Free When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) by Janette Oke Page A

too disappointed, Elizabeth, if you have very few students. The value system of the people here varies greatly from ours. They do not see the need, or the advantage, of spending many hours trying to learn about things they will never see or know. What good is all that learning if it will not put food in the pot, or coax the fox to the trap?”
    And here we were with a full schoolhouse! Wouldn’t Wynn be surprised?
    About midway through the morning two women arrived, chattering as they entered and looking over the roomful of children and each item in it. They discussed freely what they observed. I guess they had never been told that one does not talk without permission in a school setting. They found a place on the floor and sat down.
    Later on more women joined them, singly or by twos or threes. I could hardly believe it! Our schoolroom was packed full of eager and willing learners—of all ages. We would need more room, more pencils and scribblers. I hadn’t thought of teaching the women, but of course they needed it too.
    Nimmie did not seem surprised. She only nodded a greeting to each one as they came and motioned them to a still-vacant spot on the floor.
    I decided to concentrate on the children and let the women learn by listening and observing, so I did not put any of the adult names in my roll book.
    After getting the names of the students recorded, which took a great deal of help from Nimmie, I proceeded with my first lesson. Taking my cards with the words and pictures, I held them aloft and pointed first at a picture and then at the English word. I said the word over two or three times and then Nimmie told the students to say the word with me. We went over it a number of times. Canoe. Canoe. Canoe. Then we went on to the the next one. Fish. Fish. Fish. I had the class say it together and then picked out students to try it on their own. They were shy about it, hesitant to make a funny-sounding word in front of others, so I went back to having them say it together.
    I took the two new words now and covered the pictures.
    “What does this say?” I asked them, and Nimmie repeated my question.
    No one knew. I uncovered the picture and asked the question again. They replied correctly almost in unison.
    We went over the two words again and again, and still they did not seem to recognize them when the pictures were covered.
    At last when I covered the picture and held one up, a small boy said, “Canoe.” He was right and I was ecstatic. There was whispering in the row where the boy sat and I saw Nimmie’s face crinkle with laughter.
    I couldn’t refrain from asking, “What did he say?”
    “His classmate asked him how he knew the picture, and he said the canoe card has a small tear at one corner,” explained Nimmie.
    I looked down at the picture. He was right.
    It set me back some, but then I realized it did prove he was observant and intelligent. Those ingredients made a scholar. I just had to find the right approach, that was all.
    I switched from the word cards to colors. I was aware that the Indians know much about color. They just don’t know what the white man calls them. The color lesson did not go well either. Every time I pointed to a color on an object, they thought I was asking for the name of the object, not the color.
    Nimmie explained to them, and things went a bit better. After much drilling, I was quite confident a good number in the class had learned “black” and “white.”
    We dismissed them, telling them to hurry back to the schoolroom the next morning when they heard the bell clang. I didn’t know if our admonition would avail or not. Most likely they would come when they felt ready.
    The students began to file out, some looking thankful for freedom. The women still sat on the floor. It appeared they didn’t intend to leave, and I thrilled with their interest in learning. I told Nimmie to express to them my happiness at seeing them at school and my promise to do my best to help them