Copyright 2025 by Ruvir Seth

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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Ruvir Seth

Illustrations by Ruvir Seth

1st edition 2025

Residential schools

By Ruvir Seth

Illustrated by Ruvir Seth

I was on the boat, crying. I would be away from my family for the first time. My name is Alo. I am 6 years old. The outsiders came and took me to the residential school. When they arrived, they spoke to my parents. My parents were crying but I didn't know why. 

“Alo,” my dad said, Tears streaming down his face. “The outsiders are taking you to their school where you will learn English.” “You will have to be strong” as the outsiders steered me towards the boat. 

“ I don’t want to go,” I screamed. I was fighting to go back but the outsiders pushed me onto the boat.

“Do not forget where you come from” My mom said. The boat began to move. I cried. I didn't know what to do. As we arrived the school towered over us. I wondered where my parents were, while I wiped my tears away. 

The nuns looked cruel and mean to me, the school was dark and scary. There were vines on the walls. The bricks were cracked and the paint was falling off. My dad had told me about the nuns at the school. 

They took me into a room with a lot of other boys and forced me into a seat. Then they brought scissors and cut my hair, making me cry even harder, begging them to stop in Inuvialuktun. The nun froze. “WE ONLY SPEAK ENGLISH AND FRENCH HERE,” she screamed. I did not understand. Then a nun came over and translated for me.

I did not know how to speak English or French so I kept quiet and silently sobbed. A lot of boys had their hair cut after me. After the nuns forced us to get our hair cut, they gave us these scratchy clothes. The shoes pricked and poked me and the stockings irritated my skin. I was not used to this feeling. They gave us all new names. They gave me the name Lucas. 

Then they sent us straight to do chores. I had to wash plates for so long my arms were hurting and I was getting hungry. I was too scared to speak. A nun called us to eat. I did not understand as she spoke English. A nun came and translated and I was excited to eat. When I sat to eat they gave us cabbage soup. I cautiously took a little sip and I immediately spat it out. It tasted foul. I wanted to have some Whale meat and told a nun I couldn't eat this. She said I would have to eat this tomorrow if I didn't eat it now. I wasn't the only one who had a problem eating this. A lot of kids who were on the boat with me were also gagging while eating. I forced another spoon down, thinking of how disgusting it would be tomorrow if I didn’t eat it now. It tasted like socks. Then the nuns took us to bed.

 I sobbed all night just like the other boys. I wondered where my parents were now as I cried myself to sleep.

We were woken early the next day and I did not know what was happening but some of the older boys were kneeling so I followed them. Then, everybody closed their eyes and muttered to themselves. A nun came up to us new boys and told us that we had to ask for forgiveness from the outsider god, Jesus or we were all going to hell. She said this in English and only a few boys understood. The nun looked furious. A nun came and translated. I didn’t like the sound of going to hell so I asked for forgiveness like the nuns told us to do.

Months and months went by every day as bad as the last.

Then, It was winter. A fluffy bed of snow covered the grounds. I wanted to go outside and jump in but I couldn’t.

 After we ate, we did not go to do chores like usual. A Nun took us to a gloomy room with a lot of desks. The Nun said to sit down. Everybody sat including me. I know very basic English now. Everybody was tense, waiting to see what would happen next. The nun took a piece of chalk and Wrote the A B C’s on the chalkboard. “We're going to have English classes from now on,” She said. She pointed at a letter and said “A,” then “B,” then “C,” and on and on.

She told us to repeat and so we did. It was dreadful. Sitting there for hours and repeating the same “A,” again and again. The nun gave us overly complicated questions and yelled at us for no reason. We would not have survived if the nun that translated was not there to help us.

The summer finally arrived. I ran out the door to look for my parents. Then I saw them looking for me and immediately ran over. “Alo,” my dad said. I had not heard my name in Inuvialuktun in so long that it sounded unfamiliar. Then he said something In Inuvialuktun, but I couldn't understand him. I said in English, “Can we go home now?” 

“Yes,” my dad said. When he was younger he was also taken to the residential school and learned English. When we were on the boat sailing back, my mom tried talking to me in Inuvialuktun. I couldn’t understand.

I was very sad when I realized that I had forgotten our language. I couldn’t speak or understand it.

When we got home my mom was making lunch while my dad talked to me about my experience at the residential school.

“We had to wake up very early and pray to their god Jesus,” I said “We got new clothes, had to get food like cabbage soup, and had to do chores all day.”

My mom had served my favorite meal, whale meat. I was so hungry . When I ate it, it felt weird, chewy and hard to swallow. “I can’t eat this,” I said to my dad. 

I had gotten so used to the food and clothes at the residential school, that My Indigenous culture felt weird.

I had to relearn my language and old ways, but as the boat arrived in September to take me to the residential school, It would all be lost again.

          Prespective 2 

                        The nuns