Alan's Convocation Address

13 June 1992

President Marshall; President Paul; Dr. Rathgeber; Members of the Academic Senate; Graduates of the Class of 1992; Ladies and Gentlemen:

My compliments and best wishes go to all of the graduates and warm congratulations to those who have won special distinction. I especially salute and honor the graduates of the Native Teacher Certification Program and extend to them the hope that their strongest ambitions for themselves and for their people will be realized.

I have been invited particularly to say something of relevance to the graduates in education.

[school bell rings]

I decided, however, you should have a really serious address.

The first principal of the North Bay Normal School was Mr. A.C. Casselman. He was principal from 1909 to 1931. I have a copy of his address to the graduating class of 1925. In graceful, deliberative English reminiscent of the 19th Century, he unfolds a comforting picture of the categories of graduates of the Normal School.

Then he says:

"Keener than ever this year, and in the coming years, will be the competition for positions. The weeding out of undesirables will go on apace. The weaklings are sure to be detected more quickly than ever in the past, but true merit and conscientious application will win their reward. Day by day, in school and out, you will be tested at the court of public opinion. Whether the verdict will be in your favour or otherwise, will depend solely upon yourselves and upon the service which you render."

This shocks us, does it not? He spoke almost cruelly about the competition for positions and the way in which weaklings would be detected. Surely this was painful to some of the graduates and embarrassing to many more.

The bullying tone of this message from an educator in a position of authority gives me my theme.

It is my contention that, except during the last quarter century, most school children and youth in Ontario's schools were afraid. They were afraid of their teachers and of their fathers and many were even afraid of God.

When public education began early in the 19th Century physical punishment of children was an almost daily occurrence in classrooms. Washington Irving speaks of the appalling sound of the birch as Ichabod Crane "urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge." A wry metaphor of course. Physical and verbal abuse of children endured for a century and a half.

During my elementary schooling in the 1930's the strap was certainly used and I suffered the piercingly sharp pain of it on several occasions. The schoolroom for me was a threatening place. The fear of being punished in front of one's classmates continued throughout elementary school.

Now, in the name of fairness, let me restore balance to this grim chronicle. Life at school may have had its dark underpinnings and the strap was certainly a baleful influence but there were always wonderful teachers whose way of teaching was so serenely competent that children were happy learners. And the great antidote to the lurking fears, even when one's teacher was Mr. Gradgrind, was the love of one's merry companions, the boys and girls who were bonded to one in fierce friendship.

After the Second World War the strap was used far less and school was reasonably pleasant for most children. The strap was certainly still part of the school culture, however, and as a teacher I made use of it perhaps half a dozen times. Nonetheless, it seemed as though society, including the teaching profession, had unconsciously decided that the strap had to go. It was used less and less in the 1950s and sixties and by the seventies had been officially removed by most school systems. Its use today is unthinkable.

A happier time for school children ensued.

But what of the teachers?

From 1969 to 1982 I did not step into a working classroom. I was a teacher education administrator and in that role I simply did not visit children in school. Then in the fall of 1982 I put my administration behind me and rejoined the working faculty, going into classrooms on a regular basis to supervise student teachers in many places in Ontario. Two obvious changes had occurred in the thirteen years since 1969. What were they? First, school children were more expensively dressed. The dictates of fashion in clothing and footwear prevailed even in elementary school. The second big change was this: some of the classes I visited were out of control and some others were barely under control. In my six final years as a working faculty member I was too frequently in classrooms where the pupils and students were, as we say in the profession, "off task."

The recent report on education of the Economic Council of Canada makes it clear that many things are wrong with the schools as teaching institutions. The indictment has validity. The schools are imperfect as educational institutions. On the other hand, they have a custodial function that they do very well. Listen to the complaints from parents about all those activity days and the outcry when it is suggested that in the name of economy junior kindergarten should be eliminated.

But consider the teachers. Many cannot concentrate upon capital-E Education because the atmosphere in their classrooms is simply not conducive to intellectual pursuit. Make no mistake, teachers are experienced professionals and know how to do their teaching jobs but some are simply not free to get on with education. Three or four students can import into a classroom behaviour that is absolutely destructive to the progress of learning. Many teachers face this unequal contest daily. Why should this be so?

From the early 1800s until the late 1900s children had reason to be unhappy in their education. Now increasingly it is the teachers who face the harsh challenges. Why should this be so?

Who will right this situation? Surely this is the responsibility of the profession.

Before I express my thanks to Nipissing University College there are two footnotes to my talk.

First, to the First Nation graduates of the Certification Program: the hardships of majority culture school children pale into insignificance in comparison with the wrongs done by official Canada to your forebears and your culture when the residential school system held sway.

Many of you faced and overcame discouraging odds to arrive where you are today.

You have teaching positions. Some of you teach where there is a school curriculum already developed and validated with the support of your community. For others, particularly those in the more isolated communities, much hard work has to be done to create the right school curriculum. The toughest decisions will centre around the question of the mixture of First Nation content and method and dominant society content and method. It will not be easy. For over four hundred years, however, your ancestors have adopted what was useful in non-Native culture and rejected what was not of use. This selection and rejection process, it seems to me, is still your task. May you find the wisdom and strength to carry it out.

Second footnote: to the graduates of the B.Ed. program: for many of you there is the prospect of not finding an immediate position in teaching. This has happened before. Some of you will enroll as supply teachers. Some will accept positions in remote locations. Others will find their skills as professional educators marketable in instructional positions in business or industry. In any case - may you find the resolution to carry on in spite of the cruelty of the times.

And now, with respect to the honour conferred upon me today, let me say that my original shock has mellowed into grateful acceptance. Nipissing University College, I thank you.

Al Johnson

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