Interim Report | 5
it touches the lives of parents and children. It is important
because it connects our nation’s past and future. It is inspiring
because those who were oppressed, victimized, and silenced
have struggled to heal themselves and regain their voice.
At event after event, people spoke of parents having to send
children o to residential school against their will. ey spoke
of tearful farewells at train stations, shorelines, and in school
parlours, of children crying throughout the entire ight to
school, and of cold and impersonal receptions given to chil-
dren on arrival.
People told the Commission of being sent to school hun-
dreds and even thousands of kilometres from their homes.
Once they were there, it was impossible for their parents to
visit them. In many schools, children stayed in school over
the Christmas holidays, and, in some cases, they stayed over
the summer as well. Some did not return home for years at a
time.
People spoke of the immediate losses they experienced
at school. Traditional, and often highly valued, clothing and
footwear, handmade by loving mothers and grandmothers,
were taken from them and never seen again. Long hair, often
in traditional braids that reected sacred beliefs, was sheared
o. Many people had bitter memories of being deloused with
lye or chemicals, regardless of whether they had lice. Children
lost their identity as their names were changed—or simply
replaced with a number. e Commission has heard of how
students lost their individuality, were forced to wear uniforms,
to march in lines, to wash in communal showers—treated,
as several former students said, like they were animals in a
herd. In the words of countless students, it was a frightening,
degrading, and humiliating experience.
Former students described how they came from loving
families and were cast into loveless institutions. ey spoke
of tremendous loneliness, and of young children crying them-
selves to sleep for months. Brothers and sisters were separated
from each other within the schools, and often were punished
for hugging or simply waving at one another.
Food was strange, spoiled and rotten in many cases, poorly
prepared, and often in short supply. Many people recalled
being punished for being unable to clean their plates. Others
recalled that they were always hungry, and were punished for
taking food from the kitchen or the garden.
For many, little in the classroom related to their lives. e
only Aboriginal people they could recall from their history
books were savages and heathen, responsible for the deaths
of priests. ey told the Commission of how the spiritual
practices of their parents and ancestors were belittled and
ridiculed.
Children were separated from families to get an educa-
tion, but many of them spoke of how they spent much of
their school days doing manual labour to support the school.
Children who had lived traditional lifeways told us that after a
decade of education, they did not have the skills they needed
to survive when they returned home.
Many people came with stories of harsh discipline, of class-
room errors corrected with a crack of a ruler, a sharp tug of the
ear, hair pulling, or severe and frequent strappings. e Com-
mission heard of discipline crossing into abuse: of boys being
beaten like men, of girls being whipped for running away.
People spoke of children being forced to beat other children,
sometimes their own brothers and sisters. e Commission
was told of runaways being placed in solitary connement
with bread-and-water diets and shaven heads.
People spoke of being sexually abused within days of
arriving at residential school. In some cases, they were abused
by sta; in others, by older students. Reports of abuse have
come from all parts of the country and all types of schools.
e students felt they had no one to turn to for help. If they did
speak up, often it was impossible to nd anyone who would
believe them. ose who ran away from abuse said that in
some cases, this only made their situation worse. ose who
raised complaints often had the same experience. Many com-
pared the schools to jail (in some cases, complete with barbed
wire), and fantasized about being able to return home. ose
who ran away could nd themselves in trouble at home, at
school, and with the police.
e Commission was told of children who died of disease,
of children who killed themselves, of mysterious and unex-
plained deaths.
Many students who came to school speaking no English
lost the right to express themselves. Students repeatedly told
the Commission of being punished for speaking their tradi-
tional languages. People were made to feel ashamed of their
language—even if they could speak it, they would not, and
they did not teach it to their children.
It was made clear that not only language was lost: it was
voice. People said their mouths had been padlocked. At
school, boys and girls could not speak to each other, meaning
that brothers and sisters were cut o from one another.
If they were abused, the only people they could complain
to were the abusers. Later, as adults and parents, former stu-
dents did not want to talk about their experiences to their chil-
dren; husbands and wives did not wish to speak to one another
about their residential school experiences. Some who were
not abused or beaten said they had survived by trying to be as
inconspicuous as possible. To stay out of trouble, they trained
themselves to be silent and invisible. Students who witnessed
violence and abuse spoke of how it left them traumatized.
e Commission heard about the hopes that some
teachers had had when they started teaching in residential