Long term effects
"Figure it this way, over sixty thousand natives were processed through those schools since they started and you got generation on generation just piled on top and now we're trying to figure out, "What is love?" How in the hell are you supposed to know how to love when you're not given love for ten months out of every year? The question is not, "Why do we drink?" Ask first the question, "Do you know how to love?" And you'll find a very thin line between them because they come from each other. You booze because you can't love and you booze under the guise of pretending that you can."
- Residential School Survivor
Overall most natives don't know how to deal with what they have gone through so they struggle to go through life. They still are being judged and made fun of on who they are. You can see from this story above and by this poem below. We should not be changing they way of how anyone wants to live.
- Residential School Survivor
Overall most natives don't know how to deal with what they have gone through so they struggle to go through life. They still are being judged and made fun of on who they are. You can see from this story above and by this poem below. We should not be changing they way of how anyone wants to live.
Government Payment
In 2005 the government offered $2 billion in payments to victims of residential schools and Paul Martin had gathered aboriginal leaders to discuss aboriginal education, housing, health care and economic opportunities. As well $125 million offered to fund a healing program to help deal with psychological issues
Poem by Rita Joe,
I Lost My Talk
I lost my talk
The talk you took away.
When I was a little girl
At Shubenacadie school.
You snatched it away:
I speak like you
I think like you
I create like you
The scrambled ballad, about my world.
Two ways I talk
Both ways I say,
Your way is more powerful.
So gently I offer my hand and ask,
Let me find my talk
So I can teach you about me.
The talk you took away.
When I was a little girl
At Shubenacadie school.
You snatched it away:
I speak like you
I think like you
I create like you
The scrambled ballad, about my world.
Two ways I talk
Both ways I say,
Your way is more powerful.
So gently I offer my hand and ask,
Let me find my talk
So I can teach you about me.