Residential School Diary Entry

We lived in the ghettos for all of 2 weeks before we were taken to a camp. My family was split up so my mother, my sister, and I were together and my Father was alone. The work camps were terrible they forced us into hard labor my mother and I knew how to sew so we were put into a work group to sew up soldiers uniforms. I ber one day my mother pricked her finger and got blood on one of the uniforms she was beaten by an S.S officer and yelled at continually. If I ever made a mistake or did something wrong my mother would take the beating for me. I objected every time but she would never let anything happen to me. My older sister was not good at sewing but luckily was put near us she helped cook for everyone in the camp. I will always remember the day of the selection my mother was not chosen but I was my mother tried to talk me into believing that getting picked this time was good and that we needed to say goodbye because she was leaving. I knew the truth though. The next day an officer called out the names of the chosen people my name was called. We were told we were going to take a shower. When they stopped us we were in a big room I did not see any shower heads “Gas chamber” I heard someone mumble. I knew my last breath was going to be soon. All at once gaas entered the room coughing came from all around. I said my last goodbye and said a silent Kaddish for myself and the people I was with. I then took my final breath while many

History shows that Residential School created a big problem for the Indigenous people. Furthermore, children were ripped from their traditional homes and families, they didn’t receive the same education as the other children in regular public schools. Students were discourage from pursuing further educations. Not to mention, the, the emotional, physical and sexual abuse they suffer from the hands of their abuser

While being at the residential school’s students endured, physical, mental, and even in some cases sexual abuse. The children were anywhere from 4-16 years old. For the most part students were taken from their families to be put into the schools, but there were also a couple cases where parents took their kids there because the schools advertised in a way that made them look good, so parents thought they were doing something good for their kids. Little did they know it quite possibly could have been the last time they saw their child alive. During the time spent at the residential school, students were not allowed to see their family. It was

The Residential School started at year 1831, but it did not really work out until 1871 when the passage of Indian Act happened. 'Aggressive assimilation' was the first name of the residential schools. During 1880s Canadian government cooperated with two churches, which are the Roman Catholic and the Protestants that helped them spread the Residential School System across Canada. There are about 150,000 First Nations, Inuits, Métis children that were forced to go to residential school. The idea of Residential School was all about assimilation and eurocentrism. During that time the government thought that younger natives were easier to assimilate into eurocentric culture than the elders. Therefore, the agreement called Indian Residential Schools Settlement Act is a policy that Canadian Government made to compensate for the consequences and abuse students faced in Residential school.

In my youth, I was like every other child, completely oblivious to the world round me and the hatred it contained. I was a happy little girl who was a little to clingy to her mother, all though that didn’t last long. I have no memory of my dad between the ages 2-4 considering he was never home. I had quite an imagination so I was always daydreaming which gives me trouble today considering I can’t remember what of my early childhood was real. My parents split when I was two so I don’t have much of a concept of how my parents’ relationship was, although now I’ve come to know that it wasn’t at all good.

Residential schools are coming into perspective as harsh and assimilating institutions. These schools have been in place from 1870s to 1990s and were operated by churches. The intent of these schools were to civilize and assimilate indigenous children at the age of 6-18 into the “European” world. The assumption that Indians were uncivilized came from an ethnocentric worldview and the institutions were as to say “to kill the indian in the child”. Attendance at these schools was mandatory according to the Indian Act of 1920. Often “Indian agents” kidnaped children from their homes if their parents did not willingly hand them over. The children were not permitted to see their families, except on rare occasions. Sometimes the children were told that their parents and tribe had perished in order to break attachments. The schools started off as a way to provide education to First Nations, however, the institutions became known for their harsh methods of instilling

The first time I attended the summer enrichment camp at The Mississippi School of Math and Science as a 7th grader, I knew I wanted it to become my high school. It was such a rewarding experience, and I felt right at home. The mission of MSMS is to “enhance the future of Mississippi by meeting the individual needs of gifted and talented students through providing innovative learning experiences and leadership development in a residential environment...” In other words, MSMS gives students that desire to learn on a higher level an opportunity to learn in a residential setting. Residential high schools such as MSMS are quite different from regular high schools. A person may choose to attend a residential high school for many reasons. Consequently, these reasons include the environment, the faculty, and the class size.

We arrived at some weird place that I didn't know of course. We got to the ghetto and they escorted us to our new home but I didn't like it because it was trashy and it was packed with families and I thought why would they move us here? What was the purpose of doing this? There was a piece of paper on every house even ours so I was wondering what it was when I got up to the paper it looked like a list of rules and at the bottom of the paper it said that if we were to not follow the rules then we would be killed and I believed them because they all had guns so I would just follow them from now on. My grandpa told me that we are moving again and I asked why he said he didn’t know but to just follow him and everything will be ok, and so I did. When we got there we were separated into different lines my grandpa was separated and my grandma went with me and she said it was going to be all right but I was still scared for my grandpa because I thought that they were going to kill him. Me and my grandma got to our “camp” at least that’s what they

My mother became depressed, my father became disabled, and my brother was skipping school. I continued going to school from eight until four, which was a big relief in my life because it made me forget the hard times. My grades slowly began to decline, as well as my motivation. I gave up many opportunities such as attending New York’s number one specialized high school. I recognized my mistakes and was able to identify my failure. School was not the only place where I lacked interest in because I also slowly started to push my friends away. As a young teenager, I did not think I would ever make it to college. I became frustrated at my parents because my life was ruined and it was all their fault.

The first time I heard about residential school was in my grade 11 social studies class. I was shocked about the fact that residential school lasted about 165 years and impacted thousands of First Nations, Metis and Inuit children. While studying at school seems to be a way of making friends and enriching knowledge, for those children attending residential school, it was a disaster. They were forced to leave family, cut their hair and forbade to speak their native language at school. The initial goal of residential school was to educate, assimilate and integrate Aboriginal children into Canadian society, but in fact, children’s human rights were being deprived, they were being physically, mentally and sexually abused and their aboriginal culture

My mom and I ran out to see what all the noise was. We see soldiers. Taking people and dragging them aggressively by the arm. My mind was filled with so many questions that no one could answer. Why are they taking these people? Where are they taking these people? Who are these people taking them? What are they going to do with them? Am I next? Are we next? The lost could go on and on. My mom and I went back inside and locked the doors. But the soldiers broke right through our door. At that moment I had a feeling It wasn’t going to be easy from here and on. I was wondering where my dad was. He had left off to work but I didn't know what they would do to him since he wasn’t with us. But back then I had no idea that morning of January 30th would be the last time I saw my dad. It was the last time. We were then told to pack our stuff and that we only had 10 minutes to do so, but it felt more like 5 mins. I helped my little brothers pack their stuff so I really didn’t have time to pack mine. The soldiers put us on a train along with the others, they didn’t say where they were taking us. I held my smaller brothers tight in my hands. I didn’t know what was going to happen to us, or where they were taking

All I could think about was my family and friends back home and the comfort that came along with it. A weight was dragging me deeper and deeper into darkness. Almost every night I sat in my room alone and cried. I tried to bring myself out of the darkness that was consuming me but nothing was working. I tried going out to dinner with “friends”, joining different clubs, putting on music, and turning on all the lights. Every day and night I would wait for the routine Skype call from my closest friend back home. I would take any chance I could get to go home and visit the friends and family I left lacked at Oswego. Finals flew right by and so did winter break. Soon enough, I was back at Oswego for the Spring Semester. However I moved dorms, hoping this would fill the empty hole that was consuming me. It was a quiet Sunday evening when I along with other students returned to campus after

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

I was only four years old when my mother was murdered by my father I was there when it all started and I was there when it ended. Her death was a quick one so I was happy that she didn’t have to go through a painful death like the ones that I would have to witness first hand. After my mother’s death my life has been full of pain and sorrow. I miss mother but I know missing her won’t do me any good. The instant that father had murdered mother he put me inside of a facility where kids are not wanted.

I have never felt so close to giving up on myself. My grades were slipping, my attendance at school was at an all time low, and I was sensing a lot of negativity towards me from my teachers. See they had no idea what I was going through, and never once did they bother to ask. It was as if it was normal to them that a student who had never failed a class and there six years in the public school system, was failing almost all of their classes out of nowhere. But I couldn’t put my problems on them, I had no right to think like that, but I felt so alone at the time I didn’t know who or what to blame, but I did know that if I just kept pushing through that I would get through this journey, I couldn’t afford to give up on myself, and give up on my family.