Far North Friday #72: Top Drawer

I have a dresser. The top drawer of the dresser contains eclectic items, such as a package of pH paper, a Yukon tourist brochure, a copy of my original birth certificate, a Silva compass, and about 10 ties entwined like mating snakes in the spring. Ties? Don’t ask. At the front of the drawer is a brown, cardboard tube that was the core of a paper towel roll. Wrapped around that cardboard tube is a single piece of white paper towel. There is writing on the paper towel. 

Being an educator and part of that teaching is not easy. I can’t compare education in a remote First Nation community with that in a southern school, but teaching in the far north can be challenging. The social and geographic context of the north is complicated. Access to support resources in a remote, fly-in community is sometimes impossible. Community realities outside the classroom, such as poverty and inter-generational trauma related to residential school experiences, affect what happens in the classroom. Despite the positive classroom energy from the students, to my eye, there was always that dark blanket waiting in corner. 

I experienced a revelation in Webequie, a remote First Nation community located about 530 km north of Thunder Bay, Ontario. The revelation illustrates the extent to which some individuals in the educational system reach out to school youth. 

One evening, I sat with, and listened to, Norman Shewaybick (Photo 1), a member of Webequie First Nation, who worked at the Simon Jacob Memorial Education Centre. Norman shared some of his life experiences, experiences as someone who worked with youth in the school, and some of the practises he was using to reach out to youth whose attendance record was troubling. Norman is a big person - in spirit and size. I can assure you that his presence is strong on the stage (Photo 2), on the land (Photo 3) and in the classroom (Photo 4).

 When Norman became aware of an attendance issue, he took his educator role to the home of the student. I assure you that if Norman appeared at my door, he would have my full attention. But Norman had a gentle style. As a community member, he understood the student in a way that was hard for people from the outside to understand. Yes, Norman visited a student at home to help with the lessons, but he was there for much more. He was there to listen, to coach, to encourage, to nurture. For the student, Norman was a wise friend committed to work through the issues. I am certain many of those issues could not be solved by one, or several, “Norman visits”, but in the eyes of the student, Norman cared and that was an important healing step. Norman made a difference.

Over the past 10 years or so, I thought many times about that evening with Norman. He shared many things. He opened my eyes.

And that paper towel in my top drawer? It was marked by scribbles, words, and even a crude map of the winter road from Pickle Lake to Webequie, all sketched by Norman and me that evening. There is one word that always catches my eye when I look at the paper towel: “warrior”. The words of Sitting Bull come to mind: “The warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless, those who cannot provide for themselves, and above all, the children - the future of humanity.” Norman Shewaybick is a warrior. He is one of the many warriors I have been honoured to meet across the Far North. The warriors are an important part of the social fabric - south or north.

Now, about those ties …. that is a different story for a different day.

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FB: Jan 28/22