The Gleaner
Arts & LifeSharing Our Stories

Transported

Story told by: Amelia McGregor
Edited by: Simona Rosenfield

For grade 6, we used to get transported from Kahnawake to LaSalle. We got moved around a bit here and there. A lot of it was outside of the community.

That was our first introduction to non-Indigenous people and I remember a young boy, he was so pale and white that you could see the veins in his head where the blood was flowing. He sat behind me at school. I don’t know if it was my dark hair, because my hair was down to my waist, he would always bother my hair for some reason. He was always trying to put his fingers through my hair, and he used to annoy me. So, I’d turn around and sometimes I’d punch him in the arm. That was my reaction.

 

Negative Number 4004<br >Subject Catalogue Cb<br >Source Mrs GF Stone Former teacher<br >Approx Date 1917<br >Mrs Stone and her class<br >Portrait Group Institutions School Males Females Adults Children Boys Girls Swing Playground Schoolyard Fence Long Shot High Shot

 

I’d say, “I wish you’d leave me alone.”

And he’d just smile at me in that stupid grin. You know, when guys like girls they do all kinds of stupid things. I just wanted to go to school and that’s it.

Monday morning came, and he was absent. So I wondered, “How come he’s not in school today?”

The teacher was standing in front of the class, and she said, “I regret to inform you but one of our students was riding his bike on the weekend and he got hit by a car.”

And guess who it was? It was the boy that was sitting behind me. And that’s the last thing I remember doing to him, I punched him in the arm.

 

Negative Number 4009<br >Subject Catalogue Cb<br >Source Mrs GF Stone Former Teacher<br >Approx Date NA<br >Class I It shows the school room and the rules monitor He looks like a soldier and guard Mrs GF Stone written on back of photo<br >Portrait Group Institution School Males Females Children Boys Girls Classroom Desks Sitting Standing Seated Globe Paper Scroll Map Long Shot

 

I started to cry. When the teacher was walking around the room and she realized I was crying, she said I could put my head down on the desk and cry if I wanted to. She allowed me to do that.

I felt so guilty because of what I did. I was so sorry. I don’t know how long it took me before I stopped saying I’m sorry for what I did to him.

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