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by Jim Moodie
LITTLE
CURRENT--The removal of Little Current Public School (LCPS) principal
Sandra Luopa last week, midway through the school year, came as a
shock and affront to some people, while to others the move was welcome
and anticipated. But whether one applauds or bemoans the decision, the
awkwardly timed personnel shakeup has certainly created uncertainty
for teachers and parents, as well as cast a new light on issues that
have been bubbling within the school and community for well over a
year.
Mrs. Luopa has
been reassigned to a school in Sudbury, where she will act as a
co-principal. A precise reason for her transfer is not being provided
by the Rainbow District School Board; Norm Blaseg, superintendent for
the Espanola-Manitoulin region, will only describe it as a "personnel
matter." In her absence, former vice-principal Margaret Stringer has
taken over as interim principal (and Mark Olacke as interim v.p.),
while the Rainbow Board seeks a permanent successor. Whether Mrs.
Stringer is considered a candidate is, again, something that Mr.
Blaseg will not discuss.
School,
meanwhile, goes on, potentially for the better, but so does debate
over why the principal was removed and whether it was fair, as well as
over where blame should be assigned (if not with the principal) for
problems that have developed in the school and community over the past
several years, including low morale among staff, kids acting up, and
an increased incidence of parents openly criticizing teachers.
LCPS has 400
students, nearly half of whom are first nations children, which makes
it both one of the most populous elementary schools in the district,
and one of its most culturally mixed. It also has a considerable
number of special needs students. Some observers argue that popping a
first-time principal into this unwieldy and culturally sensitive
setting was unfair to begin with, particularly since Mrs. Luopa was
new to the area and without a vice-principal in her first year.
Complicating the
situation was a considerable turnover in staff, with nine teachers
leaving LCPS. Whether the exodus reflects on the principal, or
occurred for other reasons, is open to speculation; the teachers
themselves are bound by a professional ethics code that limits their
ability to comment. What is clear is that the school has experienced a
raft of new teachers, which when added to a new principal, a large
student body, and cultural differences, is bound to spell a learning
curve, if not a bumpy road.
There were
bumps, many admit, in 2003/2004, some of which pertained to the first
nations students. "When she first started here we had our share of
problems," says Aundeck Omni Kaning (Sucker Creek) Chief Patrick
Madahbee. Yet in the immediate aftermath of Mrs. Luopa's removal, it
has been members of the first nations communities who have been most
vocal in her defense. A letter to the Expositor in this week's paper,
signed by the chiefs of all seven area first nations, vigorously
protests her transfer.
Mr. Madahbee
says that despite the rough beginning, "things started to improve very
quickly as she listened to us and we created trust. It's the first
time ever that the school has engaged our communities in a meaningful
way." He, along with other chiefs, applaud the inclusion of first
nations members on the School Council, the creation of an Anishinabe
Binojiinhag Committee (ABC) to address concerns of first nations
children and parents, and the introduction of native culture and
history to classes and events.
First nations
leaders are angry, Chief Madahbee says, "because for us this came out
of left field--nobody was consulted. And it seems like it was a done
deal. The word was on the street (in Little Current) before anyone
here (in Sucker Creek) knew about it. The school board seems to be
listening to a small group of people in town." Such charges leave the
impression that people are polarized on racial lines over the
direction of the school, and to an extent, this seems to be true.
But those who
were unhappy with the principal mostly cite leadership and discipline
issues; they don't seem to have a specific problem with the strides
made in incorporating Ojibwe culture. Nor does Chief Madahbee blame
Little Current as a whole for ousting Mrs. Luopa. He acknowledges that
"we've had a very good relationship with Little Current for many
years," and that "a lot of people in town support the changes
(pertaining to first nations) in the school."
Robert Beaudin,
the first nations representative on the Rainbow Board, says he was
"quite surprised" to learn about the principal's dismissal, and not
only because he didn't hear about it until after the fact. (The board
did try to contact him, he says, but he was away at the time; he
doesn't believe he was deliberately overlooked.) "We were making great
gains as far as our own issues...and she was furthering our cause very
diplomatically, in my view," he says.
As an example,
Mr. Beaudin points to "a presentation we did on the native-inclusive
curriculum at LCPS which went over as well as at any other school." He
was also pleased with the response to a pow wow that was held last
year at LCPS, for the first time in the school's history. "It was
warmly accepted by both the teachers and the student body."
At the same
time, he acknowledges that dealing with cultural issues is "not the
full scope of what a principal does," implying that the board probably
had other issues on its mind in making the decision to relocate Mrs.
Luopa. He believes, like many others, that the cultural mix at LCPS
benefits both native and non-native students alike--"you're richer by
the people around you; more diversity widens one's own knowledge
base"--and expresses the hope that "this doesn't become a race issue."
Those who will
miss Mrs. Luopa are not only first nations people. Tammy Albers, who
serves on the Home and School Association as well as the ABC
committee, also applauds the efforts the principal made to incorporate
native teachings in the school. "My little guy came home the other day
and told me that he'd learned more about the seven grandfathers, and I
was thrilled." She also notes that the principal "played a huge role
in making me understand things better and working patiently with my
son. Noah was like a whole different kid this year. He adored Sandra,
and is sad that she's gone."
For those who
were eager to see a change in leadership at the school, the main issue
wasn't cultural, says Jennifer Sayyae, but managerial. "I think of
school like a business, and when you have problems in a business, you
have to look at the management," she says. Her main gripe with the
school was with the disciplinary policy--suspensions being handed out
too frequently, and freely, in her view--and the overall mood of the
institution, which she believes had reached a crisis level: "The staff
is unhappy, the kids are unhappy, the school is in chaos."
Mrs. Sayyae
freely admits that she was pushing to bring about a change, and was on
the verge of bringing a group of parents together to confront the
Rainbow Board in a meeting, or, if that wasn't possible, make their
case in the press. "There were about eight of us phoning the board, it
wasn't just me, I'm just the mouthiest." She says, "The school board
asked me to back down," and she was fine with that, "because I didn't
want it to be a lynching mob."
For Mrs. Sayyae,
the problems at the school boil down to a lack of respect. "When I was
growing up, we were taught to respect police, principals, the
minister. You know, to this day, if I run into an old teacher, I still
call them Mr. or Mrs. But somehow we've gotten away from that." The
parent says that she endeavours to instill that respect in her
children, "but it has to come from the teacher too. Parents have to
teach it, but teachers have to demand it."
Mrs. Sayyae
feels that under Mrs. Luopa's tenure, too much emphasis was placed on
suspensions, which she believes are counterproductive, or on trying to
resolve problems in a touchy-feely way, whereas what is needed, in her
view, is more firmness and consequences that a child will understand.
"What ever happened to writing lines in a detention?" she asks. "Or
making a kid watch recess from inside, or miss something else they
enjoy, like the pow wow? I think we have to have a brainstorming
meeting, with parents, teachers and the school board, and figure out
what parents want, what kids will adhere to, and what teachers can
legally get away with."
Suspensions are
not unique to LCPS, or the former principal; they are administered
according to board policy, and occur everywhere. That said, the school
seems to have had a disproportionate number over the past couple of
years. Is the policy being interpreted differently at LCPS? Or is
there more misbehaviour among the school's students than in other
locations? And if so, why?
One could point
to various factors, and one might be a decline in general
socioeconomic well-being in the Little Current area over the past few
years, as well-paying civil service jobs dry up and tourist dollars
hold relatively steady but result in few new or high-paying jobs.
Peggy Young, who supply taught at LCPS a decade ago, and more recently
worked as an economic development officer with the NEMI Community
Development Corporation, says that "we've been experiencing a downward
spiral on Manitoulin. We have an aging population with fixed incomes,
and our young people are leaving to find jobs. When you have people
not making a lot of money, existing on minimum wage, I think that
effects everything as a social issue."
Or maybe it's
more to do with the sheer volume and mix of children at the school,
and a failure on the part of the ministry or board to provide
sufficient human resources to handle and reflect this population. Are
there enough teachers? Are there enough first nations teachers? (At
last count, there were two.) Are there enough special education staff?
Many will say no, no, and no.
Mr. Beaudin is
reluctant to reduce it all to socioeconomic factors. "It's an
accumulation of a whole bunch of different things. If there's a
low-income family, it doesn't necessarily result in a disciplinary
issue. There are so many factors--how children are socialized, the
influence of the media. When I was teaching, it was bubble gum and
baseball caps. It's different now, but I think it's more to do with a
socialization process, children not being taught to recognize
authority figures."
The board rep
also believes that simply looking at the number of suspensions at LCPS
can be misleading. "There might be one school where there are very
few, but is the administration there following through with
disciplinary measures? Zero tolerance is a policy that leaves room for
interpretation," he says, adding, "it's one I'm not totally enamoured
with--there has to be room for in-school remediation."
Mrs. Albers
believes that socioeconomic factors do play into the mood and health
of a school. Through her role as child nutrition coordinator with
Noojmowin Teg, she's identified a need for a snack program at LCPS,
based on evidence that many families in the area are having
difficulties putting three square meals on the table. Proper nutrition
can translate into "calmer, more focussed students, decreased
classroom interruptions and improved attendance," according to her
research.
One of the
"startling facts" she included in a power-point presentation to
promote the snack program at LCPS was that in 2002-2003, the number of
food baskets provided through the Manitoulin Food Bank increased by 45
per cent, nearly double the previous year's figures. This doesn't
speak directly to Little Current, but presumably the community is part
of this increased demand. Social assistance has increased in the area,
and rates barely cover a family's costs, according to Mrs. Albers.
"The cost of feeding a family of four is $118.91 a week, and when you
take into account rent, utilities, child care and food, a lot of
people are left in the negative each month."
Mrs. Albers
believes "this all starts in the home," and that teacher bullying, by
parents, has become an alarming and unfortunate trend. "It's
especially epidemic in Ontario, according to a CBC radio report I was
listening to just before this story (the LCPS shakeup) broke," she
remarks. "I think parents are bashing teachers in front of their kids,
and that this leads to disrespect in the school." Similarly, Mrs.
Albers feels that the principal became an unfair target of parent ire.
"Instead of helping her with the weaknesses she had, they started
bashing her."
Island chiefs
have called for the reinstatement of Mrs. Luopa, and during a meeting
last week with Island trustees and Mr. Blaseg, were told that there is
a "slim opening that they may, and I stress may, review the decision
at an upcoming administration meeting of the board," according to
Chief Madahbee. "We're hoping the situation gets rectified, but if
not, we have other options," he says.
Those options
include removing first nations children from the school and bussing
them to either Lakeview School in M'Chigeeng, or to the Whitefish
River First Nation. Alternatively, a new school could be built in
Sucker Creek, says the chief. "Under our tuition agreement we have to
give a year's notice, but as far as I'm concerned there has been a
breach of that agreement so we probably have the right to do it (send
the children elsewhere) sooner. If push came to shove, we could
probably have students somewhere by September," says the chief.
Many hope that
this won't be the case, and that first nations parents and leaders can
work with the new principal, whomever that may be, to continue the
positive strides made in incorporating native culture by the previous
principal. Laura Wall, co-chair of the School Council along with Joe
Endanawas, acknowledges that "whenever something like this happens
it's not easy, and we will have to wait and see whether it's for the
best. But I still think it's a good school and there are a lot of
positives, including promoting native culture, which is great."
She hopes the
ABC committee will "keep going, because there's some really good
people on that." Mrs. Wall also hopes the new principal selected by
the board, possibly by March Break, "will be someone who will live in
the community and be a strong person who can effectively manage all
the cultural aspects as well as the classroom." She doesn't blame Mrs.
Luopa for all the ills of the school. "It's not necessarily anything
she'd done exactly. But the problem is that when you're running a
team, and the team is not doing well, it's usually the coach that gets
fired."
Mrs. Wall
concedes that an unhappy cloud had settled over the school in recent
times. "We've seen a lack of respect among a lot of kids, and I
understand teachers have been getting some horrible messages from
parents." But she believes "we've also seen lots of other things
moving forward that are positive. I understand we've lost the
principal, but if we can build on the positives and keep the teachers,
that would be good."
Reports are that
the mood among teachers has improved markedly since interim principal
Mrs. Stringer has taken over, and many would like to see her carry on
in this capacity. Teacher and union steward Steve Clark would not
comment on this directly, except to say that staff members "have been
supportive of those in administration, and are standing together and
working together for a positive outcome." Mrs. Albers, however, fears
that the board will "get a puppet in there, someone who won't rock the
boat."
The future of
the ABC committee, meanwhile, remains uncertain. Chief Madahbee says
that he's "not optimistic. People feel the atmosphere has been
poisoned, and are not so prepared to put their time and energy into
it." Others, however, have expressed a desire to continue the work of
the committee.
Mrs. Wall hopes
that the present schism (between those who support the former
principal, and those who wanted her gone) won't widen, and that
teachers and parents, native and non-native alike, will work together
to move forward and create a better climate in the school. She worries
that, given the concerns raised by first nations leaders, and a lack
of clear explanation from the board, "it will look like they got rid
of her because she was doing too much native stuff," which would be
unfortunate, in her view.
Race is
certainly an issue at LCPS, and so is leadership, but neither tell the
whole story. Rather than scapegoat (or sanctify) the principal, or
frame the issue purely as a native versus non-native one, many feel
it's time to address other underlying--and overarching--issues at LCPS.
As one person
close to the situation observes, LCPS is now seen as "a problem
school," whereas "it used to be a top-notch school with above-average
marks. We'd like to get back to that, but to do so takes a team
effort, and also an effort from the community. It's not just a racial
problem--it's a community problem, a teacher problem, a student
problem. It won't be solved just by replacing one person."
Ms. Young
agrees. "I don't think the problems in this school just comes down to
the principal. The buck has to stop somewhere, and unfortunately
that's with the principal, but from my perspective the buck has to
stop with the parents." A parent herself, Ms. Young says that "kids
behave differently in different environments, and my own child is no
angel. But some parents think their kids can do no wrong and blame
everything on the teachers. Until parents support teachers, you end up
with kids being in control."
The old days of
the strap are gone, says Ms. Young, and "we are trying to adapt to a
changing social environment, where corporal punishment is no longer
promoted." Not every parent will necessarily agree with the new
approach to discipline, but she believes parents must accept the code
of conduct rules set out by the school and make an effort to reinforce
them in the home.
For Ms. Young,
it would be unfortunate if first nations parents chose to remove their
children from the school. "In the real world, we all have to get along
together," she says. She would view an exodus of native students in
the same way that she viewed "the teachers who flew the coop last
year"--as something of an easy way out. "I understand things aren't
always the way you want them, but sometimes you have to put forward an
effort" to resolve differences and effect positive change, she says.
And while that effort begins, in her estimation, in the home, it's up
to everyone to pitch in. "I agree with the philosophy that it takes a
community to raise a child," says Ms. Young.
Mrs. Wall also
believes that people should look at the big picture, and put the focus
where it should be. "We talked about this at one of our (school
council) meetings, and what we said was: 'We're not here for white
kids, or native kids--we're here for kids.'" |
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by Jim
Moodie
GREEN
BAY--The farm of Bruce Wood occupies a scenic rise where the
Lime Kiln Road sweeps around and plunges downhill towards Green
Bay. From the farmhouse--a roomy, two-floor cement abode built
in the early 1900s, now clad in white siding--you can gaze over
a quilt of fields that once supported as many as eight separate
farms. These days, Mr. Wood is one of just three farmers to work
the land here.
On a grey
afternoon last week, the farmer could be found in the work shed
behind his house. Ordinarily, at this time of the day and year,
he would prefer to be ice fishing with his youngest son,
Nathaniel, but the boy is sick today and the lake thick with
slush. So Mr. Wood is using this brief window of time between
the completion of farm chores and dinner to attend to some house
maintenance--namely, windows.
"I was
going to buy new ones, but times are tight so I'm making my
own," he explains. Before him are a number of frames that he's
assembled, shaping the edges with a router and fitting and
gluing the joints. The wood is white cedar that he cut from his
own property and milled with his portable sawmill. "They're not
perfect," he muses. "But slap a coat of paint on them and no-one
will know the difference."
A tall,
rangy man in his late 40s, garbed in coveralls and worked-in
Co-op cap, Mr. Wood has a stoic expression that is rarely broken
by a smile. Nor, as a cattle farmer trying to make a go of it in
these particularly trying times, does he have much to smile
about. Yet his eyes do flicker from time to time with amusement
and irony, seemingly because things have become just so absurdly
difficult that if you didn't allow yourself to be amused, you'd
probably go crazy.
A cow-calf
operator, with a herd of some 140 head, Mr. Wood says that his
income has plummeted over the past two years, and he's now worse
off than he was a decade ago. In 1993, he made $63,000 from
cattle. In 2003, that revenue had dwindled to $44,000--gross.
"And my expenses are over $40,000!" he says. The ironic flicker
comes briefly into his eyes. And then a distant, preoccupied
look, as he surveys the snow-covered hay fields, the grey, hazy
skies.
Other
farmers are struggling too, of course. A couple of farmers whom
Mr. Wood knows have decided to sell their farms. "They're saying
enough is enough," he says. He doesn't blame them, either. He's
thought about "getting out" himself. But it's different for him.
"These other guys are close to retirement. I'm too young to get
out. And who's going to buy a farm right now anyway?" He says
that his property, which spans close to 1,500 acres, was valued
at over $200,000 five years ago, and he's added a couple of
buildings since.
One of
those buildings, a hay barn, stands only partially completed, a
skeleton with a roof but no walls. "I started building that when
the prices were good," he says. "Now I can't finish it." Mr.
Wood has also been forced to scrimp in other ways. He hasn't
bought a new tractor in years, but makes do with the clunkers he
has, including an "antique" that his father, who farmed for 50
years before him, bought in 1967. The concrete in the cattle pen
is full of cracks, and he would normally invest $1,000 or so in
new concrete each year, but not this year.
At least
he seems to have a shiny new truck. A sleek black half-ton is
parked in front of his work shed, up on jacks for an axle
repair. Only it turns out that it's not his truck at all, but
his neighbour's, which Mr. Wood is doing some work on. "That
would be mine over there," he says, pointing to a beat-up 1984
F150. "I paid $1,000 for it." He paid half that for his other
vehicle, a van that his partner and soon-to-be-wife, Pat Moore,
uses to get to work. "Can't afford more," he says.
Mr. Wood
is currently a bit worried about the $500 van, because he and
his fiancee have to drive to Mississauga soon to take their
young daughter Elizabeth to an eye specialist. It's been down
and back a couple of times already, but you never know when a
vehicle like this might quit on you. Plus he'll have to hire
someone to do chores on the farm while he's gone.
The farmer
has five children--three from a previous marriage, one of whom,
a 14-year-old, lives with him; and two with his current partner,
five-year-old Nathaniel and three-year-old Elizabeth. The
teenager, Greg, pitches in on the farm, but is still in school
so can't help out full-time. With three mouths to feed, and two
children for whom he has to pay child support, and cows to feed
and calve, there are very few days off for Mr. Wood, or his
partner, who works in Mindemoya as a veterinary technician and
also helps out around the farm.
The two
grow most of their own food--potatoes, carrots, cabbage,
turnips. In the winter, Mr. Wood might squeeze in a couple of
hours of ice fishing some days, but this is not really a leisure
activity. He enjoys it, and it's a rare break from the farm, but
it's also a way of providing food. He has dogs, with whom he
sometimes hunts wolves--although not this winter, as he "can't
afford the gas for the snowmobile"--but again, this isn't really
sport. It's a way of protecting his herd.
Even at
times when prices for cattle are good (as they were, relatively
speaking, in 2001), a farmer still faces numerous hardships and
worries: the rising costs of crop insurance and equipment (a
tractor tire alone--not counting calcium--costs about $800);
rising taxes on their land (since 1991, Mr. Wood's assessment
has more than doubled, from $9,700 to $22,500 per 100 acres);
and the persistent threat of wild critters to livestock and
crops. If you don't have raccoons feasting on your feed corn,
the bears will be in it, eating their fill and knocking the
stalks down. Or they'll be busting down fences and,
occasionally, barn doors. Mr. Wood says a bear recently grabbed
one of his calves by the neck; the bear was scared off, but the
calf died of the injuries.
There are
government programs intended to offset the difficulties that
farmers experience. Mr. Wood, for instance, is currently looking
into taking part in the Canadian Agricultural Income
Stabilization Program. "But for me to join, I'd have to put down
a deposit of $1,651--a third of my yearly amount for maximum
coverage, which is nearly $5,000," he says. "Well, if I had
$5,000, I wouldn't have to go on the program to begin with."
Needless to say, Mr. Wood doesn't have $5,000 at his fingertips,
nor does he expect that a bank will loan it to him. And while
any government aid is welcome, the farmer figures that the feds
"squandered more in Montreal (through the sponsorship scandal)
than they ever give us."
That he is
able to limp along at all right now, Mr. Wood attributes to
having been able "to put a bit aside in a good year," and having
"inherited the property relatively cheaply to begin with." Last
year was particularly bad, though, with the emergence of BSE in
North America and the related trade ban with the US, and "I hate
to see what this year will be like," says Mr. Wood. Prices show
no signs of rising soon, and in the meantime, the farmer has to
buy a new wood furnace for his house (the current one is 50
years old, and cracking), and he expects that something,
possibly a whole engine, will have to be replaced on one of his
old vehicles soon. "You're getting farther and farther behind,
and if you don't have the money to invest in new equipment,
something is going to go on them eventually."
The school
bus has arrived, and son Greg saunters up the lane, hunched over
a bit, because it has begun to rain. "I had to pick Nathaniel up
early from school," his father tells him, "because he's got
stomach flu." Greg nods, and ducks inside the farmhouse. The
rain splatters on the muddy lane, and on the shaggy hides of the
cows, who just stand there and stoically endure the dousing.
"They don't mind rain," Mr. Wood remarks. "But they don't like
wind." He stands in the doorway of the work shed where his
window frames are stacked, soon to be fitted with glass and
puttied, and gazes outside at the drizzly scene.
I ask him
if the weather is going to let up, if the sun is going to come
out. "I think it's just going to get worse," he says. |