Some real aboriginal students in Prince George are finding their own voices by analyzing the voices of fictitious aboriginal people.
PGSS teacher Tiger Thakkar has for years conducted a popular film appreciation course for high school students at the school. He had pitched the idea of a similar course just for aboriginal films and stretching it into a full English/Communications course, but previous attempts didn't attract enough sign-up. That changed this year, and the first screening of English First People's 12 is underway now.
Thakkar took an educated guess that the traditional textbook was not a source of academic spark for a lot of aboriginal students.
One reason was the exhaustive research done in B.C. over the past decades that demonstrated a clear disconnect between First Nations kids in general and school in general except when aboriginal content was infused into the lessons.
It turns out, all cultural or subcultural backgrounds plug deeper into learning if they feel a personal connection to the material.
Another reason for Thakkar was what he gleaned from the film appreciation course. He observed that a great many students, regardless of background, are happier to learn about story structure, grammar, use of language, etc. if the textbook is put on a shelf and a movie is used instead.
"I did notice they responded well to story- and character-driven films," he said.
"Adapting the English 11 and English 12 curriculum to a film-based course gives aboriginal and non-aboriginal students the flexibility to experience story, theme, writing style and comprehension in a format that, I hope, they both identify and enjoy."
When the provincial government enacted a wholesale revamping of the curriculum so aboriginality was reflected throughout the education system, it gave Thakkar's course the green light. With the support of PGSS teachers and administrators, the signup list shot past two dozen.
The class is open to students of any ethnic background. Many non-aboriginal kids have shown interest simply because aboriginality is so pervasive in the local community that it's interesting on many levels. The films may be centred on elements of indigenous culture, but they are being studied for their technical merit and that's appealing to students of any background. The aboriginal content is merely a way Thakker saw to explain script writing, cinematography, acting, and the ages-old art of storytelling in a way that's closer to home.
"It gives more of an understanding of how the culture of society represents natives," said Austin Clement, a 17-year-old Carrier student from Nazko. "Sometimes the representation works and sometimes it's really wrong."
Jediah Anderson, 18, is a Carrier student from Tache. He appreciated how films were improving in recent times in representing North America's indigenous peoples, but he was also fascinated by the storylines of aboriginal people from other cultures. He poured himself into extracurricular research of Maori culture after he was inspired by the film The Dead Lands.
"I can't ever remember being this interested when we were learning Shakespeare," Anderson said. "Feeling entertained is what catalyzes interest. It gets you into the story better. You want to break it down into pieces and nit-pick at the details. Movies all come from writing anyway, and the teacher still wants you to get the same concepts like plot and theme. I'm just more interested in these movies than I am reading stories about Europeans."
"I find the questions we get asked are easier to translate into answers when it comes from a movie. Movies are about voices and moving things and light and colour - more senses involved than you can get with a book. Especially a book that has nothing to do with your life," said Martina Spooner, 16, a Kispiox transplant with Gitxsan and Wet'suwet'en heritage. "Some people have the imagination for that, but there are different kinds of learning. There are different kinds of stories. Most kids I know, the non-aboriginal ones, don't feel connected to Eurocentric stories either."
Thakkar's background is from India so he is neither aboriginal nor colonial, giving him a unique position at the head of this class. He didn't take it for granted.
"Austin, are you bothered that I don't know much about aboriginal culture?," he asked point blank. "Is it OK that I'm the one teaching a course like this?"
"Well yeah, it's OK, because you know how to teach about the story parts," Clement responded. "And I don't know much about my own culture. I'm learning, too."
"I'm learning from you, too," said Thakker.
Spooner said, "I actually love having a teacher who is excited about learning what you're teaching."
She is in a unique position as a student, since her mother was once the principal of Nusdeh Yoh elementary school, the aboriginal choice school in Prince George. Spooner grew up in a culture of academics and a concerted emphasis on learning about her ancient northern B.C. heritage.
None of these students failed to recognize the profound shift that school represented. Within one lifetime in Canada, some forms of education were illegal for an aboriginal person to take, so generational post-secondary habits have not yet played out into modern aboriginal culture.
The form First Nations people were forced into for the previous century - residential schools - was revealed to be an act of cultural genocide. Under the force of law, that colonial school system imprisoned children, cut them off from their parents and home communities, used unflinching corporal punishment on any student that showed a sign of their traditional heritage (beatings for speaking in their first language, for example), and built into it was a nationwide regime of torture and sexual abuse of children. Two such schools were operated in the Prince George area for decades.
One of the many consequences still echoing down to today's generation is the older people in their life having a distrust, hatred or terror of school itself.
Another echo is the critical reduction in the speaking of their mother languages and passing down of storytelling traditions.
"My grandma speaks our language but she's been too ashamed to teach us," said Spooner.
"It's spoken quite a bit on the rez (reservation community), but off the rez, no, they don't do that," Clement said.
There are some signs of hope, though.
"My great-grandma is going to turn 96, she's full native, she lives with my grandma who is also full native," said Anderson. "So my grandma took a tape recorder and she's been getting my great-grandma to tell stories, so they are preserved."
"All our lives are stories. We are all protagonists in our own stories," said Thakkar. "If aboriginal students don't see themselves reflected in storytelling, that skews their sense of themselves. Kids tend to do better in school when they feel a personal connection to the learning. In the end, these students will produce parallel work to a regular English class, but the source material is different, that's all, and it's engaging young people who were not seeing themselves reflected in the Eurocentric material."
Thakkar's first year of this new course is already showing him signs of success. The year isn't over, but he is already seeing the potential for this course to be picked up by other schools and other districts. It could write a new education script for students all over B.C.
