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Still, the atmosphere in the schools clearly varied from place to place, depending on the era and the adminis- tration. Times improved from the early Methodist schools, when chil- dren were sometimes shaclcled so they wouldn't run away. Rev. Bernard Lee, principal at Norway House in Manitoba from 1958 to 1967, says that "no one was punished for speak- ing their language" in his time, although he remembers being shocked by conditions at the junior school in Brandon, where "it seemed like a scene out of Dickens." Much, he explains, depended on the principal. "We had some very dedicated people." He "occasion- ally had to strap boys for running away in winter. lbey could have froz.en to death." It's an action, he says now, that has "always both- ered my conscience. It may have been wiser to give a warning" that the boys would be expelled. As for allegations of sexual abuse which haunt some Roman Catholic institutions, Lee recalls only one incident at Norway House: a boy came and asked to be sent home, even though he had only an elderly grandfather to take care of him. When Lee inquired why, the boy said he would commit suicide if he wasn't allowed to leave, because the Boys' Superviser was trying to "treat him like a woman." 1be staff member was immediately dismissed. But just a~ in institutions ~ 2- work half a day, sawing wood, clean- ing barns, digging potatoes, any kind of harvesting and planting." But the children at File Hills were inventive in their attempts to feed themselves, escaping to hunt smaJl game and build a fire to cook it. "We used to steal anything we could to eat, we'd even run for miles on a Saturday to raid homes for a bit of food. At school, every room that had food in it would have a lock. We always man- aged to pick it. Once in a while the staff would come and search us. This was any time, without warning; they today, sometimes the adminiStra- Researcher Unda Bull: sharing the hurt. tion didn't hear everything. "When I was 10 and went to Albemi Indian Residential School," would find brown sugar, bread or fruit Alvin Dixon, British Columbia. on us, any kind of contraband." Conference's minister for Native min- istries explains, "my 16-year-old cousin was there. He pointed to one of the staff and said, 'If he tries anything with you, hit him in the gut and run for me.' So we dealt with these things ourselves." Conditions varied in terms of food, too. Government funding for the schools in the '30s and '40s was low; even later, when funding improved, "we received less money to feed stu- dents than was given for inmates in federal penitentiaries," says Lee. "We had to manage carefully." Dieter remembers that. although the meals ~ not bad. '"we l'lC'YCr got enough to eat, especially when we had to There were those who attempted change. "I noticed that the staff that were good to us were released by means of too much compassion and loyalty to us," says Dieter. "But I must say our classroom was a peace- ful place, because the teachers I remember were very good." A young teacher named Lucy Affleck at Round Lake Indian Residential School near Stockholm, Saskatchewan in 1929, is one exam- ple. "The children lack completely the mothering that only one could give them who lived close enough to them to know their individual dispositions," she wrote to the Superintendent of Indian Missions in Toronto, Dr. A. Barner, after she had been there just over a month. "Mrs. Ross is a strong disciplinarian, wonderfully so, but the discipline they are receiving is not the result of training or the rule of love." Her anguished letter illustrates many of the difficulties at the schools. In what was a windy, wet October there was no heat in the residence, and "they are still wearing their sum- mer clothing, the boys without under- wear of any kind, and the result is that we have a bad epidemic of coughing." Although "90 percent of these chil- dren are TB suspects-a few are rather more so-there is no care to prevent serious colds." Hygiene was a problem. "Bath tubs don't work and the boys have to bathe in laundry tubs .... " Toilets don't flush, and "sweeping in the boys' dor- mitory-you will know what a dust an unoiled floor makes-is done seven days in the week by four girls, three of whom are from families with bad TB records." She points out that although there is enough food, "it is not well chosen. As there is a great number of pigs on the farm, El much of the milk must go to ~ them." Furthermore, underfund- ! ing and consequent overcrowd- ~ ing for the sake of government ! grants meant "we have IO more ~ girls than beds in the girls' dor- ! mitory, and more coming." The g principal "keeps in his office apples and oranges bought by the crate which he ells to the children at five cents apiece, and exhorts them to come and buy when he knows they have received money from their parent ." But for her, the main problem was that Round Lake, with its small, uncared for children "not knowing what else to do with themselves, run- ning wild in the cold and dark," was simply the opposite of what a school run by the United Church should be. "The religious knowledge these little Indians get is a matter of form only. Of a Gospel of love and light they hear nothing. " It was the ame fact a small Wilf Dieter would discover four years later at File Hills, and he echoes Affleck's letter with his memories. "One thing they did was teach us to pray, and we got a lot of Bible teachings. But it was