Those are the words of a student who participated in Indigenous Resistance and Development in Winnipeg, a course offered for the first time in the University of Winnipeg, Department of Urban and Inner-city studies.

In a previous post I wrote about the recent publication of the book Indigenous Resistance and Development in Winnipeg: 1960-2000. It was published in the spring of 2023, just in time for a new course to be offered in the Department of Urban and Inner-City Studies beginning in the fall of 2023. As noted in that post, the idea for the book came several years earlier. While teaching at the University of Winnipeg Selkirk Ave. campus at Merchants Corner, I learned that Students had little knowledge about the Indigenous leaders who fought hard to challenge colonial systems and establish Indigenous led organizations in Winnipeg. I reached out to Kathy Mallett for her help, and with financial support from the Manitoba Research Alliance I was able to hire Kathy to help develop a course about this important history.

But when looking for resources, Kathy hit a wall. She was able to find a bit of the history of various organizations in different publications here and there, but documentation was sparse, and none of what she found reflected the voices of the Indigenous people who were involved.

That’s where the idea of the book was born. There were many challenges along the way, but thanks to a number of committed authors, we were able to power through to see the project to completion.

The initial idea was that Kathy and I would teach the course together. Kathy brings experiential knowledge as one of the Indigenous activists involved in many of the initiatives students would learn about. My contribution is as a critical, non-Indigenous inter-disciplinary urban scholar teaching in Winnipeg’s North End. But by the time were ready to offer the course, Kathy was well into retirement and busy with other projects. She decided she would prefer to visit the class from time to time rather than commit to regular teaching. With her encouragement and guidance, I proceeded to develop the course. I aimed to develop a course that would students into the community while also bringing Indigenous activists to the classroom.

Throughout the term we heard directly from Indigenous leaders who were involved in the development of Indigenous organizations. For example, Kathy Mallett and Josie Hill shared stories about the development of Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre. Josie HIll and Annetta Armstrong spoke to us about the evolution of the Native Women’s Transition Centre – now the Indigenous Women’s Healing Centre. We visited Children of the Earth School and learned about the history of Neeginan Centre, at the Centre from Bill Shead, one of its founders. Students were fascinated with the video recorded interview with George Munroe, who shared his memories as a past Executive Director of the Indian and Metis Friendship Centre. Near the end of the term we met at the University of Manitoba Archives, where Archivist Brian Hubner explained to students how to access a collection of materials gathered years earlier through Manitoba Research Alliance, Preserving the History of Aboriginal Institutional Development in Winnipeg project. Students learned about the importance of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry and the Implementation Commission from one of its Commissioners, Wendy Whitecloud. Throughout the term, students learned that Indigenous women played a central role in the resistance to colonial policies and systemic racism and the development of Indigenous led institutions.

The feedback i received from students was positive. Students shared that they were surprised by how little they knew about the history of Indigenous activism in Winnipeg. One Indigenous student, who grew up in the inner-city and who knew of the organizations we discussed in the class, said that she did not know about how they came to be. She said that learning about this history was empowering “…if activists could change policies back then, so can we…This makes me feel proud to be Indigenous.” Students said that they appreciated hearing directly from the people involved in the work, and in particular noted that “the women were inspiring”. Students noted that learning about the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry was illuminating, and relevant in light of current challenges.

As is typical when teaching a course for the first time, I learned a few things too. I’m looking forward to making some changes next year while also ensuring that the course is centred around the voices of Indigenous people involved in this important part of our history.

I’m not gonna lie. For a couple of reasons, I have been struggling for the past year to find inspiration to post on this site. First, the pandemic. I know that some of my colleagues adjusted well to remote teaching when forced to do so during the pandemic. Not me. I found it to be somewhat of a soul sucking experience. Staring at a screen full of tiny squares, some with real live people (the best case scenario), others with a photo or sometimes not even that. Watching the clock too closely as I tried to get through the class wondering if students were mindfully present or multi-tasking – checking emails, texts or doing some laundry. Wondering this because that is what I often do when listening to a webinar or attending an online meeting i’m not that keen to be at.

All too often the class would end and I would feel a bit sad, missing the meaningful engagement with students before and after class in the ‘before covid’ times.

Remote learning is just not for me.

I was so ready to return to the classroom in 2022. It was a challenge at first as we all learned how to maneuver through the new normal of masking and distancing, but we figured things out. It was just good to be back. Sadly, we had another setback. We barely made it through the term and a fire in one of the Merchants Corner housing units meant that we would be displaced again for several months. I was taking a 6-month sabbatical beginning in July 2022. It couldn’t come fast enough. I desperately needed a break.

I returned in January 2023 and a month later we moved over to Merchants Corner from our temporary digs at the Ukrainian Labour Temple a few blocks away. Most of the students had never been in our beautiful building before. They were impressed and a bit surprised that they had not heard of Merchants Corner before. The University of Winnipeg’s best kept secret I said.

What a great group of students. Once they got to know each other a bit, they were quick to engage in class discussions, respectfully sharing diverse experiences without judgement. Grappling with the ideas explored in class and wondering why government policies are not designed in such a way that they actually alleviate poverty. A very fair question.

As much as I was enjoying the class and being back at Merchants Corner, i remained uninspired to post. At times I wondered why i was putting pressure on myself to do so. Its not like anyone would miss it. And it would be one less thing to worry about.

But then 2 things happened.

Celina Clements and Shawna Peloquin dropped by. Hannah Krenn ( Urban and Inner-City Studies Academic Advisor) and I had a great visit with them. Celina graduated from Urban and Inner City Studies in 2022 and she is over the moon about her accomplishment. As she should be. Celina studied part time for several years, and it wasn’t easy. She first joined our department when we were in our temporary basement space down the street. Shawna is in the process of completing her degree. We all had a good laugh remembering the musty but cozy old basement space and the stomping of tiny feet from the children at Makoonsag Intergenerational Children’s Centre located above us. We reminisced and caught each other up on who was doing what now.

Celina talked about bumping into a former student on the bus just a few days earlier. She said she encouraged her to come back and finish her degree, telling her “I did it, and I know that you can too”! Celina said she was going to follow-up with her to again encourage her to return to her studies. This reminded me of the unintended impacts of our department and our place-based experiential learning model. Students support each other—they encourage each other to persevere despite the sometimes daunting challenges. And they don’t judge their peers if they need to step away for a bit and continue when life is a bit more manageable.

Thanks Celina and Shawna for such a great visit! You inspired me.

A few days later, I listened to students in my Urban Poverty and Policy course share a bit about what they learned over the term. As is typical in our classrooms, students in this class come from diverse backgrounds and experiences with different relationships to poverty. Some have had no direct relationship with poverty at all, but an interest in learning about poverty related public policies. Others recalled childhood experiences of poverty. Some in the class continue to struggle with poverty and the oppressive systems that make it near impossible to escape it.

Students talked about what they learned from the course content, but mainly what they learned from each other. I shared what i learned from them. It was a nice way to end the term. After class ended some students lingered a bit, saying their goodbyes and wishing each other well. It made me smile. This is what a place-based experiential learning model looks like. It’s students from diverse backgrounds, being exposed to something new, in a new neighbourhood or with people from different backgrounds that they may not otherwise have been exposed to.

Thanks winter 2023 Urban Poverty and Policy students. It feels good to be inspired again. Hope to see some of you in the fall.

Some courses in the Department of Urban and Inner-City studies at Merchants Corner were offered in-person in the fall of 2021. I was fortunate that mine was one of them. My class was very small, we were all double vaccinated and able to safely space as the pandemic raged on.  Things weren’t entirely back to normal.  Students were discouraged from hanging out before and after class as we did our best to minimize contact. We missed the lively buzz in our student lounge, and those of us who were present kept our interactions to a minimum. We managed to get through the term without a single case of Covid-19.

Despite some challenges that came with the increase in precautions and restrictions to keep us all safe, it was invigorating to back.  Classroom discussions were lively as students took full advantage of their ability to engage with me and their peers in the kind of exchange that simply didn’t happen through online platforms.  Assigning small groups to “breakout rooms” can help address the feeling of being lost in the crowd, but it just isn’t the same.

By the end of the term our class developed a trusting, relaxed relationship and we had wonderful conversations about real world issues and challenges. Although we understood the necessity, we were dissappointed to learn that Omicron, the latest iteration of COVID-19, would require us to return to remote learning this January.

Nonetheless, here we are:

During my first remote class this term, I did the usual go around. I asked students to introduce themselves and say a bit about why they chose to take the course and what they hoped to learn. I also asked students to share, as much as they were comfortable, how they are doing.

There is little doubt that Covid-19 is taking a toll on mental health. For example, this Statistics Canada Survey

“ indicates that one in four (25%) Canadians aged 18 and older screened positive for symptoms of depression, anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in spring 2021, up from one in five (21%) in fall 2020.a’I wanted my students to know that it is okay to talk about it.

I wanted my students to know that it is okay to talk about this. There weren’t any surprises, but I was encouraged by their openness. They are all managing. Some said that although they are disappointed to be taking the course remotely, being able to take a course at all is better than being completely isolated and falling further behind.

As an instructor, I’ll do my best to create a safe, dynamic space for learning, but I am mindful of the long-term impact of remote learning.

Like Robert Danisch, as they describe in this article, I am concerned that:

“The COVID-19 pandemic has made it even easier to reduce teaching to knowledge dissemination and to obscure other, equally important, forms of education that help students be better citizens, thinkers, writers and collaborators.”

As Danisch notes:

“These other forms of education are the cornerstone of human flourishing and democratic participation.”

The Department of Urban and Inner-City Studies prides itself in providing a safe environment for people from diverse experiences to learn about and discuss urban and inner-city issues and injustices. Students are encouraged to become actively engaged citizens, challenging the systemic racism, social and economic and environmental injustice that we know to persist. Those of us who have had the privilege of attending university during ‘normal times’ know that this kind of critical and active engagement often percolates organically among students before and after class.

When studying remotely, students have a more difficult time connecting in this way – they typically sign in, take their breaks solo, and leave when the class is over. There isn’t a natural opportunity to just hang out and chat. I argue that this form of learning contradicts what we teach students about the importance of active engagement beyond the classroom.

As the world becomes increasingly divided, made worse by the pandemic,  we should all be concerned about the implications of learning platforms that allow us to avoid respectful and sometimes difficult conversations that are essential to healthy democracies.

In the short term, remote learning for postsecondary students may be necessary for public health. But I fear we will all pay a heavy price if we don’t get back to the classroom as soon as we are able.

It’s been a heck of a year. I’m not gonna lie. it was difficult to be inspired to post here while spending some 18 months at home teaching and meeting remotely through the Covid-19 pandemic.

I was so pleased to get back to the classroom this fall and we’ve been hearing from our students that they are too. As student Roberta Godin shared, “you can’t build relationships online”. So true. And building relationships is central to our pedagogical approach at Merchants Corner, in Winnipeg’s North End on Treaty One territory and the heartland of the Métis.

The pandemic isn’t over yet, but we are safely back in our beloved space, safely masked and double vaxxed. And as Kathy Mallett and i describe in this article in The conversation, we are learning more about why Merchants Corner is so important as we respond to Truth and Reconciliation Calls to Action.

Many of the students who study with us do practicum placements with inner-city organizations and often this leads to employment. Many continue their studies toward a Bachelor of Arts degree while working. They often find that what they learn in the classroom can help them in their work. They also bring lived experience into the classroom and this further enhances the learning experience for everyone in the classroom.

Khalida Benedictson was a student in my second-year Urban Poverty and Policy course during the winter term. She submitted the following reflection describing how her university studies and her work in the community intersect and how she, her colleagues, and the community she serves are coping in the midst of the pandemic. Thanks Kahlida for giving me permission to post this very honest, heartfelt description of life on the front lines, and how your university studies help you better serve the most vulnerable in our city.

The COVID-19 pandemic has had devastating consequences. The virus has travelled across the world in a matter of months, leaving destruction and fear in its wake. This is especially true for people living in poverty in Winnipeg’s inner city. I recently moved into a permanent administrative position at North Point Douglas Women’s Centre (NPDWC) after completing a student placement and working in their drop-in for the last year. We had already been short-staffed for a long time when the virus hit, and half of our remaining team is now working from home. There are only three of us left at the centre to serve our community, which is high needs at the best of times. Our neighbourhood are extremely food insecure, with many relying on the coffee and toast we offer in our drop-in and the emergency food we hand out when we can to tide them over between food bank days. We have been fortunate to get emergency funding to provide food supports, but we lack the staff and space to fully meet the demand.

            Working at NPDWC has put me on the front line of multiple policy failures, and now on the front line of a pandemic where those failures are even more pronounced. This experience has been heartbreaking, and scary at times. Our facility is closed to the public, so we only have face to face contact with people once a week when we hand out our food hampers, feminine hygiene products, and baby supplies. We started out purchasing, compiling, and handing out 50 hampers per week. We quickly realized we needed to double it. It still is not enough. When we are not open, or we run out of hampers, there are knocks at the door. Some people are so desperate that they bang on the door so violently it seems to shake the building. People yell outside our door, hoping we will open it and let them in. They call us and lash out because they are angry and afraid. They wait outside our door for us to leave to ask us for help. It is excruciating to have to tell people we cannot help them, or that we have run out of supplies for the week. Many of these people receive Employment and Income Assistance (EIA), and are ineligible for the financial supports provided by the government during the pandemic save for increased child tax and GST credits, which will likely be deducted from their EIA budgets. We are one of their few supports through this, and no matter how hard we try we just cannot do enough.

            Many people rely on us to receive their mail and messages from their probation officers, EIA or Child and Family Services (CFS) workers, and other vital services. Since our building is closed to the public, many people are unable to access their messages unless we see them in the hamper line. Some people use our bathroom to bathe themselves and change their clothes. Our community computers and phone are sources of social contact and recreation for folks who do not have access to those things otherwise. Our laundry machines are always booked by people who cannot afford to use the laundromat. All these services have been put on hold, and people sorely need them. Our government’s social policies have failed these people already, and now they are doubly failing them. They are significantly less able to self-isolate and practice physical distancing, putting them at increased risk of contracting COVID-19. They are isolated from friends and family they were previously able to communicate with when they accessed our centre. This is taking a significant toll one people’s mental health, but they have been left behind by the government in this area as well.

            The Province implemented free mental health support via phone during the pandemic – but this excludes some of the people who need it most. People cannot access telephone services if they do not have a phone. No government-run plan is in place to bridge this gap, so NPDWC board members are reaching out to other community organizations to coordinate a plan, if possible. This will take time, however, and we are afraid that some of our participants will be irreparably affected by this. The government has done some positive things, such as quickly implementing social distancing policies and closing schools, but people in poverty have been left behind. This was a common theme throughout the Urban Poverty and Policy course this term, was glaringly obvious to me even before my time at NPDWC. However, my time there and during this pandemic have shone an even harsher light on the provincial governments attitude toward people in poverty. Taking this class has given me more perspective on the social policy that affects the lives of the people I serve. In fact, it has also given me more tools to use when I do support and advocacy work for our participants. I can engage with government departments more meaningfully, as I can now interpret the way they do things as policy-based and have more tools to explain that to participants who may not understand. It also helps me hold them accountable when decisions do not seem to be policy-based, which has led to some moderate success in advocating on behalf of participants. Most importantly, this class has shown me just how much of a failure our social policy is for people living in poverty during this pandemic. It has been difficult to do our job under these conditions, but it has been even more difficult for the people we serve to simply live their lives which is what keeps us coming in to work and tirelessly finding ways to support them—Khalida Benedictson, April 2020.T

Postscript: Mama Bear Clan operates out of the NPDWC. They are on the streets making sure vulnerable people have essential needs. Thanks Mama Bear Clan!

Like most non-essential services, Merchants Corner closed its doors last week. The Department of Urban and Inner City Studies followed University of Winnipeg directive and suspended all classroom instruction. Students are now at home finishing up assignments and completing courses through online formats.

It is a temporary measure that is necessary, but it is completely out of sync with the spirit of our program. Our pedagogical model is built on the concept of bringing people from various backgrounds and experiences to learn in a small, safe space. To think critically. To better understand the root causes of injustice and how we can challenge injustice in our daily lives.

Students learn as much from the classroom experience of sitting next to and sharing with a person from a completely different lived experience, than from the professor at the front of the class. Many of our students are not the typical university student. They are older, having returned to post secondary education as mature adults. They come to rely on the day to day support and encouragement they receive from our dedicated faculty, instructors and staff. Many have children who are now also at home. It will be particularly challenging for these students to complete their term assignments and study at home.

Donna: a reminder of the power of pedagogy and place

While working at my home computer yesterday, I received an email from Donna. We then had a nice chat on the phone. She said she just felt a need to connect. I reassured her about a few assignments she has due and we ended our call wishing each other to “stay well – stay healthy – stay home”.

Later in the day I received an email from Donna. She has given me permission to post the text here:

As I sit here at home in quarantine, I have had a lot of time to reflect on my classes in Urban and Inner-City Studies at Merchants Corner. This April I will complete my certificate in Urban and Inner City Studies with a focus on Advocacy. I’ve been so excited about this, feeling a sense of accomplishment as I reach the finish line. But the past week has been very difficult as I try to finish up my papers at home, unable to connect with my support system at Merchants Corner. The professors have been great at keeping us informed and fulfilling our needs regarding assignments, but I have gone from feeling ecstatic about graduating with my certificate, to feeling lost and disconnected.

You see, Merchants Corner is more than just a place where I take my classes. It is a place I feel connected to. It is part of the community and important to the students who attend courses there.

It is a great start to my day when I’m greeted by the friendly woman at the front desk and smell the good food coming from the cafe. The friendly University of Winnipeg staff and professors make me feel welcome and safe.

Merchants Corner is a special place where the professors really care. It is where us Indigenous students interact with other cultures and respect each other as we share our stories.

Reconciliation is real at Merchants Corner.

I am disappointed that I cannot finish my last few classes on site at Merchants Corner. I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to celebrate graduation this spring with my peers and professors. I’ll miss the smell of burning sage, the sharing of food at our end of term potluck, having a cup of coffee wth supportive encouraging professors, and supportive hugs from peers.

I will get through and complete my certificate. But I am sad that I will have to do so at home alone at my computer, waiting for my grades to appear online. But my experience at Merchants Corner is one that I will never forget. The professors, the staff and my peers will remain in my heart. I am blessed to have known you all.

Thanks to Donna and all of the great students who choose to take courses with us. You’ll get through this, and you’ll go on to do great things in the world!

I’ve commented many times on this site about the powerful discussions taking place in Urban and Inner-City studies classrooms. This year has been no exception. It really is difficult to explain what happens when you bring together 25 students from diverse socio-economic  backgrounds, together to learn in a neighbourhood that continues to be stigmatized, feared and avoided by many in our city.  In a neighbourhood where many in the classroom have lived all their lives and have struggled with the effects of poverty, racism and intergenerational trauma resulting from colonial policies that continue to oppress.

I have often thought it would be great to have policy makers, university administrators and others in positions of power to sit in on one of our classes.  But I also know that the dialogue would likely not be the same. It takes a while for students to develop the kind of trust required for students to feel safe to share without judgement.

If only visitors could be flies on the wall. Listening and learning, but not disrupting the trusting and open dialogue between people whose paths would otherwise not likely cross.

As a professor, it is both humbling and extremely rewarding to teach in this experiential learning environment.  I offer some knowledge to guide learning through a critical theoretical perspective, but the most important learning, and I imagine that which will be longest lasting, comes from the open, honest and respectful sharing that takes place in the ‘circle’ setting that is typical in our classrooms, between students from a broad range of experiences and privilege.

A White student who grew up in a wealthy suburban neighbourhood, captured it this way: “While the readings, powerpoint presentations, and instructor-facilitated discussions in the class have taught me an incredible amount about the root causes of poverty, the most valued teachings I will take away will be the teachings of my peers.”  

A young Indigenous student said: “overall this class was very personal for me.  I found myself at times realizing the similarities between topics and my family members experiences…this course had a much bigger impact on me than I expected. So much so, that i have changed my major to Urban and Inner City Studies…I feel lucky that I got to be part of a supportive, non-judgemental group of people.”

Another White student from a rural community said this in a final reflection describing what she learned over the term:

I have been struggling to find the words big, and bold enough to reflect on the past twelve weeks I have spent within the walls of this classroom. I walked in on the first day, a 22-year-old Caucasian woman, coming from a home vast with privilege, love, responsibility and ignorance. I have spent the entirety of my life living in a bubble, constructed by my experiences, my culture, and biases passed down from generation. Taking this course has opened my eyes in a way I’m not sure can be adequately described, no matter the ways in which I choose to string together twenty-six different letters.

The moments I have learned the most over the course of the last twelve weeks, were the moments I felt most uncomfortable. I have come to realize that little to no growth is made sitting in the comfort of your bubble. So being asked to step outside, with a fresh set of eyes, and a brand-new perspective has been inspiring to say the least…I have struggled to confront the mentality I held onto for so long, regarding both myself, and the way I viewed my privilege. I never inquired why things were the way they were, I simply allowed it to be a part of my story without realizing the damage it was causing not only me, but the individuals I unintentionally, and often indirectly hurt in the process. Taking these steps outside my warm, comfortable bubble of ignorance was certainly not easy and I found myself in a state of bewilderment more often than I care to admit. The preconceived notions I have spent the last 22 years allowing to fill my brain, all came boiling up to the top begging to be listened to. Pushing those notions aside and allowing for a new narrative to play itself out was terrifying, and I am so grateful for the environment, the peers, and the leadership that has been provided to me throughout this class…During the early years of my life, and all throughout high school, I was never offered the opportunity or tools to be able to see my role in a grand scheme, I was taught to think of my life as normal, average, and ideal. I grew up not realizing that I was blessed to be born to the family I was, in the place I was, at the time I was. There was never a course in school that took the time to distinguish how one’s class, religion, ethnic status, race, or geographical location could play such a monumental role in the long-term life path we would all be sent down. My privilege was never shown to me, nor was it explained how it would affect me once I stepped into the “real world.” I feel grateful for the safe, happy, sheltered life I was given, and looking fondly back at my childhood—but do I wish I was given more opportunities to expand my horizons? Create opinions of my own before my judgment was clouded with other biases? Be filled in on the entire truth of my history? Yes. I absolutely do…

On the last day of class, as students shared what they learned, one Indigenous student reminded non-Indigenous students of their responsibilities moving forward.  She thanked her non-Indigenous classmates for venturing out of their comfort zones to study with her and the other Indigenous students at Merchants Corner, and for participating in uncomfortable conversations that challenged their worldviews. But she also said: “we [Indigenous students} have shared with you openly about our painful experiences as a result of residential schools, the sixties scoop, and the continued systemic racism that we encounter everyday in our city.  It is now your responsibility to do something about it.”

“That”  she said “is reconciliation.”