary only in minor details, such as tables being arranged differently. The prime exceptions are the word processing course where students sit grouped at computers and the Family Violence program where the furniture is constantly moving and students are often away from the tables working in circles, directly with one another and the leader. Shortly after my research was concluded, the science lab complete with lab benches, sinks and gas was finished. The library occupies a central location. On the second floor above the classroom described, it has the benefit of skylights. The roof rises to a peak. On a rainy day, pattering on the roof reminds me of beach houses of my childhood or interior log houses where the rain sounds close, yet you are out of the dampness. A long central beam holds a variety of green ferns and small trees reaching up to the cedar ceiling. Water poured by overzealous caretakers has stained the beam. Over all, I feel a sense of west coast: the sight of wood and green, and the sound of rain all inside the library (Notes: June 1, 1988). The library itself is too small and there are not enough books. But the librarian has tried to make it an attractive and useful place. There is a reading table complete with daily papers and nearby periodical collection, a number of round tables and chairs for students' research, and a computer for student use. Often the tables are filled. The reading table is occupied whenever there is a break. The library is also used one day a week for admission tests and at that time is unavailable to students. Each class has an orientation tour as part of their first week of classes. I occasionally worked in there but often felt that I should leave to make room for 152 students (June 2,1988). While there are a number of other significant features of the centre such as the administrator's office, staff offices and work spaces and the staff room, the areas described are the main ones in which I found myself and the students find themselves. Much of this description came from notes made before classes were in session. At the beginning of the study, one staff member commented: On Wednesdays and Fridays [study skills days], there's no prep area. There's no place for us to work, so we staff sit in the lounge and, of course, students, they want to talk. There's sometimes children there and they want to have some attention as well. So it becomes really hard to work. Next year apparently they're getting offices which is nice. You can shut the door and get down to your work. When students are in session, even with the new addition which was completed in January 1989, the building seems too small. The classrooms are for the most part very full and there is rarely an empty room for meeting informally. Finding a place to interview people was often difficult. The staff offices are nearly all shared. Only the four administrators have separate offices. As I drove from the University of B.C. on the west side of town each day, I felt strongly aware of differences between the two places. In contrast to the cavernous concrete classroom complexes at U.B.C. and even the dark, low wooden office buildings, this building exudes a sense of warmth and community. It serves as a vortex, a gathering place for people swirling together to a centre each day, dispersing each evening: people coming together to work for some shared and some individual goals but always as a part of a clearly defined group within the building. The many panes of glass allowing in natural light and the sound of rain on the skylights let one know the weather and the season even as one works within. Almost all classrooms allow some glimpse of the world outside. In the ground floor rooms on the south side, the hilled landscaping and the limited rise of the building allow for a view of 153 green or gravel rather than the pavement and concrete which constantly threatens to overpower this bit of more natural architecture and planning. In summer, leaving the west side of the city, I grew increasingly conscious of leaving trees, gardens and lawns and moving into intensifying heat of unending pavement and concrete, tired commuters and hot shoppers on the streets, buses and traffic flowing in all directions. And then I arrived at the relieving green in the heart of the city. In the big entry room the doors stand open and a breeze passes through. Upstairs, the library and classrooms cannot be cooled by the fans constantly turning and blowing but in the basement complex, there is usually a cool spot. In talking with people who work at the centre, I became increasingly conscious of the importance of the building to them. Their comments emphasized the centre less as a physical space and more as a kind of community centre: a place to belong and a place to learn in safety, away from the onslaught of racism. THE STUDENTS COMMENT What has this all to do with control? Does it really matter what the building looks like or feels like? For at least one student, a change of building was fundamental to his decision to attend: It used to be in an old run down building. I found it strange to have an education centre there because it really looked dilapitated. It looked old and ugly. I went there. I wanted to get back into school and do something with my life . . . . At the time, I didn't feel that a Native place would give me the right amount or level of education that I needed to pass. I was not too optimistic about that place, the NEC, especially where it was situated at the time. Later, he reassessed: I went there out of curiosity, the new building, and I thought it looked beautiful. It really impressed me, the long house style, the totem pole outside, the ceremonies they had opening i t . . . . I started learning more about the centre. I started listening to the students and I got really interested. Many students, when asked what was Native about the Native Education Centre referred to the building. Nancy said: I had virtually no knowledge of tradition or any pride at all. No Indianness. And I really felt a really strong sense of that when I came here last year. I really enjoyed being in this building: it seemed so positive . . . . Just the air about the place and being close to so many Indian people. It's more a feeling than anything else . . . . There's some kind of an energy level from being around so many Indian people. I think they emit an energy about them or an aura. I guess there's a really strong aura about the place. And I've always felt that. Another, Theresa, also quoted above, brought in the frequently alluded to spiritual aspect of the place: It does have a lot of cultural values in it. And anybody who comes in that place should know that they are expected to respect our values in that place: spiritually and educationally, because it's Native operated. She went on to mention a specific value: Respect: respect is a lot of i t . . . . One of the things that the students are told is that if you have any bad feelings or if you have any violence or any anger you leave it outside of this building. Because this building is blessed. She had been told this during an orientation training before a community open house in which she was to serve as tour guide. Nancy, when asked what was Native about the Native Ed Centre, started with, "I guess being that it's in a long house." She continued: The teachers are Native, well, most of them. They're all Native students here. You learn Native curriculum. Even science, you learn about Native plants and Native contributions to medicine. One of the primary reasons many students had for coming there was that it was a safe place. Here First Nations students and staff spoke of a sense of family, a strong support system and being in one of the few places in the city where they would not experience racism. Students often came there because a relative had recommended the centre. Some contrasted it with other educational institutions they had attended. Nancy said: Why did I decide to do the college prep course? Because my cousin took it the year before and she said that it was really good and the cultural part was interesting and I was interested in that... . Plus there was more than that.. . . During the five months, I learned to appreciate the fact that I am an Indian person and that being an Indian person, I think I have a lot to offer. Before I started, I didn't have that strong feeling about myself. When asked about other places she had attended, she went on to say: Well, it was a long time ago and . . . so I'm a different person. But because it's all Native students it makes a difference. There was a lack of, there seems to be lack of competition. [In the other school], I think the mixture of people seemed to be a lot more competitive. There is something that we all share here. And that's being the same race. Ann relies on the support available: I think a lot of times when I don't feel like going back, I go back because of what I've heard in the school: that Native people always quit and there's not very many doctors and lawyers. When I talk to Paul and the other counsellors, they say, you are really capable of going and doing this if this is what you want to do. She also commented on other education places she had been. Ann: I didn't have enough gumption in myself to want to go and they didn't call you if you didn't go. Celia: And here they do? Ann: Oh yeah. It's hard to get to know a lot of the students there. Some of them are older. Here, the older ladies here, they look like my grandmas and my aunties. They're really friendly. There it's different. It's cold. At the end of the interview she added: It helps. It really helps this school. Getting back into having to do homework and committing yourself after you've run around and didn't go to school for five years. Like I said, the first time I was there, it took about two weeks and I'd sit on the stairs and look. There's so many Native people and it's so strange. Now I'm used to it; I don't even notice anymore, but I remember the first couple of days thinking, boy, everyone's an Indian here. Then I hear people laugh or talk and someone would remind me of a relative and it was really neat. Then I start wondering if I'm related to someone in there. Racism was mentioned frequently during the interviews as a reason that people had found their way to this place. Margaret recalled raising the issue of racism in a class at another college after students reacted negatively to her: I did very well the work that I did do. Everybody liked me when they saw me . . . . Then when they realized that I was very smart and I knew how to do the work and I was always getting A's on my work, they didn't like me very much after that. Because I was a smart Indian . . . Actually, even in this class I said there's some forms of prejudice, but I talked about how I deal with it. So it was question period. I sat down and no one said anything for awhile. It wasn't terribly heavy. I tried to make it not heavy, but still say what I wanted to say. So the teacher asked me, in the school, like, she said she doesn't see it. People said, "I don't think there's any prejudice in the school. I don't think there's any prejudice in this class." But I told them, "It's subtle. It's not like 'You stupid Indian'. It's not like that," I said. "It's very subtle." . . . They said it's funny they didn't see that. I said, "Of course you're not going to see it because you're White. You don't have to deal with it." She recalled her own negative feelings toward the centre when she first attended: I tried a long time ago to come back, but it was at the very first school.... This is going to sound terrible, but I couldn't stay because it didn't seem on par with the regular school system. But after her negative experiences at the other colleges, she returned, '"cause it was easy to get in and the Native cultural thing." Her feelings about the centre developed to: I think it's a great place to come if you have a problem in a White school or if you can't handle going to a White school with all the White people and the White teachers. It's a good place to come, like if you come off the reserve and move to the city 'cause you'll be with other Native people and you'll still be learning and they can help you 157 prepare to enter a non-Native school. It's sort of a break-in, transition, let's put it that way. Others said that they came to the centre because of the course work offered. For some the particular programs were important; for others, the cultural classes and the Native content stood out. It's nice; it's comfortable, very strict regarding your time, your punctuality . . . . You feel at home, at ease here. You don't have to worry about racism. But that's not the reason I came here. The reason I came here is because of the course content. If this course was offered somewhere else and I didn't know about this place, I would have went somewhere else (Jean). In response to the question, "What's Native about the place?" she added: Culture. They offer cultural activities, cultural courses, drummaking, different things like that, drumming and singing. We're not offered those in our course. But, she agreed, it was nice to have it happening around her. She also found the content of her courses added to the appeal of the centre because they included Native concerns and issues. Virginia said the people drew her: I had been out of touch with Natives for twelve or thirteen years. A n d I wanted to get back because I like that feeling of community the centre has. I really liked the atmosphere when I went in there. That's my main reason [for going there]. Theresa mentioned the potlatch which had been held by one of the classes and went on to say: Tuesdays and Thursdays, you always hear these students drumming and singing in the school. We have Native arts and crafts; students making drums there; they have students making Indian jewellery, students making silver jewellery as part of extra-curricular things. A n d something to build our self-esteem as well as get their education. She also focussed on support: . . . developing support systems. It's so hard to do that when you go to just a normal, like in going to Okanagan College and I went to Fraser Valley College and I felt lost. I felt lonely. I moved all the way to Abbotsford. I had no support system; there was no Indians around me. And I'm sure there was in my class, but it was, everybody had their own interests, and it was scary. It was like you live in a small community like Penticton on a small reserve and then you move totally away and then there's no support. And it's really scary because Indians tend to have extended families, they tend to take care of one another. And they all live in one household. It's typical to go on the reserve and find an Indian family, the cousins, and the aunts and the uncles are all living in one house sort of in their own rooms or whatever. Whatever, a four bedroom house or whatever, typical and that's because Indians are a really extended family type of unit. They are not the nuclear type family where you have the parent and the child and the mother and the father and that sort of thing. Indian families are very extended and extend out to the grandparents and the grandchildren. And so being in that type of environment, you don't know where you are and you don't know faces and everything's different. It's really hard on a young Indian person, trying to academically do good but also to socially do good as well and survive . . . . I find that I pick certain teachers, facilitators and students and I sort of keep in contact with them, like my extended family. It makes me want to be there all the time because of that support system. Richard recalled some similar feelings: Richard: It's more relaxed. The class sizes are small. It's small enough where I get to know my classmates and instructors as people. My idea of a teacher before was a person who was distant and you'd go home and that was i t . . . . Sort of like he wasn't an ordinary person: he was on a pedestal. . . New Caledonia in Prince George. I found it really tough. Celia: In what way? Richard: Well, not so much from the teachers, but more from my fellow students. I was the only Native in the class and I could really, I don't know if I was just feeling, but I felt like, I could feel their racism, their prejudice. It wasn't blatant or anything, but it was just sort of subtle. That made it really hard for me. He went on to describe a specific incident, particularly poignant because he had lived part of his youth hunting with his family. I thought they hated me . . . . I was signed up for an English course and we had to bring in a song and do a write up about a song . . . [I] did a really sympathetic song about Native people, how they saw their life style, their hunting and gathering lifestyle and how it didn't exploit nature, it sort of just existed with nature somehow. I selected the song and I tried to do a presentation on it, to explain my feelings why it sounded nice. It had to be an oral thing . . . and I could hear people snickering in the class. That made me really feel like [?] I think even now it bothers me. I don't write things. He has come to the centre to build up his confidence, he said. Sandra echoed some of his sentiments. At the centre, she said, Everybody's not fighting amongst one another. There's no prejudism (sic) in school and, you're not, I'm not treated as something lower or something higher. I feel equal. And everybody's equal at school. They are starting to get their education and they're starting to be just as good as anybody else. Maybe these aren't the right words, but.. . like it's a bigger family and it's a home that I don't have right now while staying in Vancouver. I mean I am staying in a nice place and all> but I'm surrounded by people that are non-Native. All around me there's non-Native society and being at school makes it a little more encouraging and supportive. Because I know if I didn't have anybody in Vancouver, I'd probably go astray and I'm very insecure. And some come for purely practical reasons. Rod said, "I was going to either King Ed or here. I figured I'd come here because it didn't cost me any money to write the test." THE BOARD COMMENTS The board emphasized that the place is a community centre for First Nations people in the city. Joyce, a former board member, described it as a place where people with brown faces can feel good about themselves. She felt its main strength was to offer students, "The cultural aspect. A sense of identity, a sense of worth, a 160 sense of being there." Lily, another board member, alluded to the annual think tank as a sign of commitment to community participation in the centre. . . . through the think tank which happens annually [actually biennially], the community is given the opportunity to voice what they would like to see happen in that centre. And because the community is voicing their own needs, it gives the administrator and the board of directors a guideline to work with and certainly gives them some really positive things to be thinking about.... It's the people themselves that input. The Think Tank, with members of the Native and non-Native community from key private and public sector organizations and agencies, was only one of the community focused events. The administrator's mandate to have the centre strongly visible in the larger community makes it a place whose influence extends beyond the walls of the school itself. An Open House in March attracted about 800 people. 450 people attended the 8th Annual Christmas dinner where every child receives a Christmas present. In May, the 8th Annual First People's Cultural Festival at the Capilano Longhouse in North Vancouver included a salmon barbecue, craft tables and entertainment. Graduation saw 212 graduates announced in an emotion-filled ceremony followed by dinner served by the staff to honour them and their parents. Academic robes made by one of the staff added to the ceremony. Many of the graduates had never succeeded in any educational venture before. The third annual Elders Day honoured 95 elders with a dinner of wild meat and salmon and entertainment by the students and the elders themselves. Each elder received a gift. The NABE 1 class made a quilt which was presented to honour the people there. The staff person whose class organized the first Elders' Day said: It was just incredible. We had elders from Musqueam and North Van and Coqualeetza and everywhere. Probably that was one of the most significant events of the year was for them to come and really say this is a good place and what you're doing is good. Keep doing it. It really provides a lot of motivation. It's really affirming for the staff, the administration, and everybody else who's working so hard down there. In May, the society in collaboration with the Mt. Currie Indian Band held an outdoor Native Science and Health Conference at the Mt. Currie reserve. People involved in Native science education around North America presented. The outdoor location allowed leaders to integrate the natural world into their workshops. Spiritual leaders from Mt. Currie conducted sweat lodge ceremonies and nature walks throughout the area. All of these efforts to involve the centre with the community and vice versa are integral to the centre's mandate. Ida, another board member, commented on what she sees as the Native community. It's the people working for and with Native people. That includes students as well, people who are working on different kinds of job development, political, education, with youth, the theatre groups, everybody who's working for a common goal. She feels "that there is a good representation of [Vancouver's] Native community on the board." She added, "I think, for the most part, it does have the support of the Native community." A very important aspect of owning a physical space with a permanent structure is related to funding. With building and land valued at close to two million dollars,1 funders are apt to look much more favourably on the possibility of the centre continuing. Its physical presence cannot be easily dismissed. The society no longer merely leases space. As one board member commented, "It is an attractive conduit for federal funding dollars." The land and building stand as clear evidence of the commitment of the people involved to the centre's continuation. Those who worked to build it and members of agencies which helped to fund the building feel attached to its achievements. Another of the place's outstanding aspects to which board members alluded is growth: rapid increase in building size and in the numbers of teachers, students and programs. Mavis commented, "It's been sometimes hard to get a grasp of that explosion of growth there and to keep in mind our mission and our direction that we're going." Glen, whose initial impressions were of "a very animated place" sees the growth as a "cost-benefit" mix. The benefits come with increased opportunity for students; the cost with the need "to be increasingly aware of the effort that has to be exerted to maintain the personal contact." He also sees the need to establish "a more clearly articulated personnel policy." Formerly, procedures around staffing were "done on a personal basis." The loss of a recent court battle with a former employee over a personnel matter emphasizes the need for a clear policy, he feels. THE STAFF COMMENTS Like the students, several of the First Nations staff compared the centre to other places where they had worked or attended school. Carol comments In primary school, I was definitely ostracized in some cases by kids 'cause I was the only non-White person in the school. There wasn't even Orientals. Nobody. I would be the only brown-skinned person there. I remember having a hard time getting into group activities and things like that because you were called a squaw. Later she found that if you didn't do well in school or you didn't communicate well with your teachers, you were, in my case anyways, I was told that I was having a problem because I was Indian. They sent me for assessment tests and they sent me to psychologists and all this. And, of course, I came out with the assessment tests coming out that there's nothing wrong with my brain or anything . . . . I remember very distinctly a home ec teacher telling me that she thought the reason I was having so much trouble in school was because I was an Indian and that I may have non-Native parents, but. . . Mary remembers "discovering" she was an "Indian" in grade four. I didn't realize that I was an Indian until I was in Grade 4 . . . . They didn't like me because of that. Because I was an Indian. I didn't realize that was a problem for three years . . . . They told me. Before they used to just throw things, throw dirt at me and laugh at me. Just never dawned on me . . . . I got a TV when I was seven and, watching cowboy and Indian shows, I was one of the cowboys . . . . I didn't realize there was this big difference between Indians and Europeans. I found out; I just got angry about it I backed away from education; I backed away from the teachers . . . . When I realized that I was an Indian, I noticed that they didn't like me for that too. So I just stopped doing my school work. Years later, after spending her high school years in occupational programs, she attended B.C.I.T. to upgrade. There were a few other First Nations students there at the time and they stayed together. "It wasn't hostile. It was just the way it was." The instructors were somewhat distant: "They just gave us what we had to do, copied off the board, and then left us alone . . . . They never said that we could communicate with each other. It was always going to the instructor alone . . . . At BCIT, the instructor wasn't always there." She decided to finish her upgrading at the Native Education Centre after she visited there one day. Here, it's a more relaxed area and I was more comfortable with the instructors and people with me . . . . Here, it's a buddy system where you help each other in the class. You need help in a certain area and you know who'll help you . . . . And the instructor is always there. Now as a staff member, she finds the centre a place to escape the daily racism she encounters in Vancouver. At the centre, You're your own person, where you could talk to an Indian and not really say much. It's just being with that person. A few words may be said, but important words and they both feel it. That's what this place does: it makes them feel comfortable. It's Indian-controlled. They don't feel offended if non-Indians come in to look at them. I used to laugh at that on my reserve. They used to have buses come into my reserve and they'd all look at us. I used to run a block just to get over there and wave at them. They'd never get off the bus. They 164 never talked to me. I felt so this is what a monkey feels like in the zoo. So I waved and stuff like that. It happened when I was real young. I got a kick out of it though. People are offended about things like that. You walk on a bus in Vancouver and they look at you and you're an Indian. They all look at you. So you walk right by their eyes. Right to the back of the bus. Don't look at them at all. You feel like you just, uuggh, did I spill coffee on me or something? But they [students in the centre] don't feel that any more. It's okay. It's really hard for some of our non-Indian friends to come in here because there's too many Indians in the building. I say, "That's okay. We gave up scalping." She also sees the centre as a community. When you're really happy and you have no one to share it with, it's not that happy. Here if something happens and it's really happy, we're all for it. If someone's gonna have a baby, everybody's happy. When the baby comes, we're all holding the baby. When somebody graduated, everybody's happy. Graduation dinner and dance, it's unreal how they cannot stop smiling for that. A clerical worker who was trained at the centre found "a lot of friendly people will be right there to talk to you." In other schools, they "just stick to the side and don't say nothing till you were there for a couple of weeks." Another staff member who was leaving pointed to the friendships he developed: "Not only with students but with the staff." Although she never experienced racism herself while in school, Christine, another of the clerical workers, sees the centre as very important to the students for their own self-esteem . . . . It builds up their self-confidence. Probably, because of stereotyping where everybody thought they were nobody, they probably believed themselves that they couldn't do anything . . . . It's just a little thing like their grade 12,1 mean it means so much, the world to them . . . . It's all Natives. That's a pretty big change. The students are more close knit than us say at high school or college. I see that. I see that all the time like you know, probably half of them are related (giggles).... I like the way the instructors are with them, first name basis. While non-Native staff tended to speak less about the place itself, some found themselves drawn to the beautiful building. One staff person said that it was the building and its layout which attracted her. Before coming to the centre, she knew only "one fellow in town who's Native." She now feels "very privileged to be here. I feel I've learned a lot personally because of relationships here and emphases on them." Another staff person who had just begun working in the centre commented that One of the things you'll probably hear non-Indians who work here say this. There can be a great warmth here. You can see sensitivity in people. You can also see extraordinary courage in people coming here . . . . When you find out what their life stories are, you just wonder how in the name of God are they ever able to swing it. I think every non-Indian teacher who gets involved with Indians should really be dealing with these words and should be really sensitive to what the Native community wants in terms of assimilation, in terms of integration . . . . Aside from that, the whole place, the building itself, it's kind of a miracle. C O N C L U S I O N To describe or re-present the Native Education Centre as a place is to move beyond its physical existence. While many of the people with whom I spoke see the building itself as a stunning creation, they see the centre as much more than that. Because of the people who gather there, it becomes a community centre, a place where power circulates amongst individuals and groups who recognize the power that the building encompasses. From those who see it as a very practical attraction for funders to those who speak of its spiritual dimension, the building serves as a centre for people with some common projects. As a community centre, it serves not only those who come there but its influence reaches into the community. Sometimes this influence disrupts relations between First Nations peoples such as when there are struggles over funding and the appropriateness of a federal department of Indian Affairs distributing dollars anywhere other than to a band. Sometimes the influence strengthens the relationships amongst First Nations 166 people such as at the community think tank or the cultural festival. If one is to look seriously at control, the place stands as a symbol and a material reality which must be considered. Note ^The Annual Report for 1988-89 indicates that with the new addition, the land and building are valued at $1,922,102. (See Green 1989). 167 C H A P T E R 6 — T H E PEOPLE A N D THEIR HISTORIES The people of the Native Education Centre, students, board members, and staff, are integral to the centre. Without them, it ceases to exist. This study of control builds on their stated understandings of how they see themselves, where they have come from, and what their relationships are to one another. These details provide another layer of contextualization in which to locate the meanings they give to "Indian control," re-presented and discussed in Chapter 9. Because the length of the thesis prohibits including a description of each study participant, I have selected a few students, board members, and staff to present in some detail. I have chosen some salient points from other life stories to demonstrate a few of the commonalties and divergences among study participants. I also present some views of relationships between the major groups at the centre as they relate to issues of control. (See Appendix C.) Foucault states clearly that intellectuals have been too concerned with the question "Who exercises power?" They should also concern themselves with "power at its extremities, in its ultimate destinations, with those points where it becomes capillary, that is, in its more regional and local forms and institutions" (1976/1980:96). He goes on to say power is something which circulates, that it is exercised through "a net-like organization," and that "individuals are the vehicles of power, not its points of application" (98). In studying relations of power, individuals, subjects constituted by power, become important aspects of the study. Foucault advocates an ascending analysis of power, starting, that is, from its infinitesimal mechanisms, which each have their own history, their own trajectory, their own techniques and tactics, and then see how these mechanisms of power have been—and continue to be—invested, colonized, utilized, involuted, transformed, displaced, extended etc. . . . (99). (Original emphasis.) 168 Keeping in mind the centrality of the productive aspects of the power relations which form knowledge and produce discourse, I focus here on the people as "vehicles of power." This chapter continues the study of power "in its extremities" and the control issues revealed there, focusing on the histories and roles of the people who work in and around the Native Education Centre. INDIAN CONTROL OF INDIAN EDUCATION: 'TEACHERS/' STUDENTS AND OTHERS "Teachers," the third major section of the document, Indian Control of Indian Education, focuses on First Nations and non-Native teachers and counsellors. It includes a shorter section dealing with First Nations para-professionals. The document points to a critical need for First Nations teachers and an equally pressing requirement for the training of culturally-sensitive non-Native teachers. The authors suggest that the ratio of staff to students should be one First Nations teacher to every twenty First Nations students. It follows then, in a place like the NEC where all the students are First Nations, that all the teachers should be as well. The authors also indicate there are not enough First Nations educators to fill all positions for teachers working with First Nations students. The document calls for additional training opportunities for First Nations teachers and counsellors to address the shortage. Indicating that the "role which teachers play in determining the success or failure of many young Indians is a force to be reckoned with," the document deplores the intolerable position that teachers and students find themselves in when the "teacher is simply not prepared to understand or cope with cultural differences" (National Indian Brotherhood, 1973:19). The document also discusses, less comprehensively, other groups of people: students, administrators, curriculum developers, and policy developers. I begin this consideration of the people in the Native Education Centre with the students. STUDENTS A N D THEIR HISTORIES The Annual Report for 1988-89 gives the following statistics about the students. Of the 415 total students, 358 were status or treaty;1 57 were non-status or Metis. Their average age was 22.5. This report acknowledges that no formal statistics were kept on the students (Green 1989:24). Earlier reports give a little more general information about the students. For example, in 1987-88 there were 186 males and 175 females for a total of 361 students. This was the only year on record in which the number of males exceeded the number of females, although the numbers never varied greatly. Their average age was 23.6. 314 students came from B.C.; 21 from Alberta and the remainder from Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario and the Yukon. 306 were status or treaty and 55, non-status or Metis. In 1985-86, the average age of the 129 males and 141 females was also 23.6. 214 students came from B.C.; 13 from Alberta and Manitoba, and 27 from Saskatchewan. One from Ontario and two from the Yukon completed the count. Although these kinds of statistics are available for the years back to at least 1981, shortly after the society was formed and annual general meetings began to be held, the two years presented here give a general idea of the student body make-up. Beyond the nameless demographics lie many fascinating accounts of how the students see themselves and what brought them to the centre. Congruent with the society's stated goals, they can be roughly grouped into those who come to the centre primarily to explore and refine their understandings of First Nations cultures and those who come for some confidence building along with their academic requirements for further study or employment. Students may also be roughly categorized as urban or rural, and those with direct ties to a reserve and those without. All who come are looking for changes in their lives which education may provide. They are taking control of their lives. Richard happened upon the centre one day as he was walking by with his two children. He had been in the city for a year at a drug and alcohol recovery program. His drug abuse had been related to marijuana. Grass has especially been a problem with me. It just took away any motivation I had . . . . Like I'd have all these big plans, but when it came down to carrying them out I just never got down . . . . It just lulled me into a sense of security that everything was okay. When he stopped in to look, he picked up a brochure from the front desk. He looked through it and decided college preparation was "what I was looking for." He says, "I didn't feel confident enough to take on a post-secondary institution so I thought if I started small I might be able to do a better job." His roots are rural and as a child, he primarily lived within a hunting, fishing, and gathering economy. In 1972, he got involved with the American Indian Movement while attending school in B.C.'s lower mainland. He remembers that time with some excitement and some disappointment. [A]t that time it was really neat, the power we seemed to have. Like we were free of all the conventions. We could hitchhike around, go to pow-wows and to demonstrations . . . . Didn't have to worry about money or possessions. People seemed to look after us or we looked after one another somehow. It was almost the way things used to be in the traditional days. I guess after awhile, the idea ran into reality and reality was that a lot of the Native people weren't ready and a lot of the people back on the reserves saw us as troublemakers and city boys, city Indians who didn't really know what we were talking about. In 1975-76,1 turned my back on the movement. I thought to hell with this . . . . So I cut my hair. I used to have long braids. Cut my hair and went to Dawson Creek for two years and became a farmer. He later married, returned to his reserve, served as band counsellor for two years and was defeated by two votes when he ran for chief. With the discovery of oil and gas, his reserve underwent a major change: [A]bout 1980 . . . . Almost overnight the whole traditional economy became money-oriented . . . . People would share before. The old people were always, they shared to get firewood or wheat or whatever. But after awhile, when the council got a hold of money, they began paying people. Paying them money for things that were always done before for free. And the people sort of came to expect that.... The alcoholism probably really increased a lot. Not only alcoholism, but drugs. [They] were more expensive and people could afford the more expensive drugs. During the year of this study, he completed the college preparation program, enrolled in the university the following September and has successfully completed a year there. Margaret comes from a Gulf Island reserve. She lived there with her parents for the first ten years of her life. Members of her family were the only First Nations children in the public school they attended. Her father, a logger, was "gone all week" and her mother, like so many of her generation, took sole responsibility for parenting. My mother was always taking care of the family, doing the work of both mother and father and driving me to school in the morning. The first day of school I remember she drove me to school and she didn't quite know how to drive, but she knew she had to drive me to get me to know the teacher and introduce me and everything . . . . There would have been six, no, seven children, but she had two miscarriages, both because she was working. That's when my dad was gone. She was trying to build us a bridge so we could go to school 'cause it was raining. Instead of going all the way around, like where we usually go around, she built us a little bridge over a ditch. Her mother eventually left her father, who had developed a drinking problem, sent the children to residential school, and looked for work in Vancouver. Two years later, she set off to California with her children. Margaret reached grade 10 there. She worked at different jobs and reluctantly returned to Vancouver with her mother. Her mother "wanted to come back so we could get to know our relatives because a lot of them were passing away. She didn't want us to grow up not knowing who they were." By this time her mother was also "into drinking." Margaret tried going back to school and working in a variety of jobs: "I don't have trouble getting work. Just talk to them and they like me. I know how to get people to like me." But the jobs often left something to be desired. One was with a First Nations organization. It was run by a Native board, but the people in charge of our office were all white and three Native people had to be working there. We were in the front... . And they're in the background, but they were in charge . . . . It was let known through different ways, things that were said without them really realizing i t . . . . "You three are the ones that make coffee and you take turns." Eventually it was, "So and so does not make coffee." Like she was in charge . . . . But it seemed when people walked through that we were the ones that were running the show . . . . It was a very hypocritical atmosphere. I couldn't stand it. She quit that job and after staying home for two weeks arrived at some important conclusions. If you want to get a good job, you need a good education. But I thought if you had a lot of experience, you could get a good job. I thought if you spoke very well, if you acted very intelligent or you were very intelligent, then you could get in anywhere . . . . I don't have trouble getting work . . . but once I'm on the job, I realize it's because of my grade 10 level that I don't move up. Because even though I'm capable of a lot and I have good abilities, they still label me as having grade 10 intelligence and are afraid to move me up . . . . At the same time, that's where my fear lies. I'm not going to be able to handle it. She decided to enrol in the Native Ed Centre to make the changes in her life that would get her out of this limited existence. Another rural student, Evan, came to the centre looking for change in his life after recovering from an accident. In high school, he dropped out in grade 11 and then again when he tried to complete grade 12. He went north to his home reserve to work: river boat fishing in the summer and trapping and hunting in the winter. Then he began work in industry, dam building for B.C. Hydro. After three weeks work, he was at an annual tribal meeting at Iskut. My whole family was there. I felt kind of weird, because the theme of the whole get-together that time was the dam. They wanted to dam and flood the valley where the Tahltan people were for thousands of years. What really made me angry is that I was talking to all of the B.C. Hydro guys before, all the three weeks I was there and they knew I was, who I am and everything and they tried to tell me that it is so good for our people that they dam it. And I thought, at the time, I didn't answer them too much . . . . But I always believed one thing: How could it be good for the people when you're drowning the land and that's not good for people? When I got to Iskut, I felt like a real hypocrite. I just never went back to work. I went back fishing again. Didn't make any money that year, but.. . Eventually, he took up other labouring jobs. These were seasonal and not so directly damaging for the people of the area. He worked in exploration mining for gold, splitting core, crushing and pulverizing. He cut logs and built cribs for drill rigs. In the winter of 1985, while unemployed, he went to stay with a friend in a nearby town. He and two friends were involved in a serious snowmobile accident. He was flown to Vancouver with a paralysed arm and a broken leg, spent four months in Vancouver General Hospital and then moved to G.F. Strong Rehabilitation Centre. While at G. F, Strong in 1986, he heard about the Native Education Centre. He came to look at the place, but felt he "wasn't all that up to it." He was having problems remembering things and "took awhile to get up the courage." But he was attracted to the centre. He came on a Tuesday afternoon when the students were drumming and singing as part of their culture classes. He said, "Every place I went to, public school, was all whites. 95% whites." In 1987, he underwent two more operations and found that he was "remembering a bit better. I was reading again. By the end of '87,1 could remember what I had read." In January 1988, he enrolled in upgrading and he passed the G.E.D. in June. In a second program at the centre, he particularly appreciated the group of students in his class. He found that there are so few of us, we spend all our time together . . . . That's nice and a bit different. Half the class don't go partying or anything else. I thought that was great. It keeps you from going overboard so often. During the year of the research, he completed a college preparation program in science and health, but found that was not for him. He went on to enrol in Fine Arts at a community college. Amy enrolled in the centre partly to learn more of her cultural background and partly to qualify for a job. The latter goal became a confidence building activity which led her through three of the centre's programs and on to university: My mother's Native, my father's Irish. We were raised here in Vancouver without one word about our Native background. It wasn't till I was in my late teens when I started to really want to know what's going on. My mother sort of shut us off and said that's got nothing to do with us. So once I got married and lived out on the reserve with my husband, I got more interested. I found I could come to the Native Ed Centre and it would give me a chance to get the feel of people who I am related to. You'd be surprised how many people I've met who I'm related to here. She enrolled first in the Secretarial Office Training program and then went on to the Micro-computer Office Training, "thinking that I could do the same sort of work, but be more qualified for the up-town stuff rather than the secretarial ordinary sort of stuff." She acknowledged that micro-computers was actually a second choice. She really wanted to enrol in the Native Public Administration Program but "after I read the description of the public administration . . . it looked like more than I could handle: big words like inter-governmental this and that.. . . And when I was in automated [micro-computers], I was looking over the fence at the public administration class and got to know many of those people. I thought, 'I can do that. I want that next.' And I'm here." Her idea of finding out about her culture was satisfied in a backhanded way. I guess Native people aren't as different as I thought. I thought, "My God, my mother's Native and I don't know anything about them." And I did get involved with a group of Native people . . . and there's not a lot of differences . . . I guess I've lived on the reserve long enough that I knew as much as I'm going to know. [My understanding] has changed to the point where I've taken Native people from off a pedestal, out of the fantasy world and they fit in my world the same as the rest of my family. Her goal was to enrol at the university, "the Big School," and she did that. She credits the centre with giving her the confidence to do so. Although I've always been open and talkative, always inside there's been this little scared girl, "Please don't ask me a question because maybe I'll be wrong. At the Ed Centre, that's allowed me the confidence to say, "No, no, look at it like this." And I like that and although I still have that, she's growing. I think I'm ready for the Big School! She was among the students who talked about their "pale colouring." She commented "Because I'm white, I get treated differently. I don't know what it is, but I have a definite feeling that it's to do with my colouring." Varying use of the word "Indian" and discussions about different colourings were part of the discourse of the centre and are part of the discourse of "Indian control." As a politically charged term, "Indian" is used to include and exclude group members. One of the more controversial uses was the comment of a former non-Native teacher reported in a conversation with a current non-Native teacher. Apparently, he said: We built this building out of cedar and fir with this totem pole out front, but it's really clean and sterile. This is not an Indian building; this is a white building. The Indian building was the old glove factory. This comment when considered in association with the earlier one made by a First Nations student who said that he decided not to attend the centre when it was at the old glove factory because, in its dilapidated condition, it lacked credibility indicates some clear differences in meaning around the word "Indian." This student identified 176 himself as "Indian" but did not identify with the rundown building. Another student admitted that she left the centre after an initial experience because she said: This is going to sound terrible, but I couldn't stay because it didn't seem up to par with the regular school system. People that were there, some were kind of street people, some were, to me, reserve people. They were kind of, to me . . . . I felt like I was up here somewhere. While she does not use the word Indian, she differentiates between "reserve people" and herself, suggesting a hierarchy and different categories of "Indian." Comments such as "He's not an Indian" about a person who says he is and "He's not a normal Indian" indicate further complications around who is and who is not of First Nations origins. Comments about "half-breeds" such as " . . . a lot of them don't look Indian, but they feel Indian" fall into a discourse of difference if not exclusion. Using a term which could imply a differentiation between "half" and "pure," one former student and current staff member talked about the situation: I really like it here with half-breeds. 'Cause a lot of them don't look Indian, but they feel Indian. And they feel they shouldn't be here because they're not brown: they don't have dark eyes and their hair is really fair. What's that got to do with the price of tea in China? My grandfather used to really like Indians who were very fair, who looked white, because they could go out in the white world and come back and tell him more about i t . . . . He says there's nothing you can do about feeling Indian. It's set so deep inside, you can't pull it out no matter what you do. It doesn't matter if you have blue eyes and blonde hair. If you're an Indian, you're an Indian. So they feel comfortable about that. They don't for awhile, but you just put them under your wing. Caroline talked of her life long struggle as a person who "looks white:" For a long time I was bitter and unhappy. I didn't know what I was. Like really terrible identity crisis. But sometimes, I close my eyes and I see this vision. I see myself and I can see a white person and an Indian person on each side of me holding my hand. One of her poems catches the experiences succinctly. "Some call me Indian and others call me white. Some go by feeling; some go by sight." She talked of those who accepted her, going "by feeling," and the humility she felt with their teaching. One of my elders started teaching me moccasin making and beading on leather and giving me all these supplies and stuff and teaching me language. Teaching me. Like, you know how humble I felt? . . . . You know I know what I look like and some of them weren't even teaching their own daughters for lack of interest or something. It just seems that they saw something in me and took it on themselves. She also talked of her grandfather's teachings. And my grandfather, he was the one I lived with most. He used to hold my hand. We'd sit on the couch and he'd hold my hand for an hour. He'd talk really slow, really slow. And he'd tell me all different things. Some of them I didn't understand until recently . . . . What I remember most is him telling me about water, how it's related. Like it's a symbol of the spirit; how it relates to the spirit and that it flows so easily but it's so powerful. Like it can drown you. It can crush you. Yet if you respect it and know it and are not afraid, you'll just flow with it. It'll carry you anywhere . . . . But if you panic, fear it or fight with it, it'll take you down. She talked of those who questioned her "Indianness" and its effect on her. As a child she often fought with non-Native friends who, not realizing she was Cree made a disparaging comment about the "Indian across the school yard," sometimes her much darker complexioned brother. Even her non-Native father, whom she described as a racist, questioned her decision to attend the centre. "Why do you go to that school? You're only a bit of an Indian." At times, she finds her life most painful. I sit and think about how people go, "You're not an Indian." And sometimes I get so hurt inside thinking about it deeply, all of a sudden, it's just like I scream out to God. [I] say, somebody told me I was an Indian. That's all I know. When I was young, what they were teaching me, what they were, you know, giving to my personality or whatever. I just scream that out in my heart, you know, somebody told me I was an Indian. I'm sorry, I know what I look like, but I can't change that call or change that. I don't want to, yet I go through a lot of hurting things about it. On at least one occasion, she even found some Metis people disparaging her pale skin. I had times too, where even I had a couple of Metis people—like they're the same as me—they're breeds too, but they came out dark-skinned. I had them—like something's bothering them, I guess—so they were bugging me about, "You're white; you're not—" That hurt-that really affected me. 'Cause they're the same nationality as me, eh. When they look at me, it's a mirror reminding them that they're breeds too. Now I can understand it, but when it happened it was such a deep hurt. At the Native Ed Centre, these conflicts become bearable. [B]eing a breed, when I first came, I thought, "Oh, no, I'm going to be really nervous 'cause I'll probably be the only pale person there." But it was still something I had to do for myself because I wanted to learn some more culture that I don't know yet. Then I came here and I found there was other people who were mixed and that the ones here are treating them really nicely. It wasn't like, "Hey, whitey, what are you doing here?" Cause I'm pretty pale, eh? Other students came to the centre to investigate their cultures. David, who lived in Prince Rupert for the first five years of his life, had been twenty-one years in Vancouver. He commented, "I didn't even know about my Native background, didn't know I was Indian and that I had some rights." He had been working in a French restaurant as a cook, but resigned when he realized that it would take a year to get his journeyman paper. He thought of doing a cooking challenge at BCIT. Instead after a suicide attempt, he came to the Native Ed Centre when a counsellor suggested he check it out as a place to complete his grade 12. He talked of his experiences in public school in Vancouver. High school was good to a point. Like I kept to myself . . . . Some of the teachers didn't have the time to spend with you to help you learn it, make you understand it. 'Cause some of them just pass you so you go to the other teacher.' 179 His two sessions at summer school stood out. The first time I went to summer school, there was this one teacher who got on my case the first day I got in there. He just got on my case. Nobody else, you know. He was putting me down. I did an assignment and he spoke out loud in front of the whole class. "What is this?".... I just dropped out of summer school. I said forget it. The second year I went down to summer school, the teacher was really nice. I went there every day. She made me understand, took the time to help me. And I passed and that was good. I felt great. While he was in school, being a First Nations person was not foremost in his mind. "I didn't even think about it. I knew I was Indian, but I didn't really think about it." At 20, he and his brother "bugged" their dad to teach them to carve. He is now a proficient carver, but does not see it as a way to make a living. "There's a lot of carvers out there . . . . My dad says just take it as a hobby. When you need money, just carve . . . Just do it kind of as a hobby." His goal is to complete the Hospitality and Tourism program and eventually manage a restaurant. He talked of having many goals, one of the most important being to learn his language and pass it on to his son. He has a dictionary of Tsimshian and wishes there were classes at the centre. He regrets that his parents did not teach him the language. "My parents were alcoholics and that's the reason probably why she didn't teach us." While several of the students above focus on gender issues as having an impact in their lives, some students named gender as a significant issue as they were interviewed. One articulated her frustration with another student's attitude: We had a student council meeting two days ago and I'm the class rep for Native Hospitality and Tourism. There has been discussion that the recreation director wanted to step down because she had missed so many meetings . . . . And one of the Native class reps in one of the other classes said, "Oh well, the recreation director should be a man, because a man—" I said, "Excuse me, can I rephrase that? I think that the person should be a human being, not a man or a woman . . . . And she says, "Well, everybody knows, it's a known fact that man is more powerful—" And I said, "Hey, stop right there. I'm a feminist. I don't care if you don't like what I have to say, but I'm going to tell you now that you're not going to leave women on the bottom. We can be just as 180 powerful, if not more powerful than men in any position and nobody's going to tell me any different as long as I'm on the student council." She went on to talk of the difficulty of being a First Nations woman. It's hard enough being a woman, but being an Indian woman, it's even more. You've got double things against you because the word feminist in Canada right now is like, oh, you're an extremist, you know. Another direct call of sexism came up at a student council meeting. Some students objected to the wording on a sign-up sheet for softball which included a statement belittling female players. The outcome of the concern was a sincere and public apology from the male who had written the statement "in jest." THE B O A R D Members of the Board of Directors of the Urban Native Indian Education Society oversee the operation of the centre and, with direction from the administration, formulate the policies which guide it. As with the students, all are First Nations people. The nine members, five women and four men, meet monthly with the administrator and occasionally another staff member who is invited to attend for a specific purpose. Sometimes, a student council representative joins the group. Board members are elected to one year terms at an Annual General Meeting. They are often encouraged to consider becoming directors by those already on the board. They may be invited to attend a board meeting and subsequently be nominated by the nominating committee for the Annual General Meeting where the vote is held. Although they represent a variety of interests in the First Nations community of Vancouver, all see education as an important issue. The directors at the time of this study were working in various fields from instructing in a community college to working with a First Nations women's program, from assisting men with recent jail sentences who are seeking employment to supervising a teacher education program and practising law. Although all currently 181 live in Vancouver, like many of the students, most have come from smaller communities, often reserves, outside the Vancouver area. The student council is also represented on the board, but rarely attended meetings when I was there. Board meetings are held once a month over the dinner hour and into the evening. The Assistant Office Manager takes notes and orders in the dinner, Kentucky Fried Chicken or Chinese food were common fare. Most of the directors have already been at work all day. At times, it is difficult to get a quorum although as the meeting goes on, usually the mandatory four or five appear. Motions are written out and circulated as they are raised. Most are prepared before the meeting; others as the discussion progresses. Each director who approves the motion signs her or his name. The meetings are run very formally although humour occasionally breaks through. Some board members had been involved with the centre for a long time and in a variety of roles. One member had been introduced to the centre through a research project she conducted for six months in 1975. Another, who has been in Vancouver since 1957, was involved with Ray Collins and the original struggles against his firing and later over funding issues. Some developed respect for the centre after the students with whom they were working were successful in the upgrading programs. Some had just become involved. One spoke of being impressed with the centre at the District Advisory Board, a group of aboriginal people responsible for advising the Canada Employment and Immigration Commission (CEIC) on funding applications. Before she was on the board, she recognized that the centre was "high profile in terms of the staff and board being involved. High profile in terms of it being successful and having a lot of support from the non-Native community . . . and for the most part, the support of the Native community."2 Interestingly, one current and one former female board member had been the first in their communities to attend public school rather than residential school. Several others had never attended residential school; the one who attended longest had also spent her high school years in public school. Two examples of board members' histories give an idea of the kind of people they are. These two have been educational leaders both as students and as teachers. Eva, currently working as employment coordinator for a job development program, came to Vancouver in 1958 from a reserve "up the coast." She was thirteen years old, in grade nine, and came because there was no high school for my reserve. I was plopped into Aldergrove and it was a vast difference because you know where I came from there was nothing but water, salt water and no people. There was 1200 people on my reserve. The high school I went into was 1200 students. It just kind of floored me to look at this big building and say hey, all my people could be in this big building. They could fill it up. I was the only Native student there in those days. I was only there for one year before I moved on, transferred to Langley 'cause my parents moved down. They decided the rest of the kids were going to be coming to high school so they left the reserve. While in school, she worked hard to do well. It was kind of an alien world to me, nothing but country and cows . . . and all kinds of white people when I was used to seeing all Indian people, very few white. But I think that my upbringing, like I was prepared for it, from the time I started going to school until I left in grade eight, that I would eventually leave the reserve. I knew why I was leaving the reserve. I was very competitive in those days because I wasn't secondary to nobody, you know, I was second to none. And I set out to prove it. I just thought to myself, "Hey, I don't care if my skin is darker than others, there is no difference in my blood or my brains . . ." I ended up having very, very good grades. At school, she commented that she does not think the other students even knew she was a First Nations person. I was the first Native person, actually Native woman, in B.C. elected into a student council and that was just about an all white school.... I sometimes believed that they [other students] didn't even know I was Native . . . . Because I was going into grade 11 when we had some Natives from the Nass River come in. And I felt a discrimination there for those people. And it bothered me. It bothered me that I was accepted and some of these weren't. But I made it my business to protect them, or you know, be there with them, to be a buffer. Kind of because they were my people and I was proud of them, you know. And I wanted them to make it. And the men really did well. They were very athletic and they were on the first string and everything and we finally got accepted. She went on to Pitman College after completing Grade 13. She commented on her choice of secretarial school: Well, to tell you the truth, my first career goal, or my dream, was to be a nurse. There was a hospital on the reserve and Dr. Darby was my mentor . . . . He brought me into this world and he always encouraged me, you know, just pushed my education. And I thought I would make a very good nurse excepting that I wasn't very good in math and science . . . . So I had to change my occupational goal in Grade 10. After secretarial college, she worked in the private sector until she married. She stayed home for fifteen years and raised five of her own children and five foster children partly on her own after her first husband died. She remarried and by 1975 was working as a seniors' outreach worker and programmer at the Carnegie Centre, an adult education centre in downtown Vancouver. Her first contact with the Native Ed Centre was work on a research project there for six months. Following that she began work with the Native courtworkers staying in touch with the centre through the First Nations people she was dealing with in the prison system. In 1983, she was working with Canada Employment and was still in touch with the centre. That year, she first became a director when a friend who was already on the board submitted her name. Since her first involvement, she has seen many changes: There's been a lot of growth, a lot of expansion, like your satellite places: Bella Bella, Port Hardy and that. Goes to show that Native people are wanting an education. They're really looking at education as the way to go. 184 She sees her role on the board as one of working with the administrator in such areas a personnel policy, program directions, funding and student functions. She has attended student meetings on occasion at their request. She does not speak directly with staff on centre concerns, but feels it is important to go through the "proper channels." While there was an open door policy between staff and board, with the staff tripling in size, this has become impractical. Glen grew up with his First Nations father and English war bride mother several provinces away from his home community. From 1966 to 1977, as a young adult, he was with the RCAF in London, Winnipeg and at U.B.C. He completed his B.A. in psychology at the University of Western Ontario. In 1973, he graduated with a masters degree from U.B.C, "one of very few Native people with a post-graduate degree in any discipline." He knew of no others with a degree in social work. His job with the military took him to many First Nations communities where he "saw a need. I wanted to work in that area. I was covering northwest Ontario, northern prairies, Pine Tree Radar, Thunder Bay to B.C. borders." When he left the forces, "it was primarily to get back and practice social work in Native communities." In 1977-78, he returned to his birth place in British Columbia, to work with a band in the interior of the province and to establish some real contact with relatives. He first became aware of the centre about 1980 when he was invited to lecture there. Glen teaches at a local community college and is Division Chair. In 1984, he joined the board at the invitation of the Chair and, at the time of this study, was serving as chair. He talked about his view of the role of the chair as: Speaking on behalf of the society, functioning as the chair at board meetings and so forth and state occasions. Being involved in the committee structure, ensuring that there is an active community structure. Ensuring that board members participate and are involved, and acting as liaison between the administration [and the board]. Having on-going contact with the administrator in between regularly scheduled board meetings . . . . Acting as a sounding board for [the administrator] if there's anything in terms of giving feedback as to potential board response to a particular issue . . . primarily on a reactive basis. We don't have scheduled meetings. About once a week. THE STAFF At the Native Education Centre, First Nations and non-Native staff along with the students are those directly involved on a daily basis with the centre and with the implementation of First Nations control. There are 34 full time staff members named3 in the annual report for 1988-89. Interestingly, while there are about the same numbers of male and female students, there are considerably more female than male staff members. The 24 First Nations staff include 18 females and six males. The males are two janitors, the administrator, two counsellors and one instructional assistant. The females include four instructors, 3 counsellors, 2 finance managers, an administrative secretary, 2 instructional assistants, 2 clerical workers, the cook, a librarian's assistant, the librarian and a co-ordinator. Of the thirteen intensive interviews which I conducted with First Nations staff, 10 were with females, 3 with males. The twelve non-Native staff are divided evenly between males and females. All are instructors except the administrative assistant. More significant is the fact that several of the programs have one instructor who serves as coordinator. This person tends to have more influence on the shaping of the program than the other people who work within it whether they are part time instructors or full time assistants. The six people designated program coordinators are all non-Native. Four are male. I interviewed 3 female and 7 male non-Native people including the tutoring centre co-ordinator, who was not considered to be centre staff in the list above. 186 FIRST NATIONS STAFF There is some controversy around the fact that there are only four Native instructors and eleven non-Native. As stated in the document on "Indian control," many educational leaders see First Nations teachers as essential to First Nations control of education. One community person commented on band members' perceptions: Most of them, they really think it's a great place. And it is beautiful. I think it would be safe to say that 99.999% of them would rather see Native teachers or instructors than non-Native. Because then they can relate to how Native students are, how they live, how they react. At a professional day the staff held, all groups included the hiring of qualified Native staff members as a priority. One group suggested a goal of seventy-five percent Native staff by 1993, another 100%. Still others simply recommended hiring more First Nations people. Students also had conflicting views on the issue, as the following conversation exemplifies. Celia: Some of your teachers are Native; some are non-Native. Does that make a difference to you? Does it matter? Susan: No. Celia: Why not? Susan: Because all the students are Indian. Celia: [You're a non-Native teacher.] We've got somebody with all your qualifications, but they're Native. Shall we replace you or not? Susan: Oh, I don't think you should put them all in one hat. Put them all in different places. Can't have everybody all in one place. They might get all their ideas too from different ideas. Like I don't think it really matters to me, whether the instructor is, I don't feel he has to be Native. Celia: Would it be better if there were more Native people teaching here than there are currently? Susan: Yeah I guess it would look good as a role model. . . someone to look forward to, something to try to reach. The administrator because of his dedication and commitment to the centre and his strong personality was a prominent figure there. As stated in the previous chapter, he sees himself as "chief executive officer . . . responsible for everything that goes on in the centre." He has firm opinions about teachers and teaching. In an interview he talked of wanting to redefine his role so that he could spend time working with new teachers in their classrooms. . . . I egotistically think that I have a fairly good concept of what the process should be. I'm not talking about the content so much. I care less about the content than the process. Some of the CJS4 (skills programs) teachers say, "Look here's my Indian content, these two articles . . . ." That's their concept. That's why they're asking me to do something on the values and processes of Indian education. He had some concern with current hiring priorities which look first at ability to teach a particular subject area and second to commitment to "Indian education or to Indian people or to Indian communities or to community based education." He disagrees with those who suggest that some long time staff members who have few formal qualifications should be let go. He thinks they should stay because "they're still highly committed to community-based education rather than being necessarily highly competent at their position." Acknowledging that many of the teachers are highly committed to their "extremely demanding and intense jobs," he has, over the years, lost patience with those who see the centre and their work as "the cutting edge of some kind of revolution . . . or a place which they can go out and get a mortgage on." In his own commitment to "living on the edge" for the sake of the centre, he tells staff who are looking for long term job security to look for work with the school board or the community college. H e admits that he has not been prepared to work for "unions, long term contracts, salary scales, and a variety of other infrastructural type things." If the staff wants that, they must work for it themselves. His commitment lies with making the centre work despite all the funding and other limitations it operates under. H e wants staff who are as committed to the centre as he is: People have to live on the edge in my opinion, they have to be hungry I guess is a better word, to be able to give as well as to receive. A n d it makes me into a bad administrator in many ways and I accept this badness . . . . The bottom line is that the rise or fall of this centre is not going to be anything more than based on what we're willing to risk, what we're willing to experiment with . . . . So I have that belief in hunger and risk, experimentation and people burning themselves out and leaving. A n d new people come in and work real hard and burn themselves out and leaving. H e is excited at the prospect of including more First Nations staff, but has no romantic visions in this regard. Striving to get Indian staff is a challenge. A n d again, striving to get Indian staff who reflect the philosophical ideology of the centre. W e don't want to get Indian staff here as happened once in an outreach program: put on the wall of her classroom that in order to leave the room, you have to raise your hand. H e is primarily interested in attitudes and styles of teaching. Given the opportunity to re-organize his duties, in light of the time limitations he has experienced, he said: I'd like to have a person, a sort of administrative assistant in charge of personnel. I'd get rid of that for sure. 'Cause my philosophy is a little bit different. They need more of a mediator type person, like yourself. Someone who tries to acknowledge people's feelings, share. I'm not that good at it. His heart lies with the students in the upgrading programs, those who "couldn't do what they are doing anywhere else." H e misses teaching. If he were to teach again, he would like to work with Native Adult Basic Education, Level 1 , the foundational program of the centre. H e sees the other skills programs as more academic-focused than centre-focused. But he sees that all the centre's programs enable a student "to stand up straight as an individual." Like they come in bent and our job has got to be to help them straighten by giving them skills and knowledge and understanding of who they are and what they can do with that and then the confidence that they can go out of this building as prepared and ready as anybody else . . . When they get a job, when they get accepted for Simon Fraser [University], when they get accepted to go on somewhere else, they know that they have done something that a year before, they couldn't imagine that they were going to get. And that's the ultimate experience. That's why grads are wonderful times. You get hundreds of people who never graduated from anything in their life. A strong and often controversial figure in the centre during my year of study, Samuel has obviously given much of himself in his efforts to create a community-based First Nations education institution that is the best he can make it. Nothing pleases him more than students' successes. Other First Nations staff at the centre came from a variety of backgrounds. Some came to work at the centre because they were interested in investigating their cultures and those of other First Nations people. Others came ready to share their understandings with others. Most have previous experience working with First Nations education; some have degrees; others are near completion; a few have little formal education. A number of the instructional assistants, all of whom were First Nations, work in classrooms with the guidance of a more qualified and experienced instructor, some First Nations, some non-Native. Several were taking courses in adult instruction at the nearby community college as a part of their contract. The centre organized this training in its efforts to address the issue of increasing First Nations staff in the classrooms. Patsy was one person who came to the centre "intentionally to become more acculturated." 190 I grew up and my Dad just worked hard to make money and pay his bills and it's a dog-eat-dog world. That's what I heard over and over and over. And one day I should grow up and go to university, so I did. So I didn't have that strong cultural influence from my family. We just barely survived a lot of the time. But I know my Grampa's a chief and I know that he was very religious and followed Oral Roberts all over the place. I think I had much more of that sort of religion work ethics influence than I did [First Nations] culture. I think one of the things that drew me to the Native Ed Centre is that I wanted to learn more about my cultural background and because of that I have learned a whole lot more about it on my own, asked questions. She lived on a small reserve until she was 13. The eldest of seven children, she felt responsible for them much of the time "because both my parents were alcoholics as well." She commented: I think I carry that responsibility with me. I feel super-responsible. When I take something on, I put my heart and soul in it and burn out a little bit every now and then. I know I'm like that and that's partly what motivates me and drives me. Her parents encouraged her "to achieve from a very young age." When she reached high school, she was sent out to boarding homes which she says were "maybe just as bad" as residential schools. "But I was lucky to get a really good family after about 7 families and stayed with them for about three or four years." She completed high school and teacher education in the regular program at the University of B.C. She describes the students with whom she works at the centre as probably people who have never actually been successful in the public school system or they've been through a residential school and that just was devastating. People who just never ever got anything out of the school system that they went to. People from all different parts of the country. People, I guess, who have been dependent on society to provide a means for them to survive, UIC, welfare, whatever and have just gotten fed up with it and they've decided they want to do something and get off that rut. Take some control over their own lives and their children . . . . Children seem to play such an important part of their reasons for coming back. She said most students in her program don't talk about looking for jobs. I guess indirectly there's some—they want a good paying job somewhere down the line, but on the other hand, they want to improve their ability to function out there and to speak up for themselves . . . . A lot of people come in who have abused drugs and alcohol and they really want to get on the right track or they've been to treatment and they realize that they have to start working on themselves. She decided to leave the centre to return to her home community and teach. She wanted to learn about the origins of her village and to teach in her home, a First Nations setting. Five of the First Nations staff had taken training as teachers in an alternative program designed for First Nations people becoming elementary teachers, the University of B.C.'s Native Indian Teacher Education Program. Teachers interested in working with First Nations adults frequently take this program because of its emphasis on teaching First Nations students and the support system of First Nations staff and fellow students. There is no similar program for people who want to become adult educators. Two of the five had finished their degrees. The other three were at various stages of completion. Salaries and positions as instructional assistants tended to reflect this. One received a promotion, but found her salary changed little despite the change in her title. She negotiated with the administration, pointing out that the duties she had were beyond her job description. Each staff person completes a self-evaluation in October and May. That's where you sort of negotiate for your wages. And it was at that point that I asked them to change it to instructor. One of the reasons I did that too was that I was hoping I would get the pay with it, like with the title, but, of course . . . . But I have an understanding of the budget so I just accepted it. She feels that if salaries were higher, they would be attracting more First Nations people. She commented, "I know there's a lot of Native people out there and it makes me wonder why they're not applying for these jobs." 192 She thinks that "past conflicts with the administration because of the way things have been done in the past and still are" have had some impact on the numbers of First Nations instructors in the centre. Although in the year of my study, many of the staff had been in the centre for a number of years, she mentioned wondering about the centre before she came there to work. She said that she "used to see ads for this place all the time and it used to make me wonder . . . . I just about asked it in my initial interview, why is there such a turnover in staff?" In fact, a few positions had been difficult to staff and efforts to redefine them in order to address the difficulties were undertaken with varying degrees of success. Loretta became interested in education while working for her own band. She saw the problems Native students were having and "wanted to pass on the values and beliefs that I've been brought up with by my parents, who are Native, of course. And I wanted to pass it on to other people, to other Native people in a positive sense." In her work, she focuses on building students' self-confidence. She feels that many of the students she works with dropped out of the "regular school system . . . because of pressures from non-Native people. But here, because they're all Native, they can't use that as an excuse . . . They feel a lot more comfortable because we're all Native here, even in some cases the instructor is Native." She came to the centre while on leave from her teacher training. She had decided to take some time off, wanted to work in an educational setting and saw the ad in the paper. Jan graduated from NITEP. She went to residential school at the age of six after both her parents were murdered. She has 14 brothers and sisters and is the fifth youngest. She attended the residential school until 1969. It closed shortly after that. Jan reported that her sister participated in an American Indian Movement demonstration associated with its closure. At the school, We were taught to think that Native people were inferior. It was more like getting the Indianness beaten out of us. It was not good to be Indian . . . . I didn't even know that I was Kwakuelth till I was really old, probably twenty years old or something. Or even that there was such a thing. She left residential school because she was adopted. "A white woman and her husband slowly adopted nine of my brothers and sisters. Three of us, the last three, she adopted when I was 12." Her new family lived in the area and she attended public school. They moved to the interior for a time and later returned to their original coastal community. She continued in school, but one summer went fishing and made very good money. Fishing became a priority. She quit school when the herring season started and "got rich too." She became involved with her fishing partner and had her first child. At 19, she wrote and passed the G.E.D., a grade 12 equivalency exam. She continued to fish until her daughter was two. Her son was born four years later. Suddenly gender differences impacted noticeably and negatively on her life: In the meantime, we had sold our fishing boats and licenses and bought about 8 acres of property and built two homes on the property . . . . We cleared it all and made gardens . . . . I left him when I was 23 . . . He was really exciting to be with at first because he liked my spirit and my adventure and everything was really fine until I had the baby and became really tied down. He wouldn't invite me to business meetings any more. If we ever took her out anywhere, he wouldn't look after her. During a lengthy court battle, she finally got to tell her story: "I came in with . . . my old fishing license, my bank book and pictures of me and my daughter and him on the boat to prove that I was actually fishing and also pictures of myself working on the house, building our house and clearing the lot." With her meagre settlement, she had just enough to attend university and enrolled in the Native Indian Teacher Education Program. She completed it the year she began work at the Native Ed Centre. 194 Rob and Stanley need only a few more courses to complete their degrees. Stanley applied for his job when two classmates who had begun work there encouraged him to join them. . . . she was always telling me how neat it is to work with these students, how much fun and how much energy, what a nice atmosphere it was here. He chose one of three jobs she told him were available, applied and was hired. He had decided that teaching elementary school was not for him and wanted to try working with adults before completing his degree. I'm glad I did. I'm really glad. Now I know that I would like to work here at least another year to gain a bit more education, actually working here. Then by the end of next year, should they renew my contract that is, continue on and then go back to school.... After I get my degree, I want to work for a year or two, depends on funding or finances, and go back and get my Masters in Education Administration . . . . I want to get into administration to work with Natives so that the education that they receive is of good quality and that Native adults that are going to school are going to be treated with the respect that they deserve when it comes to their own education and their decisions to come to school . . . He had worked for years as a counsellor before entering NITEP and felt he would like to continue his work in that area. Starting with the Native Internship Program with Canada Employment and Immigration, he moved to Employment Development which involved working with bands and Native groups and small community groups creating jobs and Native Courtworkers where "the training was excellent." His favourite job was working with a community college in the north as Native Student Counsellor. I just loved the position. It was working through the whole college region, recruiting students, getting actual numbers of Native students so that the college would still keep Natives in their mandate. However out of all the numbers and quality of students that were drummed up, they still ended up closing it down. With funding cuts that "closed down the Native program and the women's program," he enrolled in NITEP. Following a "great year" working as a waiter, he applied for the job at the Native Ed Centre. Rob left NITEP in third year with rather "a shaky finish" and "took the initiative to come back into what I call the land of the living. I just wanted to get back into the field full time and experience life again, rather than being at the books and struggling." From a community in northern B.C., "accessible only by seaplane and ferry," he knew he could get a job teaching at home. But he wanted to stay in Vancouver. Home's been good to me and I think it's too easy for me to go up there and get a job. And I'd like to know what I'm capable of doing things on my own and for my own personal development to the point that one day that I will be there for my people. He became attracted to teaching while working as a teacher aide in his home community. Before that he had worked in a variety of jobs "from digging ditches to working on rooftops." His own schooling included two and a half years at the Port Alberni residential school". . . ran away from there . . ." two years in public school and several in the reserve's day school. The teachers for the day school were for the most part "beginners" and "not good quality." He described one teacher trying to maintain control by chasing the children around the room. This teacher also complained about the children's messiness and smell when they came from helping their parents in the smokehouses. "What do you live in? A pig sty?" He lived in a group home, attended high school at the brand new band-run school, where his marks were good and he had the opportunity to learn his language. While working for the Native Ed Centre, he completed a number of courses towards his diploma in adult education as part of his employment duties. He decided to leave his job when the contract was up. He felt a strong need to work on some of the pain from his childhood before continuing his work with students, many of whom were also struggling with their pasts. N O N - N A T I V E S T A F F Most of the non-Native staff who work at the centre, all of them instructors, are very aware of the controversies around First Nations control and First Nations teachers. Most are hired with some previous experience working with First Nations students. Those hired recently usually have expertise in an area related to one of the new programs. One instructor has used his degree in English as a base for a long history of working with marginalized people from a variety of backgrounds. He had "started off working with pre-schoolers in immigrant neighbourhoods," moved through a variety of work with daycare, children's aid society, special needs children, "underpaid, overworked and non-profit," and ended up at Mt. Currie working in adult basic education. He had begun to take adult education courses at U.B.C. He saw it as the perfect teaching job. "I could be a bit of a social worker at the same time." From there, he came to the Native Ed Centre. He describes his current job as a combination of academic work and work that's often done by social workers and psychologists: working with self-image, career counselling to some extent, to a great extent.... The learning is stimulated by the development of the self-image and therefore I put a lot of energy into the counselling department. And I find that with a lot of feedback the students perform much better academically. They feel that I'm there for them and, in a way that goes beyond the job description, and definitely perform better academically. He sees great importance in First Nations staff working at the centre which he calls "a show case institution." He came to work there only because he was told that there were no qualified Native applicants. He feels now that "if I had thought about that carefully, I would have seen that it couldn't be true . . . . The hiring process must be weak in some way." Not all agree with him. At least one instructor disagreed with the sometimes unstated policy of working your way out of a job if you are non-Native. He had come from eight years of working on a reservation in the U.S. following teacher training designed to prepare teachers for work on reservations and in ghettoes. He became attracted to Native culture and peoples in the late 1960s. At college, he took every course he could. When he saw the ad for the teacher training program, he responded, "Not because I wanted to be a teacher, but because I wanted to learn more about Native culture." Of the forty people in the program, 35 were Native. He became aware of the phase-out policy, as he called it, at NEC only while interviewing a candidate for a new position. Nobody said anything to me when I got this job that they really wanted Native people. I don't know if they really do or not . . . . Why in the hell did they bring me all this way if they really want just Native people? I kind of resent it. I feel like I have something to offer, right? Okay, so I'm not Native. Big deal. I mean that. I worked all those years for the Crow and the Cheyenne and they didn't say, well, you're non-Native so we don't think you're worthy of—I felt like I was really a part of that community. But here . . . I feel like my students accept me for who I am and what I am but I feel like staff don't. I mean it's kind of a reversal of stereotypes. Because you're white, you're greedy and selfish and don't understand. Another non-Native instructor who admitted "I'm not a big fan of working steadily" has worked for a variety of educational institutions and First Nations organizations. He also has a prospecting background. "When I get absolutely fed up with the education system, which is every once in a while, then I go prospecting." He defines literacy as power and the work he does in the centre as empowering students. In contrast with the person above, he looked at the temporary nature of his position as integral to his hiring. I thought perhaps I could help out, as I saw it, for awhile. Even from the beginning, "for a while" meant I did understand that ideally the [staff]... would be people of Native background because that fits into the concept of Indian control where the Native community makes the definitions of such words as assimilation, for instance, and integration and what those are supposed to mean . . . . I'm leaving, you know, but I'm leaving as a direct result of just what we've been talking about. I always saw one of my mandates was to help find somebody of Native background to take over my position. Recently with the introduction of more so-called skills programs such as the Native Hospitality and Tourism Program, Early Childhood Education, Criminal Justice and others, non-Native people with little or no direct experience with First Nations students are sometimes hired. They are people who have expertise in a particular field and who demonstrate a willingness to learn. Lisa, who had left academia for work with women in transition houses, pondered her decision to apply for the position of instructor and program co-ordinator for one of the new programs: I saw the ad in the Sun and I said this is the most exciting thing I've seen happen . . . . So I wrestled with myself a little bit about whether I should apply because I wasn't Native and then decided I didn't need to make their decision for them. I applied and got the job . . . . I had been to the Native Ed Centre once, the Christmas before when I went and bought a drum for a friend for Christmas. That was the only time I'd even heard about it. So I went in there pretty cold. She found her feminist background useful in coming to understand some of the issues important to her students especially around controlling their own lives. One of the things when I started, I recognized that I didn't know very much about Indian culture, so I had to express my ignorance and ask people to help me. And I came from a feminist background and so very often what I would do is I would translate and say, okay, now if I wanted to have a women's probe something or other, how would I set it up?...It wasn't like I was unfamiliar with the concept of people controlling their own lives. Certainly for me that was what the feminist movement has been all about.... It means to me that people who are oppressed and I say that Native people are oppressed in this culture, in order to overcome that oppression they need to, any group, and this applies to women, need to first of all start planting pride in themselves and do that by taking control of their own lives. As she worked to integrate First Nations approaches into her program, she found the people who hired her, especially the administrator, very supportive. When she wanted to introduce the medicine wheel, a daily sweetgrass ceremony and prayer to her class, he explained that she couldn't do it as it would be inappropriate for a non-Native person. He then suggested a resource person who could. It has become a very important aspect of the class's daily activities which she feels is special in many ways. I don't know if you want to get into spiritualism, but I do feel very strongly that the course has been watched over and the right [resource] people have gotten into the course at the right time. And that I've been an instrument for that, but it certainly hasn't been because of my wonderful expertise and knowledge in knowing who the right people were. I knew some of them and my guts were in the right place, but I think there were also some—it's been a fairly protected group, I think. She feels that it is most important that a teacher recognize that "you cannot keep a professional distance between yourself and the students." As part of her work, she travels to outlying communities to supervise her students on their practica. What it means is that I have to be as committed to my own personal growth as they are. I can't tell them to do it and then not do it myself. I can't expect them to bare their souls in class and then clam up and not talk about my life. I do that within a context of knowing that their needs come first and not mine and all that kind of stuff . . . . I guess it means staying with them when I go out in the field. The first couple of times I went out, what I was told afterwards . . . by several people was that their communities were expecting me to come in with my briefcase opened up and then leave again. The fact that I stayed there right on the reservation made a big difference. She feels that a weakness in the centre arises out of people not dealing with personal growth. She does not find this unique to the Native Ed Centre. Referring to some of her own training, she said "You go into U.B.C. where they do counsellor training and they don't even talk about personal growth for God's sake." She went on to say: Until the staff deals with their own dysfunction, they're not going to be able to deal with students' dysfunction in a good way . . . The dysfunction becomes the norm and they operate thinking that's the way it's supposed to be. On the other hand, we keep getting crisis there. At some point, hopefully, it'll force on an organizational level for them to look at that. Another non-Native instructor, also a program coordinator, came to the centre with considerable experience with First Nations students in other parts of Canada. He thinks that the most important attribute of a program coordinator is to have a really "well-rounded type of education . . . have a little bit of everything." He feels that they need to be generalists in everything actually. There's a high amount of interactional stuff that goes on in class. So there's a lot of team building that needs to be done with the students . . . . I think that's underrated, highly underrated—the amount of time that needs to be spent on good human relations and team building in a program of this type. Two of the non-Native people whom I interviewed were instructors and coordinators who started in the centre that year. They both became involved when they responded to ads in the newspaper. One of the two had done some work with First Nations students at a community college in another province. She commented on her time there: [I] remembered what a slug it was, but the joys overcame that after a year of being away . . . . In that one year, I did more clinical counselling than I had ever done in my whole life before. Had twenty students and we graduated ten. That personal toll on me is the slug, but the winners were so profound. It was like fantastic eurekas that kept happening. As one of the instructors from the college working in programs on the reserve, she became aware of the importance of "Indian control." "At one point during the year that I was there teaching for them in that program, they had a sit down out on the reserve wanting to take over control. So it was certainly something that was being dealt with." Before that she had worked in the north in social work. At that time, "lots of the staff people and most of the client group" was First Nations. The second newcomer said he "wasn't really aware of this place. I was interested in doing something different in the restaurant business and when I saw an opportunity to kind of teach in this area, I thought that was new." He had started a career as a high school teacher, specializing in teaching urbanization to grade 11 students. He then got involved in curriculum development, worked at Simon Fraser University as a faculty associate, and began consulting. From there, he moved into community development work, continuing consulting and some teaching at the colleges. In one of the community development projects, he served as project coordinator for a cooperative restaurant. It was this experience that prepared him for his job coordinating the tourism program at the centre. Like him, other instructors came with little experience with First Nations students but a great deal of expertise in their field. The person teaching the micro-computer course commented that she felt it was important to have Native instructors because "they are going to be more aware of Native culture; I'm not aware of Native culture." She acknowledges that she makes "a contribution here. I know a lot about computers. I'm a good instructor." At the same time she states emphatically, "The fact is that students should be learning from Native people." CONCLUSION This statement, that only First Nations people should teach First Nations students, focuses on one of the major issues in "Indian control" today. The relationship between knowledge of Native cultures, direct experience of being a Native person in this society, and successful contribution to First Nations students seeking education are points of on-going discussion. Some First Nations educational leaders insist that the ideal to strive for is a community with only First Nations teachers. Others take a more liberal view. The NIB document calls for First Nations teachers and counsellors and sensitized non-Native ones; people in and around the centre debate the possibilities of such a move. This chapter shows only a few of the people in the centre. They serve as vehicles of power just as they are constituted by it. They come from a variety of backgrounds to focus their time and energy on education within the centre. They find there a new context, always shifting, in which they investigate the understandings that they bring. For the students, it is almost always a change from anything they have experienced before. For many teachers, this is also the case. From the instructor who articulates that literacy is power to the student who chooses to leave a relationship where her partner dictates that her motherhood disqualifies her from business meetings, the people in the centre have been and continue to be engaged in the production, struggles, and submissions which Foucault sees as integral to power relations. Notes Status/treaty First Nations people are those people whom the government recognizes as being of First Nations origins. Amongst many other issues, this recognition has funding implications for students. Non-status or Metis are people who consider themselves to be of First Nations origins, but who do not meet the government requirements to have their origins recognized. Until 1985, First Nations women "lost their status" if they married non-Native men. After long court battles, this discriminatory clause was removed from the Indian Act. At various times over the years, First Nations people have also been "'enfranchized' (stripped of status under the Indian Act) for any reason, including wanting to vote, to drink, to own property, to live in another country, to become a lawyer or clergyman . . . " (Native Council of Canada 1985) or to attend public school. 2This vacillating support is tied primarily to funding issues. It is discussed more fully in Chapter 9. In light of moves to self-government, some band members felt it inappropriate for Indian and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC) to fund the centre directly. They felt the bands should be the ones to receive the dollars and decide the appropriate disposition of those dollars. 3Those named, with one exception, are full time workers. Part time instructors for a number of the programs and for the cultural and life skills courses, and the outreach instructors are not named individually. 4CJS refers to Canadian Job Strategies, a source of program funding from the federal government. CHAPTER 7 — CURRICULUM PRACTICES: CENTRE ACTIVITIES AND UPGRADING The present school system is culturally alien to native students. Where the Indian contribution is not entirely ignored, it is often cast in an unfavourable light. School curricula . . . should recognize Indian culture, values, customs, languages and the Indian contribution to Canadian development. Courses in Indian history and culture should promote pride in the Indian child and respect in the non-Indian child. Indian Control of Indian Education People in educational institutions like the Native Education Centre engage in a variety of practices. These practices are related to curriculum as well as to other policies and procedures which guide the institution's operation. Curriculum itself, explicit, hidden, and null (Eisner 1979:74-92), is a site of struggle. The plan or lack of planning comes to life in unanticipated forms. Efforts to "recognize Indian culture, values, and customs" compete with efforts to meet the requirements of funders, employers and the other educational institutions which students may choose to seek out as they finish at the centre. In addition to the practices within classrooms, general bureaucratic practices emerge with the growth of the centre. These often work against the personal, close connections which were possible between people when the centre was smaller and there were fewer programs. The next two chapters focus on practices within the Native Education Centre where power relations are revealed in all their complexity and the issues of "control" are made manifest. Foucault has argued that Of course, we have to show who those in charge are . . . . But that is not the important issue, for we know perfectly well that even if we reach the point of designating exactly all those people, all those "decision-makers," we will still not really know why and how the decision was made, how it came to be accepted by everybody . . . (1978/88:103-104). 204 These chapters re-present some of the daily practices of the centre. They are an effort to see beyond the decision-makers to the practices in which people engage as a result of those decisions. The two chapters are divided only for convenience. This one looks at some of the important centre activities and the upgrading programs which grew out of the founding programs; the next focuses on the newer programs, referred to as Skills Training Programs. THE DOCUMENT The second major segment of the document Indian Control of Indian Education entitled "Programs" deals directly with curriculum. Its major argument is for curriculum content that includes First Nations contributions. While people in the centre struggle over what that entails, they remain committed to the idea of recognizing First Nations cultures and histories in all programs and in the daily operation of the centre. While the authors do not define curriculum, I think from what is said, they would be sympathetic to McCutcheon's definition "what the students have an opportunity to learn" (in Cherryholmes 1988:123). The document states that curricula should recognize Indian culture, values, customs, languages and the Indian contribution to Canadian development. Courses in Indian history and culture should promote pride in the Indian [person] and respect in the non-Indian [person] (National Indian Brotherhood, 1973:9). Recognizing the human design of curriculum and, incidentally echoing two main goals of the centre, the authors go on to say, A curriculum is not an archaic, inert vehicle for transmitting knowledge. It is a precise instrument which can and should be improved. Using curriculum as a means to achieve their educational goals, Indian [people] want to develop a program which will maintain balance and relevancy between academic/skill subjects and Indian cultural subjects (NIB:9). Submitting tactically to the governments and echoing the voices in the documents in Chapter 3, the authors call for funds federally and provincially to enable "Indian people to work with professional curriculum planners. Together they will work out and test ideas for a relevant curriculum, utilizing the best from both cultures" (NIB:9). They ask that historically and culturally "negative, biased or inaccurate" textbooks be removed from schools. They call for the appointment of Native staff to supervise the production and distribution of "Indian-oriented curriculum materials." They suggest "augmenting Indian content in curriculum to include Indian contributions to Canadian life through supplementary courses in: economics, science, medicine, agriculture, geography, etc., as well as special courses in Indian culture, music, dance, handicraft, language." The document points to the need for education for "young and old alike." It calls for a variety of vocational and adult education programs from those for teachers, counsellors, social workers to basic literacy, English and "Indian art and culture." Post secondary education should include pre-universify courses to encourage participation in "nursing, teaching, counselling, law, medicine, engineering, etc." While this document was accepted as federal government policy in 1973, critics claim that "internal mechanisms were not in any way prepared to implement Indian control" (Longboat 1987:24). While other educational institutions such as universities and colleges have responded almost negligibly to the concerns expressed in the document, directors of the Urban Native Indian Education Society and the administration, building on the original intentions of the centre as expressed in the constitution, have managed to find ways to fund and introduce programs which address some of these concerns. They have submitted to 206 funding requirements in order to struggle for a curriculum which responds to the students' needs and desires. At the Native Education Centre, there is and has been a concentrated effort to integrate Native content into all the programs as well as to present First Nations issues to the centre as a whole on an on-going basis. People associated with the centre tend to perceive the former as a fait accompli. One teacher on seeing "Establishment of Native content in all courses" on a list of objectives for the centre generated on a professional development day commented that this had already been accomplished. The document includes only two passing references to pedagogy. At one point, there is the recommendation that "Assistance should be available for teachers in adapting curriculum and teaching practices to meet the needs of local children" (NIB 19), (my emphasis), and "Non-Indians must be ready to recognize the value of another way of life . . . to modify, if necessary, some of their own ideas and practices" (26). The administrator at the NEC ascribes to Paulo Freire's pedagogy, indicating that he finds these approaches to education are appropriate for the students in the centre. Underlying is another implication, that they comply to some degree with First Nations traditional education. In interviews with prospective staff, they are asked about their familiarity with Freire's work. For those who have not read his work, follow-up questions determine their approaches to teaching and look to a compatibility with Freirian pedagogical principles such as starting from students' experiences and generating themes for consideration. A number of the teachers interviewed talked about ways of teaching reminiscent of Freire's approaches. One teacher who was talking about using dialogue in her class, starting from student experiences and a number of other approaches often associated with Freire, commented on Pedagogy of the Oppressed "I didn't make it through that book. It was just so academic." She clearly had an understanding of the approaches and incorporated them into her teaching. M A J O R C E N T R E ACTIVITIES Some of the very significant parts of the curricula of the centre occur outside of the scheduled course work. While students spend the majority of their time in classes, a number of centre functions involve the student body as a whole, the staff, and often both First Nations and non-Native members of the community. For many of these events, people at the centre work together as a community: there is opportunity for the production of local knowledge and the development of some First Nations solidarity on issues. It seems most appropriate to begin the examination of centre practices with these events because they are in many ways central to what differentiates the centre from other larger and less culturally-focused educational institutions. The cultural festival has been held each year since 1982 at the Capilano Long House on the Squamish Indian Reserve in North Vancouver since 1982. It is a celebration of "the culture and lifestyle of Canada's First People" and a fund raiser for student field trips to a variety of First Nations points of interest. In 1988, funds were being raised for a trip to the Stein Valley enabling students to "learn about the sacredness of the . . . valley" and exposing them to "contemporary land issues in B.C." According to the brochure circulated at the festival on May 28,1988: This Festival was started by the Urban Native Indian Education Society to expose Indian and non-Native people alike to the richness and variety of contemporary Indian cultures. The craft fair, the sharing of food and the evening of performing arts blends the extra ordinary (sic) history and traditions of North America's First People. The survival of Indian cultures over the past 300 years despite the numerous attempts to destroy them, indicate the strength and pride contemporary Native people have in their heritage. The Society hopes this Festival will communicate to all the strength of history and the feelings of pride contemporary Indian people have for their traditional ways (Native Education Centre, May 28,1988). The crafts fair included a variety of work by seven professional artists and the students from the centre. Beadwork, prints, leatherwork, and silver and gold jewellery are featured. Dinner was barbecued salmon from the pits outside complete with oven-baked bannock, one version of a type of bread common to many contemporary First Nations cultures. Dessert was strawberries topped with whipped soopallalie, "Indian ice cream." Coffee and juice from MacDonalds rounded out the offerings. The concert which followed dinner featured dancers, drummers and singers from many First Nations. Billy Brittain, a hoop dancer from Saskatchewan, Tom Jackson, a singer from Manitoba via Toronto, the White Mountain Apache Dance Group, David Campbell, originally from South America, and Within Thunderbird, a dance group of Lower Mainland K'san dancers originally from Hazleton were among those who participated. This combination of performers and crafts people emphasized the diversity of cultures involved with the centre. The poster for the festival advertises "Indian Entertainment," bringing in the notion of unity within the diversity. Holding the event in a long house reinforces the reflection of west coast cultures in the building which houses the Native Education Centre. The long house is all wood. Large beams supporting a high ceiling— smoke hoods over fire pits. [There is] space in lifted roof over the fire pits. The blue sky and some green leaves on tall branches are just visible. As the sun shifts its lengthening rays cut ribbons of smoke out of the darkness. Smell of smoke permeates clothes. Leaning back as music plays, I am lifted to a dream by blue sky. Leonard George fills in a costume change with his grandfather's meditation song. I drift into the blue and waving green leaves (Field note: May 29,1988). The floor is dirt. The crafts tables are placed around the edge of the floor. Five tiers of bleachers rise on the walls. There is a stage at one end of the house. My notes record two dominant impressions. One is the clear presence of a great variety of expressions of First Nations cultures, both traditional and contemporary. The other is an inspiring sense of community work. This was evident at all the public events which I attended. The administrator is highly visible, working with others and directing the events. Many staff members and students work together to make them smooth and successful for the people who come. As public presentations of what the centre is about, they need to be and are efficient: they give pleasure to the guests. The cultural festival is only one of the opportunities for the public to celebrate the centre and to see some of the things which it promotes. Another most important community event in 1988 was the third biennial community think tank. Focused on people who represent the two main objectives of the centre, the Society invited "tribal council leaders, band education coordinators, community college staff, private sector representatives, federal, provincial and municipal government managers involved in education and training, and students and staff from various Society programs" (Vedan, October 12, 1988). A package of materials presented to participants outlined objectives of the session. These included evaluating past performance, analyzing current performance and planning future programs and services; analyzing and improving relationships with "Indian" and "non-Indian" organizations; considering expansion; and providing a "realistic vision of where the Society could be in 1990 with respect to its operations, services, programs and community" (UNIES, Dec. 2, 1988). The day's discussions, developed around a series of questions, focused on an exchange of information between community members and the centre's staff. Participants were divided into smaller groups. One group addressed the following question: 210 From your perspective, in what specific ways could the Society realistically develop new programs and services for Native adults of Vancouver and B.C. that would assist Indian governments, (tribal councils/bands) in meeting their programs and services objective and needs for Indian people living on reserves or in urban areas of B.C. (UNIES, Dec. 2,1988)? In that group, a woman emphasized that what bands who are taking over their own affairs need is not people trained to administer Indian Affairs programs, but people with the skills to administer new programs which speak more directly to the community defined needs of the people. Another woman, a member of the Professional Native Women's Association, pointed to the need in communities for workshop facilitators who can work in a variety of areas. A male administrator from another First Nations adult education centre suggested the need to expand computer training beyond word-processing to include a range of applications such as mapping and graphics for use in land claims and desk top publishing for newsletters. A Haida man talked of the need to train people who will consider critically the concept "corporation." People need to ponder the possibility of fitting into the existing system or developing new models. He went on to question such a model. How will it fit into resource management, fishing and logging? How do we perpetuate that so there's something left in fifty or a hundred years? . . . Conservation must be a part of development.... We need to get training to think in other ways, ways to be self-perpetuating, not to be dependent on grants for funding . . . . All people would have that mind set, rather than just stripping everything out . . . . We need to call on the old philosophies of preserving things for the future. How can we incorporate that into corporations and making money? Summarizing the day's recommendations, the minutes indicated a number of points to ponder for the visionary statement of 1990, the date for the next think tank. The primary message emerging from the day was that many see the need for the centre to "create more awareness around its ability to operate as an independent body and move away from the notion of Indians dependent on government funding" (UNIES:1989?:4). Marketing of the centre's offerings and improving student housing, funding and daycare were other priorities. Participants felt that the centre needed to impress upon the government the need for Native colleges and independent Native education. At the same time, they felt the importance of further "cooperation between native and non-native colleges" (5). In the spring of 1989, the centre co-sponsored with the Mt. Currie Indian Band, a Science and Health Careers Conference. Students, teachers and other interested people from the centre, the University of B.C., and a variety of communities attended. It was held outdoors: meals were provided and people slept in tents. Every one helped with some camp duties. Workshop leaders, experts in First Nations science education from around North America, incorporated the local environment into their presentations. One biologist went to the river to find a person fishing where she cleaned the fish as a dissection lesson without killing purposelessly or wasting. Spiritual leaders from Mt. Currie conducted daily sweat lodge ceremonies and nature walks. Story tellers gathered people in the evenings. One teacher conducted an astronomical tour of constellations as students lay on their backs. It proved to be a splendid combination of conventional science and traditional First Nations approaches conducted on traditional L'ilawat territory. Guest speakers at noon hours and other times often draw groups from a variety of programs together. These included members of a group called New AIM (American Indian Movement), speakers from a variety of South and Central American countries seeking support, and the Women's Economic Agenda examining the effects of Free Trade, Meech Lake and privatization on women and First Nations people generally (Field notes: November 3,1988). In 1988-89, the centre held an all candidates' forum in association with the federal election chaired by the President of the United Native Nations, Ron George. He responded to a question from the centre's administrator, "Who should we trust?" with the suggestion that we should trust Indian government. Until then, you should become involved in the system that's controlling you. This is the best position. I have heard people talk about passive resistance. People say don't participate. But I believe if you want change> you must get involved (Field notes: November 14, 1988). His sympathies might well lie with Foucault's struggle-submission couplet described in Chapter 3. The eighth annual Community Christmas Party, Open House, Third Annual Elders' Day and the Cultural Festival all took time and effort on the part of all staff and students. All were efforts to promote interaction between people in the centre and people in the larger community. These activities often bring the general public as well as members of the "Native community" into the centre's operations. Graduation is the final group celebration of the year. In 1989, the Seventh Annual Graduation was held at the Vancouver Indian Friendship Centre. As tradition has established, the staff organized and served a dinner for the graduates and their families. For many students, this was the first time that they had succeeded in any scholastic endeavour. That year, for the first time, students wore caps and gowns made by the Native instructional assistant from one of the programs. They also wore red scarves with the NEC logo imprinted on them which they kept as mementoes of their completion. Elder Simon Baker led the opening prayer. Speeches by the administrator, the president of the Board of Directors, MP Sven Robinson, MLA Russ Fraser, and Simon Baker began the evening. As an indication of the importance of the students' success, it was acknowledged that a young Native person today "has a greater chance of going to prison than to university." Speeches were followed by the announcement and presentation of the graduates by program and awards for the top student in each. The top student comments were very straightforward. They included "I just want to say that I worked for it;" "I knew I was good, but I didn't think I was this good;" "Last fall I didn't think I could do it. I didn't want to try." Because the administrator was leaving, the president made a special award to him. The administrator began his response with the comment, "Now, I know how Wayne Gretzky felt in Edmonton. I knew the day would come when I would be saying goodbye. I didn't know when it would be." He related his ten years with the centre to a shift from a budget of $75,000 to one of 2.5 million, from twenty students to 249 in Vancouver and 130 in outreach centres. He acknowledged his overwhelming faith in "our people. Although the building is nice, it's the people within that make it work." A number of graduates also had the opportunity to speak. Many spoke of the hard work which had brought them to success. UPGRADING PROGRAMS Despite the importance of centre activities, the programs are its central feature. In 1988-89, the Native Education Centre offered eleven programs on site and seven outreach programs in communities around the province. The upgrading programs in the centre were funded by a grant from Vancouver Community College and from tuition fees, the others with grants from C.E.I.C. Starting in 1981, curriculum design for adult basic education explicitly included "academic, cultural, spiritual, life skills and leisure components blended together within the context of Indian values, beliefs, history, literature and culture" (Green, 1989:4). People without basic reading and writing skills may be directed to the Native Literacy Program offered by the Native Tutoring Centre before they begin the first level of upgrading. The Tutoring Centre offers individualized programs to students wanting to work on reading, writing and computing. Tutorials are arranged with volunteers and last as long as the need persists. The tutor and the student set mutually convenient meeting times. As discussed in detail in Chapter 4, Native Adult Basic Education (NABE) is the foundation of the centre's offerings. Level 1 is for "students who need a great deal of basic training in English communications and Math." Students with grade level equivalencies above basic literacy but below grade seven as determined by an admissions test are admitted to that program. NABE 2-3, which includes components of English, Math, Social Studies and Science in addition to cultural skills, aims to prepare students to complete high school equivalency. With seats for 65 students it is the largest program. College Preparation is a course specifically for those interested in going on to college or university. It is open to those who have completed grade 12 or the equivalent. Students in NABE and College Prep spent about 20% of their time in Indian material culture courses offered in ten week modules. These included Basket Making, Drum Making, Button Blankets, Northwest Coast Art, Silkscreening, Art, Salish Weaving, Leatherwork, Beading, and Drumming and Singing. Fifteen percent of their time was scheduled in life skills, also offered in 10 week modules. These were Newsletter, Study Skills, Speed Reading, First Aid, Native Cooking, Aerobics, Driver Education and Looking at Your Life. Five percent of all class time was devoted to student council events. THE PROCESS In this chapter and the next, the reader can follow some students engaged in the process of enrolling in the centre, participating in one or more of the programs, and graduating. The words of people participating in the process take precedence. This journey reveals the ways in which people in the centre interpret "Indian 215 control" as programs are developed and as the daily operation of the centre shapes conflicting demands. One of the primary concerns of all is meeting the varying needs of the First Nations students who come there. Five counsellors work with students as they progress through their programs. The Student Admissions-Finance Officer conducts assessment tests for potential students and interviews each candidate. This counsellor also helps with student finances. The Employment and Work Placement Coordinator places students in practicum situations and "markets N.E.C. students to various employment sectors" (N.E.C. Staff Manual, n.p.). The Personal Counsellor Trainee provides personal counselling on-site and makes home visits as necessary. She also is in charge of monitoring student attendance. The Co-ordinator of Counselling Services oversees the work of the other counsellors, providing back-up as necessary and conducting student orientations to the centre. The notable thing about the counselling arrangements is that they are designed to support every aspect of the student's progress from first consideration to attend, through financial and personal difficulties to eventual employment or continued education. Some students felt that this support was overdone and created a dependence in students, while others spoke of it as useful and helpful. When a student decides to enrol in the centre s/he first meets with the admissions and finance counsellor. He discusses goals and decides if a suitable program is offered at the centre. The initial interview is the most important one because you meet them. Both of us are on the same ground, the first time for each. The hardest thing about it is to get them relaxed enough to speak about themselves . . . . They are more willing to speak about somebody else or their cousin . . . . Once I'm able to get them relaxed, then it's delving for answers . . . . Either I do it with my own life and put it into their perspective or I do a real attack sort of thing . . . . Out of the interview, I can basically get enough information so that I can give them alternatives or suggestions or an actual path that their education can go. 216 They return for a second interview. At this meeting, those destined for most of the programs sit for an assessment. "I always make sure that I let them know that it's not a test, it's an assessment," said the admissions counsellor. Despite this, one of the test administrators talked of students leaving in the middle of the test or never returning to see their results. No one is ever turned away as a result of the assessment, although some may be placed on a waiting list if the program they seek is full. One student described the process: After I did well at the assessment test, they phoned me up and says, Are you real interested? And I said Yes, I am. They said well, why don't you come down? . . . And I came and they gave me the books . . . . I just came down, I thought it was to check out around the place. But I started right away. The only students who are turned away are those who obviously need to address some aspect of their personal lives if they are participate fully as students. For example, the administrator commented: . . . coming in through the door means that they are with some degree of unanimity accepted because of their being Native. If they're drunk and Native, we're still accepting their Nativeness, but we're not accepting their drunkenness. Once accepted into the program, the student meets with the personal counsellor for an acceptance interview which establishes contact between the student and the counsellor and lets the student know what to expect in the program. In one program, the Native Public Administration Program, graduate students are involved in interviewing prospective ones. The assessment process is comprehensive. We give them a math test, an English test and then we do a public admin thing where they do a community assessment. It's a Native community scenario where they are given a sum of money and they are given a set of problems and they're asked to figure out what they're going to do . . . . Then we have an interview with them and we use students normally. I sit in but we use graduates of the program and they decide whether these people are good candidates . . . . They are very hard. What they do is tell them this is a tough course and there is a high likelihood that you are going to feel that this is not for you after a month of doing it. So you should really think carefully if this is really what you want to do. It has worked very well. There are of course specific situations where the process does not work as smoothly as it was intended. Because of funding unpredictability, occasionally a program begins without enough lead time to recruit appropriate students. Students who apply to the centre as a program is being implemented are sometimes encouraged to try it because there is a need to fill the spaces. One student who wanted a college preparation program was encouraged to enrol in a new science and health career program because the one he really wanted was not being offered. At other times, a student may apply just when there is a space available in a particular program. The admissions process is shortened to accommodate that student. Although the NABE programs have continuous intake, that is, once a month new students are admitted, the majority of students at the centre begin their programs in September. At that time, the students gather in the large central meeting room to complete forms and hear some general expectations. On September 6, 1988, the silence in the room was uncharacteristic of a place in which I had previously experienced the warm, low rumble of many voices speaking about a variety of things. I felt tension, and thought about the fact that most of the people who were beginning programs that day had at some time in their past experienced a lack of success in school. The head of the counselling department and an instructional assistant, both First Nations women, distributed handbooks and several forms to the students. The former then added detail to the handbook's list of rules for "normal" behaviour. This is important stuff, these rules are for everyone in the building, staff, friends, and family . . . . No one may be here who is using drugs and alcohol, no one smelling of drugs and alcohol. If you party the night before and come to school in the morning and the smell of alcohol starts coming out it is distracting to the other students. The first time a person violates this rule, they will be asked to leave the building; the second time they are out of the program. She went on to talk about the details of lates and the serious consequences of particular numbers of "excused and unexcused absences," relating them first to the need to satisfy the funding agencies. She followed with the comment that "The more you're here, the more you'll learn. When you were in school before, you learned that. The more you were away, the less you learned." As the morning progressed, she interspersed her talk with humour. In elaborating on student funding and the school's meal programs, she commented that they have a work program at the school called "Feed Yourself." Students laughed at this and from that point on visibly relaxed. Some were smiling, more laughed at the next comment that the thirty minutes of work required might include the job of "filing answer sheets." Another instructor introduced the student's council role. There was more talk of appropriate procedures: for babysitting emergencies, "Bring your children to school with you unless they have chicken pox or measles;" for banking, get a bank card so you don't interrupt your school day for banking; ask for help if you need it and want to stay in school or it will be assumed that you don't want to stay. The counselling head also commented that the administrator keeps close track of attendance records. Counsellors will make home visits, she said, if you are away often, "If you say you're sick, look sick when I get there." The employment counsellor spoke and the librarian. Students were then asked to complete contracts with the centre agreeing to abide by the rules, forms for sponsoring agencies, and forms for their choice of culture and life skills classes. Following this introduction, students moved to their classrooms. N A B E 1 The foundational program for students coming back to school, seeking change in their lives, is Native Adult Basic Education Level 1. Students directed to the program are assessed as having less than a grade seven reading level. One teacher sees his major responsibility to students as "the re-establishment of confidence in themselves as far as school is concerned and as far as their ability as learners is concerned." Another teacher referred to it as the "literacy program." She saw the program as one to "upgrade people's functional skills and abilities, life skills." She gave examples of phoning in complaints, reading business letters, and doing enough math to plan grocery shopping. Just a whole lot of real life related skills that will enable them to go out and function better out there in the cruel world or to go on to the next level armed with some basic skills that they can then apply and learn some content-oriented stuff in the next level. They work on reading, writing, computation, and getting to the point of feeling enough confidence and trust in the group to "speak up for themselves." Starting students are presented with some hard facts. As soon as they come in at intake, which is the second Monday of every month, I say, "Fifty percent of the students drop out and those of you who want to be here, you have my undying support." Unfortunately that's the reality of it a l l . . . . I'm kind of used to it now. It used to really bother me. The other teacher agreed, comparing the attrition rate to that of the Viet Nam war. "If you survive the first month," you'll make it to the end of the five month program. In order to emphasize that the education program they have chosen is different from others they may have encountered earlier in their lives, both teachers acknowledge students' life experiences. One remarked: I always tell them right away that I recognize that they're coming in with a lot of experience, life experience, and they know things about things that I don't know. And that there's things that I know that they don't know and therefore we can teach each other. This teacher went on to describe one student teaching the instructional assistant, the rest of the class, and her a traditional game which none of them had played before. A typical day includes a beginning circle which encompasses an important First Nations symbol, and a prayer. Math follows, for the most part done independently, although students are grouped for particular lessons such as those on the metric system. "I always tell them that we're building the foundations, like a house." They then work on the theme unit together, "which can be anything from land claims to self-government to communication to spirituality to history." Reading and writing revolves around that unit. She encourages students to teach each other, learn from each other and help each other. Another teacher followed this pattern, but felt that the emphasis on Native issues was not one which came from the students. "You say, 'Okay, what do you want to work on?' They'll say 'spelling'." He is concerned about the fact that "here, you kind of get the feeling that the education part is secondary, but unity is, and the idea that it is the Native centre, is more important than the actual learning." He agreed that "creating a community" in the urban centre is "a primary goal." The NABE 1 class took on the responsibility of organizing an annual Elders' Day for the centre. This day emphasizes traditional First Nations respect for elders and serves as a symbol of the role elders traditionally played in education. At the third annual day held in May of 1989, about 95 elders from the lower mainland and the Fraser Valley attended. They were given a dinner of wild meat and salmon, herring roe and wild rice and presented with gifts from the students. Many elders spoke and the students provided entertainment. The NABE students each contributed a square to a handmade quilt which honoured the elders and which was hung in the student lounge, the large main room at the centre. They also prepared a book of their writings called "The Teaching of the Elders" which they presented to each guest. Finding materials for the diverse ability levels, with which students arrive is difficult and at times frustrating. One teacher rewrites news articles to appropriate reading levels and gives a variety of questions for people to respond to. She avoids lecturing herself, preferring dialogue and brainstorming questions. Guest lecturers and field trips are also important. I don't use your typical reading that talks about Idaho farmers doing potatoes and stuff. I try to talk about issues that are happening out there today, like the Australian people when they protested the 200th Anniversary and the Lubicon people and the Stein controversy and the Gitksan court case. We've gone down there to see the court case in action. We went down there and the students watched all the lawyers, everybody in their black things and this one elder on the stand there. They really felt that he was being tested by a law that has come over centuries and his own potlatch laws were not being called upon at all. His responsibilities according to what his family and the other people had appointed him to just didn't seem to have any place there whatsoever . . . . So I try to extract those kinds of questions and throw them out. Same with self-government. I said I don't know anything about it, but here are some of the questions we should be able to answer, we should be able to talk about because bands are having to talk about these very things, and this is how we should prepare ourselves. I think it was frustrating for them. They thought they were going to learn something, but actually what they were doing was clarifying some of their own thoughts and feelings on some of those questions coming from themselves, not from me. Most students spend five months in the program. On the Test of Adult Basic Skills (used as assessment until 1989 when the Canadian Adult Assessment Test was implemented), "they average . . . about one or two years growth in three or four months." One teacher commented that most of those who complete NABE 1 go on to NABE 2/3. Supporting this and the idea of a fifty percent drop out rate, another teacher agreed that 8 out of twenty students who started went on to NABE 2/3, one to BCIT in carpentry. He also pointed out that about eighty per cent are recovering alcoholics. NABE 2/3 Native Adult Basic Education 2/3 is the largest program in the centre. There are two classes going throughout the school year. Students come from NABE 1 or from a period of absence from school. Consistent with the centre's admission policy, applicants must be eighteen years or older. They are encouraged to write the GED, a test of high school equivalency recognized by most post-secondary institutions, at the end of the program. At one time, the NABE diploma was seen as an end in itself. Over the years, the emphasis has shifted significantly to encouraging students to go on to further education and/or employment programs. Grade twelve in itself is not enough. A non-Native teacher remarked that the centre's concept of success had changed over his years of involvement. Not so many years ago, it was just to get people into the school and have them develop a little bit of a sense of self and their place in their society and the white world and to finish a program was almost an end. That's no longer enough. We're looking at having people finishing programs and going out and being successful in the work force now. NABE 2/3 teachers continue the process begun in NABE 1 with an increasing emphasis on reading, writing, speaking and computation. Subject areas include English, mathematics, science and social studies which coincide with the GED categories. One non-Native teacher described his work as . . . a combination of academic work and work that's often done by social workers and psychologists: working with students' self-image, career counselling to some extent, to a great extent, helping the whole student out. And what I officially do is teach English and math . . . . The learning is stimulated by the development of self-image and therefore I put a lot of work into the counselling department. And I find that with a lot of feedback the students perform much better academically. They feel that I'm there for them and in a way that goes beyond the job description. He also adapts materials for use in the classroom. I do two things. I use the, just to make sure the students are getting the standard ABE curriculum, I use the curriculum guidelines from the province, the ABE curriculum for B.C.. However, I take off on it constantly and rewrite. All the readings we do and the literature are by Native authors with some exceptions. I would say ninety percent of the readings are by Native authors. So the content in reading is Native and cultural and yet the structural part of the program follows ABE guidelines. For example, the grammar, other mechanical issues are up to par with any other college. Readings include novels by Janet Campbell Hale and Beatrice Culleton, poetry by Chrystos and Ed John, an essay by Harry Rankin describing the Fred Quilt case among other aspects of Native people and the law as he has experienced them, and a series of autobiographies of B.C. First Nations people from citizenship judge Marg Cantryn White to artists Robert Davidson and Norman Tait (Native Education Centre, 1987). The first day of class revealed some salient examples of the ways of teaching important to this teacher. On September 6, 1988, following some introduction to centre policies and procedures, twelve women and six men sat down at the tables in the classroom numbered 102. "You're known as the 102 group for paper-pushing purposes." Referring to the comments that the students had just heard from the head of the counselling department, the teacher went on to say, "Lates and attendance, I think you've heard enough about that... . The purpose of this class is not to make the records happy. It's for you to learn . . . . It's for you to get your grade twelve." Students greet his remark that they will not be expected to do homework with surprise. "Studies of adult education show that it's best to work in school and then go home and live a full life outside of school. Work hard in class and that's it." Commenting that he does "not want to drown them in bureaucratic details yet," he apologetically presents the new rule on supplies. "Once you get supplies today, that's it. It's not a moral judgement; it's budget." Dry humour permeates much of the rather mundane first day talk. In regard to the storage cupboards, he suggests," I wouldn't leave anything valuable there: love letters, lottery tickets." He recommends that adult students must do their own "policing. If something's bugging you, do something about it. As soon as I'm turned into Mr. Honky Policeman, it's all over . . . . Respect the quiet of the classroom Respect the other people. That's the only rule in this class . . . . If you suddenly fall in love with the person sitting beside you, go out to the lounge to do your love making." Distributing materials, he passes one student from a reserve where he used to teach, saying, "Are you Leonard's daughter?" She shakes her head but what is often important contact is made through his acknowledgement of her home community. As students settle to work, he adds a final assertion: "Remember, you're doing this for yourself—not for your mother or your wife. You're moving to your own personal goal." Students spend half the morning with him and the other half with the First Nations woman who teaches science and social studies. The science teacher also integrates First Nations content with mainstream content. One science class which I observed carefully combined orientations to the material studied. Starting from students' experiences, she integrated them into the science lesson, implying that the students had been "doing" science in their lives without calling it that. The lesson was an introduction to the soapberry, also known as soopalallie in Chinook jargon (Turner 1978:138). Students were preparing for a day of experimentation with the berries. First Nations people throughout the province use this berry by whipping it into a froth and sweetening it, traditionally with other fruits or berries, and 225 contemporarily with sugar. Those, such as the Nisga'a, who live in areas where the berry is not common trade for it with their neighbours (139-40). The teacher began the lesson by encouraging the students to brainstorm all ideas they had about the berry. They talked of observational skills like tasting and uses. They also discussed much practical information such as when to gather them, how to gather them (not by picking, but by shaking the bushes). Together following her lead, they categorized the bits of information, sometimes suggesting new categories, other times selecting the appropriate category for a new piece. One category which emerged was "Classification or Naming." The teacher began with the "common name" Soapberry and then added her language, the Secwepemc name. A student from Mt. Currie volunteered the L'ilawat name, a Gitk'san student followed suit and then a Kwalguelth student. Near the end of the lesson, the teacher returned to Classification and added the Latin name, Shepherdia canadensis, as one more name pointing out that "soapberry" was called the "common name." At no point did she suggest that one name had more legitimacy than any other. This lesson served as the foundation for a study of the chemistry of the changes of state of the frothing berries. The students finished the preparation by forming hypotheses, "What does that mean?" asked the teacher. Outlining other parts of "the scientific method," she gave them copies of Nancy Turner's Food-Plants of B.C. Indians (1978) to look over before the next day. CULTURE CLASSES AND LIFE SKILLS From Tuesday to Friday, students alternate afternoons between "culture" classes and "life skills." In the particular September of my study, they had six choices for the former: Beading, Art, Northwest Coast Art, Weaving and Knitting, Button Blanket Making and Leatherwork. In one of these classes, despite my intentions simply to observe, I became a student. The field notes from the class revel in the contradictions between being a participant as student and an observer as researcher, between being an insider as student and an outsider as non-Native "student." Despite these conflicts, or perhaps because of them, I gained some insights into the class which would not have been available had I "simply" observed. The experience was an eye-opener for a person who had heard and read about Native learning and teaching styles with some hesitation. While I still would argue that the teaching approaches I experienced are not limited to First Nations teachers and that not all First Nations people simply because of their genes teach in a particular way, I experienced directly a kind of teaching I had not experienced in a class room before. This "kind of teaching" exemplified much of what I had seen attributed to a "Native teaching style" compatible with a "Native learning style." Beading was Tuesday and Thursday afternoons in the NABE 1 classroom, 104. I had asked the student in NABE 2/3 who was instructing, with another part time teacher, if I could come to observe the class. He said that it would be fine. When I got there, most of the chairs were taken. I sat in the far corner by the instructional assistant's desk trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The two teachers—my friend, the student, and a woman, Charlene, with bead work complementing her long braid—were setting out the materials: coffee cans of beads, every colour, a variety of sizes and shapes, elongated "bugle beads," tiny "seed" beads. Charlene's five year old daughter is with her. She has not worked here before and is talking as she sets things out, investigating, becoming familiar. The student, who taught beading before, knows where things are: the looms, "dishes," actually styrofoam trays, for the beads. Charlene puts out some samples of her work for the students to examine. This accomplishes two tasks without any talk. First, students get ideas of the kinds of work they might like to do; second, she establishes credibility by showing that she has done some intricate work. As the students look, Charlene begins to talk about trading her work. She comments on a beaded pen cover which she traded for some hair clasps of white fur and beads, on the amount of time it took to do the pen cover, and the fact that she tries to make five dollars an hour for the work she does. We then introduce ourselves at her request. When my turn comes, I explain that I am a student at U.B.C. 227 doing research here and that the other instructor had said I could come. Charlene says that's fine and we finish introductions. Little plastic bags with mixtures of beads circulate around the table. The person near me decided to learn the peyote1 stitch to make a pen cover. I think of Chrystos's poem "I will not teach you the peyote stitch" and ponder it. Charlene hands out needles to each of us, spools of thread. Women on either side of me, not Carmella, the instructor's wife, have scissors on key chains which they take out to cut the thread. I feel that I should be better equipped. Charlene eventually finds the beeswax and explains its importance in preventing rot. She takes one of the three beaded barrettes out of her hair, talks about getting it wet many times: it is three years old, and not a bead has come loose. I thread my needle with some difficulty. I remember the feeling that having a needle and thread in my hand is one of the most threatening positions I find myself in. I used to get C- in Home Ec. I select one of the bags of beads, green, pink, blue, white, clear. I don't really like the colours but I don't expect to do much anyway. I was planning just to take notes. I'm really hesitating inside because I "can't" sew and even the thought of needle and thread makes me nervous. I also "know" I'm not artistic because my mother told me that none of our family is. The beeswax comes to me. I wax my thread. Both teachers and students clearly assume I will participate. Charlene comes to demonstrate to anyone who wants to listen. "Put nineteen beads on your thread. No, that may be too many; take some off. Put on enough to go around the pen." Somewhere along the line, we have decided to do pen covers. She measures. I measure. "But put on an odd number." I don't bother to count. I alternate blue, white, pink green. Charlene puts a diagram on the blackboard. "Now, pick up a bead and skip every other bead." She also tells us about a looser, faster stitch which involves skipping every two beads and picking up two. She shows us some examples. She suggests that we start with solid colour. I don't. I start the process. I go around once. Then I go around a second time, skipping every other one. Then, I'm not sure. The lesson ends. We put our things away (Field notes September 11, 1988). The following Tuesday, at the students' council meeting, I debate about whether to return to beading. It has caught my interest but I wonder how significant it is to a study of First Nations taking control. During the meeting, Charlene, the teacher catches my eye and smiles warmly. I want to go, and find myself arriving in the class filled with excitement and anticipation. When I get there, I find my tray with its tiny beginnings looking more like an abandoned and broken segment, I decide to start over. I again move from one chair to another trying not to take a place from a legitimate student. I finally settle between Stan, an older man whose sister-in-law I know from Kamloops and a woman who has done beadwork years before and is remembering fast. Both are working on looms. Stan has been to Round Lake for alcoholism treatment and hasn't had a drink for four years. He bets on the horses when he gets a chance. Charlene begins to teach the two men at the end of the table how to do the peyote stitch. I listen to her repeat the lessons from last day and realize that I can use one thread instead of doubling it and that it is much easier that way. I take it all out and start again. I decide to spiral. I noticed some in the display case and Carmella is doing it. You just alternate colours. I begin with black and after a few rows go to black and red. At one point, I talk too much to the man beside me, lose track and make a mistake which I don't catch until the next row. I take it out and go back. Drop the black bead and pick up a red. And then I work quietly again, focusing on the immediacy of black, red, black, red, pull the thread tight. Around me, we work. Charlene talks, repeats much of what she said last day. This time, she is more involved in getting people started, more direct. "You'll have to take it out and start again. You've switched direction." She helps a man whose birthday we celebrated with chocolate cake to leave making daisies and switch to peyote stitch too. She looks at mine, likes it, talks about catching mistakes. She shows me how to add thread, twisting and then a fisherman's knot. I do one more round and it's three thirty (Field notes: September 14, 1988). I went back only one more time, two weeks later. The teacher said happily, "You came back to us." The man working on the loom commented on my missing this class and the life skills class. I think he thinks I'm a student. I don't explain. My work had disappeared but I started a new piece, incorporating orange and yellow as well as black and red. Even as I'm working, I know that I will be unlikely to come back. I have to teach at U.B.C. on Tuesday afternoon and I am beginning to plan for the Science and Health Careers component that I have been asked to teach (Field Notes: September 30, 1988). I have included this rather long description of my time in beading for one main reason. It was in this class that I actually experienced what I had heard talked about as a Native teaching style, one which more closely approximated the traditional ways of teaching in which formal education was not separated from daily activity. In addition, traditional teachers accepted that students learned by observing, at their own pace, and the teachers never humiliated them publicly if they made a mistake. My sense of panic as I began, my assumption that someone would say in a loud voice, 'You're doing it wrong,' never came to pass. Instead, I proceeded at my own rate. I observed in order to remedy mistakes. Correction for the most part was indirect offered as a general comment about procedure rather than a direct reprimand. I found peace in the beading class and came to see some of the reasons that students might enjoy their time there. Within the class, students are developing a skill which mainstream society identifies with First Nations. They also have the opportunity to work with First Nations instructors in a context different from learning the academic subjects in their morning classes. This class extends and develops their awareness of being of First Nations origins even if the skill is not one directly associated with their culture of origin. As more than one student pointed out, they appreciate the opportunity to learn some aspects of other First Nations cultures. Students in life skills have ten choices from Native Cooking and Driver Education to St. John's Ambulance and Physical Fitness. I chose to attend a class called Looking at Your Life. Relapse was the topic of the day. Students sat in a circle with a First Nations person facilitating. They began brainstorming, "What is relapse?" The leader responded enthusiastically to the idea that it is a "slow process that leads to starting to drink again." She emphasized the two words "process" and "slow." Participants swung through a series of brainstorming interspersed with some significant advice and statistics. "Most people relapse within ninety days." 230 "Only ten percent of people who undergo treatment are sober after two years . . . but Round Lake [the treatment centre for First Nations people] does better." Students work sometimes on their own; sometimes all six together: high risk situations, what leads up to a relapse, then the plan, "How can I keep myself from relapsing?" and an even more practical plan "If you start to drink or use drugs again, how can you stop?" The session ends, (from Field Note: September 28,1988) O U T R E A C H N A T I V E A D U L T BASIC E D U C A T I O N The NEC also sponsors NABE 2/3 programs in communities around the province. In 1988-89, there were seven programs in Surrey, Kamloops, Port Hardy, Bella Bella, Terrace, Blueberry and Halfway Indian Bands. The administrator of the programs commented: We did a blanket marketing . . . . We sent out brochures to all the bands, tribal councils, Native organizations in the province. We followed up with press releases in Native newspapers . . . . Once we had got in contact with communities and communities were interested in pursuing program developments within their communities, we would assess what those needs were and then make recommendations on what we felt would be in their best interests in terms of education and training. In another series of complex power relations, administration of the outreach program is handled by the centre in cooperation with the community. Hiring, programs, resource and curricula materials, reporting processes are all the centre's responsibility. At the same time, teachers are expected to adjust their programs to suit the needs of the community in which they are teaching. In Bella Bella, students made button blankets in their culture classes. The elders and the people are so impressed. The elders are volunteering their time to teach these people to dance and now they're hosting a potlatch on the seventeenth. There's a value that the students are taking from their own culture and the prestige they are getting out of it is phenomenal. They've raised over two thousand 231 dollars since September from the community. That's how strong the community has supported them and is working with them. All the songs they are learning for their dance for the potlatch is in Heiltsuk . . . . And the hereditary chiefs are going to place the blankets and dress the dancers at the potlatch which is a major honour . . . . We're having the dance troupe down to the open house. Not all teachers in the outreach centres adapt the curriculum so directly to local interests. During the year, the Native Education Centre's administrator made a special trip to an outreach centre to work directly with the teacher who had been using materials which presented too much history without critique and without appropriate First Nations content. Both in the centre and in the outreach programs, most students reaching the end of their time in NABE 2/3 prepare for the GED, the grade twelve equivalency examination accepted by most post-secondary institutions for entrance. They must complete four of the five theme units in the NABE class and score 45 on the practice test before entering the one month preparation program. Some controversy has arisen over the rigidity of these requirements, and special cases having the process speeded. Like right now, there's one guy that just about quit because he was obviously ready to write the test, but because of the policy here, they told him sorry you can't go to the GED prep class. But that doesn't stop him from writing the test on his own. It is a public test. So he was kind of annoyed to the point that he was just about to quit, at which point he wrote a letter to Samuel [the administrator] and got everybody involved and so we decided we'll make an exception. Because of his circumstances that he would like to go to U.B.C. in September, so even though he scored high on the practice test, we decided he'll even up [improve] his score so that he will actually be accepted to U.B.C. C O L L E G E P R E P A R A T I O N Other students less ready than this one have the opportunity to spend ten months in college preparation before going on to post-secondary work. In some ways, it may be seen as a final step in the upgrading process available at the centre. As was recounted earlier, in the first term of my research, college preparation was not offered because of a funding controversy. Department of Indian and Northern Affairs (DIAND) suspended funding ostensibly because a number of bands felt that they should have more direct control over DIAND spending. Administrators from First Nations adult education institutions from across the country, including the Native Education Centre, went to Ottawa and successfully lobbied for a change in policy so that their eligibility for funding was restored. Students who complete NABE 2/3 and who are interested in higher education usually enrol in the College Preparation Program. College Preparation follows much the same format as the NABE programs with the academic component at a more advanced level. Students come in with a range of abilities usually out of NABE 2/3 or from some time away from school but with a grade twelve completion. They take English with a heavy emphasis on developing writing skills; Math with a business or college focus; Social Studies with a concentration on research and library skills and Science with units in biology, chemistry and physics (Native Education Centre 1988-89:15). Students participate in culture classes and life skills with the NABE students. CONCLUSIONS The largest number of students entering the Native Education Centre enrol in one of the NABE programs and College Preparation (Annual Report 1988-1989). These programs are revised versions of the one which Ray Collins began with in 1968. First Nations content has been formalized. Students continue to use these programs as the basis for preparation for the GED, the General Education Development examination which at the time of this study was recognized by colleges and universities as graduation equivalency for mature students. 233 For people involved in First Nations education, despairing over the lack of progress in public school education for First Nations children, there is a joke about the "new model of Indian education." Students "drop out" of the hostile environment they find in public school. They spend several years working for low wages or unemployed. Eventually as young adults, they go back to school: first a couple of years of upgrading, then college prep, and finally on to the university. In the centre, it is no joke. Many students who have left school for a variety of reasons do follow this pattern as a way to get to further education. Paul Willis, in his study of working class lads in England, ponders the irony that working class boys' resistance to the form of education available to them leads them to working class jobs. Denying that he is positing the school as the site of reproduction of class divisions, he argues almost wistfully that in this resistance lies the possibility of struggling for some substantive change both in education and in the outcomes of that education. In meeting the First Nations people who come back to school at the centre, I thought of Willis's claim. I would like to suggest that there is a possibility that the strength to resist a hostile or inappropriate schooling at a young age may be transformed at a later age into a determination to get the benefits of that education without submitting to the particular form it took previously. Only further study could justify this claim, but I think it is one worth pursuing. In terms of power, this interpretation demonstrates its circulation. Students struggle, refusing to comply with the form of education offered. Later they see some benefit in submitting to education in order to live a better life, perhaps materially. But they are in a position as adults to select the kind of institution they will attend. The education they experience, for the most part, is very different as a result. Their struggle is rewarded by the production of a form of education which is more compatible with their needs and desires. 234 More directly, this chapter demonstrates the complexities of power relations around curriculum: the variety of views of the staff and the efforts of the administrator and other committed staff to incorporate First Nations content and process into the programs. For the students, it is imperative to introduce a kind of education which does not alienate them as other educational experiences have done in one way or another. The admissions counsellor worries about achieving appropriate placement for a student without scaring them away by using an exam. Chapter 4 demonstrated that it has been important to define the NABE program separately from offerings available at local community colleges in order to address the First Nations students' needs. Secondarily it justifies continued funding for the centre as a place which offers what no other educational institution has been able to do. On the other hand, the centre, like so many other educational institutions, is a site of struggle over priorities. But they relate to First Nations control. Reminiscent of the Indian control document, and for reasons having little to do with funding, the administrator works long hours with an instructor in a distant outreach program who fails to consider First Nations issues appropriately in his course. Only late in the day does his frustration lead him to throw a book across the man's kitchen. An instructor, contrary to the concern with community involvement, expresses his concern that the centre focuses too much on community; "that the education part is secondary." The programs must prepare students for success in whatever they choose to pursue. Another instructor comments,". . . the content... is Native and cultural and yet the structural part follows ABE [provincial adult education] guidelines." These are not contradictions to be resolved but part of the on going power struggles within and around curriculum and the centre generally. The struggle with a curriculum too long defined without First Nations interests in mind; submission to education which 235 will serve students in their desires to succeed in higher education; organized resistance to funding cuts which would stop the offering of a program: all these issues are part of the daily operation of the Native Education Centre. Note 1Chrystos is a Menominee Poet who lives on Bainbridge Island and is very involved in anti-racist work. Her poem "I am not your princess," which examines relations between non-Native and First Nations people, includes this line. See Not Vanishing, Vancouver: Press Gang Publishers, 1988. 236 CHAPTER 8 — CURRICULUM PRACTICES: THE SKILLS TRAINING PROGRAMS The Skills Training Programs focus on preparation for employment and receive much of their funding from the Canada Employment and Immigration Commission (CEIC). Many of the students have participated in upgrading programs before their enrolment in these ones. Eight weeks of practicum placement are central to these programs. Students have the opportunity to utilize skills developed in the classroom within a work situation. In addition to preparing students for the job market, the programs also allow for students who may want to continue their studies. I have placed these programs in a separate chapter, partly for convenience, but also because they are structured and funded differently from the upgrading programs described in the previous chapter. Students do not participate in the cultural and life skills programs. Because of the demands of course work, there is not time for what some career-oriented students see as extras. Most of the programs are affiliated with other educational institutions in order to increase the usefulness of the certification granted at the end of the programs. Because the Native Ed Centre is not a provincially recognized community college to date, students wanting further education find it beneficial to have their programs approved by a recognized college. In some cases they may receive advanced credit for certain courses in these institutions. Struggles around curriculum intensify in these programs. Some students wish that there were time for them to participate in the cultural programs. Others feel that they want to spend their time focusing on their particular career area. While some instructors work consistently to integrate First Nations content into their courses, others find it more difficult to do so. Those who have had more time to develop their own knowledge of First Nations issues, and curriculum which incorporates these issues, usually work extremely hard to ensure that their programs reflect the centre's philosophy of the importance of addressing both. The administrator and other successful, experienced instructors work long hours with newer instructors who need guidance. They offer suggestions for the incorporation of First Nations content. Funding regulations and renewals serve as constant reminders that the funding agencies expect to see some measurable results for their investments. The most clearly measurable result is students' program completion. The power which circulates amongst the funders, the teachers, the students and the administration becomes evident in the practices within the skills programs in the centre. There are eight skills training programs.1 The Native Public Administration Program, affiliated with OLI and CEIC,2 emphasizes skills for business and public administration and skills for First Nations settings. CEIC sponsors Secretarial Office Training and Micro-computer Office Training. These programs focus on skills for clerical and secretarial work and prepare students for employment in computerized offices, respectively. Hospitality and Tourism equips students for roles in restaurant management and hotel work. It is sponsored by DIAND, CEIC, and BCIT. Criminal Justice Studies, a joint program with Douglas College, and CEIC, leads to further education in criminology or related fields and employment. Native Family Violence Counselling and Community Services continued into the second year of its two and a half year program devoted to training family counsellors for Native communities. Its major funding is through Health and Welfare Canada. A new program, Native Early Childhood Education prepares students for their five hundred hours of on-the-job training as requirement for the provincial license. It is sponsored by CEIC and affiliated with VCC. Finally, another new program in 1988 was the Native Science and Health Careers Preparation Program. This program combined lectures and lab work in the sciences with a focus on career choice. It was sponsored by Medical Services Branch, Health and Welfare Canada. The integration of First Nations content and teaching approaches into the programs depends on their primary objectives as stated in the curriculum outlines, on the instructors' experience with First Nations students, and on their philosophical orientations to First Nations education. All of the coordinators, who also serve as the primary instructors in the programs, are non-Native. In two of the eight programs, they work with First Nations instructional assistants, some of whom are in training to take over the coordinator's position at some time in the future. These arrangements are in keeping with board directives and administrator's efforts to have more First Nations staff at the centre. In this chapter, I present the programs one at a time partly to stress their differences from one another. Because each program focuses on content specific to a particular career, they have many differences and tend to operate in some isolation from one another. Because they are involved in the demands of their own programs, the people have limited opportunity to exchange ideas and investigate common concerns. The coordinator of the skills training area addresses this separation through breakfast meetings and other events where staff may share some common concerns. At his request, I conducted a workshop while I was there to stimulate more interaction amongst the various programs and to give the instructors an opportunity to exchange ideas and share information. Glimpses of some specifics of these programs demonstrate their complexity and something of the adaptations made to accommodate First Nations content and approaches with the requirements of a course enabling students to proceed to employment or further education in a particular career area. A focus of this chapter is the Native Science and Health Career Preparation Program, the program with which I was most intimately and intensely involved. NATIVE FAMILY VIOLENCE A N D COMMUNITY SERVICE TRAINING The Family Violence program, as it came to be called, is unique in that the eight students involved work with the same co-ordinator for a period of two and a half years. Other programs run a maximum of ten months. It is a demonstration project which is being evaluated by an outside researcher. The coordinator spoke of her sense of isolation from the other instructors. Sometimes I wonder where that leaves me in relation to the rest of the staff. The fact that the skills training instructors all meet and Bob coordinates them, all the skills training instructors except for me. And I'm not with the NABE instructors. I'm sort of a person on my own. She had not worked in First Nations education before coming to the centre although she had worked in transition houses for battered women and been very active in the feminist movement. In her introduction in Chapter 6, she indicated that she saw parallels between the experiences of non-Native women and the First Nations people, mostly women, with whom she was working. She began her work with only a grant proposal as a curriculum guide and responded to student needs as they were expressed. This one, we didn't have a set curriculum when we started. I had an idea what I thought needed to be taught. They come into the classroom for three to five months, then out on practicum . . . Each time they go out and come back, they have a better sense . . . and said, "I need to know this right now. I don't need to know it a year from now." So we were able to do a lot of changing around of the course material to suit their needs. As well as supervising practica, Lisa teaches courses and hires outside instructors to offer portions of the program. I participated in a workshop with the Family Violence students. Jane Middleton-Moz, clinical director of the Seattle Mental Health Institute, conducted the workshop on what she called cultural self-hatred. Of Native American origin, she is the child of alcoholic parents. She sees cultural self-hatred as learned self-helplessness, a socialized belief that no matter what you do, it won't make a difference. Using the words "cultural oppression," she leads students to see their lives and the lives of those they will work with in a larger social context. She points to the difficulty of addressing Native American alcoholism because too often it is seen only as an individual problem rather than also as an outcome of cultural oppression. In the workshop, she stated that no one can give the students power. Anyone who gives power can also take it away. They must recognize the power that they have and take it. While her analysis is not parallel with Foucault's recognition of power as a relation, she clearly sees power as a positive force, not simply that which represses. She led students through their early socialization where as First Nations children most learned that being Indian means being "drunk, violent, dirty, dumb, ignorant, poor, no rights, living on handouts, bums, welfare cases" (Field notes: September 19, 1988). First Nations people learn statistics about alcoholism, suicide and lack of success which instead of leading them away too often become self-fulfilling prophecies, she said. For those who do manage to move into mainstream society, their own communities say "You're acting like a white man." Some people in this situation take on the values of the oppressor, begin to believe the stereotypes of First Nations people put forth by mainstream society, and start hating their own people. "You can't hire him, he's an Indian." For those whose parents are still in pain, she talked about survival guilt, a sense that you shouldn't be happier than your parents. She drew parallels between Native American survivors and the survivors of the holocaust with whom she also works. She sees both as survivors of genocide. She then talked of resolving traumas in order to begin to work effectively as counsellors. She sees that the most important aspect of becoming a counsellor is working through one's own grief. Frequently the trauma which must be dealt with arises as a result of living within a dysfunctional family, a family in which the adults needs have not been met and therefore the child's cannot be met. These losses need to be acknowledged, validated and put into perspective as outcomes of cultural oppression. Then, there is the possibility to work with others through similar stages of development. For the students, this workshop was one of the most significant aspects of their program. The coordinator commented: Yeah. That was a high point. What they told me, which was interesting, was they said that if Jane had come in any earlier, it wouldn't have been such a high point because they would have been pushed right back into their own traumas. But the fact that they'd had a year to work through all that stuff, when she came in, she basically integrated all the other material they'd had and put it in a context for them. I think that's really important. Lisa went on to say that students going into the communities on practicum frequently found themselves doing community development workshops, raising awareness of the importance of counselling. They requested and were granted a public speaking course. The workshops focus on "family violence, although a lot of them . . . are talking about cultural self-hatred." Like Middleton-Moz, Lisa emphasizes the importance of students working on their own personal growth as they work in "helping fields." 'Cause anyone that's working in that field needs to keep working on themselves. Maybe I shouldn't make such a blanket statement, but I would say that 99% of the people who go into helping fields go in because of some personal need. If you don't work that through, you become ineffective fairly quickly. You just take out your own garbage on other people. In order to avoid hypocrisy, she also feels a need to work on herself as she works with the students. She felt that other staff members could also benefit from such work. Clearly First Nations content is integral to the program. In addition, the sensitivity of the teacher, the flexibility of the curriculum, small class size, and her openness to responding to students' needs create a classroom in stark contrast to other social work classes with established and more rigid curricula. Other aspects of the class reflect the awareness of First Nations cultures. Each day students start their day with a smudge, a ritual involving cleansing smoke of sage or sweetgrass and prayer. When she wanted to introduce prayer as a part of the program, she worked with a Native resource person. She was the first [outside] instructor in and the first thing she does is she brings in her talking stick and her smudge and we do the Indian handshake and the prayer. So she sets it up, day two. Then the class very quickly says we're going to do this every day. That's something I had wanted but I didn't know that form. That's been a very, very important part of the course. The second outside instructor, a First Nations person as well, "demystified" the prayer ceremony by talking about there being different ways and respecting other people's way and doing what you're comfortable with . . . . One of the things that the class has been really strong on and they struggle with sometimes, is that there is no such thing as one right way. They occasionally get into it but they work it out fairly quickly. He also introduced the symbol of the medicine wheel to the class. Her response to my comments that this symbol arises out of prairie cultures was that it had proven to be a positive influence in her class. I think it's one of the things that's been a byproduct of the government policy to exterminate Native people. That in an attempt to break the culture, in fact what they've done is unify the culture . . . the culture has been under attack for so long that people are more willing to be eclectic and say basically that it's all good stuff and we'll go with it. She had never heard the word Pan-Indianism, a term of somewhat negative connotation which points to the homogenization of First Nations cultures (See Chapter 4:153). Although this coordinator is working with a new program, her understanding of the importance of incorporating First Nations content and approaches into the program has led her to enlist the help of several First Nations instructors. These people enable her to introduce role models to the students as well as to develop her own understandings of First Nations issues. Her ability to listen and learn based in experience in the feminist movement serves her well in her role as coordinator-instructor. She spoke in the interview of the valuable lessons she has learned from the students. NATIVE PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION PROGRAM The Native Public "Admin" Program curriculum began with a binder of materials from the Open Learning Institute, a provincial distance education institution. These materials were minimally adapted versions of the standard diploma program in office management. The primary difference was the addition of two courses with First Nations content. Seven of the eleven courses were not adapted in any way. The present coordinator had been working with the program for three years, each year making more revisions. He has included Native case studies in courses with titles like "Introduction to Canadian Business." They are simple scenarios of what a band administrator might face on a regular basis and the kind of complexities of Native management that go beyond straight financial management. Involving the community, for example, in decisions. Working with a community where the majority of people may be related, looking at cultural norms . . . . Looking at issues like health care and education and social services, say the planning of them from an administrative point of view, looking at them from a Native perspective in terms of the particular issues that apply to Native communities, special considerations that have to be looked at. The focus of the program is on bands, Native organizations and non-profit organizations. In accounting, the needs of Native small businesses are addressed. 244 The business law course includes in addition to regular business transactions and their legal aspects, "issues regarding Indian taxation and Indian tax planning for businesses." In their communications course, students wrote letters to Jake Epp, the Minister of Health and Welfare about Native child care issues. The students also entered an international competition in Vienna, submitting a class project. This was an employment project to employ Native child care workers to deal with child welfare issues like children in care and trying to create alternative diversion projects and that kind of thing for Native youth. There were about two hundred of these things that got sent to Austria and we were in the top ten. We got a plaque from Vienna. In business math, they look at the kinds of things that "regular band mangers will confront on the reserve." Native Legal Issues is a new course. It began as a workshop to supplement the regular law course, but the coordinator said, "The more I thought about it, especially in this province, the Indian people are in and out of court every day, it's such a central focus. The court confrontation between Native people and the government.... So I set up this new course called Native Legal Issues." A few days after visiting the regular law class, I sat in on the Native Legal Issues class. The person teaching had worked as a lawyer with the Gitksan Wet'suwet'en in their landmark case against the provincial government. As the class began, she distributed a chart depicting the various levels of court in the country; it was similar to a chart distributed earlier in the regular law class. Students then ask questions, any they may have about the courts. The questions range from the limit for small claims court, now $200.00, up from the previous fifty, to the possibility of appeal of the Gitksan-Wet'suwet'en eventually to the Supreme Court of Canada, and the existence of an international court. The students appear relaxed and engaged. They are not fidgeting with books, the ones at the back are straining a little to hear, the questions flow from one another. The teacher finally closes the question session with a call for any other questions, a significant wait period of at least thirty seconds, and a second request "Going once . . . ." The students respond with quiet laughter. She suggests infinite time for the questions as she waits. By 9:20, the lecture for the day begins. She begins with two points: "Aboriginal people were here for a long, long time before non-aboriginal people," and "there has been no legitimate extinguishment of their original sovereignty." She says that Canada and British Columbia were required to deal with the aboriginal people as nations following a specific nation to nation process, which did not happen. In B.C. with a few exceptions, no treaties were made. Six minutes into the lecture, she asks again for questions and again waits a noticeably long time, about ten seconds. It seems to me a long silence and then a question comes. Following several questions, she leads into a reading of the introductory comments of the Gitksan-Wet'suwet'en's first day in court. She places the remarks in the context of "educating non-Indians." Her talk is interspersed with questions. Over the hour, mostly in response to questions, she puts forth the following among other statements. Explorers could not have survived without Indian people. First Nations people's view on selling land was that they had nothing to sell, "We don't own it. It belongs to the Creator." This is a fundamental difference with non-Native people who are "into owning." When these two views of the world try to come together, friction results. Perhaps the most important point of the day is that "the courts do not respect the traditional laws. The court system does not accept the tribal laws." She also tells the students that from 1927 to 1951, it was an offence for First Nations people to raise money to press land claims issues. The students voice their surprise. They articulate their recognition of the strength of those who have survived such oppression. "We're still here," comments one. "It's not that they didn't want to (protest). They just didn't know how to do it the white man's way." The teacher acknowledges, "That's part of it." At the end of the class, students ask if she will address other topics such as the Nisga'a decision and police on reserve during the course. "I can. Would you like me to?" she responds (Field notes: September 13, 1990). In addition to course work, like most students in the skills programs, these ones participate in eight weeks of practicum placement. Some chose to go to their home bands; others go to Native organizations, government agencies, the private sector and non-profit organizations. Graduates go to work or to higher education. At Simon Fraser University, students are accepted into a business program following successful completion of one year of arts. A few attend community colleges closer to home. Because the coordinator has worked with First Nations people before, he has a clear vision of the importance and the role of First Nations content. In his third year with the program, he has managed to integrate First Nations issues into the courses, and the program itself. He has found a number of community people to teach in the program who also have strengths in First Nations issues. MICRO-COMPUTER OFFICE TRAINING Micro-computers, because its emphasis lies with very specific skills, is perhaps one of the more difficult areas to integrate First Nations content and process. According to the calendar, the "program is designed to train Native people with an interest in micro-computers for employment with Native organizations, tribal councils and/or bands as well as with employers in the private and government sectors" (Native Education Centre, 1988:18). Students learn to use IBM and AES personal computers with a variety of software. The program lasts five and a half months. The teachers are a non-Native instructor and a First Nations instructional assistant. While the content clearly must focus on word processing which often implies uninterrupted time facing a screen, the instructor in this class works to maintain a high level of interpersonal contact. The year begins with students introducing one another to the rest of the class. There are two men and eight women. Following the teacher's introduction to the school and the program, the questions include some very personal ones. One of the men asks Pat, the instructor how old she is, mentioning that she seems to be focusing on age when she is talking to them. She tells him that she is thirty-five, but then goes on to comment that she is probably really conscious of age because this is the time she should be thinking, "What about a family? What about a husband?" Pat then asks the instructional assistant how old she is. She responds that she is "the same age as Pat." This straight forward presentation of personal details apparently relaxes everyone and the students begin to ask some questions about very practical, but personal issues. They ask about appropriate dress for class. They begin to consider what they will need to wear on practicum when they will be out in the business world. There is a discussion about the possibility of clothing allowances from bands or "workers," an apparent reference to social workers with whom some students are involved. Pat asked me what I thought about the possibilities and I responded that people should persist in their requests as the practicum is a required part of the program. Pat goes on to say that some of the guest speakers who come in are prospective employers. She does not bother to add, "So dress appropriately," but this is clearly implied. She raised the possibility of additional sessions on dress if the students would like and also a trip to a warehouse sale if one came up. The students moved from this very personal discussion to pre-reading their binders to prepare for their initial work with the computers in the afternoon. At one o'clock, they review important words: hardware, software, screen, keyboard and others. They complete a worksheet. They move to the printers. She passes around the daisy wheel. She explains print types, letter quality, and makes frequent reference to "your customer." She moves on to the word modem. At this point, the instructor and instructional assistant begin working as a team. Pat: All you have to know about a modem is . . . (pause as she erases the blackboard.) Sally: They're like a translator. Pat: Right. We'll write that down. [Following a definition of the CPU, the central processing unit, as the brain of the computer,] Sally: One thing though, a computer cannot think for itself. Pat: No, a computer is only as smart as the person who feeds information in. The students then get up to see the internal workings of the computers. Pat asks for volunteers. One of the men moves in immediately. No others volunteer. Pat asks specific people. One woman responds, "I don't want to, but I will." A few minutes later, when I look up again from my notes, I realize that the man is still working with the screwdriver, now on the second computer. The final activity of the day is individual work at a computer with an introductory program. The two teachers circulate. Pat says quite loudly to one student, "Oh, you forgot to shut the door [of the disc drive]." Some of the other students look concerned and over to the student to whom she has spoken. I think of the significance, in some First Nations cultures, of public humiliation. Pat lightens the moment by telling about a cartoon showing a woman being carted off by burly police men with a caption saying, "Computer operator pushes the wrong button." Other students laugh. She assures them that they can do little seriously wrong; "the computer lets you just keep trying." Because of the strict skill orientation of a course like this one called micro-computer office training, the instructor chooses to focus on developing these skills. At the same time, in an effort to meet the immediate needs of her students, she creates space for the discussion of the practical details of their preparation for work. During the short time I spent in this class, neither students nor instructors seriously discussed the social ramifications of the training being offered. First Nations content was not evident. Students' involvement with the cultural and life skills classes was again limited because of the perceived need to focus on skill development. They were, however involved in student council and other general centre activities. 249 NATIVE H E A L T H A N D SCIENCE CAREER PREPARATION P R O G R A M The "Science and Health Career Program" is also somewhat unusual in that most students, while they are involved in a kind of upgrading, have made some commitment to the fields of health or science. Several have made clear choices for involvement in science and health professions. Because of their heavy workload, they do not have the opportunity to participate in the culture and life skills classes. Some have attended other upgrading in the centre; others come from various educational backgrounds. All must have grade 12 equivalency. This is the program with which I had the most extensive involvement in that I worked on the curriculum, taught a section of the program in my research year and interviewed students and the coordinator. The section which I taught included an opportunity for students to reflect and comment on the program. In 1987, the Urban Native Indian Education Society, the non-profit society which manages the centre, sponsored a research project examining the participation levels of and needs for First Nations health professionals in British Columbia. Results of the survey and follow-up interviews indicated that "community personnel see a current and future need for such trained people" (Urban Native Indian Education Society 1987:26). As a direct result of the recommendations of this report, the society received funding to offer a 10 month health and science career preparation program. I was hired to develop this program design plan, by this time, referred to as a curriculum. Consistent with National Indian Brotherhood recommendations in Indian Control of Indian Education, I was supervised by two First Nations people, the centre's administrator and a Cree from Manitoba who was the research officer of the project. I was hired because I had worked successfully with First Nations adults and because I had been a biology teacher. My job was to develop a program which would address two main goals: to prepare students for success in science and health 250 programs in colleges and universities and, at the same time, to respect their original cultures. Both content and process were to demonstrate this respect. The result of the program design, a curriculum outline called Bridging the Gap, includes 7 modules. Teaching approaches, modelled partly on Freire's pedagogy, include starting from student experiences, dialogue or talking across differences (Ellsworth 1989) and, in parts of some modules, generating themes for consideration. First Nations content is to be integrated in two ways: one by simply using examples which include reference to traditional and contemporary experiences, the other by creating space for the students to relate their own lives to the science that they are doing. Three of the modules focus specifically on the expression of and development of ideas around First Nations cultures, and science as a way of knowing. The first, "Becoming a Science Student," introduces students to conventional science which originates primarily in Western European culture and to what may be called embedded science (See Fasheh 1990) which originates in traditional First Nations cultures. In this integration, contradiction becomes evident as students are asked to articulate that which has not been talked about in this way before. Greg Cajete, a Navajo ethnoscientist has written: There is no word in any traditional Native American language which can be translated to mean science as it is viewed in modern Western society. Rather the thought process of 'science' which includes rational observation of natural phenomena, classification, problem solving, the use of symbol systems and applications of technical knowledge, was integrated with all other aspects of Native American cultural organizations" (Cajete, 1986:129). Students consider this idea along with their own responses to the incursion of conventional science into their lives. As well as introducing lab technique, teachers are directed to include topics such as value-free science, control of nature versus harmony with nature, women and science, and cycles in traditional and conventional science. The seminar format of the Career Orientation module is particularly conducive to students' participation. They choose science and health career professionals as resource people, discuss issues of concern to First Nations people around these careers, and continually reflect in journals and discussions on what Lois Steele (1985) calls "the biggest acculturation process" of their lives, that of becoming a First Nations science student. The final module, an advanced science unit called "Balance: From the Cell to the Ecosystem" begins with the following quote from a Native science educator: Our lives are directed toward living with our environments—natural and social—not in controlling or changing them. Adaptation to conditions is the key to our survival physically. Living in harmony with each other is the key to our survival spiritually and culturally. We recognize that life is not fully explainable or even measurable. Delia Williams The module draws on the provincial Biology 12 curriculum, but is also an opportunity to bring together strands developed in other modules. Beginning with the cell's constant activity for homeostasis and working through to the earth's constant struggles to adapt to change, students consider the interrelationships of life and those of the branches of science. An elder introduces the concept of balance from a First Nations perspective. The module goes on to biochemistry based on the provincial Biology 12 curriculum, and ecology based on field study and adapted from the Native American Science Education Association's Outdoor World Science Project. The other four modules follow the core of the provincial public school curricula for Algebra, Biology, Chemistry and Physics 11 and serve as a basis for further study at the university level. Teachers integrate as much First Nations content as possible. Suggestions include contrasting First Nations nomenclature with binomial nomenclature used in biology, relating changes in molecular motion in the construction of bentwood boxes, considering density in the use of wooden halibut hooks and incorporating the use of applied ray optics by fisherman taking into account light refraction as they spear fish below the surface of the water. In all modules, the curriculum outline suggests that teachers remain constantly attuned to creating space for students' concerns and input. IMPLEMENTATION The completed plan was presented to 23 science and health professionals including representatives from funding agencies and First Nations communities in April 1988. Discussion focused on the integration of First Nations cultural values and scientific thought into mainstream curriculum. Participants "spoke strongly about integration being reciprocal because both cultures gain from that approach" (Native Education Centre 1988:2). Final comments included the notion that "the goal of any science program for Native people is Native control of it and the power to decide what goes on in the classroom." As the program unfolded this became an important issue. In September 1988, the program began at the Native Education Centre with 13 students, ten females and three males, attending. They came with a variety of goals: forestry, massage therapy, nursing, dentistry and medicine. Following the year long program, one student decided to pursue fine arts while the others held to their original goals. The students came from around the province, the Yukon and Alberta. Some had lived in Vancouver for some time. They ranged in age from 19 to 49 with the majority in their late twenties and early thirties. Most were parents; several, single parents. A few, coming back to school as a part of a reassessment of their lives, were recovering from drug and alcohol abuse. In the first year of the program, recruitment of students was somewhat rushed. Despite the fact that there are many forms of support available in the centre, four students decided to leave the program early for a variety of reasons. Two others were asked to leave because of attendance patterns. One student enrolled later in the year primarily for chemistry. The bulk of the year, eight students, six women and two men, attended. In 1989-90, the second year of the program, things ran much more smoothly with 13 out of the 14 original students completing the program. Three non-Native teachers and a lab assistant worked with the students: Paul, the coordinator taught "Becoming a Science Student" full time for the first month, then physics, chemistry, math; Heather, the two biology modules; and I, the career seminar. RESEARCH AS CONVERSATION [P]eople can't go back to the life of a long time ago; so we'll have to just put them together—put two worlds together . . . . You can't just leave the Western influence that we have. You can't just totally disregard that. We have to learn to live amongst you people. Joanne, Wolf Clan, Northern Tutchone The curriculum as lived is rarely the curriculum planned (see Aoki 1984:4). In interviews, in class discussions and in journals, I asked people to consider First Nations content and process as aspects of the program and the spaces where they found opportunities to consider issues specific to First Nations. The pieces of conversation which follow re-present some of the tone and flavour of the conversations we had. They also hint of the contradictions inherent in participating in such a program. Paul, the co-ordinator who developed a number of lesson plans based on the curriculum described above, said: 254 There hasn't been as much application of, well, your underlying philosophy and your ideas for lessons and areas and then my lesson plans as I would have liked in biology. But that is the product of the way Heather's structuring the biology course . . . . She's doing humans now. She has taught biology from a unicellular animal point of view up through the more complex organisms, which is maybe not the way I would have done it with a class like this, but it seems to be okay . . . . So a lot of things that she could do to bring Native culture into the program can happen this term. Plus the weather's going to get good and they're going to go outside and do stuff. I think that might still happen. He acknowledged that his own pre-designed lesson plans were not aimed at physics and chemistry. Rather he used them primarily in the first module: Yeah, that was fun. The nature of science, the nature of living things, classification systems and looking at local traditional plants to play with that theme. Everybody developed their own classification systems for the Centre plants and we compared them and saw that they all worked for different reasons. With a background in math and computer science, he was concentrating on dealing with the new curricula in physics and chemistry without introducing much First Nations content. He had worked successfully in the centre for a number of years and continued to use teaching approaches which were very respectful of the students and created spaces for their active participation. Because of this respect, Paul was a source of support to students. Ann said, "He's just a really nice, nice man . . . . He's really caring and he explains things really well. You kind of want to take an interest in it." She mentioned the First Nations content in the first module: Paul showed us about herbs and stuff. The first couple of weeks, we took what is science and stuff and that was basically Native content. He showed us a videotape on Thorn Alcoze [a First Nations biologist]. I liked him. That really, really made a big difference. You really feel good about being a Native person once you're in there. Some students talked about missing the more consistent First Nations content of earlier programs at the centre, but saw reasons for its invisibility. One of them said, "We have such a heavy work load." A few, at first, had little interest in addressing First Nations issues. I just want to be a dentist, said one student. Paul, the co-ordinator, acknowledged his respect for this attitude. Although he appreciates students in his class raising the issues, he feels it is inappropriate for him to direct people to the issues, "to tell thirty year olds how they should live their lives." He mentioned two younger students who appeared "to be completely acclimatized to white urban society." In comparison, Richard "appears so too because he's a very capable person, but I think philosophically and experientially, he's very much an Indian. So he may remind me of—if we're having a discussion, he just might bring it back to earth with the basic philosophical issue that we might be overlooking . . . a return to relevance to the Native community, something like that." But he goes on to say, "People without any sense of their Native history can come in here and some of them don't want to learn anything about it. Some of them do and the ones that do should have every opportunity to." Interestingly, the student who "just" wanted to be a dentist, during the year discovered that one of the other students was her aunt. Her aunt then proceeded to involve her in a traditional dance group. I attended one of their performances near the end of the year. The younger student's mother who moved from her reserve years ago was there, thrilled to see her daughter reunited with some relatives with whom they had lost touch and with the culture as expressed in the dance. Several of the students commented on the biology course. Ann objected to the teaching practices: She started treating us like a college professor. She'd just come in and lecture and you're supposed to take notes and that's it. There's never any handouts. We don't get marked on our labs. There's no assignments really. Just our tests. So you never know how you're doing through the course really. At the same time, she liked the program because of the other First Nations students. 256 It's smaller, closer knit than a normal school... . I've learned a lot about Native culture in general. I don't know if it's mine specifically. She found students in other schools she attended, ("I tried about 6 or 7 times to go back to school and finish") hard to get to know. "Here, the older ladies here, they look like my grandmas and my aunties. They're really friendly. There it's different. It's cold." When asked if the program seemed like a First Nations program, Joanne said: Yes, it is because it's full of Indian people . . . . The academic part isn't. There's some parts where I wish I could go out with an old Indian person instead of Susan or Heather . . . . There's more traditional biology that I want to learn, but I know that after this I'll have a chance at taking it up and doing it on my own. But for the course that I'm going to in September, I need this biology background: I didn't have any at all before. Richard, who wants to be a forester working with his band, wishes there were more First Nations perspectives represented in the program: There is not enough Native professional people so I can see it would be tough to get resource people who can tell the students from a Native perspective how they see the forest resource. When I was talking to Tony Pearse [a non-native resource person], I told him I was going into forestry and he said that it was good, but don't get seduced into their thinking. To be a forester sort of just gives approval to exploitation by the companies. I do wish there was more teaching of how the Native peoples use the forest. Like with the Coast Indians, they've got fantastic forest resources and for all the years they lived here before European contact,they never overharvested their forest. They deal with it you know. They knew how much they could take and they knew the importance of the forest to their whole lifestyle. It was part of their coast environment and forest environment, but somewhere they must know from the stories that are passed down. Field trips as Paul had predicted did create space for students to reflect on First Nations concerns. Going to a bog focused Joanne on some fundamental variances she has with her teacher. I had this cut on my knee. I wanted to take some pitch and put it on it. And Susan looked at me like, no, you can't remove anything from here. And I said, Well, I would give an offering of tobacco and she looked at me like I was crazy. Whereas that kind of thing is totally accepted. If you are sick, you take from the land and you give back to it. But with her, it's just so clinical. And also with Heather. She's a really smart woman but she doesn't have much spirituality. (My emphasis.) The field trip to Meares Island which coincided with a nearby community potlatch, reminded some students of their homes, their cultures and their reasons for going to school. One articulated the importance for her. When we got there, I wasn't going to the potlatch, because there was this special place with the waves and the ocean and the smell and everything. I just wanted to sit and take it all in. I did go and it really strengthened, it put a humanistic side to it. It wasn't just the elements, but there were also people involved all of a sudden. There was a strong sense of community; lots and lots of children. I had been to lots of potlatches before, but this one had so much culture. The drumming and singing and dancing was so strong. Richard was also drawn to the children: It showed me the reason to get this degree or whatever I want to get is not for my own benefit. It is for my own benefit in a way, but it's going to benefit the people. And it reminded me that—well, it's not my community, it's not my own reserve, I mean—but it is my community. It's my people . . . The hope was there were so many little kids there. I feel like the population is growing. Because of the population growing, there is going to be more need for economic activity. So in a way, I think maybe we're the trail breakers . . . . It's like in the winter when you're in camp and you have to move to another place where the hunting is better or there's more firewood. Usually the strongest people go ahead . . . just to break through the deep snow. Then afterwards the women and children and older people come along where you made the trail. That's sort of what I mean as a trail breaker. It's hard going, but it's good because other people don't have to work so hard. Question: Have you been in those winter camps walking? Yep. Then I wasn't a trail breaker. My dad was. My dad would go ahead and it was easier for me to do it cause he went first. In the career seminars students not only had space to raise a variety of First Nations issues, but had several introduced through readings and resource people. Here many struggled with career choices and their concerns for traditional ways. Audrey, in a journal which focused on a class discussion of a poster entitled "Yesterday's Magic; Today's Science" depicting a mask surrounded by pictures of people working in laboratories, wrote about "wu'umst," a derivative of devil's club root used in the treatment of T.B. and a secret until the 1950s. She compared her uncle's stories about "wu'umst" with the loneliness and pain of the treatment she received in a sanatorium. She concludes her paper with "Although I prefer the order and precision of high technology, I will keep up the oral tradition of our medicine men." Joanne, responding to reading an interview with David Suzuki (Barrington, 1989), focused on the what she called the "innate" respect a First Nations person has for the land. Society has changed that. We need a lot of educating and therapy to bring back our respect. In order for that respect to resurface a culture must be saved. I don't mean that we have to abandon all scientific advances but we need to find a way to combine the new with the old. David Suzuki can learn from the elders and realize the strength in our Indian culture. I respect him for that. In a conversation, Evan talked of the conflict he felt when working for B.C. Hydro which exemplifies the direct impact of applied science on traditional life. After three weeks work, he was at an annual tribal meeting at Iskut. My whole family was there. I felt kind of weird, because the theme of the whole get-together that time was the dam. They wanted to dam and flood the valley where the Tahltan people were for thousands of years. What really made me angry is that I was talking to all of the B.C. Hydro guys before, all the three weeks I was there and they knew I was, who I am and everything and they tried to tell me that it is so good for our people that they dam it. And I thought, at the time, I didn't answer them too much . . . . But I always believed one thing: How could it be good for the people when you're drowning the land and that's not good for people? When I got to Iskut, I felt like a real hypocrite. I just never went back to work. I went back fishing again. Didn't make any money that year, but.. . Joanne's clear articulation insists that for her the two worlds are together. 259 Things in the Western world, things can't just be because they are. There has to be a reason. For everything . . . . It is really nice to know why clouds, why thunder and lightening, and why thunder makes noise. It's nice to know the reason, there is a reason behind it and not just that it's the spirits talking. One of the most incredible things that ever happened, that I experienced with thunder and lightening, was when my Dad's mother died. She was quite old and it was a clear day, the day of her funeral. And just before the actual funeral started, these big, black clouds came in. And there was a huge, huge thunder storm: it was just incredible—lightening and thunder cracking and then the clouds went away. And the blue sky came back. It was really amazing the way this powerful woman did this. For me, Joanne exemplifies the importance of programs like this one. She is preparing for further education that she wants by meeting all the needs for prerequisites. She articulates the dissonance she feels, refuses to abandon her cultural beliefs, and proceeds to meld them with conventional science. She forms a new knowledge insisting that both worlds will exist together. In some ways the changes made by programs such as the science and health careers program are minimal. The environment in which they are offered, the Native Ed Centre, is the most important aspect of their incorporation of or more accurately, their encompassment by, First Nations issues. Because this is a relatively new area, there are few people available to teach the program who have both a science background and are involved with First Nations issues. First Nations people themselves are becoming more involved in science and health. As they continue to influence the areas on which they choose to focus, they will have increasing impact on curricula such as this one. As the community members said in response to the original curriculum plan, "the goal of any science program for Native people is Native control of it and the power to decide what goes on in the classroom." O T H E R P R O G R A M S Two other recently introduced programs are the Native Hospitality and Tourism Management Training Program and the Native Early Childhood Education Training Program. Both non-Native coordinators had minimal background in working with First Nations students, but strong credentials in their fields. For these instructors, integration of First Nations content was more problematic, but contained exciting possibility. Of the 13 students in the Hospitality and Tourism Program, 12 are female. Like a number of other instructors, Bill spoke of the difficulty he experienced in deciding the direction the program should take: It really speaks to a difficulty I had with the program in not knowing where people were going. On one hand, we're looking at a program that is going to create people who can fit into Native economic development out there in the province and have access to an area that is probably the biggest employer in the province and, on the other hand, we've got people that just want to get into business and don't want to do anything that's necessarily Indian. So it's really not knowing whether to make it community development oriented or industry oriented. He went on to say that the program got around this problem by focusing on supervisory skills. Those skills are transferable to a variety of businesses since supervision skills are an important part of any business. At the same time, in reference to the curriculum he acknowledged that: . . . the major, the central question in our program is are you going to market the Native culture and how are you going to do it if you are . . . . There's an awful lot to learn from the culture and if you can impart some of that information to people, they really appreciate it and understand the culture better, and it's good for everybody. He described a salmon barbecue which the students held on the beach. They researched traditional preparation and traditional salmon stories from their cultures, and told those stories after talking "about the suitability of those stories for the public . . . and whether it has value as a tourist activity." For him, good labour relations are a central consideration in management, "really treating people quite decently and helping to fulfil their ambitions and wants and needs and at the same time getting a good bottom line . . . . Good profit. I think they're quite compatible." He sees a tradition of hospitality in Native cultures which may also be a "challenge to build on." A student has talked to him about developing an inn in conjunction with a traditional long house, incorporating trail rides past pictograph sites and outcrops of land which have legends associated with them. Bill wonders if it would be a suitable holiday site for "groups of anthropologists from all over the world." Another student, for her directed studies is contemplating the design and marketing of Native clothing. Bill is also excited by the possibilities of First Nations foods. The good chefs, as opposed to the ones that are just stuck in their own little ruts, they look around them and keep looking and looking and looking and what they find in the environment, they take and they prepare in a way that is consistent with good cooking practices, but also the culture of the people and the environment that they live ih . . . Native people's food is not dissimilar to the Japanese and so when you look at the Japanese influence, the European influence, and the Native, you have an opportunity to come up with some very interesting dishes . . . . It's a new cookery, and it's a very creative opportunity so I love to see the students working with food concepts and developing those. All the students take a foods course with a German chef who "has a real interest in Native foods." At the end of the program, the coordinator feels that students will have some qualifications to enter the hospitality business, but ultimately, "their ability to work with Native people, with Native staff, and to communicate that value, particularly where these hotels and projects want to project a Native identity" will be their major asset. Early Childhood Education was course introduced the year of the study. Predictably, all the students were female. The coordinator, Linda, described her role as "developing the program." While she makes an effort to integrate Native content, she has more of a "multicultural focus." My feeling is that the Native children, if they are all on a reserve in this daycare, are not going to be there all of their lives. They're going to have the influence and be forced into interaction with many different cultures. And that early exposure and understanding or allowing a vehicle to be able to allow the understanding, I think is going to in the future assist them in working against racism, no matter what races are involved. She mentioned that in the child development course there was discussion of traditional birthing processes. Although none of the students had been involved with such practices, she talked of their importance as "what we are coming back to now." Bringing in her grandmother's "old wives' tales," she pointed to similarities between cultures. Consideration of gender differences brought to light one of the complexities of cross-cultural work. Linda pointed out that students had some difficulty "having to work through what's boys' play and girls' play." Although the students clearly understand the reasoning behind refusing to differentiate play in this way, "if they have to plan an activity, they say 'and the boys will go to the woodworking and the girls will come and do art.'" One student raised a personal issue related to gender. It was a song she wanted to be involved with in her band, but the song is handed down to boys. But her grandfather taught her and she wanted to be able to sing it. She was working on that with her grandfather and it was her grandmother that said no, she couldn't do it and the grandfather was saying yes, she can. She was going to be able to do it at some ceremony that was coming up. One of the biggest concerns the program coordinator had was that the students would believe that the ten month training was designed to enable them to open their own daycare and run it successfully. She felt very strongly that students needed much more training and experience before that. However, she acknowledged the possibility that some students would find themselves in that 263 position. Despite her disapproval, she offered a special course in administration in case students did find themselves the only ones available to offer daycare, perhaps in a remote reserve. Both instructors of these recently developed programs struggled with appropriate curricula. As experts in a particular fields, they knew what the market expected. As novices in First Nations education, they felt some concern with finding an appropriate balance between offering their own strengths and discovering and building on those of the students. Perhaps these struggles around curriculum are best summarized by repeating the words of the Hospitality and Tourism coordinator: On one hand, we're looking at a program that is going to create people who can fit into Native economic development out there in the province and have access to an area that is probably the biggest employer in the province. And, on the other hand, we've got people that just want to get into business and don't want to do anything that's necessarily Indian. These also indicate some of the complexities in the relationship between First Nations content and content which will meet the needs of prospective employers and markets. CONCLUSIONS While the NABE programs clearly emphasize Native content and must in order to offer courses relevant to the students there, there is something of a demand with the skills programs that meeting the needs of the employers must be given priority. While the two goals are not mutually exclusive, some staff find it more difficult than others to integrate First Nations content with what they perceive to be the demands of the business community. Because of time pressures, the students in the skills programs do not participate in the cultural courses. First Nations content 264 must be accommodated within the program itself. The varying degrees of success of this accommodation depend primarily on the instructor's experience, access to resources, and personal commitment to the goal. Throughout the centre, the board and administration remain committed to the incorporation of First Nations content. There are on-going efforts to help new instructors with their work in this area. This has become a significant issue particularly since priority in some programs has been on the instructor's expertise in the content area. The person hired may have little or no experience with First Nations adult students. Notes *As of 1990, all programs are affiliated with Vancouver Community College (see p. 2). 2The initials used for sponsoring and affiliated agencies correspond to the following: BCIT British Columbia Institute of Technology CEIC Canada Employment and Immigration Commission D IAND Department of Indian and Northern Affairs (also Indian and Northern Affairs Canada) OLI Open Learning Institute (now Open Learning Agency) UNIES Urban Native Indian Education Society V C C Vancouver Community College VCC/KEC VCC: King Edward Campus C H A P T E R 9 — T A K I N G C O N T R O L : W H A T T H E Y S A I D Discourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it.. . [A]s soon as there is a power relation, there is a possibility of resistance. Michel Foucault (1976/1988:101,123) All the previous chapters focus on control of First Nations education. They have examined histories, people's practices in the Native Education Centre, the centre itself, and the people themselves all as aspects of control. These re-presentations have been based in the selection and re-ordering of the discourse of the people who work in and around the centre: students, teachers and board members, and in my observations. This chapter shifts to examine people's statements, their beliefs about "Indian control of Indian education." What do they say when asked directly about control? What does it mean to them? What does it mean in relation to the centre with which they are involved? What does it mean in relation to the National Indian Brotherhood document? First Nations education, as has been amply demonstrated throughout this study, is a site of the production of discourse. As Catherine Belsey states, "A discourse is a domain of language-use, a particular way of talking (and writing and thinking). A discourse involves certain shared assumptions which appear in the formulations that characterize it." Discourse focuses on the importance of context within meaning and the open-texturedness of reality (Eisenstein 1988:11). The centre itself produces local knowledge. With each contextual layer the reader has come to know a little more of the centre, its historical, material, and social location. Views of control are produced, reproduced and revised within this environment where people struggle for education which allows students to develop, maintain and enhance their understandings of First Nations cultures and 266 issues and, at the same time, to prepare for education and/or employment within the majority Canadian society as well as within First Nations communities. As the First Nations people and non-Native people who work within the centre articulate their views of control in this chapter, power relations permeate their comments. Relations between the centre and the world outside and relations within the centre shape people's views and their conversations. While people apparently speak a common language, the "words change their meaning from one discourse to another, and conflicting discourses develop even where there is a supposedly common language" (Macdonell 1986:45 in Eisenstein 1988:9). Many people, when asked directly about control, referred to one of the major topics covered in the document. Often, people included the terms "Native values" in their responses. Community involvement, funding, decision-making around policies, teacher selection, curriculum, and student control were all considered significant. Indicative of changing perceptions of control, some talked of degrees of "Indian control." Throughout the discourse, there was always an implication and, often a clear statement, that First Nations control, the process in which the people of the centre are engaged, is ultimately change for the better. THE DOCUMENT REVISITED The document, Indian Control of Indian Education, serves as a significant guide for this study. It characterizes the concerns of people working in First Nations education. Even those who have never read it find their thinking and their discourse coincident with the sentiments of the statements there. It articulates some shared assumptions that many First Nations people working in education held at the time it was written and which they continue to share. There were study participants who had never heard of the document or the idea of "Indian control" before coming to the centre or before this study. I had the following discussion with Ann, a student: Celia: Had you thought about Indian control before you came around to the Centre? Ann: Never even heard of it. Celia: Have you thought about it now? Ann: Yeah. Celia: What does it mean? Ann: You mean with them having a self-government and looking after that school? Celia: I want to know what it means to you. Ann: I think the school would do a lot better for the Native People than self-government will. Celia: So you think Indian control as far as the school goes makes sense? Ann: Oyeah. Celia: What kinds of things? Ann: Well for somebody like me who hasn't been exposed to a lot of Native culture in any of the subjects, they've brought a lot of Native talkers. I learnt a lot about Native people, about our culture, and how many Native students go on to university and how many don't. It's really surprising; there's not really a lot. Some of the significance of this discussion arises with the student's shifting reference to Native people from "them" to "our culture" in the last sentence. A minor change in discourse; a major change in perception. Despite my somewhat clumsy questioning, she indicated her thoughts on Indian control were beginning to take shape and she was also identifying herself with other Native students. Joanne, another student, commented, "I never really gave it much thought until you mentioned it yesterday . . . . I never put it [control] into education, I guess. My view of it would be a holistic view just with everything." She elaborated on the holistic view as: People learning just how to live. And within that you get your education and your medicine. I know it can't be like that and that people can't go back to the life of a long time ago. So we'll have to just put them together, put two worlds together. A few staff members talked of reading the document: one, "not for a long time." Two board members acknowledged that they had never read it. For others it had been integral to their work. P O W E R , K N O W L E D G E , A N D T R U T H Although he professes more interest in how it has come to be than in the relation itself, Foucault states, "Indeed, truth is no doubt a form of power" (1978/88:107). Interestingly, when asked directly about Indian control, several study participants brought in the words power, and some mentioned truth and knowledge. Speaking of "empowerment," a board member, who has been active in First Nations education for years, presented a metaphor of control: First Nations people have to take more responsibility and also become more involved in the whole educational process. That . . . covers all spectrums from what might be considered taking action to making policy decisions. In the sense of taking control, I guess I still think of empowerment as control. But the sense that you can make your own decisions. And you're not restricted in your decision-making. I guess it covers all areas too: policy making, curriculum has to reflect First Nations values, perspectives. As much as possible, our people have to be the ones—if I can use an analogy—to drive the bus. It doesn't matter who gets on the bus as long as First Nations people are in control of the bus. That's the important thing. If you look at the bus as what they created, as being the framework . . . . They sort of know what direction they're going to in the sense that if they come across a road block or a change in the path, they can manoeuvre the bus and go maybe a different way, but they still know where they are going. So I see that whoever we take on the bus is open. It's not only for Native people but non-Native people also. Ida's response to the question about First Nations control was very direct. She said: "It means being able to teach the truth mostly." She explained: There's a long involved process. Part of it has to do with teaching, with reversing some of the damage that's been done as much as we can by having more information in the school that would reflect what really happened in history for starters . . . to implement our own writings and teachings in a new curriculum. I sort of have mixed feelings about segregating Native students from other students and teaching because I think that the other students have to know also about our history and where we came from, what we do contribute, what we have contributed to this society, to their society. In order for us to make any progress not only as a Native community, but also within the larger society, I think they have to have more understanding of us 'cause we already know a lot about their history . . . . In order for them to come to terms with what happened and to know us, and not just tolerate us, but to accept us, then I think it's really necessary to start from an early age. Her comments also captured much of what the document on "Indian control" has to say about curriculum. Both participants relate power and control in their analyses of "Indian control." The administrator, Samuel, presented some of the conflict around control: First it [Indian control] means that the student base is entirely Indian. Secondly is that instructional practices and administrative and counselling services reflect the values and belief perspectives, things that are culturally consistent with what is perceived to be Indian values and beliefs. Not always can that be accomplished in the context of meeting external non-Indian institutions, agencies, departments, whatever that fund us or that make requirements of us because of their stated values and beliefs about what is in fact important in education. To give you an example of that is that even if a person doesn't finish their course here, but have gained a fair amount of self-esteem and confidence as a result of being here, that generally doesn't count in terms of an acceptable outcome to non-Indian institutions, etc that I mentioned before. So that's on one level. The other levels are really reflective of decision making and profile. And by having a board of directors made up of Indian people. That in itself is not Indian control but it is reflective of the fact that Indian 270 people are in a policy making position. Indian control of that would require further breaking out of power base in the society. So if you have an institution like ours that the decision making process is Indian people making it for Indian students about Indian programs, then ultimately this institution is powerless when it comes to a great number of factors which are based on decisions made outside of the centre that are made by non-Indian people. So, irrespective of the fact of having an Indian board of directors, many Indian administrators and so on, it doesn't necessarily translate into Indian control if the power for making decisions in many cases rests outside the institution. Ron, a non-Native teacher, talked of "the power base in society" in his comments on First Nations control. To me, it means to have the power to make major decisions over the lives of the people, the adults and the children. I guess it has to be understood . . . seen in the context of colonial governments so it's seen in the context of power and powerlessness. That's absolutely essential . . . . So people lost control over their economic institutions and they lost control over their political institutions. The Indian Act. As George [Manuel] used to say, "You don't have to go to South Africa to find a document that renders a people powerless." They lost control over their religious institutions and they lost control over their educational institutions. Indian control then simply means winning back some control over those institutions for individuals and a people to be able to live in a healthy manner. Virginia, a teacher and a Cree, summarized control concisely as: To me it means more freedom for my people . . . . It means more freedom of choice, more freedom of education, more freedom for more knowledge. Truth, power, knowledge: these three words figure prominently in these statements on control. They seemingly agree with Foucault's claim that "truth isn't outside power, or lacking in power . . . . Each society has its regime of truth, its "general politics" of truth: that is, the types of discourse which it accepts and makes function as true" (Foucault 1980:109). The centre is a place where this regime of truth continues to develop as people interact. N A T I V E V A L U E S If one is to consider First Nations truth or knowledge, some examination of "Native values" is relevant. In the document, Indian Control of Indian Education, the "Statement of Values" occupies a primary position. The values include "self-reliance, respect for personal freedom, generosity, respect for nature, [and] wisdom." (2) Study participants talking about First Nations control frequently brought into their conversations the term "Native values." Board member, Glen said: I'm not so concerned with Indian control of structures as such, as much as I am about having programs, schools, colleges that, in which education takes place within a context that reflects traditional or contemporary Indian values . . . . The term Indian control—perhaps I'm reading too much into it—[has] too many implications of an adversarial relationship . . . . I don't want to pretend that there has not been, that there's not all kinds of basis for an adversarial relationship,but I think there's more to be gained by pursuing the traditional value of mutual co-existence. When I asked people what Native values were, it became clear that respect is key. A student said, "Respect—respect is a lot of it." Respect for the land, for elders, for community, for First Nations languages, and for spirituality were often given as explanation. Sharing was also called a "Native value." Patsy, a Native teacher said: For me it was the sharing and giving, the ability to share things. Sort of like the potlatch system, distribute things and in doing so, you reap the benefits . . . . I know that with all the students, and probably because we've pursued this subject of land claims—maybe not though—the land seems to be really important. It always comes up that we need to have ownership and control over the land and therefore we can build our economy from there and then we can have self-government. That seems to be a logical progression. I think the land is probably one of the main values that is actually spoken about a lot. A few people found it difficult and perhaps unnecessary to articulate their understandings of "Native value." Reflecting Wagner's claim that culture is assumed until one encounters another culture, Loretta said: 272 It's just that I guess with Native people, you're just not used to expressing those values. It's just something you live with. Like I say, it's you. So I never really thought about putting it in words. But I know in my heart what they are. A First Nations counsellor focused on respect for the land. In light of her use of pronouns, it is interesting to know that she had spent time in a non-Native foster home and fished with her non-Native husband before coming to the centre. The value that they place on the environment is the biggest one. On the resources. On the concept that the land wasn't raped and pillaged of its animals and plants. The utmost respect that was given . . . . They say that at the salmon ceremony, praying to the salmon for taking its life. The way that we do it is just raping the seas . . . . I remember with my mum, when she danced and was very gentle to animals, even spiders. It's okay, you know, watching it crawl up her sleeve. She was just very comfortable. Ida, a board member talked of Native values in this way: To me values in terms of education means there is more than one way of learning. There is formal education and then the values that relate to Indian education is also knowing, realizing, and accepting and being aware of and being open to our own teachings from elders especially. This person grew up visiting her grandparents every holiday and when she was eighteen had the opportunity to study her language at Trent University. The program there emphasized values which she said, "helped to instill our sense of values even stronger and combined those with formal education." Other people mentioned the languages as most important to Native values. Although Cree was once taught at night school and community groups such as the Git'ksan have used the centre for night school language classes, no First Nations languages are taught as part of the centre's day-time programs. Because students come from such a range of backgrounds, it appears difficult to choose a language to start with. There are always political implications. In the Vancouver area alone, there are two distinct languages, Halkomelem and Squamish, which have equal reason to be offered. On the other hand, the majority of students attending the centre are members of other language groups. A number of people related First Nations languages to control. A student when asked if he ever thought about "Indian control" responded: Not really. I just think about how to make myself better. Like eventually I'm going to learn how to speak my own language, Tsimshian, from a friend . . . . It's our tribe and it's one thing I wanted to learn, is to learn my language so I could teach my son and so that he can keep it going . . . . I said why doesn't the school [have a language program]? . . . There's a lot of people from different areas and bands. I was told that's one of the reasons . . . . It's too bad they don't. Like I thought, you know, a Native school would have one. Another student, Caroline, commented at the end of her interview, "As far as Native people are concerned, like learning their language and their culture, I'd like to say that's so important." A non-Native instructor, acknowledging the importance of the cultural classes, added, "Language programs should be instituted; several languages at least should be taught." Spirituality was often tied to the idea of respect and raised in relation to Native values. Margaret, a student spoke of her upbringing: "We were always taught the spiritual aspects, how to respect the earth and why." She expanded: Like spiritual things I guess would be superstitious things. A lot of the things are like don't eat outside in public, especially at dark time . . . . It's because that's when the spirits come out and they're hungry too. They would want the food. And you wonder why you don't feel so good later or you wonder why you don't feel full later is because they were eating too. She described also how these beliefs had been part of her upbringing: There's a zillion things that were taught to me. Also they tell you things over and over and over again and you get sick of hearing it. But then the reason why they did that, I didn't learn till later . . . because you're not going to remember if they tell you once, no matter how important it is. They told us. Like my father-in-law and his wife, who is my aunt, would get together and we'd be eating. Each time I would fall right into i t . . . . They'd start asking me questions, natural questions, then they'd start telling me again . . . . All of a sudden, I'd realize they're telling me this all over again. It had to do with my baby, what to do and what not to do, what to eat and what not to eat, not to get too close to the fire, not to think bad thoughts.... They wouldn't say don't 'cause they knew damn well I was going to say who the hell are you to tell me what to do. So they did it that way. But I knew I was hearing it again. I knew they were telling it to me, but I couldn't deny it. I couldn't not listen because it wasn't being told that way. Sure enough as time went on, it just came natural to me. When I'd start thinking really mad or nasty thoughts, like they tell you to spit. I know now, like my own reasoning that you spit and they said because you swallow that bad feeling . . . . So you don't think it again; you don't want to spit all the time. Spirituality came into the conversations in other ways. Theresa spoke of the strengths of the administrator reflected in the fact that "he's a spiritual person . . . . He believes in spiritual ways. He supports the spiritual aspect of Indian living." Another student, Joanne, felt a lack of spirituality in the centre's program in which she was enrolled and in the college program she was about to pursue. Despite this, she was planning eventually to incorporate the strengths of the "two worlds" into her career. By learning massage and getting educated from a totally, probably, non-spiritual point of view. Once I get that background, then I can incorporate it into, well, add spirituality into it. When I asked her if she saw a lack of spirituality as the biggest difference between the "Western world" and her traditional Tutchone culture, she responded, "It sounds like it, doesn't it?" Caroline, another student, brought in Native values while talking about her heritage. I know my ancestors were here . . . . They were here and the land was good. It was full of a lot of good things and they, as far as I know from stories passed down in my history, they weren't a wasteful type people. They were very thrifty and economical.... And maybe they didn't have cars and showers and stuff like that, but you got to look at the pros and cons of being Indian. I guess their belief was respect for the land . . . . And everything's getting wrecked now . . . . That's such a weird lesson in life . . . . Isn't there another way to have those things without all the pollution and all that?. . . There's got to be a way for the world to turn around because that's being Indian . . . . And the belief that we have as far as really respecting the land, others, elders. Other Native values that Caroline mentioned were "telling the truth, loving your brother, being patient. . . being generous, not judging others." She elaborated on respect for the land in this way: How nature teaches us. Like how we relate the natural to the spiritual, how we learn lessons from it. That stands out for me because we know it's linked. It's not like the tree is in my way: it's showing me something a lot of the time. Whereas they think it's paganism like as if we're worshipping that tree over there or something. We don't worship that tree at all. It's just that it's an ally too. It's a friend that's just sharing its life too. Virginia, in some ways summarized many people's views of Native values. She said, "What are Native values? To me it's just less emphasis on the material and much more on the spiritual aspect of life." COMMUNITY INVOLVEMENT The relationship to the community is a central issue in the centre. For some, community is a Native value. Both long term administrators saw relations with "the community" as integral to making the centre unique. Study participants used the words "the Native community" in their comments on control. For example, James, the only non-Native administrator, remarked: I think the most important thing when it comes to Indian control is that the Board of Directors is of Native origin and Native professionals in the community make decisions and govern this building and the people in i t . . . . I would say that if it was 75, 80 per cent of Native employees at the centre, that would be ideal. And I don't think the Native community either wants it to solely become Native and not have non-Native people working with them. 276 Again, because of the urban location of the centre and the fact that it is not designed to serve members of a particular band or tribal group, exactly who its community is, was and continues to be a matter of some debate. One instructional assistant spoke of the "45,000 Indians in Vancouver" as the Native community. A non-Native instructor concurred saying that the Native community is the "urban Native people . . . the 40 to 50 thousand Native Indian people in the town here." Another non-Native instructor explained that when he said community, he meant "the Native people in B.C." Others agree that the Native Education Centre exists to serve members of all the First Nations of British Columbia and even beyond. The coordinator of the outreach programs referred to the specific communities where NEC programs are offered: "The key is the interest of the community. You can't do it if a community isn't committed to the delivery of the program." Matt, a non-Native instructor, when asked about First Nations control began with this aspect: I guess I would start with a community base . . . . I think in any democracy, whether it's an educational society or a nation, that participation from the grass roots is how to define its health. I think the community needs to be actively involved . . . . I think it means input from the community first of all. Another non-Native instructor said, We're talking about Indian control, then we have to go back to the beginning, go to the community. In this, the Urban Native Indian Education Society, that means the forty to fifty thousand Native Indian people in the town here have to be involved in the process from the beginning, become involved in the society. Some should run for the board and it should be a dynamic process, not as it is now, where the same board members run year in and year out, and most of them tend to be highly Europeanized, successful, upper middle class people. The complexities of this process are ones with which the administration and board of the centre continue to struggle. As with most non-profit societies, the individual benefits of being on the board are difficult to measure. The members who do participate are for the most part people who are committed to improving First 277 Nations education and who have some expertise in the area. The difficulty in finding board members, reflective of most non-profit societies, is one which the society has managed to overcome throughout the years of the centre's operation. That in itself is successful community participation. As well as for the outreach coordinator, for at least some of the students, the community associated with the Native Ed Centre is not limited to the Vancouver area. Cheryl, a former student now employed at the centre, stated that she came to work at the centre because she'd "always been interested in getting to know different tribes . . . and what's going on through the rest of B.C. or Canada with the Indians." Theresa, a student who credits her political nature to her mother who is "a very political person," finds the Native Ed Centre a good place to maintain her political involvement through networking with "many Native people involved in education and awareness of rights." One student demonstrated the strength of community support that reaches out to the interior of the province: It looked like everything, Manpower saying , "No, we're not going to sponsor you." Welfare down there said, "We're not going to move you there. We're just going to cut you off. You don't need to go to a Native school just 'cause you're Metis." And it just looked impossible . . . . I phoned up Leonie Rivers here and I said, "I'm sorry I can't make it to school 'cause they won't sponsor me and they say they're going to cut me off." She goes, "What are you talking about?" So she told me to stay home. She'd get back in touch with me. Within half an hour, she was saying, "Just don't worry about anything. Just come down by June 6 . . . . You have a right to be here. You're Metis." She summed up her general view of First Nations control with strong reference to the importance of community involvement: I've thought about it a lot since I've started hearing about it. But I see it as something that has to be done gradually, like its development, eh? With starting right from the roots, grassroots . . . . It's got to start right from the grass roots people. Because there's so many of our people hurting out there: bitter, hurting, bitter alcoholics, drug addicted, you know, 'cause I was there. There are so many out there who need healing and the land . . . . There's got to be the development of treatment centres and everything right across . . . get that started and see some good results. From there, keep building, keep working. Brick by brick, right? . . . It's not something like, "Hey, give us the rights," because it just can't. You need that ally, you know. If Canada and the United States with Native people act as an ally, not an enemy, but an ally, they just hold their hands. Let us work it out slowly. Then we'll have nations, you know, and we'll still be allies. It's not like we're here now and you guys are there. Shifting focus from the world outside the centre to the more immediate community of the centre itself, one of the non-Native teachers appears unaware of the administration's commitment to community-based education which is clearly expressed earlier. He stated: Basically, the management style has got to change. It's got to become more democratic. People have got to have more say, they've got to have more access to decision making. If it truly is going to mean Indian control and if it's going to have any kind of sense of being a good program, then somehow the community has got to get a handle on this. The Native community, they've got to have some significant input to what's going on here. Another teacher expressed similar sentiments focusing on some community dissenters. There's a certain element of the community that for political reasons are quite alienated from the NEC. They dislike Samuel and this group. They feel that the question of Native control is a joke when it comes to the NEC . . . . I think it's an organization that's run from above and I think that there's no community base. That's for sure. In an organization which involves as many people as the centre does this kind of opposing view exemplifies the power relations. FUNDING Funding, a matter of power, is a relation which insists on the recognition of control outside the centre both in the form of government and other funders and in the form of First Nations bands and tribal councils which see education funding falling within their jurisdiction in developing self-government. Both these groups have an impact on the programs offered: in their life-span, and in the courses and regulations which guide them. Many people talking about control cited funding as one of the major issues. As mentioned earlier, the centre's funding is negotiated yearly for the most part. Unlike provincially funded colleges, there is no guaranteed core funding. The funders have direct, annual opportunity to continue or withdraw their sponsorship of programs at the centre. One instructor expressed his frustration with what he labelled a "colonial model:" . . . you have an idea about how you want to do things. One does. The Centre, the Board, Samuel [the administrator], individual instructors. I think we're really limited by—well, you're really limited by funding sources. Money comes from places to do certain things and you have to do those things or you don't get any more money. There's flexibility within that and you can lie a lot and say we're doing this when we're actually doing something else, but you're still limited by that. You talk about Native control of education, but it's still within an almost colonial framework in many ways. Another non-Native teacher summarized her view of First Nations control: I'm not really sure other than wanting—I mean it's a dreadful oversimplification to just say they want to control their own—rather than having their allowance doled out, they want to be able to have their money and be able to control their own lives . . . education, development of their resources, land, whatever . . . . More than that: taking back the ownership of themselves, rather than being the children of the government. A First Nations counsellor added to this analysis: My idea of it [Native control] is that Natives who are in the position, such as the chiefs, and the councillors, and the education coordinators, should have the ability to put out the dollars that it costs . . . for the students and make the choice, yes, we will fund this student for upgrading whether or not it's in a regulation. They should be able to have control over those types of things so that Native people can be educated. He pointed to the need for the people in rural communities to come to understand the hardships of attending school in the city and the need for students to begin their education at a level which will ensure their success and continuation to further education. He felt that only with that understanding could his model of funding prove workable. Reflecting jurisdictional concerns, a band worker focused on federal funding going directly to the Native Ed Centre. She said: From the federal government level, there is a lot of money that goes into these organizations . . . which the Native people have been trying to stop. Because, actually, you are taking some money away from what could be or should be coming to the band level. So consequently, we're struggling at the community level . . . . I don't think we should even be asked, or even demanded, I guess you could say, to pay any towards tuition costs or any tuition for something like that because of the fact that they get the dollars from the federal government. With no provincial grants, the necessity of federal funding is an on-going concern. Community colleges receive about eighty percent of their funding from these grants and less than twenty percent from tuition fees. Raising once more connections between the land question and education, a board member addressed the complexity of the issue with the following: Indian control to me ultimately would mean Indian individuals tithing or offering a portion of their income that they own or control and giving it to the centre . . . . Native control as I would like to see it doesn't mean having federal or provincial dollars come to the centre instead of going to somewhere else . . . . We'd have to be sure are those really Indian dollars or are they ones that we have at the pleasure of the Queen? . . . [We'll know that] I suppose by land claims settlements. Through the land claim and aboriginal rights settlements, First Nations people anticipate a resource, land and economic base which would guarantee this kind of independence. The administrator talked about funding and control from his perspective: 281 That's what Indian control is all about. Going to the bargaining table with dignity. That you aren't apologizing and you aren't making up excuses and you aren't suggesting that somehow we're at fault. That you have to impress upon people that their systems of government and their systems of schooling has been victimizing people for a long, long time. But you have to be able to present more than just guilt. You have to present alternatives and realities to people. So they can say, Oh yeah, that's worth a risk. The history of fighting program funding cuts by the Department of Indian Affairs, which continued right into the year of my research, exemplifies some reasons for the board member's concern with band supported funding. At the time of the most recent cut, the centre's administrator participated with heads from other adult education centres across the country to lobby the government for an amendment to a new policy which had led to the funding cuts. Acknowledging the shifting nature of his working definition of control, he described the process: We're part of the leadership of getting some type of policy change in the cabinet, federal level, about Indian control of institutions . . . using the word control as "run by a board of directors . . . . " I don't accept that necessarily as being Indian control, but that's the definition that we use in that context of developing policy at the federal level. And we worked for a year about how the Department of Indian Affairs could change policy in which it could accept the realities of Indian controlled institutions to obtain funding from the department. Well, the rest is what they call history, recent history, but history nevertheless. We got our funding back. This particular struggle over funding was actually part of continuing divide and rule moves (Freire 1970/1982:137) brought on by shifting priorities within the government. Recent legislation and continuing efforts to trim budgets had resulted in First Nations control being interpreted as band control by the department. This effectively cut out support to any educational program which was not directly linked to a band or tribal council. In the urban centre, where students come from a variety of bands from across the country, are not legally recognized as First Nations people, and are not directly linked to a band sponsored institution, the new legislation terminated funding to independently operated programs. At the NEC, the College Preparation Program which had Department of Indian Affairs as its sole funder lost its funds. Only through lobbying the cabinet was the funding eventually restored. The risk of using a single funder is one which the board and administration have been addressing for several years. As a result, only this one program remained solely dependent on Department of Indian Affairs funding. A student in the Public Administration Program gave her views of what the relations between the federal government and education funding should be: We should be able to make our own decisions. We should not have to go by DIA guidelines . . . . There is a little bit of money spread out among many Native people and organizations. We have to fight over money. They have Native people fighting each other so they are not strong enough to fight them. Carol, one of the administrators at the centre, went further with her perception of the relationship between funding and control: . . . control is really starting to happen, where people aren't just looking at government grants or someone to tell them that you can do this. People are looking now saying it doesn't matter whether you tell us we can do it, we're going to do it anyway . . . . So if they do, the process of taking over education is only going to assist in the final stages of taking over other services. One coordinator summarized the conflict that funding issues raises within the centre: From our understanding, there is a lot of confusion about where we're going. I think we are caught between reacting to government funding requirements, for example this whole question of attendance and placement rates and stuff like that. And also the courses we offer are market-driven in terms of what the government is prepared to fund and not necessarily what is useful to the Native community. He also said that he thought it "very important for Indian people to define first of all what they mean by education; secondly, what they mean by Indian control of that education." POLICY DECISIONS Also looking within the centre, other people focused on different aspects of power relations. Decision making in relation to policies, to curricula and teacher selection was another area which people cited as integral to First Nations control. For many people, having a board composed entirely of First Nations people was central. A board member said, "Policy-makers! The policy-makers are Indian and that's really important and that the curriculum be established by Native educators." Several others responding to a question about First Nations control of the centre pointed to the board as the locus of control. A major focus for a consideration of power relations was the relationship between the administration and the board. In response to my question about her view of control in the centre, one First Nations instructor focused on these relations within the centre. I knew to some extent it was [First Nations controlled] because it was [run] by a Board of Directors that's all or majority Native. So I knew in that sense it had some Indian control. But talking with some people again, too, they don't feel that some of the directors are sincerely—like they don't want to see any conflicts so they'd rather just go along with whatever the administrator suggests. Another instructor commented: The direction mainly comes from one person. I mean I don't see us getting much direction from other Native people here. Even more strongly, another teacher said, I think the board has not really acted enough in really desiring to manage the place. It allows the administrators to make too many of the decisions over a l l . . . . I think the board should be more active. I think they should carefully consider the criticisms that have been made by many members of the Native community who have worked as workers in general at the centre. Board members on the other hand when questioned about their relationship to the administrator responded that they felt they had a major impact on the operation of the centre. While the daily business was seen as the administrator's responsibility, board members felt they had a definite role to play and that they were playing it effectively. Because some staff had expressed their impression that the administration really made the important decisions independent of the board, I raised the issue. One member, laughed at my suggestion that the board was merely rubber stamping administrative decisions and commented: Actually it's the board who kind of sets some directions and then we give that direction to Samuel to go do. And Samuel goes and does it, and does what we want and of course we approve it. So maybe they [the critics] don't realize that some of these directions come from the board level. And that Samuel is there to carry it out. And that we certainly do question some of his procedures and when it's not followed through properly, there's been some trouble. She expanded to say that giving priority to hiring Native staff was the board's direction and that some specific programs were instigated because of board pressure. At the same time, she acknowledged that: the administrator also has power over administrative duties . . . . Things are brought up that we feel fits within the administrator's duties. We don't want to be bothered with those kinds of issues. And that's maybe what is perceived by some people. Samuel is taking control over something or a process. I think he is carrying out what is his mandate as an administrator. And we would feel that he has to have some sense of his own power and his own autonomy as an administrator. And as long as he fits into the policies we've got then, we can't be bothered with those. Another board member who also laughed at my question about rubber stamping commented: Rubber stamping? I think that there was a time with the Native Ed Centre that this was happening. Where quote, unquote, certain board members were always conversing with the administrator? And thus, 285 decisions were made prior to the regularly called board meeting. But I think that has changed with the present board. Power relations amongst the people within the centre are clearly also an area of concern for people. T E A C H E R S Within the centre, teachers were seen as integral to First Nations control. One of the major sites of struggle is the conflict over the significance of having First Nations or non-Native teachers. Almost everyone who mentioned teachers said that there needed to be more First Nations teachers at the centre. There was some disagreement about whether the ideal to strive for should be one hundred percent or whether, the ideal would include at least some non-Native teachers. When asked, a board member commented: Yeah, all Native teachers. You know that's not really realistic right now because we don't have enough of our own people trained in the teaching field yet. I occasionally wondered if First Nations study participants were being polite to me when they suggested some non-Native teachers should be retained. I discovered a year after the study that the person quoted above thought I was of First Nations origins. Presenting the opposing view, a non-Native teacher commented; It definitely matters . . . . I think in a show case institution like the NEC, that it would be obvious to staff the place with Native people. I don't mean to be—and I must sound hypocritical since I am non-Native and I am working there, but I was told there were no qualified applicants. Now, if I had thought about that carefully, I would have seen that it couldn't be true . . . . The hiring process must be weak in some way . . . [I]t couldn't, in a nation this size, come up with some educated Native people who want to do this job. I don't believe it. Echoing this person's concerns, another non-Native teacher commented on the predominance of non-Native teachers, "I think it's damn inappropriate to have that 286 kind of ratio." Another non-Native teacher added to the push for First Nations staff, but with a caution. He said, "It would definitely be much nicer if we could have more Native faculty. I still think the bottom line has to be competence. Hiring people just for the sake of having Native faces around is not a good idea." Quoting almost directly from the Indian control document which calls for First Nations teachers and sensitive non-Native ones, another non-Native teacher recalled his teacher training to offer a different perspective. He had participated in a teacher training program primarily for First Nations people in Montana. He talked about the program when I asked him about his understanding of Indian control. The idea was that they wanted to have Native instructors, Native teachers and to have non-Native teachers who were familiar with Native issues. And you're working on learning the language, learning about Native learning styles and interests and themes. Another non-Native instructor held a different view of the role of the non-Native in the centre. After seeing the ad for his position in the paper, he thought he could help out for awhile. Even from the beginning, "for a while" meant I did understand that ideally the coordinator and the tutors at the native tutoring centre would be people of Native background because that fits into the concept of Indian control where the Native community makes the definitions of such words as assimilation, for instance, and integration, and what those are supposed to mean. I think all the programs here are based on that kind of philosophical basis, at least ideally. I would imagine all the programs here would be based in the general framework of Indian self-government or Indian control. So I always saw it as temporary, but I felt that I might be of some help. I guess the board must have thought so too. I'm leaving you know, but I'm leaving as a direct result of just what we've been talking about. I always saw one of my mandate, if you would, was to help somebody of Native background to take over my position. There is somebody who will be doing that. First Nations people working in the centre also offered a variety of views. One instructor said: I think it's important to have good Native instructors. I don't think people should be hired just because they're Native: a good Native instructor. I don't know about all Native. It would be okay if all the Natives were good instructors, but I think with reality, it's not very— There are white people out there and the white people we have here are excellent. Another First Nations instructor said that the ideal would be all Native instructors but that she felt the likelihood of that at this time was minimal. She did feel it was possible to have Indian control and non-Native instructors: . . . the non-Native instructors who work here and at other Native institutions I'm sure have an empathy for the Native people and do their best to have an understanding of their values and their way of life. I see that as important in just repairing some of the past damage between non-Natives and Native people. In that way, I think it would be very possible to have Native control and have non-Native instructors . . . . I think that one reason why there are non-Native instructors is that there just aren't enough Native instructors available. A board member who focused her comments on other aspects of control also remarked: And I think it's good to have Native people teaching. I don't think that it's absolutely necessary though. It would be ideal, of course, if there were, but as long as you have good curriculum that reflects Native values and identity co-existing, I think that's probably the first priority. Because I have seen non-Native people teach good culturally-enriched material successfully. Another board member, Lily, also focused on the controversy around the importance of having First Nations teachers. She responded to my question about Indian control like this: Oh, it's a catch phrase. Indian control period is a catch phrase! . . . I would say that my interpretation of Indian control of Indian education doesn't necessarily mean that, for the Native Ed Centre, that because you want Indian control, that all of the teachers are going to be Indians. I think the important thing is that the Board of Directors be all Native people because they are the decision makers. They are the policy makers. And whatever decisions are made by the board are cleared by the administrator of the school. And so to me, Indian control is that: 288 those that are making the policies are Natives. I don't know what anybody else's interpretation is. That's my interpretation. Another board member, Eva summarized Indian control succinctly as "Hey, Native people can do it for Native people." In contrast to the person above, she specified: Looking as a board member . . . we've always wanted like Native people teaching or leading Native people. Having Native role models. And I think eventually, this is one of our, one of my perceptions anyway, that the Native Education Centre will be administrated and instructed by all Native people. She felt that the all Native board and majority of Native administrators were also important. She knew nothing of the document. A First Nations instructional assistant looked at the situation differently: I always try to point out to the non-Indian staff that it's very important that they be here because from my point of view they are giving a piece of their minds to the Indian nations by teaching Indians and letting us ask them questions and learning from them . . . . Like Pat is teaching Indians how to use computers and Sara is teaching people how to type and Bob is teaching them how to be a public administration person. They're all giving part of their knowledge to the Nation which I think they should realize is appreciated . . . . I always thank Matt for teaching people how to use the English language much better and Paul with his mad science stuff . . . . I think it's important too because . . . you keep the non-Indians as instructors with Indian instructors, you're not isolating the Indians again. Like on a reserve, you're isolated on the reserve. You've got a nun or a father who is a teacher coming onto the reserve, isolated to one non-Indian and Indians. You can't do that because Vancouver is not just one non-Indian. There's a whole bunch of them out there. And the teachers here who aren't Indians care about Indians. They understand Indians. They read about Indians. I think that's important. You could go on to a lot of places where non-Indians don't talk to you because you're an Indian. It takes a lot to make one world and I think the non-Indians are great here. People interviewed generally admired the work being done by non-Native teachers in the centre at the time of the study. There was also strong feeling that ideally there should be far more First Nations teachers in the centre. For some the ideal was all First Nations teachers; for others, non-Natives should remain involved. The deeper questions of what the differences actually are were addressed by some. The administrator recalled the First Nations teacher who ran an authoritarian classroom as inappropriate to the goals of the centre. Generally First Nations teachers versus non-Native teachers remains a fundamental question for those who struggle for control. C U R R I C U L U M The question of First Nations teachers becomes increasingly important as one considers curriculum and the role of teachers in defining curriculum. As the community people said in response to the science curriculum discussed in Chapter 8, "the power to decide what goes on in the classroom" is central to control. Teachers have that power, as do curriculum developers. Many of the teachers fill the latter role as they offer programs which require considerable refinement of the curriculum to meet the goals of the centre and the students. Echoing the document, people interviewed often cited curriculum as a locus of control. Carol said about "Indian control within education:" I think it's incredibly important because one of the things.. .just from my own personal background—is that I had a very difficult time in school because I found that I just wasn't interested particularly in the actual curriculum. I had a hard time learning about the French Revolution and things like that. When I went to school, people of my age, there was never anything to do with Natives at all. For that matter, very little Canadian history at all was done in school.... I think we have the ability of ensuring that the curriculum is more relevant. . . not just for Native people but for anybody who lives in Canada. For that reason alone, if we can set the record straight and provide information that is more relevant to Canadian people as a whole, then that's important. To consider the impact of the French Revolution on colonization of First Nations lands is a very different perspective than that which she encountered in school. She went on to specify, that in the community based programs offered through the centre, First Nations control becomes a negotiated local control: Particularly in the outreach programs, where you don't have five or six programs running in one place, you've got a team approach that's happening, that ultimately provides for ownership—people feel a part of it—and it's easier for them to support it then . . . . See, one of the things about community approach to education is that, one of the big selling points that we have over and above the public institutions is the fact that we tell communities, first of all, you do have input into whatever we do in our programming. That's administratively and that's also in the actual program itself. So if, for example, down here we do a unit in Social Studies on Metis and Inuit people, that same unit isn't going to be relevant to the Blueberry Band. For example, the instructor won't be able to find a resource person or an elder that could talk about Metis or Inuit, but could find someone who could talk about the Beaver people or the Cree people. So, in consultation with the community, in consultation with the band, a unit is designed and put on the Beaver people. She pointed out the importance of finding teachers who can also do curriculum development. Another teacher commented that he felt the centre did well "in transforming that curriculum into what's more appropriate for Native people." A student, Theresa, commented: Control? . . . When a six year old Indian kid goes to school, he doesn't have to open up a book—This six year old Indian kid has grown up on a reserve, probably ate macaroni, probably didn't live very well. Now, he's in the public school system, we have a Dick and Jane book . . . and a white picket fence . . . . It isn't the real world to him . . . . It's totally alien to him; it's totally foreign to him. And that six year old child should be able to go into a classroom, read a book about the legends of coyote or whatever his cultural background is and learn in the same process . . . . I'd go right to the university level, right to the top. I mean if you are going to start out learning about your culture, and learning with your culture, then go for it all the way. In her thoughts on the significance of First Nations control, a Salish counsellor concurred: I think that regarding the education I got at the Sechelt residential school, we were taught to think that Native people were inferior. It was more like getting the Indianness beaten out of us. It was not good to be Indian. The history that I got of Native people was the French Indians, the American Indians. I didn't even know I was Kwaguelth till I was really old, probably twenty years old or something. My dad was Kwaguelth; my mum was Coast Salish. For the positive self-image, self-esteem and self-identity for Native children, that Indian control of Indian education is really important. Utmost importance because it's Native people and students' parents who know what is good for their children. It's not the white people. It's not. They just don't understand the values, the spiritual values, and what it's like to be Indian. A board member added that she felt it important that the curriculum be established by Native educators . . . . And the Native Ed Centre is unique in that it offers education to those in urban areas . . . . I always feel at the NEC that they are dealing with the urban Indians, that they always have Native content at their social events. And, of course this makes us all aware of the whole culture that we come from. And we're not all from the prairies, where they have the drumming at the centre, but at least it's part of their culture and it's promoting a cultural aspect of ourselves. S T U D E N T C O N T R O L In considering the relations of power within the centre, one must acknowledge the role of the students. Their desire to change their lives through education, that is, to take control of their lives, is the foundation on which the centre is built. When I began the study, I was interested in people's perceptions around the relationship between students taking control of their lives in going back to school and the larger issue of First Nations control of education and control generally. I raised the possibility of such a relationship with people in our conversations. The resultant discussions included reference to the amount of control students had over the curriculum. One upgrading student was very interested by my question. 292 Celia: In your classes . . . do you have a chance to have any say about what goes on? Caroline: (Pause). That hasn't come up around me. That's a really good question though. That's a really good question though 'cause I bet you if I dug deep, I could think of something I want to contribute and say. I'm sure. Bob, a coordinator, concurred with her impression. "I don't think there is enough student input. Students have no say in what programming occurs here. In fact they have so little say here that they cannot even decide what the school colours on jackets are going to be." He was referring to a series of student council meetings during which students failed to arrive at a decision. While they have the authority to make such decisions, they were having some trouble finding people willing to take a prominent role. Students were permitted to attend board and staff meetings though they rarely did so in the time of my research. Commitment to work and families obviously made participation in extra-curricular activities difficult and in some cases low priority. A student talking of his lack of awareness of the board said, "if we were made aware of that, that it is run by a board of directors and if our comments as students could be taken into consideration, maybe we'd feel like more active players in this." Communication seemed to be the problem in this particular instance. In some programs, students appear to have more control over curriculum and their involvement in the class. In one program with a much smaller class size than the usual twenty or thirty, the coordinator found it relatively easy to respond immediately to student needs and requests. Lisa stated, "Because there are only 8 of them, they have a lot larger say in developing the course than a lot of other students do." The program also did not have a set curriculum when it started. When asked about her perceptions of Indian control, this person first acknowledged her need when beginning her work to ask for help in developing awareness of the issues around First Nations education. . . . Native people are oppressed in this culture. In order to overcome that oppression, they need to—any group, and this applies to women— need to first of all start planting pride in themselves and do that by taking control of their own lives. So the whole paternalistic thing of someone coming in and saying, "I know what's best for you" doesn't work. It hasn't worked for women; it hasn't worked for Native people; it hasn't worked for any other oppressed group. It just makes things worse. Maybe not from the point of view of the person oppressing, but it certainly does from the point of view of the person being oppressed. Bob concurred with her perception of "Indian control:" I guess it means giving people skills that will allow them to control their own destiny. So whatever they choose that destiny to be, whether it's in the private sector, whether it's in the public sector, whether it's in the non-profit sector or whether it's in their own communities. That, I guess is the bottom line in terms of philosophies if you're looking for one. In the tutoring centre, where students work one-to-one, they also seem to exercise control. The coordinator, Virginia said, I see it in taking control in ways like being conscientious that they attend their classes regularly, that they come for tutoring if it is required of them. We don't have to do a whole lot of nudging with most people. Native people, to me, in my experience here, are very forthright in telling you whether they like it or they don't like it. That's very helpful. I kind of like that direct approach, so I see that it is empowering them to make their lives better. Ian, who works with students in the initial upgrading class, also talked of the gradual process of people taking control of their lives: I think because these people do come back . . . they start thinking about themselves . . . to regain their confidence . . . . When they're in my class, I think they want to deal with personal issues, but I think down the line, they're refining their ideas of themselves as Native. Being Native is important to them . . . . Where ever they go, they have positive feelings about their own abilities and about being Native. 294 Rob, a First Nations instructional assistant working with the same students, commented, "Indian control of Indian education begins with the individual." He outlined the process that many students are engaged in: Coming here, they are not forced in any way, shape or form to be here. It's a decision that they sometime realize that they may need that education in order to maintain a stability in their life especially in the non-Native environment.... A lot of them don't want to be confined to the reserve because there is more to living than a reserve. And life within the reserve is beautiful, but then again, you can't go on pretending that the outside world doesn't exist because you have to interact with that too . . . . A lot of them are taking control of their lives in some sense . . . . They realize too that the other aspects of their lives need to be taken care of if they're going to have success in their education.... It means that they're coming here just off the life of, you know, taking it easy—kicking it back and partying. They're coming here and they're trying to pursue their grade twelve certificate . . . . A lot of them realize that the drinking and partying has to either go or be stepped down to a large extent because it gets in the way. And what other issues or problems they might have that are getting in the way of their learning, that they'll have to deal with it. The administrator reiterated these sentiments: I'm less concerned about people understanding land claims and more concerned about people understanding themselves when they're here. The hype is that people are more concerned about land claims than they are about themselves. I think that is just wrong. Indian people who come into the centre are more concerned about themselves. Self-interest is what drives everybody. And how you take that self-interest and you generate it into a community. It's what makes a community, a community: that sharing, supporting, helping each other is really what it's all about. But that doesn't come unless you are feeling good about yourself. If you're not feeling good then you don't really care that much about others. A student Theresa acknowledged that the administrator is "there because he is genuinely concerned about every single student getting their education and bettering their lives and taking control of their lives." Another instructor spoke of students 295 who have been dependent on the society to provide a means for them to survive, U.I.C., welfare, whatever and have just gotten fed up with it and they've decided that they want to do something and get off that rut. Take some control over their own lives and their children. I think for a lot of them, they come in with that experience plus they've got children that they really want to provide role models for. One instructor focused on the difficult balance between meeting students' needs for education and creating a dependence on the institution. He said, "When we get to students, there isn't much student control here. I think we don't, in many cases, encourage them to run their own lives. We have this paternalistic attitude. That's a problem with people who really care and that's what I think you have a lot of in this building is people who really care." NATIVE EDUCATION CENTRE AND FIRST NATIONS CONTROL Ultimately, our conversations focused on whether the Native Education Centre was "Indian controlled." The responses were as varied as the general comments made about First Nations control above. Some people based their understandings in the specifics of the centre, their most immediate experience of First Nations education. Mavis, a board member, spoke of taking control within the centre as a process which would remain dynamic. It's becoming more so . . . . I see the Native Ed Centre as being an institution that's really trying to take more control . . . . The ultimate goal of being able to take control is that you are still able to develop and to sort of change where necessary to change. So, it's dynamic in a sense too . . . . We can recognize that we've come so far and that we need to get some time to critically think about the future as an institution and to plan and think about the direction to go to. And I hope that's what any group that takes control would do . . . . You're sort of satisfied with your achievements but you don't stop there. You keep re-examining what you are doing. 296 She pointed to the all Native board of directors, the increase in Native teachers in the centre, the curriculum which is "to reflect and address Native issues," and "of course, the whole facility itself, sort of the long house style" as evidence that the centre is a site where people are engaged in the process of taking control. She looks to a future of establishing the centre "as an Indian controlled college" with its own accreditation and direct funding from the provincial Ministry of Advanced Education which funds community colleges. Another board member felt that outside funding was having minimal impact on programs. She responded to the question of whether the centre is "Indian-controlled" with: Yeah, I would say so . . . . I suppose from an outsider perspective it really does appear so. Because if you walked in there and you saw all the Native staff...there are quite a few Native staff now...and of course the students and the activities, it would appear so. Then if you think about funding agencies, you have to think about who's paying for it. So I guess to a certain extent you have to take that into consideration. From all appearances though, it appears to be Indian-controlled. I haven't seen any restrictions that have come across the board table anyway. But, you know what I mean, as far as like if there is going to be x amount of dollars paid by another agency, how much control do they expect to have. But from what I've seen it didn't seem to be a problem. She went on to say that "as long as we meet certain criteria" the funding is maintained, and stressed: In order for the Native Education Centre to be representative of Native people, values, education, etc., it has to be guided by a Native board and staff, as opposed to non-Native funding agencies or non-Native education institutions. In terms of its continuing to be successful and being a model of self-government and sovereignty, tying in with all of it, it has to be guided by Native people. It has to be governed by Native people. Also implying that control is a process, Ron, a non-Native coordinator, responded: I don't know. The reason I say that is I don't know how the finances go. It's certainly one of the most Indian controlled places that I know of . . . . I think it's going in the direction, I understand, toward an eventual Native college. Major decisions are being made by Native people; it has a Native board and some extremely competent people involved with it. The reason I say I don't know is I don't know how big an impact funders have . . . . I imagine the board has to make compromises in terms of the expectations of those who are putting up the money. But it's sure moving in the right direction. Another non-Native coordinator, pondering the possibility of an absolute state of Indian control, replied: I think it is in the sense that the board is Native and that the administrator is Native, although some people say he isn't. I don't know whether he is or not . . . . But I think generally that it's owned by the community and I think that's real important. It's not perfectly Native controlled: the fact that I'm teaching here, the fact that the coordinating positions are done by non-Native people is, I think, something that most of us who are in those teaching positions would like to work to get changed. I do see that the Native Ed Centre has to operate within the financial and social structure of all other training institutes and community colleges, that conflict between Native values and how much academic versus practical, that kind of stuff . . . . But that's something I see just as a part of the growth of the Native community. Most Native people that I've talked to say that we have to live in both worlds anyway, and you have to learn to work that out. Jean, a student, concurred with the people above. She said, "We have a Native administrator, but we have to take money from non-Native funding sources." One non-Native staff member saw the power of the administrator as an issue in a lack of First Nations control in the centre. Seemingly unaware of much of the history of the centre and the role of the board, he felt the centre was "not really" Indian controlled. Does that mean it's Indian controlled because we deal with Indian themes, because in our classroom, we talk about Indian issues and topics? What I see is one person deciding what those things are and then the rest of us are expected to implement them. One person's idea. He had a similar reaction to hiring practices which he felt depended far too much, in the one case in which he was involved, on the administrator's decision. In hiring one of the instructional assistants, he was disappointed in being presented with a single candidate. We go through this interview process and then we said, "Okay, who are the other people to interview?" There was no other person . . . . He [the administrator] said, "Why? What's wrong with her?" You know, it's like why bother? The decision was already made. Why did we go through this interview process? And I was on another interview committee before that where we interviewed three people. Then at the end of the interview session, he, the other administrator, tells us why we have to hire one of the people. I mean it's totally ridiculous. For each interview for instructors, the committee consisted of a board member, a staff member and the administrator. Another non-Native staff member, who admitted that he had only been at the centre a short time and therefore was not sure he was qualified to judge expressed some concern with the degree of First Nations control. While he acknowledged that there was some control on the part of staff and students, he was concerned about the administrator's powerful influence on the centre's direction, something that others saw as an important strength of the centre. I guess I think in Indian control that the nature of the place or the essence or the character or the spirit of the institution is Native. There's a high value put on Native culture here. That's reinforced. People are encouraged to build on it and to find it if they haven't had it before . . . . Now the control of i t . . . . I think that the staff need to be really empowered much more . . . . And the students seem to participate in it, so I guess in that sense there is some Native control. Whether they as a community of people, and I would exclude the non-Native staff from that, feel that they have any group ability to affect the direction of the place, I doubt that. I think that is up to one person . . . . From what I gather, again on a very short history, but I don't think that the board has control over it. I think Samuel has control over the whole place. I think that certainly he represents some aspect of the community, certainly he fights for Native education. I would think that he probably does a pretty good job of getting the bucks that are there for Native ed. But as a community of people, I don't see the community having control over the place, the Native community of British Columbia. A First Nations staff member, frustrated with some of the policies around appropriate student conduct, raised the issue of the degree of student control. He saw their moves to take control of their lives as "Indian control" but questioned some centre requirements. He first commented about "Indian control" of the centre, "It's got an Indian board. That's all I have to say about that." When I encouraged him to expand, he said: I don't think it's Indian controlled because of the values and things that are placed on the students that they're supposed to live by while they are in this building is not Native. There is not very much room for them to make decisions, personal decisions. Not when it comes to their attendance, their availability, their own personal circumstances. Not much of that is taken into consideration. There's a lot of non-Native values placed on them, which isn't Indian control.. . . The control they take over their lives to get educated is control, Indian control of education. I think we are here to provide that. I don't think we are here to control the Indians while they are getting educated. "The Indians"—sounds like I'm not one of them! Although he was indubitably aware of the attendance requirements which had an impact on funding, he found the regulations demeaning for students. On the other hand, another First Nations staff member said: I guess the Native Ed Centre is probably a shining example of Indian control with an Indian board of directors, Native people making the decisions and expanding and becoming more prominent and accepted in the community, in the city. Just be a real role model for the rest of the country in terms of guiding and directing what happens down there, who the teachers are, who the resource people are, what the resources are. I think that it takes a really strong, effective administrator like Samuel to guide and direct it and to keep it focused and to always be building the morale and building the commitment from staff, sometimes imposing. It's a difficult job and we're probably showing the strain of growth. These differing views of control in the centre encapsulate some important aspects of power relations. Perhaps, one of the most significant is the possibility of resisting the existing relations and of redefining them. Foucault has said, . . . as soon as there is a power relation, there is a possibility of resistance. We can never be ensnared by power: we can always modify its grip in determinate conditions and according to precise strategy (1977/1988:123). Within the centre, people resist existing power relations and in that resistance modify its effects. CONTROL A N D C H A N G E Despite the debates about the nature, degree and kinds of control within the Native Education Centre, most people saw it as a positive place for First Nations students with a clear degree of First Nations control. It presented the possibility of individual and social change. The opportunity for First Nations students to participate together in educational programs was fundamental to its success. The administrator summarized its function particularly in relation to the upgrading students thus: People take control by becoming able to stand up straight as an individual. Like they come in bent and our job has been to help them straighten by giving them skills and knowledge and understanding of who they are and what they can do with that and then the confidence that they can go out of this building as prepared and ready as anybody else. One of the goals of the Urban Native Indian Education Society is to have students participate more fully in community affairs. In places in which First Nations participation has been low, which includes most areas of the work force, a quantitative shift is a beginning. Increased participation of First Nations people, informed of their histories as well as with the skills necessary to do a job or to participate in an educational program, challenges existing power relations in Canadian society. The Centre prepares students for resisting and restructuring these power relations. They learn that education can be different from what they experienced before and that other areas of life can also be different. Patsy, a First Nations instructor, talked about the repressive aspect of power relations for many First Nations people involved with the majority society. They grow up surrounded by demeaning stereotypes. "It is the same, regardless of where you grow up or live or what experiences you've been through." In describing this oppression in hegemonic terms, she said that it was the feeling that What you do or say has no impact. That regardless of what you do or don't do, nothing changes. I think that people come in here believing that and what we try to do is turn that around and say, "Yeah, what you say or do does have some impact. What are some of the things we can do here in this classroom or in this school?" There are, of course no guarantees that the experience in the NEC will influence the expectations that students venturing on will have. This particular investigation, beyond the scope of this study, would be a fascinating field for further work. Lily, a board member, concurs. I think it would be of real interest to find out what did that first school do to those students. I think we can follow with some progress what's happened to some students that are going there . . . . I would be interested in that. One can only wonder if some of those people currently involved in struggles for recognition of aboriginal rights are not people who have regained a sense of self-esteem, lost in previous educational experiences, through participation in the NEC or places like it throughout the country. While only occasionally using words like power, study participants in a variety of ways indicated that they had plans which would affect existing society. Rod, who is planning to start his own trucking business, talked about the importance of working on a reserve to offer higher paying jobs to people there. If I had two trucks, I'd drive one and I'd hire out another driver from the reserve . . . . I don't think they're given a fair deal like even on the reserve. There's hardly any work . . . . I'd like to help more, to like keep somebody employed, better than welfare. And maybe they can turn around and buy their own trucks and keep going on. 302 When I asked him about the relation of this dream to the "larger picture," specifically self-determination, he responded "Self-determination? Not at all. Just words I guess." On the other hand, a student in the science and health careers preparation program plans to start a group home. She indicated her clear understanding of tactical submission in order to gain control. She commented: It's in the back of my head, but it's the first time I've put it into words, but it would be my contribution to self-government and asserting our aboriginal rights. If we have a home for our Native people with a mental disability, that is run by Native people—mind you, we'll have to adapt to Ministry of Health criteria which would be good anyway— but they're going to have a chance to say, "This is my territory They'll have a place of their own, be able to hold their heads up, even if they're disabled, they're still Indian and they were first in this country. And it's not just a romantic goal; it's a reality; it's what's going to happen. A non-Native instructor spoke of working with a young man and hearing a phrase "which I hear so much in Native communities, [he] wanted to be a lawyer so he could help the people.'" He thinks that Native students are probably "more motivated by what they can do for their families and for their people, every bit as much if not more than what they can do for themselves." The coordinator of the hospitality and tourism program sees a future for some students working in tourism associated with bands. Several Native groups are contemplating or actually have set up hotels and other tourist attractions which focus on their First Nations roots and employ First Nations people. A student in the program talked of her future in broadcasting. She plans to enrol in a technical institute to train. Because I want to see how their system works. I want to see what's in their system. I want to see what's wrong with their system and I want to be in there. Because until you're actually in something and you are in the environment, you don't know how to compete with them. You don't know how to work against therh or with them. That's why and 303 I'm young enough to do it. I can work in the industry and later on . . . build a Native television association. Without using the word power, she appears most aware of power relations and the importance of acquiring "mainstream" knowledge in order to challenge or change the relations. A number of women spoke of the Native Ed Centre as a particularly important place for women involved in education. Female board members talked of the importance of education to their lives; female students talked of the centre's impact. Women often expressed their desire for a better world for their children as a reason for their presence in the centre. A board member cited the hospitality and tourism program as one with many more women than men. While she did not account for this predominance, she did talk of her own experience: . . . for me, my grandmother told me to go out and be independent and never to rely on anyone else for my living—get out there and get your own livelihood. And whether this has been typical of a lot of Native women, I don't really know, but we seem to have more the desire to get out and do something with our lives. And I suppose too it's because we have so many Native single mothers who realize they have to do something to help their children and provide them a decent accommodation and good food . . . . And perhaps because of that responsibility, they realize that they want to get out of the welfare rut and that the only way . . . is to get more education . . . . It's just a lot more determination on their part to provide a better lifestyle for themselves and their children. Another board member agreed: There are more women who are doers in education, I think. And there are becoming more women who are the leaders in education . . . . The circles I travel, there are more women . . . . They want to improve education and it's more for their children's sake because they are the ones who raise the children mainly. For a female student, Bill C-31 which restored status to many First Nations women and their children, encouraged her in her decision to leave her oppressive marriage and seek education: I was also married for twelve years. And as soon as I got my status and got sponsored to the school, I left. Because I needed the financial push or the financial freedom . . . . [Bill C-31 was] My ticket to freedom. I had no education and a little boy to look after. And I didn't want to go out and wait tables. Another student, a recovering alcoholic who has taken control of her life, commented: I could see the Native Ed Centre as a means where I could get back to being an Indian woman and that's exactly what I want to be . . . . An Indian woman to me is one who has enough love and respect for herself that she can share this very basic and important life . . . love and respect, that's honesty. And once you are honest with yourself, you are honest with your children and your extended family . . . . An Indian woman is a respectful, caring person. And that's what I am and I am going to share. Eva suggested that "We're all working for the same thing. We all want the betterment of our people." She recalled a comment her niece had made which caught the essence of First Nations work in education. Her niece said, "I'm going to be like that. I'm going to climb that ladder. Every once in awhile, I'll reach back to help the one behind and reach ahead to push the one in front." It is not just for the self that so many First Nations students come to education. Mavis, a board member, remarked: As I put myself in the students' place, I mean, basically why they are coming back to school is to make a better life for themselves which is, if you look at the principle of Indian control, that's what it sets out to do. . . . A person is able to have a better life and, at the same time, be able to have a choice. And so choice means getting more education so that you can at least have choice as to where you might work or what you might want to do . . . . It gets back to where I think of the idea of empowerment is being able to have helped a person recognize that it's ultimately them who are going to succeed . . . . And what we do as an institution would be to facilitate that development. Theresa, talking of "the damage and destruction" she saw on the reserve she grew up on, wants to work with others like herself. I saw the alcoholism. I saw the drug abuse. I saw the physical abuse, the mental abuse, the sex abuse. I saw [it] all . . . around me and not necessarily in my direct family, but I saw it. It's still a scary reality. That's why I want to go out and do something for myself so I can go out there and help those kids that are hurting like I was hurting too. Other study participants talked of involving family members in the education which they were finding so rewarding. David, a student, said, I'm trying to get my brothers in here. That's where they should be. They should watch out what the government does. It's going to affect everybody's lives. It didn't bother me when I didn't come to this. I just wanted to go to work, make a living, and just work. Now, he feels it's important to know something of how the society operates. Virginia talked of her excitement about sharing the news of her new job at the centre with her brothers and mother. She hoped that her interest in a job which was leading her to examine her cultural history would also excite them. She hoped that she could help her mother get over her reticence about acknowledging her heritage, especially her loss of status when she married Virginia's father. Exemplifying the relation between personal and political she commented, "I have a secret desire to help her get over that a bit and be able to feel proud and feel good about being a Native person and remembering." She also hopes to become closer to her brother who has maintained his cultural ties and convince a second brother to examine his roots with her. In some programs, students directly address issues of inequity. They have written letters to government officials on topics such as Native child care. On a work practicum, a student brought back a copy of the Nielsen Report for the class to discuss. The coordinator commented, "They need to know how the policy was formulated. It's an interesting document." A student in this program talked of a major change to funding as an aspect of First Nations control. She wants to do away with DIAND and let the "funding go directly to Native people." She sees the 306 importance of educating non-Native people for the changes. In describing the connection between personal change and community change, a coordinator said: You can only take the people that you're working with as far as you have gone . . . . So as those people go back and as they've done their own personal growth work and they become healthier, they attract healthier people in the community and they help the less healthy move up to their level. . . . So then the more people you get going up another level—level is not hierarchy in this sense: it's a level of health or energy or light or whatever you want to call it—then you start building in a community and the community will start getting healthier. That's something that's happening all over the Indian nation, all over North America anyway. Regardless of what, these people in the course are part of something larger that's happening in the world. The future is a concern as far as continuing the work of the Native Education Centre. A board member said: Because we have so many urban Indians now, there are some, many people who choose not to live on the reserve for all different kinds of reasons—a lot of it is economic, too: jobs are in the city, more opportunities—that we have to start with structures that we can use for self-government and I think education is a big one. So as far as sovereignty within the city is concerned, I think it's really important that the Native Education Centre continues to grow. But I should stress that it has to grow with the guidance of a Native board and staff. One staff member, when asked about any weaknesses the centre might have said, "Nothing wrong with this school. It's only that it's got to be more advertised to the Native population in Vancouver." A student talked of her goal of becoming a teacher: I'd like to turn around the negative thinking that Native people have towards themselves and the negative feelings that a lot of non-Native people have towards Native people . . . . What upsets me is that non-Native people see a regular Native person gets off the bus or whatever, walking down the street or shopping and if they're well dressed and if their kids are okay, if they're carrying books, if they're okay, they seem normal, they don't really notice them. But the next drunk Native person they see, that for them defines all Native people. Another student looking to the future said, "This is just a beginning of the new outlook in education, which is Indian people working together developing support systems." She went on to describe the impact of the Native Ed Centre extending far beyond its walls: I want people to know that I'm fighting for Indian control of Indian education. And I want to educate society. I'm not going to hide in the dark any more or hide in the closet and pretend that we don't have a culture and pretend that we don't have dignity and pride because we do. And I want the world to know it. CONCLUSIONS The discourse of control which arises within the centre, in people's interactions there, contributes to the enhancement of personal dignity and cultural pride and challenges existing power relations, particularly those between the dominant mainstream and the First Nations represented in the centre. After two decades of operation, it is now housed in a million dollar facility and offers more than a dozen programs. If it had merely survived, it would have been a success. The board, the teachers, and the administration, within the complexities of their relationships, share a common goal: all are committed to offering improved educational opportunities to the students. The centre offers First Nations adults "a safe place to learn," something unavailable to them for too long. The curriculum offers a unique educational experience to many students, hurt by their previous experiences with education. Taking control of their lives, taking control of their education, First Nations people are continuing the processes of redefining, restructuring and revitalizing their dynamic cultures. The National Indian Brotherhood has said control is the right to direct education, to choose among options and alternatives, and above all, to make decisions. The people in the centre, a place of power at its extremities, 308 reiterate those sentiments in a myriad of ways. They see control as dynamic and the issues around it are continually debated and refined. Teachers, curriculum, Native values, history, community, language, spirituality, power, knowledge and truth— the meanings these words take on in the daily activities of the people in the centre refines and enriches the discourse of First Nations power and control. The centre is a vibrant and exciting place. It is successful in that it has existed for twenty years under very difficult economic and political circumstances. The commitment of the administrators, the staff and the students to a culturally based and flexible response to the needs of the students as they change and develop over time is the key to its success. At the same time, the tenaciousness of the administrator's never-ending search for funding dollars has maintained the centre when any less persistence may have led to its failure. Over the years, the support of the representatives of the First Nations community who are committed to education has also contributed to its vitality and importance. CHAPTER 10 — CONTRADICTION AND CONTROL Nothing comes into being except through struggle; struggle is involved in the development of all things; and it is through struggle that things are negated and pass away. Conflict and contradiction are inevitable . . . . Struggle, and the negativity involved in it, are not merely destructive, but also productive. Struggle is a good thing, not a bad thing. Sean Sayers (1980a:23) Like the chapter immediately preceding, this one shifts its emphasis in order to focus on a slightly different dimension of taking control. With the last chapter, I moved from considering taking control in its various contexts to re-presenting what people said when asked directly about control. In this chapter, I move to another dimension of analysis. As with the preceding chapters, it emerges out of what I saw and heard in the centre, but, in some ways is further removed from those observations. It is different from what came before in that it is something I found within the study, not something others specified. I came to see that the dialectical contradiction was useful to the study of the development of control within the centre. The particular contradictions which arise in the centre: the relationships between First Nations and non-Native society, between success, growth, and increasing bureaucracy, the notion of cultural self-hatred, and relationships among an urban diversity of First Nations, and finally the transformation of contradiction all play parts in this consideration. As the study progressed, I found myself thinking more and more often of contradictions within the work and the talk of people, including myself, associated with the centre. While we did not always name the tension which the centre brought to our lives as contradiction, struggle was often a focus of our conversations about control and the centre. This struggle frequently centred on conflict between a commitment to developing awareness of and building on an understanding of students' aboriginal origins and a commitment to finding improved opportunity for advanced education or employment in a society which has at least ignored and at times actively tried to annihilate First Nations cultures. When I finally articulated my understanding of the tensions which I kept feeling and hearing about as contradiction, the appropriateness of this notion became more and more important to a developing description and analysis of control in the centre. THE DIALECTICAL CONTRADICTION I began to examine contradiction very carefully both in the ways people used it in conversation and in the ways that philosophers wrote about it. Consistent with the approach of this thesis, dialectical philosophy examines concrete and real things in relation to other things and as part of the world of interaction, motion and change. It insists on looking at things as historical. Things are "embedded in the world," related in interaction, changeable and transient; not stable or ultimate. Rest is conditional, temporary, transitory and relative (Lenin in Sayers 1980a:4). Societies and cultures, including First Nations, and institutions such as the Native Education Centre, are real and historical things which develop and change. The basis of the dialectical philosophers' understandings of the world lies in the statement of the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus (540-475 B.C.), that all is in flux (Reese 1980:219). His famous example, that one can never step in the same river twice, is often referred to by those who work with the dialectic. Sean Sayers (1980) writes of world views representative of two schools of thought in philosophy, the metaphysicians and the dialectic philosophers. In a published debate, he and Richard Norman lay out the major differences between views. The metaphysician's project is to isolate things and, for the purpose of analysis, to examine them most often as static. Change and development are arrested and the world becomes a collection of things inactive and indifferent to one another. The metaphysical outlook treats societies and institutions as static and ahistorical; they exist as they are. Sayers comments, "The metaphysical outlook is succinctly summarized in Bishop Butler's saying, 'Everything is what it is and not another thing"'(Sayers 1980a:2). The dialectic view, on the other hand, sees identity as somewhat trivial. Everything has self-identity . . . but the matter does not end there; for nothing is merely self-identical and self-contained, except what is abstract, isolated, static and unchanging. All real, concrete things are part of the world of interaction, motion and change; and for them we must recognize that things are not merely self-subsistent, but exist essentially in relation to other things (3). Things may be ideas, propositions, cultures, social institutions, people, or objects. Throughout this dissertation, contextualization has served to establish the complexity of the relations between the larger society, the centre and its various parts. The centre is a place of interaction, motion and change. Significant to this study, at the heart of the dialectical outlook is the notion of contradiction. Mao Tse-tung refers to contradiction as the "essential and continuous principle in the development of all things" (1937/1965:266). He comments further: In order to understand the development of a thing we should study it internally and in its relations with other things; in other words, the development of things should be seen as their internal and necessary self-movement, while each thing in its movement is interrelated and interacts on the things around i t . . . . Contradictoriness within a thing is the fundamental cause of its development, while its interrelations and interactions are secondary causes (271). Because it is based in the realization that all is in flux, contradiction provides a way of looking at the process of becoming. It is an attempt to acknowledge the fluid existence of all things and to talk about things, as they exist, in ever-changing contexts. In the centre, taking control is a process based in fluidity changing with each day. In this study, I have looked at the Native Education Centre internally and in its relations to other things. While outside influences have had an impact on the centre, its fundamental development is evident in people working and interacting in the centre, what Foucault calls in power at its extremities. The tensions and conflicts within the centre reveal the daily workings of power relations. PARTICULARITIES In much the same way as Foucault focuses on local knowledge, the dialectical philosopher focuses on particularities of contradiction. In this study, particularity is especially important because the research was conducted with a group marginalized in most academic work. Like women, people of colour and other excluded groups in a variety of contexts, the particularities of First Nations situations have been too often ignored. Educational researchers are among those accused of not considering particularity in their research. For example, Ellsworth comments, "Educational researchers who invoke concepts of critical pedagogy consistently strip discussions of classroom practices of historical context and political position" (1989:300). McCarthy (1988) applying Hicks's notion of non-synchrony, the production of differences, to schooling shows that radical scholarship too often obliterates the specific histories and struggles of the oppressed. This study has included social history and personal histories in order to create a sense of the contexts in which the discourse of control arises. In this chapter the particularity of the Native Education Centre contradictions become evident. Throughout the study, First Nations efforts to control have been presented as local knowledges which hold the possibility of challenging unitary theory. This theory often has taken its strength from denying particularity. Contradiction, because it focuses on interrelations, also demands consideration of context. Seeing context as inseparable from the thing being examined, Sayers, restating Hegel, posits . . . concrete things are not indifferent to one another, but rather in interaction and conflict with each other . . . . A thing is determinate and 313 has its own identity only by maintaining itself distinct from other things, by opposing other things. Clarifying the locus of this opposition, Sayers goes on to state The concept of contradiction is required in order to stress that such concrete opposition is not external and accidental to things, but rather essential and necessary: it is internal to things and part of their nature . . . . The dialectical concept of contradiction is that of a concrete unity of opposites (1980a:8). The Native Education Centre exists in opposition to other educational institutions around it. Without the majority society and its impact on First Nations people, the opposition which underlies the centre's existence would fade. There would be no need for or even possibility of such a place. While its existence opposes the social order which has excluded First Nations people from education and many lines of employment, it also depends on this social order for its raison d 'etre. It is so with all opposites; in given conditions, on the one hand they are opposed to each other,and on the other they are interconnected, interpenetrating, interpermeating and interdependent, and this character is described as identity (Tse-tung 1965/1965:297). Contradiction addresses development as the unity of opposites: the division of a unity into mutually exclusive opposites and their reciprocal relation. Like Foucault's analysis of power relations, these relations are rarely simple. The centre is an educational institution within Canadian society. It is also an educational place for First Nations people who have been oppressed by members of the dominant society. In its development, it exists as a unity of these opposites. In this study, contradiction serves to guide one particular analysis of the conversations I had with the other study participants and the observations I made while at the centre. The study itself is based in the notion of flux and, as stated in Chapter one, focuses on power relations and the process of taking control of education rather than some ultimate state of control. T H E PRINCIPAL C O N T R A D I C T I O N A N D W H A T T H E P E O P L E S A I D This brings us to what might be called the principle contradiction of the centre.". . . [I]f in any process, there are a number of contradictions, one of them must be the principle contradiction playing the leading and decisive role, while the rest occupy a secondary and subordinate position" (Tse-tung:291). In the repetition which follows, I risk boredom for the sake of clarity. The Native Education Centre is at one and the same time an institution which prepares First Nations people, who so choose, to participate in an exclusionary, majority non-Native society while attempting to enhance and develop their awareness and appreciation of their First Nations' cultures and heritage. While some students may decide to work within First Nations organizations and communities, many move into jobs and further education in predominantly non-Native institutions. First Nations and non-Native groups' differing histories and values exist in opposition to one another and, within the centre, exemplify contradiction. In their conversations with me, many people in the centre referred to the tension this contradiction creates. The president of the Board of Directors made reference to conflicting values. For example, he spoke of debates about whether the board should use the talking stick, a traditional means of organizing gatherings where several people speak, Robert's Rules of Order, or consensus. I don't want to pretend that there has not been, there's not all kinds of basis for an adversarial relationship [with non-Native society]. But I think there's more to be gained by pursuing the traditional value of mutual co-existence.... For me it's a bit of a contradiction . . . telling people we're going to go by consensus. And I'll tell you when you've reached the consensus . . . . Here's where we go back to my number crunching navigation days. I look at hierarchy in any culture . . . and there's both linear and circular concepts and functions . . . . The hierarchy can only be, seem part of the structure . . . in terms of how it fits with the whole. Now, I think I 315 recall my math sufficiently that any segment, you take a segment of a circle and the formula for it is a straight line . . . . If there's a bureaucratic hierarchy, it's got to be measured with respect to what is the over all purpose. How does it fit with the whole where the whole is the Native Ed Centre. This very complex passage raises at least two contradictions. What is the possibility of relating to non-Native society while "pursuing the traditional value of mutual co-existence?" What is the significance of dictating the use of consensus? Dilemmas based in contradiction are not limited to forms of organization of the centre. People within funding agencies, prospective employers, and other educators primarily located in the places of control of the non-Native society and staffed by non-Native people may have little knowledge or understanding of First Nations histories, cultures, and current concerns. The struggle between world views is central to the every day operation of the centre. For the administrator, the principle contradiction surfaces as he attempts to balance the conflicting goals of "Indian values and beliefs" and continued or expanded funding and accreditation for programs: [I]nstructional practices and administrative and counselling services reflect value and belief perspectives . . . that are culturally consistent with what is perceived to be Indian values and beliefs. Not always can that be accomplished in the context of meeting external, non-Indian institutions, agencies, departments, whatever that fund us or that make requirements of us because of their stated beliefs and values about what is in fact important in education. Control of the centre's programs through funding is an on-going concern. Unlike colleges and universities, there is no core funding. Each year, hours are spent record-keeping and preparing grant applications to ensure continuation of existing programs. Bob, an instructor, also identified struggle, this time between meeting the needs of funders and being "useful" to the Native community. The centre makes every effort to provide training and education to enable the students to choose to 316 participate in and contribute to First Nations communities or non-Native settings. In light of funders1 demands, these efforts may lead to contradiction. From our understanding, there is a lot of confusion about where we are going. I think we are caught between reacting to government funding requirements, for example, this whole question of attendance and placement rates and stuff like that, and also the courses we offer are market-driven in terms of what the government is prepared to fund and not necessarily what is useful to the Native community. While certain aspects of the centre's organization reflect First Nations control, the centre remains an identity of opposites as it works to meet the requirements of First Nations and non-Native people involved. The administrator added: Irrespective of the fact of having an Indian board of Directors, many Indian administrators and Indian teachers and so on, it doesn't necessarily translate into Indian control if the power for making decisions in many cases rests outside of the institution. Paul, an instructor, also mentioned value conflict as central to the centre's operation. I think one can come into real conflict with some of the other values of making sure that the outside world thinks we're legitimate and getting approval of King Ed [a community college with which the centre is affiliated] and those kinds of places. Every year the very real possibility of rejection of a proposal and the resultant cancellation of a program exists. Without the program, the possibility of having it reflect First Nations values ceases to exist. The struggle must operate within certain limits if it and resultant development are to continue. The attendance policies, alluded to above, are a direct reflection of the principal contradiction of meeting conflicting sets of expectations. For example, CEIC funding is directly related to daily attendance. As a result, there is a major emphasis on attendance which at times leads to considerable distress on the part of both staff and students. Many people feel that attendance is the students' responsibility. They are adults. In other post-secondary institutions, this is usually the case although there are deductions made in some upgrading programs for days missed. On the other hand, these other institutions do not depend on individual students for their funding as they have core funding and are not solely dependent on student based program funding. At the Native Ed Centre, there was concern that enforcement of attendance policies was taking precedence over accommodation of the system to the needs of adult First Nations people with their personal responsibilities, ones which face most adult students although perhaps with different emphases depending on culture. Child care for a couple who both attend the centre, family funerals, a crisis at home in northern B.C, become situations which interfere with attendance rather than understandable and acceptable aspects of adult student life. A counsellor commented: I think the attendance policy either has to be scrapped or put on the back burner. It's not the total school; it's not why the students are here. If they are away, it's going to be for a good reason. If they are away, it's their business. They're just going to have to catch up and take things into their own hands that way. While there is a policy that three days of unexcused absence could result in dismissal, there are some students and instructors who feel that it is inappropriate. As the counsellor speaking above, they feel that explaining their absences are undue invasions of their privacy. In addition to the conflicts around attendance, the need to meet the requirements of outside agencies also contributes to conflicts in students' expectations of programs at the centre. Loretta, a First Nations instructor, talked of showing students the contradictions they live with: What I told the students bn the first day that I was with them downstairs, because of the society that we're living in today, in order for them to succeed, they need to hold on to those traditional values . . . . At the same time, they'll be working or going to school within a white society. And because of those values, they would probably succeed. That's the first thing I did with them on the first day. Students and program designers ponder the amalgamation of differing world views in the future. It is of course possible to be a First Nations person and a business executive at the same time. But such an existence is fraught with tension. A Haida man at the centre's biennial community think tank talked about redefining the word corporation to include respect for future generations. Similarly, Bob, the coordinator of the Native Public Administration Program, emphasized the benefits of articulating conflict in the various outlooks of the potential employers: We look at those contradictions, then we look at underlying values that are present. So in the first course, when they start off, they do an introduction to economics. The way I handle it is, from an economic perspective, in terms of looking at capitalism, and socialism, then the reality of a mixed economy, and the fact that both sectors exist side by side. Eventually they have to decide for themselves where their thinking lies . . . for instance, say they start a fish plant and they generate revenue. Do they want to distribute those profits to the people who own the actual plant or do they want to re-invest those in the community? Always there is an awareness that the centre is an institution for First Nations people's education which exists within a dominant, historically oppressive, non-Native society. As such, in order to attract students, it must meet their changing needs in some way acknowledging their histories, cultures and current concerns. The students' pressure for changes sometimes accentuates the contradiction between First Nations cultural and majority academic values. Samuel, who has been associated with the centre for about ten years, remarked: At the beginning, when I first got here, the academic component was far less important because it was far less important to the students . . . . As we developed many skills training programs, the kinds of students we get in many cases—not all the time for sure, but in many cases— have come to grips with the cultural and personal problems and have a greater need for academic competency so that they can continue on employment or further training. For the upgrading students, however, he sees cultural and life skills activities remaining a part of educational development. Regarding time limits, Paul, a non-Native instructor, remarked: If you talk about this as a Native organization, we impose fairly strict time limits on how long it takes people to finish a program, and we monitor attendance. We run on a white schedule basically. People aren't allowed to hang out and explore things at their own speed. Again the contradiction exists between the demands of the institution, often dictated indirectly by outside forces and carried out by the centre's staff, and the preferences of students who are First Nations and may want to approach education more slowly than the schedule allows. Although the centre is much more flexible than comparable non-Native adult education institutions and allows students leaves of absence for a variety of reasons, its structure cannot always allow for those students who simply may want to proceed at their own rate or pursue an unorthodox line of study. There is other evidence of students being required to meet expectations not associated with Native values. In its statement on Indian control, the National Indian Brotherhood cited self-reliance and respect for personal freedom as values integral to First Nations cultures. One counsellor commented: . . . the values and things that are placed in the students, that they're supposed to live by while they are in this building, is not Native. There is not very much room for them to make decisions, personal decisions. Not when it comes to their attendance, their availability, their own personal circumstances. Not much of that is taken into consideration. There is a lot of non-Native values placed on them . . . Bob, the coordinator of the Native Public Admin Program, looked at the productive side of the struggle: . . . you're trying to be all things to all people and you're trying to balance the private sector versus the public sector and the non-profit sector, and you're trying to appeal to the Native and non-Native communities. It's a constant juggling act, but it makes it very exciting because then we have this breadth of 320 experience that we can provide that gives them [the students] a really big picture of what the world is all about. Lisa, a program coordinator, sees contradictions students face as a part of being a First Nations person in this society: I do see that because the Native Ed Centre has to operate within the financial and social structure of all other training institutes and community colleges that the conflict between Native values and the majority values create tension around things like attendance and how much academic versus how much practical, that kind of stuff and where the loyalties are. But that's something that I see as just part of the growth of the Native community. Most Native people that I have talked to say that we have to live in both worlds anyway, and you have to learn to work that out. The prospect of working out the contradiction of living in both worlds, which is at the same time, one world suggests the possibility of the production of new knowledge and discourse to address this new way. The contradiction between the goals of success in further education or employment and enhancing and maintaining First Nations cultures may be seen as the principal one, but other contradictions also exist within the centre. While they arise out of the principal one and are related to it, they are also different from it and each other. These contradictions include manifestations of cultural self-hatred within the centre, growth as benefit and detriment, and the diversity of nationalities within the centre. C U L T U R A L S E L F - H A T R E D Cultural self-hatred, a term used by Jane Middleton-Moz in her workshop with the students in the Family Violence program, is a manifestation of the conflict students are exposed to daily as a part of their existence within a racist society. While members of mainstream society, operating from positions of privilege, may internalize dominance (Sawyer 1989:5), many First Nations people grow up hearing and coming to believe negative stereotypes about their personal, cultural backgrounds. This internalized contradiction is evident around the centre as people question their decision to participate in a program and a centre which proudly identifies itself as First Nations. With their participation, they tacitly accept their origins. While acknowledging the importance of First Nations teachers to First Nations control, a First Nations teacher provided an example of the conflict she feels teaching in the centre. One thing I've noticed ever since I've been working with adults is that, because the students are also exposed to non-Native instructors, is that sometimes just because I'm Indian they think I'm not competent as an instructor . . . . I guess they're so conditioned to thinking that white instructors know the curriculum. But just because you're Native they feel that maybe she doesn't know this, and they might hesitate sometimes to ask . . . like sometimes they might go ask a non-Native instructor something, some particular question that they might have had, rather than asking me . . . . Sometimes. Not all of them, but there's a few. A staff member spoke of student's concerns with the programs, "They don't think they're getting as good an education because they're only doing Native stuff . . . . They've been conditioned to think that Native stuff isn't as good as. That's something they bring with them." When working in admissions, she tried to convey this to students, but "they're so nervous and anxious to get in that they don't really hear what you say at that point." Later, some seem to think that if the program let them in, it can't be any good. A student mentioned that she would attend a non-Native broadcasting program rather than the First Nations one available because "it has a higher credibility and higher chance of employment in the mainstream, at CBC." While this is probably an accurate perception, it is a disturbing one. Another student criticized the negative stereotypes she had heard in the centre. In particular, she referred to the derogatory comments about "welfare Wednesday," the day that some students receive their school living allowances, and about the cafeteria food as, again negatively, "Indian food." She said, "That bothers me. I grew up on a reserve that taught me respect and to eat whatever people prepare without complaining." A staff member spoke of her on-going discomfort with being of First Nations origins. She said: I still don't consider myself Native, not to the same degree they (the students) are . . . . I don't have a good opinion of Native people. She pointed out that she wanted to disconnect from her memories of an alcoholic father. "I'm not one of those drunken Indians." Another student mentioned that her "Granny told all her kids to marry white if they could get away with it." With a non-Native father and a First Nations mother, she worked to transcend the contradiction she felt: For a long time I was bitter and unhappy. I didn't know what I was. Like really terrible identity crisis. But sometimes I close my eyes and I see this vision. I see myself and I can see a white person and an Indian person on each side of me holding my hand. Students and First Nations instructors specified residential schools as prime sites for developing cultural self-hatred. Janice, a First Nations instructor, commented: By the time I went through the residential school system, I had a very negative attitude towards my parents and towards my friends . . . . I started seeing some of my brothers and sisters as ugly looking because they were Indian . . . . When I got to grade eight, I was so ashamed to be Indian . . . . If my friends ever tried to talk about Indians, I'd just change the subject. She began to change her attitude as a young adult, when she attended a meeting at her non-Native foster mother's insistence. Her birth mother had died when Janice was a young child. There were mostly white people there, which I was quite shocked at. I thought why would a white person be interested in Native people? . . . The women I saw in the film reminded me so much of my mom, how I remember her during the salmon season and berry picking season, with her gum boots and baggy dress, kerchief on her head . . . . I felt 323 really good. Then I saw them dancing. Like whenever I heard Native people sing or dance on TV or videos or whatever, I was supremely embarrassed. But this time when I watched I saw the beauty in their brown skin and wide faces and high cheekbones . . . . So when we were driving home . . . I said, "You know what? This is the first time in my life I've ever seen Indian people as beautiful people." . . . So, it was a slow growing process from there. In this passage, Janice describes the transformation of a contradiction with which she lives. Formal education itself is a contradictory proposition for some. One of the board members talked of her attendance at university in the seventies and the response of some of the community members. I think a lot of people . . . really felt that [First Nations] people who went to school and got degrees and became, in their eyes, professionals or whatever, were just copping out and just turning their backs . . . . It doesn't have to happen that way. I think that if we do have a really effective education system where we're aware that we don't have to give up our values and our identity,then it can be even more successful . . . . To me, values in terms of education means there is more than one way of learning. Sam, the counsellor, talked of a related dilemma he feels about his band and the best place to use his education. My education coordinator is always on my case about going back to the reserve and teaching because I owe them, because they paid for my education. Whereas I don't believe that.. . . You might probably have more impact on non-Native people. When they look at you and they say, "Oh my gosh. This is a Native person. All Natives aren't this or that or whatever idea they have about being Native. The impact is greater than running back to the reserve and teaching and applying your skills there. Mind you, you do provide a really good role model for the younger students or people on reserve which is valid. SUCCESS, GROWTH, AND BUREAUCRACY There is an irony in the contradiction that with success of the programs offered by the centre comes increasing size which threatens success unless there are other changes. The centre started with several students and a teacher in 1968. Since that time, it has undergone three moves, a number of changes in administration, and the construction of a million dollar facility. More importantly, it moved from 30-40 students a year and one instructor to 361 students, nine programs and over 50 full and part time staff in 1987-88. With increasing size comes increasing bureaucratization. On a continuum, the Native Education Centre remains small in relative size and accompanying bureaucracy. Nevertheless, the centre's initial success was attributed to the very personal style of instruction. As shown in Chapter four, the teacher was an individual who demonstrated concern for his students and who talks clearly of his humanistic and "personal" approaches to teaching. He had experience working with First Nations people and many knew and respected him. Former students speak highly of him. When he was laid off from a former job with the Department of Indian Affairs in 1968, First Nations people marched to have him re-instated and thus provided him with the opportunity to participate with them in starting the centre. By 1988, the Native Education Centre was a very different place primarily because of its success and resultant growth. Glen, a board member, saw its growth as: Cost/benefit. The benefit is that there's more opportunity in terms of numbers of students and numbers of programs. Those are our benefits. The costs I suppose have increased. They [staff] have to be increasingly aware of effort that has to be exerted to maintain the personal contact, the individualization. When it was smaller with fifteen students and a couple of teachers, personal contact was always there. James, one of the administrators who had known the centre in its earlier days, concurred: Bigger is not necessarily better. There's so many good points to it. Like now, we're reaching a larger number of students. . . . The size of the 325 building now is—one of the negative things about it is that it's very institutional. . . . There's more paper, more rules, more policies. That area is really, it's the price of success. Lots of times faculty will reminisce about the days when we didn't have all these problems . . . . The size of the staff, the hassles and problems we have working in conjunction with institutions like Douglas College, having to hire their instructors, follow their rules. They're not adaptable in many cases . . . not having worked with Native people, understood the centre and how it works and the reason behind it. A teacher, Paul, who worked at the centre during its latter period of growth talked of the changes: In the early days of the centre, everybody was involved. It was a very communal thing. But as it's grown bigger, people feel more and more left out of some of the events. For that reason, I think the centre has probably reached a size where it should stop growing . . . . I think the bigger it gets the more rules you need somehow and the more room there is for people not being happy with the policy that becomes further and further away from you. While the advantages of growth are clear, the cost of decreased personal contact and increasing regulation are seemingly inescapable. During the year of the study, there was a structural reorganization which reflected concerns with the effects of this growth on administrative workload and organization. They had previously changed very little despite the tremendous growth the centre had undergone during the current administrator's tenure. The administrator himself acknowledged the changes in the centre. Initially, he saw the centre and its staff of three were committed to community based education. He now feels the need to protect that aspect of the centre. That's part of my oppressiveness with the staff here: that people feel that this is a college and it isn't. It's a community based education centre. Big difference . . . . That's the philosophy, part of the philosophy of me and the centre from the days that we started. That's not always the philosophy of the teaching staff and of course, that's not always the philosophy of the students now because students are here for an agenda that's maybe different. 326 He went on to say that he, too, saw a need for change in the administrative structure. With increasing demands on his time for everything from seeking funding, hiring, negotiating contracts, evaluating staff to the daily and annual operations of the centre, the job had grown beyond a single person, no matter how committed. I'd like to have a person, a sort of administrative assistant in charge of personnel.... They need more of a mediator type person, like yourself. Someone who tries to acknowledge people's feelings, share. I'm not good at that. Other people associated with the centre also articulated a need for change. Bob, an instructor who works well within the existing administrative structure, said: There isn't a lot of involvement of staff. I think staff feel very alienated about that. They don't feel part of this vision. It's primarily the administrator's vision that's being implemented. I'm working within that framework and saying, "Well, okay, that's his idea." I think that's what most instructors do. What does that mean to me then and how do I make sure that my students get their needs met and also how do I maintain some integrity as an instructor? . . . I have definitely no complaint in that area, personally within my program. Like I said, that's why I'm saying what I'm saying to you now. It's a reflection of what I sense all around me. I have been given a lot of flexibility and a lot of support. I basically am not in confrontation with him, because I think basically his heart is in the right place. His head is not always. That's one of the difficulties . . . . Basically the management style has got to change. It's got to be more democratic. People have got to have more say; they've got to have more access to decision-making. In what the president called "a strategic planning exercise," in March of 1989, board members worked hard with selected staff members to examine future directions for the centre. One of the outcomes of the meeting was that the administrator's job was divided into two positions, one for funding and general administration; the other, with responsibility for programs and the personnel associated with them. 327 During the year of the study, the administrator whose own teaching reflects Paulo Freire's approaches applied to adult education increasingly felt himself forced to assume an authoritarian position with regard to many issues in the day-to-day operation of the centre primarily because of time limitations. His strong desire for education which is community based led him to seek change in the contradictory situation with students who seek competence in a particular area and feel community concerns are secondary. This transformation of the principal contradiction reflects a shift to improved articulation with mainstream institutions with perhaps less emphasis on a First Nations community presence. Hiring is another major area of conflict associated with increasing size and the need for more staff. The difficulty of finding committed staff for a centre which seems to be in a position to demonstrate little commitment of its own for them is paramount. No job security, the mostly unspoken fear that unionization would lead to wage and working condition demands that would force the closure of programs because they could not be adequately funded with the sources available, and a myriad of problems associated with annual funding all emphasize this contradiction. The administrator's burning commitment to ensure that the centre continue and continue to grow, and that staff share his ardor augments the difficulties. His cynicism about people seeking job security is especially notable. People have this belief they have to sign up for unions or long term contracts and have salary scales and a variety of other infrastructural type things and job security for the rest of their life . . . . I think [these] are all things that make what is wrong with community colleges . . . . People have to live on the edge in my opinion in order to be—they have to be hungry, I guess is a better word—to be able to give as well as to receive . . . . So I have that belief in hunger and risk, experimentation and people working real hard and burning themselves out and leaving and new people come in and work real hard and burn themselves out and leaving. The choice of at least some of the staff who left the centre to work elsewhere reflect this belief. Success through culturally-sensitive and personalized approaches and programs led to an increase in size. With increasing size comes increasing bureaucratization and decreasing possibilities for personal interaction. U R B A N FIRST N A T I O N S Another contradiction lies with the fact that this is an urban education centre. This is tied directly to the first contradiction and in some ways is a result of it. Vancouver is traditionally the land of the Musqueam and the Squamish. Now as a major urban centre, it attracts First Nations people from around the province and across the country. In the Native Education Centre, diverse First Nations peoples converge. Because there are many groups and relatively few individuals from each group attending the centre, it is impractical to have it otherwise. In the face of many common issues and concerns, it may be a strengthening move. Within this consolidation, there is room for the celebration of diversity. Discussing the sweetgrass ceremony used daily in one class, Lisa, the coordinator commented, "One of the things that the class has been really strong on, and they struggle with sometimes, is there is no such thing as one right way." She went on to describe something she called "unifying culture:" I think it's one of the things that's been a by-product of the government policy to exterminate Native people. That, in an attempt to break the culture, in fact what they've done is help unify the culture . . . . Also I would guess that the other thing that's happened is that the culture has been under attack for so long that people are more willing to be eclectic and say, basically it's all good stuff and we'll go with i t . . . . I've heard several Native people say that, that for all the bad things the residential school did, it got Native people to know one another from various parts of the country and it created a Native nation. On the other hand, it does at some point minimize differences which so many First Nations' people are wont to re-emphasize. The contradiction is evident in the culture classes offered at the school. Meeting the challenges to find resource people within the community, the classes, almost all given by First Nations instructors, include beading, leatherwork, drumming and singing, drummaking and North West Coast art. In some ways, these are part of a reconstructed notion of what constitutes "Indian" culture. Students participating in the classes may be from areas which traditionally and now do not include such activities in their daily lives. Yet the value of such classes in unifying First Nations people of diverse backgrounds is clear. Decrying complaints about prairie culture, one of the students said, "Pow wow music is universal. Everybody can dance to that." Not wanting to be limited to his own cultural understandings, another student, Jim, said, "Actually what really interests me is all the Native people that are from all different areas and their traditions and their customs and their habits. That's what really makes it interesting." Languages are a related site of contradiction in the urban centre. Perhaps because students come from a variety of areas, no one has decided which language should be taught. Sam, a counsellor, observed: There was a discussion not too long ago about some of the students had approached one of the instructors . . . and said they would like to see the language being spoken. It was brought back that if we do one language, we have to do them a l l . . . . The end of the discussion was that if they were going to teach some language, it would be Cree because the Cree language is apparently spoken from Alberta to Ontario. So it's basically the national Native language. While it seems somewhat ironic to offer a language which traditionally did not exist in British Columbia, the person interviewed felt that it was a good place to start, that most importantly, some language should be taught. 330 There are interesting efforts to transform the contradiction between unity and diversity. In Chapter 7, Jean, a First Nations instructor in a science class, addresses changes in states of matter by whipping the juice of soapallalie berries into a delectable substance referred to in English as Indian ice cream. This substance is and has been known to most of BC's First Nations. As part of the class she introduces the word in her language and has the students give it in their languages as well. In this way the contradiction is transformed. Students learn a common name in unity, of the existence of diverse names and, coincidently, of the existence and names of the cultures from which these names spring. Controversy about the centre within the Native community, which Lisa defined as "Native people in British Columbia," was seen as healthy: I do think the Native Ed Centre works for change. I know that some of the controversy in the community is around whether it does it the right way or the way other people would like to see it done, all that kind of stuff. But that kind of controversy is healthy. You have to work those things out. One of the main emphases of Indian control of Indian education, as expressed in the National Indian Brotherhood document, discussed in detail in Chapter one, is that First Nations people must determine their own best education. It cannot be legislated or decided upon by outside experts. It must be developed with First Nations people in control. Change must come, not from outside forces which have failed to achieve any significant change in First Nations education in this province, but from within the First Nations cultures. CONTRADICTION TRANSFORMED A final consideration of contradictions centers on what becomes of them. Are they resolved? Do they wither and disappear? How does contradiction relate to the process of development? Sayers argues, The outcome of a concrete contradiction, the outcome of a real clashing of opposites is a result, something determinate, a new thing, which is equally contradictory and hence equally subject to change and eventual dissolution (1980a:12). Norman gives us an interpretation of Hegel's view: . . . in Hegel's terminology contradictions, when they are resolved, do not cease to be contradictions. The opposition between the two sides does not simply disappear; rather, the contradiction is resolved by showing how the opposites can co-exist within a unity. But the fact that this unity is still a unity of opposites is the reason for calling it a 'contradiction' (1980b:55). One First Nations person reading a draft of this document commented at this point, "Unity in diversity has been a concept dealt with by First Nations 'since time immemorial.'" If contradiction is the "essential and continuous principle in the development of all things" it will exist in whatever the original contradiction or thing becomes. The First Nations reader went on to say, that in this process, traditional First Nations values and beliefs are re-examined or kept and altered in practice. Dominant society values and practices are also re-examined to come to some mutual agreement. Rather than seeking any final resolution or reconciliation of contradiction, one may seek transformation, acknowledging the inevitable presence of conflict and the need for continuing struggle. Resolution is temporary. It leads only to another contradiction in another thing. In academic study, This dialectical world outlook teaches us primarily how to observe and analyze the movement of opposites in different things and, on the basis of such analysis, to indicate the methods for [temporarily] resolving contradictions (Tse-tung 273) . . . by assiduous study, ignorance can be transformed into knowledge, scanty knowledge into substantial knowledge . . . (294). In some ways, it is the possibility of this transformation which has guided my work. There are no final resolutions, no end to struggle in sight. There are possibilities that observing, analyzing and naming will serve the transformation from ignorance to knowledge of First Nations struggles to take control of education. The National Indian Brotherhood almost twenty years ago called for curricula which would "reinforce Indian identity and provide training necessary for making a good living in modern society." While many successful First Nations people have managed to deal with contradictions such as this and others they encounter in society, other people are working their way through them. As a result of their work in education, students in the Native Education Centre encounter and transform contradictions daily. The notion of contradiction has the potential to play an important role in shaping the work of people involved with First Nations education. It is particularly significant to those who work with members of traditionally oppressed groups seeking to participate more fully in society. Acknowledging flux, it allows their focus to shift from individuals as "problems" to the relations of power with which people work. By naming the tension experienced, people can begin to address the issue. Contradiction is a possible name. Acknowledging opposition, allowing and encouraging the expression of people's personal and cultural struggles in the classroom, people in education provide the possibility for legitimation of this experience. No longer are the expressed contradictions limited to those which the teacher might anticipate. In a continuing effort to facilitate dialogue or what Ellsworth more realistically renames talking across differences, open discussion of the contradictions with which students daily live serves as a focus. In recognizing education as development and contradiction as essential to the development of all things, teachers come to see the opposites with which students work and can build their work together articulating these contradictions. 333 Another consideration of contradiction, although it is doubtful that he would name it so, is Foucault's analysis of power. As has been demonstrated throughout the study, power is not simply a repressive force acting on those within the centre. It both is, and is not, that which represses. Foucault states: What makes power hold good, what makes it accepted, is simply the fact that it doesn't only weigh on us as a force that says no, but that it traverses and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge, produces discourse (1976/1980:119). In considering the unity of opposites of contradiction, it is important to recognize that these are not binary, symmetrical opposites. Rather the unity acknowledges that "a thing is determinate and has its own identity only by maintaining itself distinct from other things, by opposing other things" (Sayers 1980a:8). The plural form of "things" is most important in relating contradiction to Foucault's work. Recognizing the complexity of power relations, in the Native Education Centre, First Nations people submit to learning discourse of the majority society in order to struggle against the existing repressive order. In the centre, they form new knowledge, their own regime of truth,1 which challenges those regimes which previously have excluded them. A First Nations reader added, However, First Nations are also asserting our own ways—our own form of discourse—so important and beneficial for non-Native societies. The personal contradiction with which I began the study persists: I am a non-Native person focusing on First Nations control of education, hoping in some way to contribute to the development of the discourse. I hope that the discourse contributes positively to the struggle to transform the oppressive nature of the relationships, particularly in education, which have existed between non-Native and First Nations peoples in this country. Note ^Foucalt states: 'Truth' is to be understood as a system of ordered procedures for the production, regulation/ distribution, circulation and operation of statements. 'Truth' is linked in a circular relation with systems of power which produce and sustain it, and to effects of power which it induces and which extend it. A 'regime' of truth (1976/1980:133). BIBLIOGRAPHY Agar, Michael. 1980. Professional Stranger: An Informal Introduction to Ethnography. Toronto: Academic Press. Alexander, M., ed. 1977. Speaking for Ourselves: Women of the South. New York: Pantheon. Allen, Paula Gunn. 1986. The Sacred Hoop: Recovering the Feminine in American Indian Traditions. Boston: Beacon Press. Anderson, A. F. 1975. Letter to Larry Wight, Regional Director, Department of Indian Affairs. (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers.) Anyon, Jean. 1981. "Social Class and School Knowledge." Curriculum Inquiry. Vol. 11, No. 1. pp. 3-41. Apple, Michael. 1979. Ideology and Curriculum. Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1982. Education and Power. Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1986. Teachers and Texts: A Political Economy of Class and Gender Relations in Education. New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Archibald, J. 1986a. "Locally Developed Native Studies Curriculum: An Historical and Philosophical Rationale." In Selected Papers from the First Mokakit Conference. Vancouver: Mokakit Indian Education Research Association. 1986b. "Completing a Vision: The Native Indian Teacher Education Program at the University of British Columbia." Canadian Journal of Native Education. Vol. 13, No. 1. Aronowitz, Stanley and Giroux, Henry. 1985. Education Under Seige: The Conservative, Liberal and Radical Debate Over Schooling. Massachusetts: Bergin & Garvey. Bakhtin, M. M. 1934-35/1981. "Discourse in the Novel." In The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin: University of Texas Press. Barman, Jean, Hebert, Yvonne, and McCaskill, Don, eds. 1986. Indian Education in Canada. Volume 1: The Legacy. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. 1987. Indian Education in Canada. Volume 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Barrington, Stephen. "No Futurist." Vancouver. January 1989. Barton, L. and Walker, S., eds. 1983. Race, Class and Education. London: Croom Helm. Barzun, J. 1937/1965. Race: A Study in Superstition. New York: Harper Torchbooks. Bashford, L. and Heinzerling, H. 1987. "Blue Quills Native Education Centre: A Case Study." In Barman, Jean et al. Indian Education in Canada: Volume 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Bell, Diane. 1983. Daughters of the Dreaming. Melbourne: McPhee Gribble Publishers. Berger, Peter L. and Luckmann, Thomas. 1966. The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. Garden City, New York: Anchor Books. Bernstein, B. 1971. "On the Classification and Framing of School Knowledge." In M. F. D. Young ed., Knowledge and Control. London: Collier MacMillan. Bleecker, Sophie Arielle. 1982. "Community control of education: a case study of an Indian suvival school." McGill University. M.A., Education. Blumer, Herbert. 1969. Symbolic Interactionism: Perspective and Method. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc. Blunt, Adrian and McKinnon, Don. 1971. "Adult Education for B.C. Status Indians." The Journal of Education, Vol. 18, pp. 7-17. and Thornton, James E. 1974. Participation in an Indian Adult Education Program. Vancouver: Adult Education Research Centre, U.B.C. 1979. "Educational Levels of Adult Status Indians in British Columbia." Pacific Association for Continuing Education. PACE Newsletter. Vol. 9, No .4. pp. 15-28. Boas, F. 1909. The Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island. American Museum of Natural History. Vol. 8, pt. 2., pp. 301-522. Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. C. 1977. Reproduction: In Education, Society and Culture. London: Tavistock. Bowers, C. A. 1974. Cultural Literacy for Freedom: An Existential Perspective on Teaching, Curriculum and School Policy. Eugene, Ore: Elan Publishers. 1987. Elements of a Post Liberal Theory of Education. New York: Teachers' College Press. Bowles, Stanley and Gintis, H. 1976. Schooling in Capitalist America. New York: Basic Books. British Columbia. 1952-1973. Indian Advisory Committee. Annual Reports. British Columbia. 1916. Report of the Royal Commission on Indian Affairs for the Province of British Columbia. Victoria: Acme Press Ltd. (in four volumes). Transcripts from the library of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. British Columbia. 1875. Papers Connected with the Indian Land Question, 1850-1875. Victoria: Richard Wolfenden, Government Printer. Bromley, Hank. 1989. "Identity Politics and Critical Pedagogy." Educational Theory. Vol. 39, No. 3. Burnaby, Barbara. 1982. Language in Education among Canadian Native Peoples. Toronto: OISE Press. Cajete, Gregory A. 1986. "Science: A Native American Perspective. A Culturally Based Science Education Curriculum." Unpbl. diss. Los Angeles: International College. May. Campbell, Wilbur T. 1975. Letter to Larry Wight, Regional Director of Indian Affairs. March 4. (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers.) Canada. 1927. House of Commons. Special Committee Appointed to Inquire into the Claims of Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia. Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of Joint Meeting with like Committee of Senate. Ottawa: F.A. Acland, Printer to the King. Canada. 1929. The Indian Act 1927. Ottawa: F. A. Acland, Printer to the King. Canada. 1947a. Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Appointed to Examine and Consider the Indian Act. Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence, 1946. Ottawa: King's Printer. Canada. 1947b. Special Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Appointed to Examine and Consider the Indian Act. Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence, May 1947: No. 16-28. Ottawa: King's Printer. 338 Canada. 1948. Spedal Joint Committee of the Senate and the House of Commons Appointed to Examine and Consider the Indian Act. Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence, 1948. Ottawa: King's Printer. Canada. 1956. Department of Citizenship and Immigration. The Indian Act R.S.C.1952 c.149 as amended by 1952-53, c.41/ 1956,c.40. Office Consolidation. Canada. 1969. Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian Policy, Ottawa: Queen's Printer. Canadian Association for Adult Education. Reports. 1943,1944, 1950-1951, 1955 to 1969-1970. Canadian Education Association. 1984. Recent Developments in Native Education. Toronto: CEA. Canadian Woman Studies. 1989. "Editorial." Vol. 10, No. 2 & 3. Cantryn, Marjorie. 1975. Letter to Larry Wight, Regional Director of Indian Affairs. February 19. (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers.) Carr, Helen. 1986. "The Hero Twins." New Scholar. Vol. 10, No. 1 & 2. Carnoy, M. and Levin, H. 1985. Schooling and Work in the Democratic State. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Cassidy, Frank and Bish, Robert L. 1989. Indian Government: ts Meaning in Practice. Lantzville: Oolichan Books and Institute for Research on Public Policy. Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies. 1982. The Empire Strikes Back: Race and Racism in 70s Britain. London: Hutchison. Chambers, Erve. 1985. Applied Anthropology: A Practical Guide. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall. Charlie, Rose. 1989. Letter to Kahtou. Vol. 7, No. 25. Monday, December 25. Cherryholmes, Cleo. 1988. Power and Criticism: Poststructural Investigations in Education. New York: Teachers College Press. Chretien, J. 1973. Letter to George Manuel, President of National Indian Brotherhood. February 2. Chrystos. 1988. Not Vanishing. Vancouver: Press Gang Publishing. Clifford, J. 1983. On Ethnographic Authority. Representations. 1:2 Spring. 1988. The Predicament of Culture: Twentieth Century Ethnography, Literature, and Art. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Clifford, J., and Marcus, G., eds. 1986. Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography. London: University of California Press. Collins, Ray. 1968. Letter to The Honourable A. Laing. (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers). 1974. "Counselling Within an Indian Adult Basic Education Project." The Northian. Vol. 9, No. 4. 1977. "Education of the Urban and Migrating Indian People." Conference Outline. December 2 and 3. (Photocopy in Ray Collins papers). 1979. "Education." Unpbl. paper prepared for Indian Homemakers' Association of B. C. 15th Annual Conference, January 8-12. n. d. Miscellaneous papers from files of Ray Collins lent for the purposes of this research. Conference Minutes of a Meeting between the Executive Committee of the Allied Indian Tribes of British Columbia and Dr. Duncan Scott, Deputy Superintendent-General of Indian Affairs. Victoria, B.C. August 7-11, 1923. reprinted by Nesika. In the library of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. Cousins, Mark and Hussain, Athar. 1984. Michel Foucault. London: Macmillan. Culhane Speck, Dara. 1987. An Error in Judgement: The Politics of Medical Care in an Indian/White Community. Vancouver: Talonbooks.-Davin, Nicholas F. 1879. Report on Industrial Schools for Indians and Halfbreeds. Ottawa: 14 March. PABC RG 10 Vol. 6001 File 1-1-1, Pt. 1. Delphy, Christine. 1970. "The Main Enemy." In Christine Delphy. 1984. Close to Home: A Materialist Analysis of Women's Oppression. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. de Man, Paul. 1986. The Resistance to Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Dennis, Ken. 1972. "The Fifth Year of Success." Indian Voice. October, p. 5. Dickinson, Gary, ed. 1973. Adult Education in British Columbia. Vancouver: Adult Education Research Centre. Faculty of Education. University of British Columbia. Dobbert, Marion Lundy. 1982. "A Specific Basis for Ethnography." In Ethnographic Research. New York: Praeger. pp. 3-23. Donovan, Josephine. 1985. Feminist Theory: The Intellectual Traditions of American Feminism. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing. Duff, Wilson. 1964. The Indian History of British Columbia. Vol. 1: The Impact of the White Man. Victoria: Anthropology in British Columbia. Memoir No. 5. Echols, F. and Kehoe, J. 1987. "An Evaluation of the Programs and Policies of the Urban Native Indian Education Centre." Unpbl. paper. Vancouver: U.B.C. Eisenstein, Z. R. 1988. "Politics and Deconstruction: Thoughts on Method." In Z. R. Eisenstein. 1988. The Female Body and The Law. Berkeley: University of California Press. Eisner, Elliot. 1979. The Educational Imagination: On the Design and Evaluation of School Programs. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co. Ellsworth, Elizabeth. 1989. "Why Doesn't this Feel Empowering? Working Through the Repressive Myths of Critical Pedagogy." Harvard Educational Review. Vol. 59, No. 3. Etienne, Mona and Leacock, Eleanor, eds. 1980. Women and Colonization: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Praeger Publishers. Evans-Pritchard, E. E. 1940/1982. The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and the Political Institutions of a Nilotic People. New York: Oxford University Press. Fasheh, Munir. 1990. "Community Education: To Reclaim and Transform What Has Been Made Invisible." Harvard Educational Review. Vol. 60, No. 1. Fields, D. B. and Stanbury, W. T. 1970. The Economic Impact of the Public Sector Upon the Indians of British Columbia: An Examination of Taxation and Expenditure of Three Levels of Government. A report submitted to the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Fisher, R. 1977. Contact and Conflict: Indian-European Relations in British Columbia, 1774-1890. Vancouver: University of B. C. Press. Foucault, Michel. 1971. "Orders of Discourse." Social Science Information. Vol. 10 (2), pp. 7-30. 1971/1977. "Nietzsche, Genealogy, History." In Bouchard, Donald F., ed., Language, Counter-Memory, and Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews by Michel Foucault. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. 1975/1979. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Vintage Books. '• 1976/1980. "Two Lectures." In Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1976/1980. 1977/1988. "Power and Sex." In Politics, Philosophy, Culture: Interviews and Other Writings, 1977-1984. 1978/1988. "On Power." In Politics, Philosophy, Culture: Interviews and Other Writings, 1976-1980. 1978/1990. The History of Sexuality. Volume 1: An Introduction. New York: Vintage Books. 1980. (Colin Gordon ed.) Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977. New York: Pantheon Books. 1988. Politics, Philosophy, Culture: Interviews and Other Writings 1977-1984. New York: Routledge. Fraser, Nancy. 1989. Unruly Practices: Power, Discourse and Gender in Contemporary Social Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Freire, Paulo. 1970/1982. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum. 1985. The Politics of Education. Massachusetts: Bergin & Garvey. French, Terry. 1968. "Indian women on warpath for action." The Province. June 17. Friesen, John W. 1985. When Cultures Clash: Case Studies in Multiculturalism. Calgary: Detselig. Gardner, Ethel B. 1986. "Unique Features of a Band-controlled School: The Seabird Island Community School." Canadian Journal of Native Education. Volume 13, Number 1. Geertz, C. 1976. '"From the Native's Point of View': On the Nature of Anthropological Understanding." In Clifford Geertz. 1976. Local Knowledge: Further Essays in Interpretive Anthropology. New York: Basic Books, Inc. Genovese, Eugene D. 1972/1974. Roll, Jordan, Roll: The World the Slaves Made. New York: Pantheon. Giroux, Henry. 1981. Ideology, Culture and The Process of Schooling. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Glaser, B. and Strauss, A. 1967. The Discovery of Grounded Theory: Strategies for Qualitative Research. New York: Aldine. Gossett, T. 1963. Race: The History of an Idea in America. New York: Schocken Books. Gould, Stephen Jay. 1989. Wonderful Life: The Burgess Shale and the Nature of History. New York: W. W. Norton. Grant, John. 1984. Moon of Wintertime: Missionaries and the Indians of Canada in Encounters Since 1534. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Green, Howard. 1985. "Annual Report 1984-1985: Urban Native Indian Education Society, Native Education Centre." Unpbl. 1986. "Annual Report: Urban Native Indian Education Society 1985-1986." Unpbl. 1988. "Annual Report: Urban Native Indian Education Society 1987- 1988." Unpbl. Green, Howard. 1989. "Annual Report: Urban Native Indian Education Society 1988- 1989." Unpbl. Gresko, J. 1979. "White 'Rites' and Indian 'Rites': Indian Education and Native Responses In the West, 1870-1910." In James, Stamp and Sheehan. 1979. Shaping the Schools of the Canadian West. Calgary: Detselig. Greycloud, Aaron. 1989. "The history of apartheid." Kahtou. Vol. 17, No. 13, July 10. Haig-Brown, Celia. 1987. Bridging the Gap: A Native Science and Health Post-Secondary Career Preparation Curriculum. Vancouver: Urban Native Indian Education Society. 1988a. Resistance and Renewal: Surviving the Indian Residential School. Vancouver: Tillicum Library. 343 Haig-Brown, Celia. 1988b. "A Long Way from Home." New Directions. Vol. 4, No. 2 September/October. 1990. "Border Work." In W. H. New. 1990. Native Writers and Canadian Writing. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Hamilton, Alice. 1977? Letter to Indian Voice. (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers.) Hamilton, W. D. and Owston, R. D. 1983. Ankamsi Nenasi Welite'lsi: The Chapel Island Education Evaluation Report. Fredericton: Micmac-Maliseet Institute, University of New Brunswick. Hammersley, Martyn and Atkinson, Paul. 1983. Ethnography: Principles in Practice. London: Tavistock. Harris, Kenneth B. 1974. Visitors Who Never Left: The Origin of the People of Damelahamid. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Hawthorn, Harry B., ed. 1967. A Survey of the Contemporary Indians of Canada: Economic, Political, Educational Needs and Policies. Vol. II. Ottawa: Indian Affairs Branch. Hawthorn, H. B., Belshaw, C. S. and Jamieson, S. M. 1960. The Indians of British Columbia: A Study of Contemporary Social Adjustment. Toronto: The University of Toronto Press and The University of British Columbia. Hebert, Yvonne. 1987. "Evaluation of Indian Education: Issues and Challenges." In Barman, Jean et al. 1987. Indian Education in Canada. Volume 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Hill-Tout, Charles. 1899/1978. The Salish People: The Thompson and the Okanagan, Volume 1. (ed. by Ralph Maud) Vancouver: Talonbooks. Horton, Robin. 1971. "African Traditional Thought and Western Science." In M.F.D. Young. 1971. Knowledge and Control. London: Collier-Macmillan. Indian Affairs Branch. 1956. Minutes of the Indian Superintendent's (sic) Conference, British Columbia and Yukon Region. January 16-20. Photo copy from the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. Indian Education Centre. cl977. Newsletter. (In Ray Collins's personal papers.) Indian Homemakers. 1968. Indian Homemakers Newsletter. July 11. Indian Voice. 1975? "Editorial." February? (Photocopy in Ray Collins's papers.) p. 4. 344 Jack, Rita. 1985. "Legacy of the Indian Residential School." Secwepemc Cultural Arts Magazine. Vol. 1, No. 1. James, Becky Mackie. 1989. Something to Live For, Something to Reach For: Students of a Native Survival School. Saskatoon: Fifth House Publishers. Jones, Lt. Col. H. M. 1961. "The Years Ahead." Address to the National Superintendents' Conference. Harrison Hot Springs. September 18. Unpbl. photocopy. Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs' Library. Joseph, Gloria and Jill Lewis. 1981. Common Differences: Conflicts in Black and White Feminist Perspectives. Boston: The South End Press. Kaberry, Phyllis. 1957. Malinowski's Contribution to Fieldwork Methods and the Writing of Ethnography. In Raymond Firth. 1957. Man and Culture. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Kehoe, John. 1984. A Handbook for Enhancing the Multicultural Climate of the School. Vancouver: Western Education Development Group. Kelly, John Peter. 1980. "Sabaskong community schools: A study of Indian control of Indian education." University of Manitoba. M.Ed., Educational Administration and Foundations. Kidd, J. Roby, and Selman, Gordon R., eds. 1978. Coming of Age: Canadian Adult Education in the 1960's. Toronto: Canadian Association for Adult Education. King, A. R. 1967. The School at Mopass: A Problem of Identity. Toronto: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1984. The Native Indian and Schooling in British Columbia. Victoria: Univ. of Victoria Bookstore. Kirkness, Verna. 1986. "Indian Control of Indian Education: Over a Decade Later." In Selected Papers from the First Mokakit Conference. Vancouver: Mokakit Indian Education Research Association. Kleinfeld, Judith. 1975. "Effective Teachers of Eskimo and Indian Students." School Review. February, pp. 301^ 14. Kouri, Karen Theodora. 1983. "The Myth of Indian Control of Indian Education: A study in the social organization of knowledge." University of Toronto. M.Ed., Education Lascelles, Thomas A., O.M.I. 1990. Roman Catholic Residential Schools in British Columbia. Vancouver: O.M.I, of B.C. Lather, Patti. 1986. "Issues of Validity in Openly Ideological Research: Between a Rock and a Soft Place." Interchange. Vol. 17, No. 4. Winter, pp. 63-84. 1990. "My Body, My Text: Counter-Practices of Authority in the Discourses of Liberatory Education." Paper presented to the Bergamo Curriculum Theorizing Conference. October. Lefebvre, Henri. 1940/1968. Dialectical Materialism. London: Jonathan Cape Ltd. Li, Peter S., ed. 1988. Ethnic Inequality in a Class Society. Toronto: Wall and Thompson. 1990. Race and Ethnic Relations in Canada. Don Mills, Ontario: Oxford University Press Canada. Little Bear, Leroy; Boldt, Menno; and Long, J. Anthony, eds. 1984. Pathways to Self-Determination: Canadian Indians and the Canadian State. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Livingstone, David W. and Contributors. 1987. Critical Pedagogy and Cultural Power. Toronto: Garamond Press. Longboat, Diane. 1987. "First Nations Control of Education: The Path to our Survival as Nations." In Barman, Jean et al. 1987. Indian Education in Canada: Volume 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Longfish, George and Randall, Joan. 1983/1989. "Contradictions in Indian Territory." Contemporary Native American Art. Oklahoma State University: Gardiner Art Gallery. Quoted in Walkingstick, Kay. 1989. "Like a Longfish Out Of Water." Northeast Indian Quarterly. Vol. VI, No. 3. Lynch, James. 1987. Prejudice Reduction and the Schools. New York: Nichols Publishing. Malinowski, Bronislaw. 1922. Argonauts of the Western Pacific. London: Routledge. 1935. Coral Gardens and Their Magic. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press. Manitoba Indian Brotherhood. 1974. The Shocking Truth About Indians In Text Books. Winnipeg: Manitoba Indian Brotherhood. 346 Mao Tse-Tung. "On Contradiction." 1937/1965/1986. In McLellan, David, ed. 1965/1986. The Essential Left: Five Classic Texts on the Principles of Socialism. London: Unwin Paperbacks. McCarthy, Cameron. 1988. "Rethinking Liberal and Radical Perspectives on Racial Inequality in Schooling: Making the Case for Nonsynchrony." Harvard Educational Review. Vol. 58, No. 3. 1990. Race and Curriculum: Social inequality and the theories and politics of differences in contemporary research on schooling. London, England: Falmer Press. McCarty, T. L. 1989. "School as Community: The Rough Rock Demonstration." Harvard Educational Review. Vol. 59, No. 4. McCaskill, Don. 1987. "Revitalization of Indian Culture: Indian Cultural Survival Schools." In Barman, Jean et al. 1987. Indian Education in Canada: Vol. 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. McCutcheon, Gail. "What in the World is Curriculum Theory?" Theory Into Practice. XXI (Winter 1982), 18-22. Cited in Cherryholmes, Cleo. 1988. Power and Criticism: Poststructural Investigations in Education. New York: Teachers College Press. McDiarmid, G. and Pratt, D. 1971. Teaching Prejudice. Toronto: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education. McEvedy, Colin. 1984. The Macmillan World History Fact Finder. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company. McKay, Alvin and McKay, Bert. 1987. "Education as a Total Way of Life." In Barman, Jean et al. Indian Education in Canada: Volume 2: The Challenge. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. MacLean, Hope. 1971? "Ray Collins Indian Education Centre." In A Review of Indian Education in North America. Toronto?: Ontario Teachers' Federation. McLellan, David, ed. 1986. The Essential Left: Five Classic Texts on the Principles of Socialism. London: Unwin Paperbacks. McRobbie, Angela. 1980. "Settling Accounts with Sub-cultures." Screen Education. Vol.34, pp. 37-51. Miller, J. R. 1990 Fall. "Owen Glendover, Hotspur, and Canadian Indian Policy." Ethnohistory. 37:4. 347 Miller, J. R. 1989. Skyscrapers Hide the Heavens: A History of Indian-White Relations in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Miller, Kahn-Tineta and George Lerchs. 1978. The Historical Development of the Indian Act. Ottawa: Treaties and Historical Research Branch, P. R. E. Group, Indian and Northern Affairs. Mishler, Elliot. 1986. Research Interviewing: Context and Narrative. London: Harvard University Press. Moodley, Kogila, ed. 1983. "Canadian multiculturalism as ideology." Ethnic and Racial Studies. Vol. 6, No. 3, pp. 320-331. 1985. Race Relations and Multicultural Education. Vancouver: U.B.C. Centre for Curriculum and Instruction. Moraga, Cherrie and Gloria Anzaldua. 1981. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color. Watertown, Mass.: Persephone Press. More, Arthur J. 1988. Indian Education Projects & Programs in B.C. Schools. Victoria: Ministry of Education, Province of British Columbia. Moschkovich, Judit. 1981. "But I know you, American Woman." In Moraga and Anzaldua. 1981. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color. Watertown, Mass.: Persephone Press. Mulhall, David. 1986. A Will to Power: The Missionary Career of Father Morice. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Nakai, R. Carlos. 1989. "Living in Two Worlds." In Northeast Indian Quarterly. Volume VI, Number 3. National Indian Brotherhood. 1973. Indian Control of Indian Education. Ottawa: National Indian Brotherhood. Native Council of Canada. 1985. Bill C-31 and the new Indian Act—guidebook No. 1: Applying for status. Ottawa: Native Council of Canada, Indian Act Secretariat, (cited in Cassidy and Bish 1989:55) Native Education Centre. 1987. "Native Education Centre N.A.B.E. English Program Readings 1987-1988." Vancouver: Native Education Centre. 1987-88. "Student Handbook and Program Calendar." Vancouver: Native Education Centre. 1988. "Staff Manual, 1988-1989." Unpbl. Native Education Centre. 1988. "Native Science and Health Careers Think Tank Minutes and Recommendations." Vancouver: UNIES, n.d. (covering letter April 14,1988). 1988. "The Seventh Annual First Peoples' Cultural Festival." May 28. (Brochure distributed at the festival.) 1988-89. "Student Handbook and Program Calendar." Vancouver: Native Education Centre. 1988-89. "Yearbook." Vancouver: Native Education Centre. Nielsen, Erik. 1985. Memorandum to Cabinet: Report of the Ministerial Task Force on Native Programs. Ottawa. Norcross, Elizabeth. 1971. "Answers from an Indian Classroom." School Progress. Vol. 40, No. 1. pps. 46-47. Norcross, E. Blanche. 1970. "Ray Collins' Education Club." Continuous Learning. Vol. 9, No. 6, pp. 231-232. Norman, Richard and Sayers, Sean. 1980. Hegel, Marx and Dialectic: A Debate. Sussex: The Harvester Press. Norman, Richard. 1980a. "On the Hegelian Origins." In Norman and Sayers. 1980b. "The Problem of Contradiction." In Norman and Sayers. Ogbu, John. 1974. The Next Generation: An Ethnography of Education in an Urban Neighbourhood. New York: Academic Press. 1978. Minority Education and Caste. London: Academic Press. Osennontion and Skonaganleh:ra. 1989. "Our World." In Canadian Woman's Studies. Vol. 10, No. 2 & 3. Owusu, Maxwell. 1978. "Ethnography of Africa: The Usefulness of the Useless." American Anthropologist. Vol. 80. pp. 310-34. Parminter, A. V. 1964. "The Development of Integrated Schooling for British Columbia." Unpbl. Thesis. Vancouver: Univ. of B.C. Pepper, Floy and Joseph Coburn. 1985. Effective Practices in Indian Education: A Teacher's Monograph. Portland: Northwest Regional Laboratory. 349 Persson, Diane. 1980. "Blue Quills: A Case Study of Indian Residential Schooling." Unpbl. Ph.D. dissertation. Dept. of Anthropology and Educational Foundations, University of Alberta. 1986. "The Changing Experience of Indian Residential Schooling: Blue Quills 1931-1970." In Barman, Jean et al. 1986. Indian Education in Canada: Volume 1: The Legacy. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Philips, Susan Urmston. 1982. The Invisible Culture: Communication in Classrrom and Community on Warm Springs Indian Reservation. New York: Longmans. Province, The. 1968. "Indians march to back up their demands." Tuesday, June 18. p. 10. Redford, James. 1979-80. "Attendance at Indian Residential Schools in British Columbia, 1890-1920." B.C. Studies. No. 44, Winter. Reese, William L. 1980. Dictionary of Philosophy and Religion. Sussex: Harvester Press. Sawyer, Janet. 1989. "Internalized Dominance." Angles. January, p. 4-5. Sayers, Sean. 1980a. "On the Marxist Dialectic." In Norman, Richard and Sayers, Sean. 1980. Hegel, Marx and the Dialectic: A Debate. Sussex: The Harvester Press. 1980b. "Dualism, Materialism and Dialectics." In Norman and Sayers. Schutz, Alfred. 1967. "The Problem of Social Reality." In Collected Papers. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Selman, Gordon R. 1977 February. "A Chronology of Adult Education in British Columbia." Occasional Papers in Continuing Education. No. 14. 1988 May. "The Invisible Giant: A History of Adult Education in British Columbia." Occasional Papers in Continuing Education. No. 25. Shor, Ira. 1980. Critical Teaching and Everyday Life. Boston: South End Press. 1986. Culture Wars: School and Society in the Conservative Restoration 1969-1984. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. and Freire, Paulo. 1987. A Pedagogy for Liberation: Dialogues on Transforming Education. Massachusetts: Bergin & Garvey. Shostak, Marjorie. 1981/1983. Nisa: The Life and Words of a Kung! Woman. New York: Vintage Books. Silman, Janet. 1987. Enough is Enough: Aboriginal Women Speak Out. Toronto: The Women's Press. Spender, Dale. 1985. Man Made Language. 2nd ed. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Spradley, James. 1979. The Ethnographic Interview. Toronto: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1980. Participant Observation. Toronto: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Stanbury, W. T. 1973 Autumn. "The Education Gap: Urban Indians in British Columbia." B. C. Studies. No. 19, pp. 21-49. 1975. Success and Failure: Indians in Urban Society. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Steele, Lois. 1985. Medicine Women. Grand Forks, North Dakota: INMED Program. Steinbeck, John. 1954/1958. Sweet Thursday. London: Pan Books. Stenhouse, Lawrence. 1967. Culture and Education. London: Thomas Nelson & Sons, Ltd. Stevenson, Hugh and J. D.Wilson, eds. 1977. Precepts, Policies and Processes: Perspectives on Contemporary Canadian Education. London, Ont.: Alexander, Blake Associates. Still, Larry. 1990. "George ffl has day in court claim." The Vancouver Sun. Friday, April 6. p. Bl. Stone, John. 1985. Racial Conflict in Contemporary Society. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Stone, Maureen. 1981. The Education of the Black Child in England: The Myth of Multiracial Education. Glasgow: Fontana Paperbacks. Taylor, John Leonard. 1984. Canadian Indian Policy During the Inter-War Years, 1918-1939. Chapter 6. In the library of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. Teit, James. 1909/1975. The Shuswap. New York: AMS Press. Thompson, E. P. 1963/1968. The Making of the English Working Class. Markham, Ont.: Penguin. Thompson, Paul. 1978. The Voice of the Past: Oral History. York: Oxford University Press. Titley, Brian. 1986. A Narrow Vision: Duncan Campbell Scott and the Administration of Indian Affairs in Canada. Vancouver: U.B.C. Press. Tizya, Rosalie. 1990. "Briefing Notes—Historical Overview." Unpbl. Prepared for University of British Columbia's "Introduction to Band Planning" Training Course with the Centre for Human Settlements, School of Community and Regional Planning. Treaty No. 8. Made June 21, 1889 and Adhesions, Reports, Etc. repr. from the 1899 edition by Roger Duhamel. Ottawa: Queen's Printer. 1966. Turner, Nancy. 1978. Food Plants of British Columbia Indians. Part 2/Interior Peoples. Victoria: British Columbia Provincial Museum. Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. 1976. The Land is the Culture. VHS. Available at Simon Fraser University: Instructional Media Centre. Urban Native Indian Education Society (UNIES). 1987. A Research Report on Indian and Inuit Health Careers in British Columbia. Vancouver: UNIES. 1987. "Minutes of the Annual General Meeting." September. 1988. "Think Tank Kit." Distributed to participants in the 1988 Think Tank. December 2. Urban Native Indian Education Society (UNIES). 1989?. "Minutes of the Think Tank, December 2,1988." n.d. 1989. "Auditor's Report." Prepared by Dunwoody and Associates. Vancouver, B. C. Vancouver Sun, The. 1968. "Indians March to Protest Removal of Favoured Adviser." June 18? (Clipping from Ray Collins's personal papers.) Van Maanen, John. 1988. Tales of the Field: On Writing Ethnography. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 352 Vedan, Richard. 1988. Letter to participants in the third annual "think tank." October 12. Wagner, Roy. 1981. The Invention of Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Walkem, George. 1875. "Report of the Government of British Columbia on the Subject of Indian Reserves." In British Columbia Papers Connected with the Indian Land Question. 1850-1875. Victoria: Government Printer. 1875. Weaver, Sally. 1981. Making Canadian Indian Policy: The Hidden Agenda 1968-70. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 1986. Indian Policy in the New Conservative Government, Part I: The Nielsen Task Force of 1985. Native Studies Review. Vol. 2, No. 1. 1^ 13. Weiler, Kathleen. 1988. Women Teaching for Change: Gender, Class & Power. Massachusetts: Bergin & Garvey. Whitehead, Margaret. 1981. The Cariboo Mission: A History of the Oblates. Victoria: Sono Nis Press. Whittaker, Elvi. 1986. The Mainland Haole: The White Experience in Hawaii. New York: Columbia University Press. Whitty, Geoff. 1985. Sociology and School Knowledge: Curriculum Theory, Research and Politics. London: Methuen. Williams, Raymond. 1958/1989. "Culture is Ordinary." In Resources of Hope: Culture, Democracy, Socialism. 1983. rev. ed. Keywords: A vocabulary of culture and society. London: Fontana Paperbacks. Williams, Raymond. 1989. Resources of Hope: Culture, Democracy, Socialism. London: Verso. Willis, Paul. 1977/1981. Learning to Labor: How Working Class Kids Get Working Class Jobs. New York: Columbia University Press. Wilson, J. D. 1984. An Imperfect Past: Education and Society in Canadian History. Vancouver: U.B.C. Centre for the Study of Curriculum and Instruction. Wilson, Marie. 1989. "Ecology: A Native Indian Perspective." Legal Perspectives. Vol. 14, No. 1. Wirth, Louis. 1936. Preface to Mannheim, Karl. Ideology and Utopia. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World Inc. Woolcott, Harry F. 1967. A Kwakiutl Village and School. Toronto: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Young, Jon., ed. 1987. Breaking the Mosaic: Ethnic Identities in Canadian Schooling. Toronto: Garamond Press. Young, Michael F. D., ed. 1971. Knowledge and Control. London: Collier Macmillan. and Whitty, Geoff. 1977. Society, State and Schooling. Sussex, England: Falmer Press. 354 A P P E N D I X A 355 I. STUDENT INTERVIEW QUESTIONS A . Current Scene Where are you from? H o w long have you been here? in Vancouver? in the Centre? What made you come back to school? Why did you decide to come here? Why do other students come here? Which programs have you taken? What program are you in now? What's it like? H o w do you like it? What's good about it? The best part of it? What don't you like? The worst part? B. The Centre This place is called the N E C . What's Native about it? Curriculum? Teachers? What you are taught? How you are taught? How do you feel about the other students here? Do you see them outside of school time? the staff? C. Control Who runs this place? H o w do you know? What's the role of the student council? Is it effective? Do you have a chance to decide about what you are going to learn? Should you have? Do you think about Indian control? What does it mean to you? D. The Past Where else have you gone to school? As a child? As an adult? What was it like there? What were you like there? Was your Native heritage an important part of growing up? Was it similar to or different from being here? E. Native Values What does being Indian mean to you? People talk about Native values. What do they mean? What are some Native values? 356 F. Change and the Future Has this place made a difference in your life? Tell me about it. What do you plan to do in the future? Has the NEC influenced this decision? Have your goals changed since you have been here? Why? Have you changed since you've been here? In what ways? Do you see a connection between what you are doing here and Native people's futures? Do you think places like the NEC are important? Why? Why not? II. BOARD OF DIRECTORS INTERVIEW QUESTIONS A. Background 1. Your job 2. Your involvement with Native community? 3. Your involvement with Native education? B. Board 1. Role? 2. How long involved? 3. Changes over time? 4. How did you become involved? 5. Why did you become involved? C. Indian Control 1. What does Indian control of Indian education mean to you? The words: Indian, control, education . . . 2. Is Indian control an issue of importance to you? Tell me about it. 3. Are you familiar with the policy paper called Indian Control of Indian Education? 4. Is this place Indian controlled? Why or why not? 5. Is Indian control important for adult education? In what ways? Why? 6. How do you think others feel about Indian control? 7. Have your ideas about Indian control changed over time? 357 D. Nat ive Values 1. The NIB states: "We want education to provide the setting in which our children can develop the fundamental attitudes and values which have an honoured place in Indian tradition and culture." 2. Does the N E C promote these values? If so, in what way? 3. Are there other values which the N E C promotes? What are they? 4. In your work, do you include reference to Native values? If so, explain. 5. Students come from a wide variety of backgrounds—urban, rural , on reserve, off reserve, in province, out of province, etc. What are the implications of this for Native values? What impact does this have on the day-to-day operations of the centre? Of your class? E. Changes Over Time 1. Effect on control? 2. General effects? HI. STAFF INTERVIEW QUESTIONS A . Present Situation 1. Your name. 2. What program or position do you work in at the NEC? 3. H o w long have you been here? 4. Have you worked in other areas in the centre? 5. Tell me about the work you do. 6. Why do you chose to work at the NEC? 7. What do you like most about working here? Least? 8. The students who attend are all adults. What effect does this have? O n the work you do? On the atmosphere of the place? Other? 358 B. Background 1. Where are you from? 2. Was your Native heritage an important part of your childhood? What was your attitude to and awareness of Native culture before you came to work here? 3. What was your school experience like? Does this have any bearing on your work here? In what ways was it different from the NEC? 4. Has your attitude to or awareness of Native cultures changed since you have been working here? If so, how? 5. Are there things about your upbringing or your work experience which are important for me to understand as a part of your work here? 6. How did you come to work here? C. Native Control 1. What does Indian control of Indian education mean to you? The words: Indian, control, education . . . 2. Is Indian control an issue of importance to you? Tell me about it. 3. Are you familiar with the policy paper called Indian Control of Indian Education? 4. Is this place Indian controlled? Why or why not? 5. Is Indian control important for adult education? In what ways? Why? 6. How do you think others feel about Indian control? 7. Have your ideas about Indian control changed over time? D. Native Values 1. The NIB states: "We want education to provide the setting in which our children can develop the fundamental attitudes and values which have an honoured place in Indian tradition and culture." 2. Does the NEC promote these values? If so, in what way? 3. Are there other values which the NEC promotes? What are they? 4. In your work, do you include reference to Native values? If so, explain. 5. Students come from a wide variety of backgrounds—urban, rural, on reserve, off reserve, in province, out of province, etc. What are the implications of this for Native values? What impact does this have on the day-to-day operations of the centre? Of your class? 359 E. Social Transformation and Sovereignty 1. Is the NEC working for change? If so, in what ways? Personal? Group? Social? Would other people say the same? 2. Does the existence of the NEC make a difference for Native people? Is it important for non-Native people as well? In what ways? Does it have an impact on the city? On the province? 3. Does the NEC play a role in Native people's goal of self-determination? How? Is this goal important to you? Do you think it is an issue for students who attend? For other staff? How do you know? Be as specific as you can. 4. Are you working with students in ways that could be described as contributing to the goal of sovereignty? 5. Is there a special role for women in this work? What is it? WHAT QUESTION SHOULD I H A V E ASKED WHICH I DIDN'T? 360 APPENDIX B 361 TAKING CONTROL: A CASE STUDY OF NATIVE ADULT EDUCATION JUNE 1,1988 Dear Staff: As discussed at the May staff meeting, I am planning a study at the N.E.C. over the coming year. I appreciate the support offered at that meeting and feel a tremendous responsibility to work with you to produce a study worthy of the trust you have indicated. The purpose of this letter is threefold. First, I ask you to indicate if you will be willing to participate in interviews by signing below. I am interested in your life as a staff member, your previous experiences with education and your feelings about Indian control and its significance in Native people's lives. Please note that you may change your mind, refuse to answer any questions or withdraw from the interview at any time without prejudice. Second, I would like to know if you will agree to allow me to observe in your classroom in order to get a direct experience of the way the people involved interact and a sense of the nature of the class. I will contact you to arrange specific times later. Thirdly, where applicable, I would like you to circulate the attached form to students so that they can indicate their interest in participating in interviews. Please return the form even if you do not want to participate so that I know you have received it. I will be pleased to meet with you to answer any questions you have about the research. I will be in the centre or you may call me at A copy of the research proposal which I submitted to the university is available in the library. Thank you for taking the time to respond. Thank you again for entrusting me to work in the centre. Sincerely, Celia Haig-Brown 1. Name of my program: 2. I am willing to participate in interviewing 3. You may contact me to arrange an observation time in my class. Signature: TAKING CONTROL: A CASE STUDY OF NATIVE ADULT EDUCATION JUNE 1,1988 Dear Student: This is a request for volunteers. As I mentioned to you during meetings in May, I am working on a research project on Indian control of Indian education. I am particularly interested in the ways people in the N.E.C. view their education. In the interview, I plan to ask questions about your life as a student both now and previously. I am beginning to organize my research schedule. I will be working on this study for most of the next year. If you are interested in volunteering for between one and four hours of interviewing, please sign below. I will contact you to arrange a suitable time for and interview. Please note that you may change your mind, refuse to answer any questions or withdraw from the interview at any time without prejudice. I will be pleased to answer any questions you have. I will be around the centre, would be glad to meet with you, or you may call me at A copy of the research proposal which I submitted to the university is available in the library. Sincerely, Celia Haig-Brown Name of my program: I would like to participate in the interviews. (Include a home phone number if possible so that I may arrange an interview time with you. Otherwise I will contact you in class.) 363 Consent Letter Dear Study Participant: The Ethics Committee of the University of B.C. requires that all study participants sign a consent form before research involvement. As you are now aware, I am conducting research at the Native Education Centre for my doctoral dissertation focussing on Indian control of Indian education. The title of the project is Taking Control: A Case Study of Native Adult Education. The research itself consists of interviews with staff, students and board members about their current and former involvement in education and their views of Indian control. In the final report, I will examine the relationship of this example of Indian controlled education to studies on education designed to improve educational opportunities for specific groups in our society. If you agree to participate, you will be asked to contribute approximately four hours to interviews over the year. Your name will not be used in the final report and identifying details will be omitted or disguised. You have every right to refuse to answer any questions or to withdraw from the interview at any time without prejudice. I will be pleased to answer any questions you may have about the project and will be available after the interview as well if you wish to clarify or discuss your answers or my questions. If you agree to participate, please sign one copy of this letter and return it to me. Yours very sincerely, Celia Haig-Brown Researcher I have received a copy of this letter. I agree to participate in the interview under the conditions outlined above. Signature: Date: 364 To instructors and co-ordinators Family Violence Counselling Native Early Childhood Education Native Hospitality and Tourism Native Criminal Justice This letter contains a series of requests related to the study that I am doing in the centre called Taking Control: a Case Study of First Nations Adult Education. As the observations have progressed, I now want to spend some time observing in your classrooms. First, I would like to spend some time just sitting in on any class. Secondly, I am particularly interested in any special activities, speakers, or aspects of the program which emphasize Native control. I recognize that each day integrates this idea, but feel that some aspects are more directly connected to Native control than others. I would appreciate notification of any class days or events you are arranging or teaching that emphasize Native control. I think it most important to seek students' approval of my presence in your classes. In addition, I would like a copy of your schedule, your course outline and any handouts or course materials relevant to my question. (Eg. Some assignments may be particularly significant.) If students have submitted papers to you which address Native control either as individuals or collectively I would most appreciate your asking if I may have a copy of the assignment. If the student hesitates, I would suggest their right to refuse be immediately respected. Any material I include in my work could be anonymous or credited as the student preferred. I am pleased to pay for photocopying. Thank you for your consideration. If any of my requests seem unreasonable, please forgive my insensitivity. (And let me know, if you can.) If you have materials or feedback for me, I am in the Centre or the Annex most Tuesdays and Thursdays and have a mail slot near the bottom right hand corner. Sincerely, Celia Haig-Brown Februaiy I,1989 Dear As you are probably aware, I have been conducting research at the Native Education Centre since the spring of 1988. This research has included many observations, interviews with staff and students, and teaching a portion of one program. I am beginning the last series of interviews which I will conduct over the next few months. I would very much like to interview you. If you agree to participate, your comments will be kept anonymous in that your name will not be used and every effort to disguise identifying features of our discussion will be made. You have every right to refuse to participate and may withdraw from the interview at any point without prejudice. The title of the study is Taking Control: A Case Study of First Nations' Adult Education. I am interested in the notion of control in two senses: first as an examination of Native people taking control of their lives and deciding to return to an educational institution, and secondly, as one model of Native controlled education. My questions focus on these areas, on your role in the centre and on your reasons for becoming involved in the centre. The resulting paper will be my dissertation at U.B.C. I hope that it will prove helpful to people concerned with First Nations' control of education. There is a copy of my proposal available in the library. Will you please put the attached letter in my mail slot, in the bottom right hand corner in the mail room. If you agree, I will contact you to arrange a mutually suitable time and place for an interview. If you do not wish to participate, please let me know so that I don't bother you unnecessarily Thank you for your response. Yours sincerely, Celia Haig-Brown 366 APPENDIX C NATIVE EDUCATION CENTRE 1988/89 LINES OF COMMUNICATION* Urban Native Indian Education Society Board of Directors Administrator I Co-ord. E.C.E Program Part-time Instruct V.C.C. Co-ordinator of Skills Training Programs i Co-ord Hosp. & Tourism Program I Part-time Instruct B.CLT. I Part-time N.P.A.P. Instructor Pre-Automaled Instructor Instruct Assistant Automated Instructor Instruct Assistant Co-ord Criminal Justice Studies Program Part-time Instruct Douglas College Administrator's Assistant Cook I Janitor Life Skills Cultural Instruct I n s m ) C t Finance and Office Manager I Assistant Office & Finance Manager i—H Admin. Student Secretary Service Secretary Co-ordinator of Counselling Services I Work Exper. Officer Finance & Personal Admission Counsel.. Officer Assistant •ADAPTED FROM THE 1988/89 STAFF MANUAL N.A.B.E. 1 Instruct I N.A.B.E. 1 Instruct Assistant N.A.B.E. G.E.D. Co-ord. Project Tutoring Librarian Co-ord. in Instruct N.A.B.E. in Instruct Assistant Instruct Health and Science Access Co-ord. Outreach Staff Centre Co-ord. I Assistant Co-ord. I Secretary Reception Trainee Family Violence