Schooling at Kashechewan: Then and Now JOHN S. LONG Moose Factory, Ontario Introduction At the 17th Algonquian Conference, in October 1985, I discussed the pol­ itics of education in Moose Factory, an island community in northeastern Ontario.1 I mentioned that a regional political body or tribal council2 had I am grateful to Archie Wesley of Kashechewan for teaching me a great deal about local control of education (and many other matters, including floating rocks). I also wish to thank Salasan Associates, and particularly Gordon Scott and Jack Loughton, for their guidance and advice concerning many of the ideas and events described in this article. 2Tribal Councils or Chiefs' Councils are geographical groupings of at least five Bands who, by joining together, are eligible for tribal council funding from the federal government to provide five types of advisory services: economic develop­ ment, financial management, local government, community and capital planning, and technical services (Canada 1987a). The funding of such Councils arises from the post-1984 federal Conservatives' decision to downsize the federal civil service by devolving services, as part of the 1985 Nielsen Task Force's infamous Buffalo Jump strategy, and particularly since 1986 when David Crombie was replaced by William McKnight as Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development, (Graham 1987; Weaver 1986a, 1986b). Many Native leaders, of course, held a very different view of what such Coun­ cils should do. The Liberals' 1983 Report of the Special Committee on Indian Self-Government in Canada (Canada 1983), popularly known as the Penner Re­ port after Committee Chairman Keith Penner, had raised their expectations, as had the Coolican Report Living Treaties: Lasting Agreements (Canada 1985) initiated under Crombie. "Reveille for First Nations: The Politics of Aggression and Defence", a pa­ per by former civil servant Walter Rudnicki (1987b) which was widely circulated among Indian leaders on the eve of the last (and unsuccessful) First Ministers Conference on aboriginal self-government, warned that devolution was designed "to suit the administrative convenience and termination objectives of Federal au­ thorities," forcing Indians to look towards greater involvement with the provinces, 197 198 JOHN S. LONG been formed and concluded with the following comment about future pos­ sibilities in the western James and Hudson Bay area: It is by no means certain what political forms will eventually evolve . Despite their differences, the various Native interest groups in the region . are now in a position to devise a unique Cree community or regional structure, perhaps one similar to that already in place in neighbouring northern Quebec where eight communities are administered by a Cree school board. (Long 1986a:202) In August 1986, I was hired by that organization (then known as the Muskegog Cree Council3 as its first Education Advisor, under the very ca­ pable leadership of its first full-time Chairman Norm Wesley, a close friend and fellow educator who had also provided invaluable assistance to me in my research into oral traditions. Some months later, while I was reading Jerry Paquette's (1986) excellent summary of issues concerning Aboriginal Self-Government and Education in Canada, I noted a reference to the "po­ litical impasse" at Moose Factory which I had described (1986a:13). But my broader issue of "a unique community or regional structure" was sum­ marized this way: "Another large-scale Native board appears to be taking shape . This . confirms that one possible outcome ... is the creation of a regional Native board" (Paquette 1986:9). I mentioned this to Norm and commented with some dismay, "That's not what I said." Never missing the chance to lighten up a situation with some humour, he quipped, "Now you know how we feel." while side-stepping issues of treaty and aboriginal rights. Norm Wesley viewed devolution as a policy "designed to drastically reduce administrative costs while pretending to promote native self-government" (Kirk 1988). 3In August 1987, at an Assembly of Chiefs, Councillors and elders, the name of the organization was officially changed to Mushkegowuk Council. Linguists will recognize this as the plural form of omaskekow 'muskeg person, swamp person'; or Swampy Cree (Honigmann 1956:24-25; Pentland 1981:227). The elders who convened to discuss this issue in 1987 explained the name this way: "Mushkegowuk can mean two different things. One refers to the muskeg. Long ago, the Ojibway Indians from the west came to see us and they saw that we were living along the coast. So they named us Mushkego Indians. The Indians who lived here were very strong and powerful, and that is the second reason we were given the name Mushkegowuk. Our grandfathers unloaded the Hudson's Bay Company ships when they came in. The word Mushkegowuk also reminds us of our traditional religion, when we used powerful spirits to protect ourselves. It is said that there were two kinds of polar bears. The greatest polar bear was used for spiritual help in our traditional religion. So those are the reasons why our Elders have chosen the name Mushkegowuk Council for our organization. When we are talking about the people, we say Omushkegowuk, and our territory is called Mushkegowuk Aski" (Mushkegowuk Council News 2, 1 (February) 1990:6). SCHOOLING AT KASHECHEWAN 199 This paper is intended to set the record straight, to some extent, but more importantly to record what I have learned about local and regional control of education in northeastern Ontario since 1985, by focusing on developments in one community. As an employee of the tribal council, I am not obliged to "publish or perish" — although Eric Cheechoo once jokingly commented, "We should kill all the white people except John Long, so he can write about it." I hope this record may be useful to others involved in Native education, and to future leaders who evaluate what has happened in Kashechewan. The Problem I was disappointed when I read the first volume of Indian Education in Canada, for I felt that most articles did not do justice to the history of the subject (Long 1986b). But Richard King's (1987) contribution to the second volume was even more disturbing. King describes an anonymous "remote, affluent" Indian community in British Columbia which, after less than a year of preparation, assumes full control of its on-reserve federal day school. The "year of decision" begins in September, with an influx of new teachers who are hired by the federal De­ partment of Indian Affairs and Northern Development (DIAND)4 without community input. The First Nation5 wants a school which is responsive to community aspirations. The Chief and Council, acting on a recommenda­ tion from its Education Committee, issues a resolution in favour of local control. A community referendum indicates overwhelming support, and DIAND is also in favour. Aside from some vague notions of establishing a community school, the planners were guided simply by a sense that "at least we can't do worse" than DIAND (emphasis in original). No specific school policies or objectives were developed. A budget was prepared, negotiations with DIAND took place, staff were interviewed, inventory was taken, and new supplies were 4Indian and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC) is used on government letter­ head, but the department's legal name is still determined by the Indian Act and DIAND is used in all official agreements. 5 "First Nation" is used throughout this paper to refer to a Band. It is pre­ ferred by many Indian leaders over the Indian Act terminology, as an assertion of inherent aboriginal or treaty rights (as opposed to delegated authority through the Indian Act) and as a rejection of the myth that Canada's founding nations are the English and the French. Historically, Europeans referred to "Nations or Tribes of Indians" — as in the Royal Proclamation of 1763 (Canada 1983:11). Oldmixon, writing in 1708 from Thomas Gorst's journals of 1670-71 and 1672-75, refers to the indigenous people of James Bay as "Nations" with "Kings"; he also calls them Indians, Natives, Savages and Barbarians (Oldmixon 1931). 200 JOHN S. LONG ordered. A board of school trustees was appointed by Chief and Council during the summer, but did not formally assume duties until September 1. Within a month after the school opened under local control, the staff, administration and school board experienced what King calls severe role shock: "anxieties, stress and generalized personal trauma." An external evaluation of the school system was conducted, and school board elections were held, but the "all-important first year" had been "disastrous" and most of the staff resigned (King 1987:44-59). King's prognosis is bleak: the school will not last for long, the com­ munity is now characterized by schismatic factionalism, and its "top heavy . administrative management6 ... is inordinately expensive." He states that such problems are "foreseeable and preventable" (my emphasis) and makes passing reference to training needs. In addition, King observes that the views of the community planners were not representative of the commu­ nity, the distinction between governance and administration was not well understood, and people simply assumed that external expertise under local management would result in a more responsive school. All of this leads King to conclude that Indian control of Indian edu­ cation is not feasible on a "band-by-band local community control basis." Instead, he concludes that some form of "regional grouping or affiliation with provincial school districts" is required. King views this disastrous case study as a positive example of Indian people being allowed "to make their own mistakes." He observed these traumatic events in a "clinical" manner while serving as a consultant to the Education Committee. Allow­ ing people to make their own mistakes is a noble thought, especially after decades of DIAND paternalism, substandard schooling and cultural loss.