A keen, but slow, learner’s journey

This is my first column as Executive Director and Chief Executive Officer of the CFPC. In writing it, I considered talking about my new role or the state of the College, but that will come next month. Those things are important, but September is a time when formal recognition of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation in Canada reminds each of us to pause and reflect on the experiences and histories of Indigenous communities in Canada.

Family medicine allows us many career opportunities, teaching being one of them. We often talk about how as teachers we also learn from our students. I know many students will roll their eyes or sigh at this comment.

In 2008 I was given the opportunity to run a community medicine course that put me in front of 120 students on a regular basis. One day I was emulating television host Phil Donahue, running around the large lecture hall to facilitate students speaking to and hearing from one another. Our discussion at the time was about intervening when we felt children’s safety was at risk, the role of social services, and the awful decisions around removing a child from a home and their parents. It is a weighty conversation that most of us in family medicine have dealt with, but there in the classroom it was about to get even more serious. A student commented on their perception that Indigenous children were more likely to be separated from their families than other children. One Indigenous student bravely responded by reminding the class that many Indigenous parents had been stolen from their homes as children just because they were Indigenous and were then forced to grow up in residential schools. These children—and their parents—were systematically robbed of many things, but a key one was the ability to pass on parenting skills, often learned as you grow up in your home with your parents’ and family’s love and guidance. The strength and power of the student’s words quickly turned the discussion into an amazing educational experience for everyone, including their teacher.

Within medicine I have been called an iconoclast (which I had to look up). In my youth I demonstrated or rallied to support social justice causes such as anticonflict efforts, human rights, and environmental preservation. Yet after that class in 2008, I went home shocked and humbled about how little I knew about residential schools and the campaign of cultural disruption waged on Indigenous people. A friend of mine who worked regularly with Indigenous peoples explained how an Elder once told him, “When they came for my kids, I learned that I could be there when they took my kids or go to jail and not be there when they took my kids.” For anyone with loved ones, especially children, ponder the horror of that choice.

These individuals’ stories are powerful. As I revisited them, I was struck once again by the realization of how much I do not know. However, by listening to others, hearing their stories, reflecting on what I have learned, and being honest about where I am, maybe I can do better. I am embarrassed to this day about how little I knew about the residential school system when it was in operation, but the truth is I know or understand so little about the experiences and lives of others. By accepting this, allowing ourselves to learn, and not hiding or running from our discomfort, we will position ourselves on a better path. At a conference in June I heard Anishinaabe Grandmother Kim Wheatley from the Shawanaga First Nation in Ontario explain that reconciliation is the wrong word to use in this context, because Indigenous people have nothing to reconcile for and, of course, she is right. And I am still learning.

• Copyright © 2024 the College of Family Physicians of Canada