These are personal stories of people who were a part of the residential school system.
Boarding School Life
By Shirley Bear
I went to the All Saints School in Prince Albert from 1948 to 1951. I was a big girl of eleven at the time. One of my jobs was to administer cod liver oil to each of the students. The students would line up with their mouths open. I would go down the line with a big can and I squeezed the handle, cod liver oil would squirt. Each student received 3 squirts. The children did not like the cod liver oil. They always made a face and with their eyes, they begged me not to do it. But with the supervisor watching I always squirted.
This was not a happy school. I was shocked by all the fighting and bullying went on. I learned to keep my mouth shut when I knew who did things they were not supposed to do. But it didn't help. Usually the whole dormitory was punished until they found out who was guilty. Some of the staff were pretty mean too and did things that were not right - such as pulling ears, slapping heads, and hitting knuckles.
I remember being hungry most of the time as the meals were not very good. We had supper so early and we would be really hungry by breakfast time.
We were made to go to church twice a day and three times on Sundays, but I never really learned anything.
The one thing I will never forget was when I told the principal that I could not speak Cree.
It happened like this. My older brother, Albert, had run away from school and had gone back to the reserve. I got called to the office. There, the principal told me that I was heard saying in Cree that I was going to run away too if my brother didn't come back.
I told him, "I'm sorry Mr.Mayo but I couldn't say that in Cree because I don't talk Cree".
He said "Don't be stupid, all Indians speak Cree".
Then he jumped up, grabbed his strap and hit me all over the back, arms and legs, and head. It was the worst strapping of my whole life. I didn't understand it. I saw other students strapped for speaking Cree, now I was being strapped for NOT speaking it.
He thought I was lying but what I said was true. I was brought up in a home where my mom spoke only English, my dad spoke both English and Cree so they spoke only English to us kids.
Thank goodness, Mr.Mayo was only a substitute principal and we only had to put up with him for a few months.
The next principal, Rev. A.J. Serase, was an angel. After he came, the whole system changed. He was just like a father to all the students. He was the minister who married my husband and me. He has passed on now, but he will always be a special person to me.
H was part of the good times. I made so many good friends and I am always glad to see my old schoolmates whenever I meet them. I learned a lot about sharing and having compassion for others - I think the good times outnumber the bad times. Or maybe I am just getting too old to remember.
This was not a happy school. I was shocked by all the fighting and bullying went on. I learned to keep my mouth shut when I knew who did things they were not supposed to do. But it didn't help. Usually the whole dormitory was punished until they found out who was guilty. Some of the staff were pretty mean too and did things that were not right - such as pulling ears, slapping heads, and hitting knuckles.
I remember being hungry most of the time as the meals were not very good. We had supper so early and we would be really hungry by breakfast time.
We were made to go to church twice a day and three times on Sundays, but I never really learned anything.
The one thing I will never forget was when I told the principal that I could not speak Cree.
It happened like this. My older brother, Albert, had run away from school and had gone back to the reserve. I got called to the office. There, the principal told me that I was heard saying in Cree that I was going to run away too if my brother didn't come back.
I told him, "I'm sorry Mr.Mayo but I couldn't say that in Cree because I don't talk Cree".
He said "Don't be stupid, all Indians speak Cree".
Then he jumped up, grabbed his strap and hit me all over the back, arms and legs, and head. It was the worst strapping of my whole life. I didn't understand it. I saw other students strapped for speaking Cree, now I was being strapped for NOT speaking it.
He thought I was lying but what I said was true. I was brought up in a home where my mom spoke only English, my dad spoke both English and Cree so they spoke only English to us kids.
Thank goodness, Mr.Mayo was only a substitute principal and we only had to put up with him for a few months.
The next principal, Rev. A.J. Serase, was an angel. After he came, the whole system changed. He was just like a father to all the students. He was the minister who married my husband and me. He has passed on now, but he will always be a special person to me.
H was part of the good times. I made so many good friends and I am always glad to see my old schoolmates whenever I meet them. I learned a lot about sharing and having compassion for others - I think the good times outnumber the bad times. Or maybe I am just getting too old to remember.
The Day I Graduated
By Harold Greyeyes
The main thing I learned at Lebret was obedience. We had a very full and interesting program at Lebret but the one thing a student never questioned was a ruling of one of the staff. It just wasn't done and even after I left the school I found it very hard to question anything that came from an authority figure.
After leaving Lebret, I went to Duck Lake to help with the music program. I played a pretty mean clarinet. One day, I was working in the barn, my cousin, Alec, came running.
"Come quick, they are kicking Albert. He is getting hurt." he yelled to me. Albert was my younger brother. He was two years younger than me.
We went running to the nearby rec room and when we burst in, I saw Albert and his cousin, Pat, on their knees in front of Peldren, who was the boys supervisor at the school. Peldren was kicking the boys as they knelt in penance before him. Something snapped inside of me and I ran forward and kicked him as hard as I could with my big work boots. He got up and came charging at me and I swung and hit him on the nose. Blood spurted in all directions. Just then Father Latour came on the scene and started towards me. I didn't know what to do so I backed up. Then another priest, Father Bonté, came in and the two advanced towards me. I put up my fists and got ready to fight. They looked at me and backed off. Peldren got up and the three went away.
Nothing was done for a day or two and then I was called up in front of the Father Latour and expelled from school. I felt free. I had graduated. (as told by Jack Funk)
After leaving Lebret, I went to Duck Lake to help with the music program. I played a pretty mean clarinet. One day, I was working in the barn, my cousin, Alec, came running.
"Come quick, they are kicking Albert. He is getting hurt." he yelled to me. Albert was my younger brother. He was two years younger than me.
We went running to the nearby rec room and when we burst in, I saw Albert and his cousin, Pat, on their knees in front of Peldren, who was the boys supervisor at the school. Peldren was kicking the boys as they knelt in penance before him. Something snapped inside of me and I ran forward and kicked him as hard as I could with my big work boots. He got up and came charging at me and I swung and hit him on the nose. Blood spurted in all directions. Just then Father Latour came on the scene and started towards me. I didn't know what to do so I backed up. Then another priest, Father Bonté, came in and the two advanced towards me. I put up my fists and got ready to fight. They looked at me and backed off. Peldren got up and the three went away.
Nothing was done for a day or two and then I was called up in front of the Father Latour and expelled from school. I felt free. I had graduated. (as told by Jack Funk)
Running Away
By Geraldine Sanderson
Gordon's Indian Residence is an Anglican Institution. When I attended there, students were confirmed when they reached age 13. It was a really big deal. Everyone was confirmed.
I attended school at the Gordon's residence from 1959-1964. I was nine years old when I started there. Every year a big bus would come to pick us up at the reserve and take us to the school. It took over three hours to get to Gordon's from the James Smith Reserve. It was a long way from home. I was a very little girl. I got very lonesome.
Every once in a while students would run away, trying to get home. They would travel at night, helping themselves to vegetables and fruit from gardens along the way. One time we even took a pony from a farmer's yard and rode it for several nights trying to get home. We hardly ever made it home, we were usually caught. And then we were punished.
Punishment for running away varied. One boy was hauled up in front of all the assembled students by the principal. He had a reputation for being mean. He forced the boy to pull his pants down and gave the boy 10-15 straps with a great big leather strap. Girls often had their head shaved bald if they tried to run away so that everyone would know. It was awful. I felt very ashamed. We also had to scrub the stairs with a toothbrush.
I left the student residence when I was 14 because my dad had passed away. My mother brought all of us children home. We stayed there for one year, and then she sent us to foster homes.
I attended school at the Gordon's residence from 1959-1964. I was nine years old when I started there. Every year a big bus would come to pick us up at the reserve and take us to the school. It took over three hours to get to Gordon's from the James Smith Reserve. It was a long way from home. I was a very little girl. I got very lonesome.
Every once in a while students would run away, trying to get home. They would travel at night, helping themselves to vegetables and fruit from gardens along the way. One time we even took a pony from a farmer's yard and rode it for several nights trying to get home. We hardly ever made it home, we were usually caught. And then we were punished.
Punishment for running away varied. One boy was hauled up in front of all the assembled students by the principal. He had a reputation for being mean. He forced the boy to pull his pants down and gave the boy 10-15 straps with a great big leather strap. Girls often had their head shaved bald if they tried to run away so that everyone would know. It was awful. I felt very ashamed. We also had to scrub the stairs with a toothbrush.
I left the student residence when I was 14 because my dad had passed away. My mother brought all of us children home. We stayed there for one year, and then she sent us to foster homes.
Lumpy Legs
By Shirley Bear
When I was in a residential school in the 1940's and early '50's we were warmly dressed. That was about the only good thing about residential school life. Just before the first snow would fall, we would be taken one by one to the storeroom and be outfitted for winter clothes - warm clothes. We wore whatever would hang on our shoulders, some weeks we had mini-skirts, other weeks our dresses were down to our ankles.
But that wasn't the worst.
The girls were fitted with long underwear - boy's underwear with the trapdoor in the back. We got purple bloomers to wear over the underwear and black stockings, - woolen ones to cover the underwear legs. We used to tuck the underwear legs as best we could and then pull the stockings on. No matter what we tried, we always had lumpy legs.
Sometimes we would roll the underwear legs up and then we would have nice smooth legs - but as soon as any of the staff noticed, we were made to pull our underwear down and once more we had lumpy legs.
The boys would laugh at our lumpy legs. To this day when I meet somebody with whom I went to school with those many years ago, I still think they are looking to see if my legs are lumpy.
But that wasn't the worst.
The girls were fitted with long underwear - boy's underwear with the trapdoor in the back. We got purple bloomers to wear over the underwear and black stockings, - woolen ones to cover the underwear legs. We used to tuck the underwear legs as best we could and then pull the stockings on. No matter what we tried, we always had lumpy legs.
Sometimes we would roll the underwear legs up and then we would have nice smooth legs - but as soon as any of the staff noticed, we were made to pull our underwear down and once more we had lumpy legs.
The boys would laugh at our lumpy legs. To this day when I meet somebody with whom I went to school with those many years ago, I still think they are looking to see if my legs are lumpy.