The Lansdowne Letters: The Ups and Downs of Teaching

In his Lansdowne Letters,

my father, Donald MacBeath,

often wrote of the challenges

he faced teaching Indian children.

No matter where he taught,

Dad always said that the greatest rewards of teaching

were bestowed by the children themselves.

One challenge Dad faced teaching Indian children 
was overcoming their shyness. 
This he attributed to 
native reticence and fear of the white man.

Another was providing
a safe and suitable learning environment.

Like all teachers,
Dad had up days and down.

My Father Outside His Cottage
and Ready for School

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Fall of 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Teaching is a tough job.

I know.

I taught for twenty-five years.

Now, when I read my father’s words,

I understand what he dealt with

so much more than I did when I was a girl.

On September 26, 1960,

my father wrote:

The time sure didn’t fly

during the last twenty-four hours

like it does sometimes. 

I had a rough day today at school. 

I just couldn’t seem to make any headway

with those cotton-picking Indians. 

Right now, I am fed up to the gills with Indians,

but I suppose that by tomorrow

I will be over my temporary discouragement. 

It frequently happened

while I was teaching white children,

that there would be days when I thought

that I just couldn’t take another day of it.

I think the main trouble today was

that seven new pupils arrived in school

and completely upset the relationship

that I was so slowly establishing

between the Indians and myself. 

The Indians are so shy. 

They are shy about talking to strangers

or in front of new pupils. 

I just could not get a word out of them today. 

They wouldn’t even sing. 

I really should not say wouldn’t. 

Couldn’t actually comes closer

to describing their quietness.

It’s really amazing how shy they are.

There was one little girl that I tried to talk to today

who just couldn’t get a word out to save her soul.

Oh how hard she tried! 

She’d open her mouth time and time again,

but not one squeak would come out. 

It was really painful to watch her efforts.

Another reason that today was so poor

was that I had to leave them alone

for about an hour this morning

while I tried to hunt up

some seats and tables for the new pupils. 

As you know,

my new seats and desks haven’t arrived,

and I have been using

some old homemade ones that the Father had;

but I have used all those that are available,

and today I had to go scrounging somewhere.

 My Indians in School

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath,  Fall of 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Back of the Photo Notes:
Notice the girls all on one side, and the boys all on the other.  This was the first day.
Since then I have them shifted about and have stopped the girls wearing kerchiefs.
See the Father's homemade desks.

I finally succeeded in borrowing

a card table and four folding chairs

from the nursing station

and a card table from the MacRaes.

 

That solved my seating problem temporarily. 

But what do I do if more turn up tomorrow?

On the following day,
My father wrote
(with additional details from an unpublished paper):

Well, today I love my Indians again. 
Today we got along just peachy.

There is this little one in,
I guess you could actually call it kindergarten,
and she is so shy.
Her name is Daisy,
and she is barely six years old.
She is as cute as a button.

Ever since school started,
I have been trying to get her to talk to me,
but with no success. 
She won’t even say, “Here, Teacher”
when the roll is being called.

I always have the children answer
the roll call mornings and afternoons
just to give them practice in speaking English
as an aid to overcoming their shyness.

Daisy is a beautiful child,
in spite of her poor, hand-me-down clothes,
her shoes which are so much too large
that they are tied on with rabbit wire,
and the strong Indian odour
which seems to permeate the atmosphere
when she is near at hand.

But her shyness is so severe
that it actually renders her speechless.

That's possibly Daisy

on the left.

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath,  Fall of 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Whenever it is Daisy’s turn
to answer roll call,
she stands up, smiles,
and makes all sorts of friendly overtures,
just like a young puppy
(In fact, if she had a tail,
I am sure she would wag it.),
and she opens her mouth and goes through
all the motions of saying, “Here, Teacher,”
but not a sound emerges from her mouth.

However, today she screwed up her courage
and came out with a tremulous, “Here, Teacher.” 

I’m telling you
it was quite an accomplishment for both of us. 
I almost felt like cheering.

Bye for now,
Love,
Don.