Vivian Ketchum was five when she was taken to a home school. He thinks about what it means to finally finish high school. I am surrounded by various souvenirs as I sit in my living room: gift cards, gifts from friends, my late son’s graduation hat. Looking at them I bring home the reality of my graduation: At 58, I finally have my diploma. I am a high school graduate! Maybe if I say the words several times, it will start to feel real. This Red Road (a journey of life in the indigenous community) – until graduation was long. My first class was in a small blue building at Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School in Kenora, Ont. I was five years old when I was picked up by my beloved family. I remember the big red pencils with blue paper in the rows of tiny desks in the classroom. After breakfast, the younger students walked into the blue building. I liked the younger teacher. She smiled a lot and was not as scary as the mother of the house. Within that classroom, I felt safe from the older children and the mother of the house. Ketchum attended Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential until the school closed in 1976. (CBC) After the residential school closed in 1976, I was placed in several foster homes. A foster mother bought me a nasty red jumpsuit in high school using a voucher for child and family service. Other children were already making fun of me because I was a thin teenager with thick glasses and bad teeth. The red uniform was just more ammunition to use against me. I only took one gym class before I quit that class. Then, when I was 16, I was sent to a group home in southern Ontario. I was in a small town with only two native children, and I was one of them. My teachers noticed that I rarely did any homework, but my grades were good. One of them decided to test me. I had a hard time fitting in with an almost all-white school – Vivian Ketchum They found out that they were not challenging me enough and put me in a special class. This would have succeeded if I had been willing to be challenged. But I had a hard time fitting into an almost all-white school. I started skipping classes and falling behind in my grades. I fell in with a bad crowd. I started drinking secretly, which did not help me with my homework. I was 18 and I was in the 9th grade when I got old without care. I was put on a plane to return home to Kenora to attend my father’s funeral. I was relieved to return home with my family, even though I did not finish high school and return for a funeral. I did not even try to continue my education after that, as I was too busy trying to survive. I had my son in my early 20s, decided to try to get up, and went to a rehab center at a women’s shelter. I learned life skills and settled in a new place. Then I tried to go back to school, but failed again due to the demands of the unmarried mother. We lived on social assistance and I struggled to take care of my son. So I put my dreams for school on hold until my son gets older. My son’s needs came first, and I did my best to make sure Tyler graduated and had a better life than I ever did. My son was very much liked by his friends and the community. Our house was the place for his friends to gather and enjoy a homemade meal. Tyler had plans to become a police officer and continue his training. Ketchum, left, with her son Tyler in 2010, before dying of a brain tumor. (Submitted by Vivian Ketchum) In 2010, Tyler was diagnosed with a brain tumor and died when he was 24 years old. I put my dream to finish high school on hold after my son died. I needed time to mourn and be healed of my loss. It was almost a decade before I felt ready to go back to high school. In 2021, I applied for a great job that paid well. I had everything they wanted in my job application until I was asked to provide a high school transcript. I did not and the job interview ended with this note. The refusal to work was discouraging, but it ignited a fire inside me. I found the Winnipeg Adult Education Center near my home. I only came in to ask some questions, but the mentor encouraged me to sign up and fill out forms there and then. The words of my late son resonated in my mind: “You must go on.” Ketchum holds her son’s moccasins in graduation photos. (Submitted by Vivian Ketchum) I enrolled as a mature student and was graded in 11th grade in English and math. Most students went to school remotely due to the pandemic, so class sizes were small and access to the teacher was great. I found that my headset cancels out distractions and noise in my head. I managed to concentrate better. If I was frustrated with distance learning, I could always go back to it later. I was learning at my own pace. When I finished my last school work, I felt a sense of sadness that ended this stage of my life. It was mixed with relief that I set a goal for myself and actually accomplished it. And then my friends gave me a graduation party with a surprise guest, something I did not expect to happen at all. CLOCKS Musician Ernest Monias surprises Vivian Ketchum at her graduation party:
Watch Ernest Monias surprise graduate Vivian Ketchum
Vivian Ketchum is a surviving school that has overcome the challenges of finally finishing high school. Friends gathered to celebrate with a surprise performance by the ‘King of the North’, Ernesto Monias. From a small blue class at a residential school in northern Ontario to a stone building in Winnipeg, my educational journey has been challenging. But I have reached my dream to get this diploma 40 years later. This piece of paper will open doors for me now and in the future. I have discovered more of the graduation gifts at graduation. there is a new level of respect from the community. And I have fulfilled my son επιθυ’s wish: I continued and I will continue. Vivian Ketchum is an Anishinaabe community activist, author, survivor of a home school and, since June 30, a high school graduate. Do you have a fascinating personal story that can bring understanding or help to others? We want to hear from you. Here is more information on how to submit to us.
