In 2012, I taught Early Childhood Education at Urban Circle Aboriginal Training Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba. This week, my colleagues (Marc and Anne) and I were asked to speak at a faculty event, describing our experiences teaching in a community-based program.
Here is my attempt...
“Lock
your doors girls,” instructed my well-intentioned dad as we drove south on Main
Street approaching the Logan Avenue underpass.
“Are
your windows rolled up?” warned my protective mom as we stopped at the red light
at Higgins and Main.
And
my sisters and I peered out the windows of our ’64 Dodge at the imagined
terrors lurking in Winnipeg’s north end.
We
were small town girls in the big city.
This
is where I learned to be afraid.
I
wasn’t sure why. I only knew that “seedy neighbourhood” meant dangerous and
poor.
As
I grew up, this underlying fear followed me and frustrated me. I felt
stuck…caught in a box that I couldn’t climb out of. Sometimes I conformed, but
more often, I rebelled. Something just wasn’t right.
So
in December, 2011, when I was offered work at Urban Circle, I was intrigued. I
was terrified. It was a community-based program but in a community that I had
learned to dread.
"I
want to but I’m scared," I said to my boss. "Oh you’ll do great," she assured
me. So I dragged myself out of the safety of my windowless office and headed
over to Selkirk Avenue. I parked my car and RAN to the classroom where I was
immediately welcomed with a circle of smiles and the smell of sage. All of a
sudden, the fear disappeared.
I
was accepted, respected, included and, most importantly, teased! As the
newcomer to the group, arriving at the start of the second year, I easily found
my place, working side by side with colleagues and students. We all learned
together.
Our
community was based on trust.
So
much so that, only a few months in, I found myself close to naked in a sweat
lodge at Thunderbird House (yes, at Higgins & Main!), curled up like a
baby, dependent on the guidance of the traditional teacher to get me through.
And he did.
Our
community was based on equality.
So
much so that I opened my home to workshops and feasts and celebrations. And my
family joined in too, with my son sharing his musical talents and instruments,
my husband sharing his carpentry skills and tools, and even my mom sharing her
special tablecloths for our occasional parties!
Our
community was based on respect.
So
much so that we all tried to reach out to others. To the women and children
imprisoned in shelters. To new Canadians trying to find their way. To
neighbourhood kids in schools and child care centres. To each other during
tough times.
Our
community was based on learning from each other.
I
could offer my early childhood education experience and sometimes my motherly
advice. But I could also receive wisdom….a new respect for nature while
medicine picking with elders, a personal perspective on missing and murdered
women and children from their sisters and cousins and aunties, and a renewed
ability to laugh at myself and at all of our differences and similarities. Some
of my nicknames were “the hippie love child of Marc and Anne” (because I was
perceived as the balance between two polar opposites), “Half-mark Conni” (when
I got too picky) and “Neechi White Lady” (which I consider a great compliment
bestowed on me at our final get-together)!
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| Idle No More! |
And
so this community-based program taught me to unlock my doors and open my
windows. For the first time, I walked on North Main from Higgins to Memorial
Boulevard, encircled by grandmothers. And I cried. Because I was out of the box.
And I was safe. And I wasn’t afraid. And everything felt right.
©Conni Cartlidge, 2013
