By Anna Chudnovsky, BCTF staff, Communications and Campaigns Division

In my work as a teacher, I thought long and hard about how to be an ally to the First Nations on whose land I live and work. Sometimes it felt overwhelming, other times exciting. How could I teach and learn with integrity as the graves were confirmed last year? What could I say when I went to work with the 12- and 13-year-olds in my class, many of whom are Indigenous and reckoning in their own private ways with the pain of their pasts and hope for their futures? How could I (white, financially secure, with privilege in virtually every arena, especially the classroom) possibly teach them anything in the midst of that horror, blinded by the blur of collective tears, sick to our stomachs as the numbers rose, knowing that so many still suffer because of the legacies and ongoing terrors of colonialism.

I don’t use the word terror lightly. I have seen children apprehended from their families, marginalized by systemic inequality, hungry, lonely, living vulnerably in far too many ways. To a child, this can be a life of anxiety, fear, and certainly terror—nothing less.

What about during Idle No More rallies? What was my role? Or as the ceremonial poles were being raised at our district offices? Or during our salmon BBQs as the sun set over our school courtyard? Or when an Indigenous immersion pro-gram was being debated at the school board? What should we teachers do or say? How do we teach? What is our work and how can we do it well, with compassion and sensitivity, but also from a place of strength and empowerment?

Before coming to work at the BCTF last fall, I taught for a decade at a large urban elementary school in Vancouver with one of the biggest populations of Indigenous learners in the city. I learned more about equity and justice from the students in that building than from any other experience before or since. These kids exemplify the strength, compassion, and brilliance of students in BC schools.

Each year, the Grades 6–7 students in my class spent a term learning about the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tslei-Waututh nations. The learning was far reaching and guided by the students. We began by making a list: what do we want to know about the stolen lands we occupy? Which plants are important and symbolic? What is the history of local residential schools in our area? What can we learn about the languages spoken by people from this land, and what’s been in the news about local Indigenous people lately? Our list of questions stayed on the board all term. We added to it, took things off the list, and changed the words when we found better ways to say things. It was a living list that evolved as our understanding grew.

Over the course of a month or more, in small groups and individually, we answered our questions and came up with more. We wrote, we drew, we told stories and shared our work in different ways. We made timelines, we learned about local governance structures, and developed understandings of the land on which we live and learn. We learned about local art forms and made our own rattles out of hide and sticks; we talked about their significance as children’s toys and instruments used by women in ceremony. We made 2D art that reflects important local imagery, we investigated local community services for Indigenous people and explored policies undertaken by local nations and their implications. We did a project on what reconciliation means to us, and as a culminating activity we wrote our own Indigenous land acknowledgments, many of which you can see featured in this year’s AGM Reports and Resolutions book.

I have rarely been more inspired than when I observed my students do this work. I was brought to tears as I watched one Indigenous student carve a poem into a piece of cedar bark about not wanting to end up like so many Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. I was so proud as I helped another student prepare a speech on the role of government in supporting urban Indigenous families like his.

As I flip through the AGM booklet and see their thoughtful acknowledgments, illustrated so beautifully, I think maybe I’ve found the answer to my questions. Our work is to set the stage for curiosity, to encourage critical thinking in ways that make room for each voice. Each investigation by a student about the world around them is so valuable, each momentary dream they have about making the world a better place is a time for them to shine. The best thing we can do is get out of the way. The kids can take it from there.