James and Bella sat sipping beer at the pizza joint just around the corner from the Crest Motel in Prince George—chatting about social inequity, the dynamics of oppression and popular response. Bella dazzled James with her summary of the Freirean approach to pedagogy: “Antidialogics and dialogics as matrices of opposing theories of cultural action. The former as an instrument of oppression and the latter as an instrument of liberation,” Bella said. “The characteristics of antidialogical action are conquest, divide and rule, manipulation and cultural invasion, whereas in dialogical action we see cooperation, unity, organization and cultural synthesis.”
“Whoa, slow down, wait a minute—you just swamped me with jargon. Tell me what this all means in plain English.”
Bella laughed and said, “I studied this stuff so damn much, I can quote Freire off the cuff like that. It simply means that instead of the usual one-way conversation that political leaders and educators have with their people and learners, respectively, we should encourage active dialogue—an exchange of ideas and thinking to understand the reality one is faced with, and once this is accomplished, collaboratively find solutions that work for all. We need to treat people as if they’re whole, empowered, inspired beings—as opposed to empty vessels that need to be filled, or sheep that need direction, guidance and salvation.”
“Thank you. That’s more like it. It’s a brilliant technique, especially with adult students. Good God, they have life experience and a wealth of knowledge and problem-solving capacity to draw on. They wouldn’t have survived to adulthood if they didn’t.”
“The group I’m working with in Chezgh’un is amazing—so much knowledge and life experience. It’s the usual pattern we see with on-reserve learning—adults with years of training under their belt. But it’s a patchwork of skills development. Nothing to pull it all together as a diploma or degree—industrial first aid, basic carpentry, computer skills, home maintenance, basic electrical skills and so on.”
“Well, listen, I’ve been stumped trying to find a way to be a catalyst for the community to defend its land base and rights, and expand them to meet their needs. I know that for a lasting solution to occur, the community has to do the work. And, besides this, I’ve been warned by the chief to keep my nose out of local politics.”
“I know exactly where you’re going with that, James, and I’m onside. We can get the adult-education class on the issue—to investigate the history of how they ended up in the situation they’re in, with respect to their land holdings and governance. We’ll get right on it.”
The two educators were so excited by this meeting of the minds—by the hope of being able to make a difference as catalysts as opposed to taking the issues on themselves—they both bolted out of their chairs and hugged.
The hug turned into an embrace. James felt aroused and he felt that Bella did too. As they moved apart, they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. James leaned forward, and his lips touched Bella’s. Her lips firmed up slightly to return the kiss—then they caught themselves.
“Wow. That was close.”
Bella threw her head back and laughed loudly, then said, “Too close, James. But oh my God, would it be nice.”
“It would… it really would. You’re amazing.”
“Maybe another time, another place—when we’re not working together so closely, with you as my boss—and me as the union rep. Can’t have the union in bed with management now, can we?”
“Listen, I’m sure stranger things have happened. But better for us to not go there, right?”
They sat back down and continued the conversation, discussing all the government cutbacks and how they were affecting First Nations. They both expressed consternation and wondered aloud if the new school construction at Chezgh’un would be delayed—or cancelled altogether. Bella’s classes were in the new portable, but James couldn’t bear the notion of working in the unsafe dilapidated main building another year, and the government had already backtracked on its promise to build a community fire hall without delay. The public outrage stirred up by the deaths in the fire at Chezgh’un had dissipated in no time at all, it seemed.
Bella lightened up the conversation by recalling some of her experiences over the brief time she’d been the adult-ed teacher at Chezgh’un—how amused she’d been hearing from the elders about their sexual escapades. Who was having a fling with whom in the grey-headed crowd of Chezgh’un. “A regular seniors’ Peyton Place,” she said with a laugh.
Her tone got more sombre as she said, “There’s been disclosures, James—partial disclosures of childhood sexual abuse from some of the women in my class, against elders I won’t name, and political leaders. I had to end those conversations before they told me too much. After all, I’m not a counsellor, or a cop. I had to be very clear about this with the adult students.” She sat silent, pensive.
“Everyone knows, or should know, that the current situation is part of a cycle arising from massive sexual abuse at residential schools over several generations. Victims of abuse by priests or nuns became perpetrators themselves, and it will take a large-scale community-wide intervention to deal with the situation. It likely won’t happen in our time there.”
“But surely that doesn’t mean we can’t try to get help for the students who are ready to begin their healing from this, James.”
“I agree. A case-by-case basis of doing our best to get help. Then it’ll be up to the community as to how they approach their collective healing. I just hope they do.”
“What are ya doin’ tomorrow, James?”
“I was supposed to meet up with Damien to go for a hike, maybe some bird hunting, then Colin, Ruthie and Ali for supper. See you back in Chezgh’un day after tomorrow?”
“Sounds good,” Bella answered. “See you then. Drive safe.”