In my ECS 100 class at the University of Regina we were given the assignment of completely a Currere Essay. The essay was done in three steps. The first step was to write about your past, the third was to write about your future and where you see yourself as a Educator, the third was who you are today. I hope that you enjoy reading this paper just as much as I enjoyed writing it.
– Alex
Past..
The classroom was always gleaming in a way that made me feel happy, the sun shone through the bulky picture windows that surrounded the desks. The late December auburn sunrise reflected in and off the calm blue cement walls and then off the white accent tiles equally placed throughout the ceiling. I sat quietly in my beige desk watching the other kids run aimlessly around the room scrambling to pick the book they would choose to read for D.E.A.R time. I looked at the book that sat in arms reach on my desk, the blue faded cover and the dark bland black lettering that read “The Friendship Book.” It was my favourite book. The book lacked a storyline but instead had a thought for each 365 days of the year. I loved the book for the sole purpose of the history that it held. Mrs. A would tell me her teacher gave her this book when she was my age, I could feel the life it lived after all these years. The adventures that led it to the dusty wooden shelves that held the Grade 4 books at Kihew Waciston School on Muskeg Lake Cree Nation, SK. I could feel the commotion calming around me, as I got lost in my thoughts about the history of such a book. Where did it come from? How did it get here? Who held it before me?
Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted. Mrs. A talks firmly, “15 minutes of silent reading!” The class is quiet now and I can only hear the whispers of the boys that are planning what they’re going to do at the 9:45am recess. This reminds me about the story-telling period we have after recess and now I can’t seem to concentrate on the book in front of me. I gaze around the classroom; the smell of a construction site was the constant aroma that filled this brand new institution. I loved this smell, it reminded me of my Dad and Moshom and the few moments that I had with them while they worked. My fingertips hovered over the rippled edges of the papers in “The Friendship Book” as I pondered the thoughts of my Dad and Moshom. Suddenly the freckled hand that came over mine startled me. It was like she knew every time I would get lost. She flips to page 360 and begins reading quietly as she kneels beside my desk to be eye level with me. She was like this mind reader that knew without cue when you needed help. Her fingers glided along the words across page 305 as I read them then unexpectedly the school bell echoes throughout the two-year-old hallways. Mrs. A then gets up to address the class “Let’s get ready for recess then we will pass the talking stick around for story-telling.”
Future..
I wake up in my own bed partially covered in the fluffy duvet that at times, feels like clouds with its sky blue coverlet. It’s a bright Monday morning and I can smell the burning sage coming through my daughter’s room. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with who she’s become. Quinn – she’s grown up in a life that is completely apart from mine when I was her age. A life that is abundantly full of our Swampy Cree ways, she has nothing near a jagged worldview. I get up and join my daughter for our morning prayers and smudge. I pray and give thanks to the Creator for this life I’ve made, hiy hiy.
At work I’m faced with the same concrete blue walls and white tiles I once was surrounded by in grade school. It’s different this time. I look around my classroom and see the perfectly placed laminated posters with the twenty-six letters of the alphabet and numbers that count up to twenty in Cree because lets be honest – I myself, am still learning to count in Cree. I continue to look around my room and admire the section of wall beside my desk with the plentiful drawings I received over the years from students in my first years of teaching and my years before that when I was an Educational Assistant.
I let out a sigh, I feel this wave of emotion come over me, one that assures me that I’ve made it. I continue to sit in silence at my desk. I can hear the shouting and calls of kids outside, filled with pure joy while playing during recess. I can smell the fresh hot coffee that fills my black coffee mug with a white owl perfectly sketched on it’s side that reads “Owl always love you.” How is it that I’ve made it here? In my home community of Muskeg Lake Cree Nation to the very Elementary School I’ve left in 2004. I return this time to teach all my relations and their children. I return to teach all the knowledge that I’ve had the privilege of accumulating throughout my years. I’ve returned to make a difference in children’s lives, like the Teachers that sat at this desk before me.
The children come thundering into the classroom like a herd of buffalo. I can see bits of their Mother’s and Father’s features in their innocent faces as one child after another comes striding through the doorway. I open the familiar book laying on my desk as a soft silence grows across the room. I wait until all the children are sitting quietly in their desks. I declare “Students, friends… This book is my favourite book and has been with me for many years. I would like to share with you a piece of this book, a thought if I might say for each day of the year..” As I flip to page 252 I can see the glossy eyes through the lens of Ms. A’s glasses smiling back at me.
Present..
I sit silently on my blue couch in my basement suite living room. As I sit, I try to get lost in the singing of Otis Redding coming through the little black Bluetooth speaker sitting next to me. I can still hear the static of the old heating fireplace sitting in front of me. My mind is flooded by the steady reminder of the several assignments that require completion before the end of my last term of my first year of University. I thought a lot this year, about being one more year closer to where I want to be. I thought about the next three years and how fast the world revolves around me when I’m just beginning to pick up my pace. I think about where I am and where I used to be three, four, five months ago. It seems like ages ago I sat on the floor in my bedroom with the feeling of defeat. I just received my first University grade back for my first University paper. You come to a moment in your life where you’re faced with a decision of whether you’re going to move forward and learn or sit and give up. There are numerous times that I’ve chosen the easy way out in my life, something’s I am not proud of but those choices have added to who I am today. I recall all the kind words I received from all of my educators past and present. Educators that I aspire to be like one day. I’ve internalized those kind words and chose to learn from the words that tested me. I am fighting, for today and for my future – for my Daughters future.
I’ve taken six years to try and make sense of the intricate decision of what to do for the rest of my life. I’ve taken six years to make a move. I will never know who I am and where I stand but I will never regret those six years or the years thereafter. One thing I am certain about is that I’ve made it, to where I sit in this moment. I’ve made it but I’m in progress. I will always be progressing. I want to make a difference in children’s lives, children who were like me and at times needed those kind words. I want to make a difference in young adults lives, adults like me when I needed those kind words. I want to give back to my people as my Cree ancestors would of wanted me to. I am a Cree woman who grew up without the abundance of cultural traditions of my ancestors and without Indigenous insight and language but I thrive and yearn to be just that. I thrive to be the best person that I can. All that I am and all that I’ve experienced will make me be the best Educator that I can be, the best Mother that I can be. Though distant from my goal I am fighting. I am surviving. I am progressing. I will succeed. I continue to swim in these thoughts suddenly this wave of uncertain tranquillity washes over me as I hear Redding’s voice resonate throughout this temporary home of mine in this small basement suite. I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay, watchin’ the tide, roll away, I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay, wastin’ time… wastin’ time…
Who I am is a mystery because I will always be progressing into a better me with each lesson, experience, relationship, and friendship I go through. With each passing day, month and year. One thing I know for certain is that I’ve made it to where I stand today.
Alexandra Ledoux 