Episode 4 - Beatrice Bernhardt

Photo: Beatrice Bernhardt (right) and her husband, Ernie Bernhardt. Credit: CBC North.

Beatrice Bernhardt is from the Kugluktuk area, in what is now Nunavut. 

"We lived in camps. All the families lived in camps...[and] any family that grew up with you, whether they be aunties, uncles, grandparents, anyone, that was your family. There was no distinction between, you're my father, you're my mother, we were all family. And that's how the connection to family was very strong for me as a child and for my siblings."

When she was six years old, Beatrice was taken from her close-knit family by float plane to Inuuvik (Inuvik). She spent the next nine years institutionalized at Grollier Hall. 

Grollier Hall

Grollier Hall was the Catholic residence that was adjacent to Sir Alexander Mackenzie School and Samuel Hearne Secondary School in Inuuvik. There was also an Anglican residence called Stringer Hall.

Left photo: Grollier Hall, Inuuvik, 1975. Credit: NWT Archives/Native Communications Society fonds - Native Press photograph collection/N-2018-010: 02765. Right photo: Sir Alexander Mackenzie School, Inuuvik, 1964. Credit: NWT Archives/Jean Boulva Photograph Collection/N-2018-002: 0019.

Grollier and Stringer Halls were the largest residential institutions in the North, designed with the capacity to house 250 children each. Grollier Hall operated from 1959 to 1997. Stringer Hall operated from 1959 to 1975. 

Grollier Hall is notorious among residential schools in the North. According to the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, between 1958 and 1979 “there was never a year in which Grollier Hall in Inuvik did not employ at least one dormitory supervisor who would later be convicted for sexually abusing students at the school.” ^[1]

Grandin College

After completing grade ten, Beatrice was sent to Tthebacha (Fort Smith), where she attended Grandin College for two years. Grandin College was a Catholic residential school that operated from 1960 to 1985.

Photo: Children cross-country skiing in front of Grandin College in Fort Smith, 1967. Credit: ©NWT Archives/Felix Labat fonds/N-2017-012: 0346.

Beatrice and Recreation

During her conversation with Paul, Beatrice talked about some of the ways that recreation was a positive force in her life while she was at residential school. It taught her new skills. It also helped to improve relations with other students.

But there was another side to recreation for Beatrice. Through games and sports, Beatrice and her fellow students learned about competition, something that hadn’t been part of their lives before residential school. Competition, but especially the push to win, had negative consequences. It pitted students against one another and could make them feel badly about themselves if they didn’t perform.

"Suddenly, you had to learn how to compete. Win, win, win. And those were skills we didn't know. We had to learn them. And to me, at the time, they were quite negative. Suddenly, you didn't feel so good about yourself anymore. You didn't feel that you were as good as so and so in skiing, or in basketball, or in volleyball, or even dodgeball. If you always got hit and you were out, suddenly, everybody saw you. Oh, you're just a loser. You shouldn't be, you're not on our team anymore."

Life After Residential School

After graduating from the Teacher Education Program at Arctic College in Tthebacha (Fort Smith), Beatrice worked as a teacher.

Photo: Beatrice Bernhardt, Teacher Education Program graduate, Cambridge Bay, 1990. Credit: NWT Archives/Northwest Territories. Department of Public Works and Services fonds/G-1995-001: 6572.

If you are a Survivor or intergenerational Survivor of residential school or day school and need help, there's a free 24-hour support line. Call 1-800-695-4419. 

Notes

[1] Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, What We Have Learned: Principles of Truth and Reconciliation (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015), 76–77.

 

Episode Credits

Host: Paul Andrew

Guest: Beatrice Bernhardt

Producers: Amos Scott, Jess Dunkin

Editor: Jess Dunkin

Audio Engineer: Brandon Larocque

Theme Song: Stephen Kakfwi

 

Episode Transcript

Paul Andrew

My name is Paul Andrew. I am the host of How I Survived. This is a podcast about recreation at residential and day schools in the Canadian North. 

In this episode, you will hear about abuse and trauma. 

If you are a Survivor or intergenerational Survivor of residential or day school and you need help, there is a free 24-hour support line. Call 1-800-695-4419. That number again, 1-800-695-4419.

Please, take care as you listen.

Beatrice Bernhardt

There was no such thing as competition, winning. We weren't taught that, Paul. We didn't learn that until we got to residential school. Suddenly, you had to learn how to compete. Win. Win, win, win. And those were skills we didn't know. 

To me, at the time, they were quite negative. Suddenly, you didn't feel so good about yourself anymore.You didn't feel that you were as good as so and so in skiing, or in basketball, or in volleyball, or even dodgeball. If you always got hit and you were out, suddenly, you know, everybody saw you. “Oh, you're just a loser. You're not on our team anymore.” 

Paul

In May 2022, I spent the afternoon with Beatrice and Ernie Bernhardt at their home in Sǫ̀mbak’è. Yellowknife is in Treaty 8, Chief Drygeese Territory, the homeland of the Yellowknives Dene and the North Slave Métis.

In today’s episode, you will hear my conversation with Beatrice. Beatrice is from Kugluktuk, in what is now known as Nunavut, on the Arctic Coast. 

Beatrice and I met as students at Grollier Hall, a Catholic residential school in Inuvik. So that’s many years I’ve known her, both in classrooms and outside. She always has been an amazingly outgoing, happy, good person to be around.

I started our conversation by asking Beatrice to introduce herself and tell me about her family.

Beatrice 

My name is Beatrice Bernhardt. My maiden name is Niptanatiak. My family comes from Coppermine. Originally it used to be part of NWT, and now it's part of Nunavut. We call it Kugluktuk. And that means where the river flows.

My father is a blue-eyed, white, Eskimo. His father was a whaler or some guy that travelled on a boat and met my grandmother, even though my grandmother had her own husband. But back in the day if you were permitted to sleep with a woman they shared the woman, and any child that came out of that had to be kept in the community. The father, the white man, couldn't take the child away. So that's how my father came to be.

And my mother is Copper Eskimo, pure Copper Eskimo. She was born and lived at Great Bear Lake. She and my grandfather, and her siblings, they lived on Great Bear Lake with the Dene. There was no animosity or borders, you know, everything was shared. So, that's what I came from.

We lived in camps. All the families lived in camps. Certain families lived in this area, a certain family lived in that area, and by family, our definition for us Inuit, and I'm sure for Aboriginal people, is any family that grew up with you, whether they be aunties, uncles, grandparents, anyone, that was your family. There was no distinction between you're my father, you're my mother, we were all family. And that's how the connection to family was very strong for me as a child and for my siblings. 

Paul

How would you describe your life before residential school?

Beatrice 

Oh, it was amazing. We moved with the animals, the seasons. That was our calendar. And we learned from our aunties and our uncles, our grandmothers, how to do things. 

And this may sound very old fashioned, but girls learned how to do things that girls should know what to do because you were going to get married. That was the goal. And you would have children. 

The young boys were taught how to hunt, how to be a good person, how to share, how to be caring and strong and survive on the land and around animals. And that included the young guys going out alone and learning how to survive, build an igloo, hunt, catch and eat what you can, but also bring back enough food for the camp.

That's how we learned to do things. It was passed down through, not only from our parents, but also, like I said, from our family, our elders, even our siblings. 

And the main thing we were taught was, you respect your Elders. And for us, an Elder was anyone that is older than me as a little four- or three-year-old. Those were my Elders and I had to respect them. And you know when we grew up, Paul, we didn't talk back. There was no such thing as answering back and talking back and getting angry at them because they were older than me. I had to be respectful and try and listen. We didn't always listen, but we tried.

Paul

What survival skills did you learn at home before you went to residential school?

Beatrice 

Back then we had to haul water or ice depending on the season. I learned how to do things on my own, but also to share work. And through that was with our cousins, companionship, sharing.

And you know the one thing we never had, Paul, was fear. I wasn't afraid of people. I wasn't afraid of animals or anything I met on the land because we learned that as long as we didn't harm them, they wouldn't harm us. I learned not to be afraid. To learn to do new things. So that helped me tremendously when we ended up in Inuvik. 

And, you know, there was a certain wonder and awe about being in a different community and seeing these tall sticks, which I learned later were trees. Because Kugluktuk is in the tundra. There's only hillsides and mountainsides and water and lakes, but no trees. So I learned what a tree was. We also learned how to climb a tree. Isn't that amazing? You could climb a tree. 

Paul

When you were at home, it sounds like everybody was your teacher.

Beatrice 

Yes. Everything was taught to us. Sure we could ask questions, but we weren't really always asking. We were mostly listening. And that included speaking our own language, Inuinnaqtun. We spoke a lot in our language. And also some English, because my parents spoke English. 

My parents went to residential school in Aklavik, so we were second generation. All of us nine children went to residential school except my youngest brother. My mother wouldn't send him. So he was the lucky one. He was the only one. 

Paul

How old were you when you first went to residential school?

Beatrice 

I just turned six. I went to Inuvik, and at that time we went by float plane. The float plane would fly from here, Yellowknife, pick up all of us little Inuit children from the camps. We had travelled from our camp to Coppermine. And, you know, we didn't know what an airplane was, but we saw this thing docked on the shore. And my mother told us, in our language, that we were going to go for a ride. And that was, of course, the ride was very long and we never returned. 

Paul

The plane that picked Beatrice up in Kugluktuk in 1959 took her and the other children on board to Inuvik. There were some of the first students at the Inuvik Federal School, which later became the Sir Alexander Mackenzie School, or SAMS. 

There were two residences next to SAMS: Stringer Hall for Anglican children and Grollier Hall for Catholic children. Grollier and Stringer Halls were the largest residential institutions in the North, designed with the capacity to house 250 children each. Grollier Hall operated from 1959 to 1997. Beatrice lived at Grollier Hall for nine years. 

After completing grade ten, she was sent to Fort Smith, where she attended Grandin College for two years.

Paul

Beatrice, can you tell me about life at residential school?

Beatrice 

When we started residential school, it was very regimented, very scheduled. We had come from a camp lifestyle, where you just ran freely, went freely anywhere else, and there was no scheduled. You know, we didn't even know what supper time was, breakfast time. There was no such thing. We ate when we were hungry. We shared our food. Then suddenly we went to this very scheduled regimented lifestyle, and you had to follow the rules. We learned about rules. 

We were in junior girls, little kids. We helped each other because that's what you learned at camp, how to help someone that needed help. There was no asking. We just did it because that's what we were taught. And that included the Dene child or the Inuit child, because we were all brought up the same from our families. Family connections are very strong, very solid, and as long as you have that, you could survive anything and that's what I learned. All of us learned that in our family.

Paul

Six years old is pretty young. Did you ever think about your Elders, your parents?

Beatrice 

Yeah. I cried. We cried a lot quietly in our little cot. You know, we had never slept alone. There was no such thing as one little single bed. We all shared a bed, the children and our parents, and even our grandmothers. So that took some getting used to. 

And also I had never seen a toilet. This thing that suddenly made a whoosh when you pressed this lever. And looking down at it, I thought it was going to suck me up. That was my biggest fear of that toilet. I know today it sounds like a silly fear, but that was the one thing I feared, was falling into that toilet and I would be sucked away.

Paul

Do you remember how you spent your spare time in residential school?

Beatrice 

After school, Sister made us change. We all had white blouses and a black jumper. We had to change into jeans and a shirt. Then Sister would teach us how to embroider. We would do that for maybe about an hour. We learned to do that sewing, like say, in the wintertime. In the spring and summertime, we did different activities, but they were all scheduled and every child did them, whether you were good at it or not, you still had to do it. And of course there was also a set time for homework. So everything went by the clock. Everything. The only time you were allowed to run freely, was when they let you go play outside on the yard. Then you were allowed to just run freely and play and be a kid.

Paul

Was recreation mandatory?

Beatrice 

Not when we were young kids. We would go have gym time and we'd go down to the big gymnasium. So we'd play dodgeball or basketball or learn to play volleyball. But that was free playtime down there. Then you also had the playroom upstairs where we'd all go and you would play with dolls or play anything or write or read, listen to a record player. And those were just some free time. But like I said, everything else was scheduled. 

We learned how to ski in the winter time. In the summertime, we learned to run as part of our training in skiing. We learned how to run in the bush. I was terrified of the bush because I couldn't see. Coming from a big open plain area, the tundra, and I would think, you know, this bear's going to come out and eat me.

Paul

One of the things that I remember, from high school mostly, was that the girls had to wear skirts or dresses all the time, even when it was 40 below. And they would kick us out of Grollier Hall in the morning around 8.30, but they won’t let us into the school until 9. So we had to stand outside. And I remember thinking, the girls must be freezing.

Beatrice 

We'd freeze. We were so cold. You know, when I was growing up, our clothing was all fur. So we were always warm. Then coming to residential school, we were always cold. They took away all our warm clothing. And we'd be cold. 

Paul

What kind of impact did recreation have on your experience of residential school?

Beatrice 

A positive. You learn to do the sports activities and whatnot with other kids. You learned how to share, say the ball or the skis, or you learned how to wax your skis. Somebody else would help you, even the guys would help us, you know. How to do things that would help you succeed in that sport. So everyone was your teacher and showed you whether you were a child or an adult. 

And that to me was very positive because I learned from everybody else like I used to learn from home. Except now my family was the one that was in residential school. Because that's what you learned at home. Anyone that was part of you became part of your family, whether you were home or at school. 

And today, Paul, I'm very thankful that I have friends and people that I can count on, no matter if they're from Délı̨nę or Tulít’a or anywhere, or Pelly Bay, Kugaaruk, that's what it's called in our language, and Gjoa Haven, Uqsuqtuuq, and Talurjuaq was Spence Bay.

No matter where they came from, I could call them up and say, “I need help.” And they would help me or my child without any questions asked and I would do the same for them, my husband and I. And that's what I learned that was so strong and positive that I never forgot it. The bonds. Because we grew up together from a little child until you became a young adult. And when we hear today of one of them passing on, you cry.

Paul

Was recreation a way to cope with what was happening to you at residential school?

Beatrice 

Yes, because the negative impacts of us were, we lost, I lost my language. Every time we spoke our language amongst each other we were hit. You know, we had never been hit before. We learned all the swear words in French, because that's what the Sisters used to call us.

And then also, the Inuit children were a small number, and the larger numbers were the Dene. And we didn't always get along. During free time, there was also fighting. So we learned to fight for ourselves. Whereas before I didn't even know what fighting was, Paul. We didn't fight. Sure, we fought with siblings, you know, but that never lasted. But this was different. Different kind of fighting. And that was a negative. 

And so when we started doing sports, all that went away because suddenly you were a team. I wasn't part of the top ten. But I learned to appreciate skiing and to do better at it, just for myself. To excel at it for myself. So that I could learn to maybe be a team leader or help teach someone how to do something, you know, in skiing or in volleyball or basketball. You still had to excel as an individual, but at the same time be part of the team. So you learn that in sports, how to be part of a team. And that's a very important skill, I found out later on, when you became part of the work team.

Paul

You’ve talked about some of the positive impacts of recreation. Were there negatives as well?

Beatrice 

Yes. My husband is a very sports-oriented man. And we did a lot of Arctic sports. I was teaching northern games to our Inuit, and my husband was a coach, also in basketball, volleyball, all the sports he played, he was a coach. For northern games I helped him. I used to film all the activities so that he could teach the child and look on the film and say, “Look, this is how you have to correct yourself when you're doing the high kick or the one-hand reach.”

And those games were taught to us from our families in the igloo. Because, of course, you know, in a little igloo, you couldn't run and jump. You just stood there and you jumped. And those were played during the long winter months, you know. 

And there was no such thing as competition, winning. We weren't taught that, Paul. We didn't learn that until we got to residential school. Suddenly, you had to learn how to compete. Win. Win, win, win. And those were skills we didn't know. 

And to me, at the time, they were quite negative. Suddenly, you didn't feel so good about yourself anymore. You didn't feel that you were as good as so and so in skiing, or in basketball, or in volleyball, or even dodgeball. If you always got hit and you were out, suddenly, you know, everybody saw you. Oh, you're just a loser, you're not on our team anymore. 

Remember in skiing, you weren't allowed to smoke or drink. That was part of the rules. And if you started drinking or smoking, you were not allowed to be part of the team anymore. So, of course, when I turned 16, I started drinking and I started smoking at 15. Like, really smoking. So, of course, I had to leave the ski team. I was no longer part of this in-crowd. No longer allowed to travel, internationally or nationally. So that was a big cutoff. It was hard. You learned to let it go because you had to carry on and be part of school life and residential school life. 

Paul

We know of people who quit, we know of people who ran away from residential schools. You talk about how tough it was. How come you didn’t quit?

Beatrice 

It wasn't in my nature, maybe. I'm the middle child. I'm right smack dab in the middle, and it seemed I always had to do better and get some affection from my parents because I was just in the middle. I think it was just part of my nature to try and succeed and be good at it, whatever I did. I wasn't always, but I know I tried, and I know I did my best. 

Some days, Paul, it was tough. You know, like when you got thrown in a closet because you weren't good, you didn't listen to Sister. You got thrown in a closet. My fear of the dark stayed with me until I was an adult. I used to always sleep with the lamp on. Today, now I could sleep in the dark, but it took a long time. Those things you don't forget for all your life. 

Some nights, Paul, a memory would come, or a smell, or something, even if somebody's speaking French. I'd sit and I'd cry, just from certain memories. The impacts don't leave you. The trauma doesn't leave you, because nobody taught us how to deal with the traumas. And to this day, Paul, I wish someone would teach me how to deal with my traumas. 

I'm thankful that I quit drinking because by now I would have been dead. I became an alcoholic just to deal, because I didn't know how to deal with the traumas and the abuses that came with being in residential school for 14 years.

Suddenly out of school you had to be part of society, to live on your own, to earn a living, to make money, to go to school, say university or college. So I'm thankful I did. Like I said, we had help from the people that I went to school with. They helped me make choices to become part of society and then carry on.

I saw others that became teachers and they succeeded, so I thought, Oh, I can do that, I could try that. Because a school counselor told me. “Beatrice,” she said, “you have to do things that a girl or a woman can do.” And I said, “What's that?” She said, “Oh, you could be a teacher, you could be a nurse, you could be a wife, you could be a secretary.” And I said, “But I want to drive a truck. I want to be a mechanic like my dad.” “No, no, no,” she said. “You have to do girl things.” Suddenly I realized I had to conform and fit into what society makes you as a girl and then a woman. And I told her, “No, I don't want to be married. I don't want to be a wife.” I said, “I don't want to be a secretary because then I have to do what you told me to do.” I just wasn't that kind of a person to just sit there and take orders.

So I tried nursing. You know, we used to have jobs after school in Fort Smith. So I worked at St. Ann's Hospital on wards with the elderly. But I wasn't good at it because every time an Elder died, I cried and I cried. I didn't know how to detach my emotions. I couldn't be a nurse.

So then I decided, I'd become a teacher, because all these people were going to university at U of A in Edmonton, like Ethel Blondin and Jerry Rueben and all of them. They were all going to university. I thought, Oh good, I could go to university and become a teacher, so that's what I did. And I loved it, I enjoyed it, I just made the right choice.

I'm thankful my mother taught me my language again before I started teaching, before I became a teacher. All the other things like my culture that I had learned growing up, they stayed with you. They don't go away. They are a part of you until the day you die. 

Paul

Beatrice, is there anything else that you wanted to share?

Beatrice

I want to mention, Paul, my parents, they had great faith. We were Roman Catholic. And that stayed with us, with me all my life. Even though growing up, there was no name for God for a long time in our Inuit people. There was no churches. But we always knew there was something greater than us that helped us. And today, I still pray. I still go to church. But I also call on my ancestors. Growing up we had shamanism in our Inuit ways, and it was very accepted, but we never talked about it because suddenly it was bad. But yet growing up, it was part of us, it was part of me. I grew up with a lot of shamans around me in the community, and they helped us a lot. 

But today I'm thankful that I have my faith. It's helped me through many, many hard times during my adult years. And I try and pass that on to my children, my grandchildren. But I don't make them go to church like we had to, remember? We had to go to mass every morning at six in the morning and then do your chores and then go to breakfast. Then you had to go to benediction before bed, remember? And kneel down. I remember girls around me fainting. We weren't allowed to help them. And I thought that was so cruel. You don't just leave them on the floor. You know, things like that you learn. But faith, my faith has helped me a lot. 

My grandchildren, I try and teach them how to just be a good person, to accept, but also to lead or to show, but most of all be respectful. And today, Paul, it really, really affects me when I see certain people don't talk to me or my husband because we are not white or because we are not a certain race. We still say good morning and hi to them and even if they don't talk to me I just say, “Okay. Have a good day.” And I walk away. As much as I want to turn around and just swear at them and tell them, Who the heck do you think you are being rude and disrespectful to me in my own country? As much as I want to say that, Paul, I don't. It stays in here. Today, I see so much racism. That bothers me a lot and it hurts a lot, because it goes against all the things that I learned as a child, as a young woman, to be accepted, to be welcoming, to be kind, to share.

Thank you, Paul. And I'm very proud of you, Paul. Very, because like I told you earlier it went against all what you were that I knew you as a young boy. And I never knew until later on that you didn't speak much because you didn't know much English but I knew you were shy. And then suddenly you were the CBC announcer and all nationally and everywhere and I was thinking. Boy, that guy is brave. You've taught me a lot, too. That we don't just stay in this little box that somebody puts you in. You grow, no matter what age you are. I'm very proud of many, many of our people. We have so much gifts, Paul, to share. Thank you, Paul. Thank you, Amos. I appreciate you coming into our home.

Quana. Quyanainni.

Paul

During our conversation, Beatrice talked about some of the ways that recreation was a positive force in her life while she was at residential school. It taught her new skills. It also helped to improve relations with other students. But there was another side to recreation. 

Through games and sports, Beatrice and her fellow students learned about competition, something that hadn’t been part of their lives before residential school. Competition, but especially the push to win, had negative consequences. It pitted students against one another and could make them feel badly about themselves if they didn’t perform. 

I want to thank Beatrice for sharing her story with us today. You can see pictures of Beatrice as a child and as a young teacher on our website, on our website, www.HowISurvived.ca. You can also see other photos and materials related to this episode there. 

Crystal Fraser

If you are a Survivor or intergenerational Survivor of residential or day school and you need help, there's a free 24-hour support line. Call 1-800-695-4419.

How I Survived is a collaboration between the NWT Recreation and Parks Association and the University of Alberta. The podcast is co-hosted by me, Crystal Gail Fraser, and Paul Andrew. I also provide historical direction. 

How I Survived is co-produced by Amos Scott and Jess Dunkin. Advisory support is provided by Dr. Sharon Firth, Lorna Storr, and Paul Andrew. Our research assistant is Rebecca Gray. Haii’ to EntrepreNorth for sharing your recording booth with us.

Our theme song is “Love the Light” by Stephen Kakfwi. The cover art for this podcast was designed by pipikwan pêhtâkwan based on a wall hanging made for the project by Agnes Kuptana. 

This podcast is produced with support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and NWT and Nunavut Lotteries.