Now or never13:44 I started my education at a boarding school. At 58 I finally graduated
Vivian Ketchum was five years old when she was taken to boarding school. She reflects on what it means to finally graduate from high school.
This first-person article was written by Vivian Ketchum, who is an Anishinaabe community activist living in Winnipeg. For more information on CBC’s first-person stories, please see the FAQ.
I’m surrounded by memorabilia as I sit in my living room: gift cards, gifts from friends, my late son’s graduation cap. Watching them brings home the reality of my graduation: At 58, I finally have my degree. I’m a high school graduate! Maybe if I say the words enough times, they’ll start to feel real.
This Red Road (life journey in the indigenous community) to graduation was a long one.
My first classroom was in a small blue building at the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School in Kenora, Ontario. I was five years old when I was taken from my loving family.
I remember the big red pencils with blue graph paper on the rows of small desks in the classroom. After breakfast, the younger students headed to the blue building. I liked the younger teacher. She smiled a lot and was not scary like the house mother. In this classroom I felt safe from the older children and the house mother.
Ketchum attended the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School until the school closed in 1976 (CBC)
After the boarding school closed in 1976, I was placed in many foster homes. A foster mom bought me an ugly red high school gym tracksuit using a Kids and Families Clothing Voucher. Other kids already made fun of me because I was a skinny teenager with thick glasses and bad teeth. The red tracksuit was just more ammunition for them to use against me. I only took one gym class before dropping out of that class.
Then when I was 16 I was sent to southern Ontario to a group home. I was in a small town that only had two local kids and I was one of them. My teachers noticed that I rarely did homework, but my grades were good. One of them decided to test me.
I struggled to fit in at an almost all-white school – Vivian Ketchum
They found I wasn’t challenging enough and put me in a special class. That would work if I was willing to be challenged. But I struggled to fit in at 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 didn’t help my school work. I was 18 and in 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 am relieved to be back home with my family even though I didn’t graduate from high school and I was coming back for a funeral.
I didn’t even try to further 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 sober, and entered rehab at a women’s shelter. I learned life skills and settled in a new place.
After that, I tried to go back to school, but again I couldn’t because of the demands of being a single mother. We were living on welfare and I was struggling to provide for my son. So I put my school dreams on hold until my son was older.
My son’s needs came first and I did what I could to make sure Tyler would graduate and have a better life than I did. My son was well liked by his friends and in the community. Our home was where his friends would gather and enjoy a home-cooked meal. Tyler had plans to become a police officer and continue his education.
Ketchum, left, with son Tyler in 2010 before he died of a brain tumor. (Submitted by Vivian Ketchum)
In 2010, Tyler was diagnosed with a brain tumor and passed away when he was 24. I put my dream of graduating high school on hold after my son passed away. I needed time to grieve and heal from my loss.
It was almost a decade before I felt ready to go back to high school. In 2021, I had applied for a great job that paid well. I had everything they wanted on the job application until they asked me to provide a high school transcript. I didn’t have one and the job interview ended on that note.
Being turned down for this job was disheartening, but it lit a fire in me. I found the Winnipeg Adult Learning Center near my home. I only went in to ask a few questions, but the guidance counselor encouraged me to sign up and fill out forms right then and there. My late son’s words echoed in my mind: “You have to go on.” These were the words he shared with me when he was terminally ill with a brain tumor.
Ketchum holds his son’s baby moccasins in his graduation photos. (Submitted by Vivian Ketchum)
I enrolled as a mature student and was graded in Year 11 English and Maths. Most students attended school remotely during the pandemic, so class sizes were small and teacher access was great. I found that my headphones cut out the distractions and noise in my head. I was able to focus better. If I got frustrated with distance learning, I could always come back to it later. I studied at my own pace.
When I finished my last school assignment, I felt a sense of sadness that this phase of my life was over. It was mixed with relief that I had set a goal and actually accomplished it. And then my friends threw a graduation party with a surprise guest, which I never expected to happen.
WATCH | Musician Ernest Monias surprises Vivian Ketchum at her graduation party:
Watch as Ernest Monias surprises high school senior Vivian Ketchum
Vivian Ketchum is a residential school survivor who overcame challenges to finally graduate from high school. Friends gathered to celebrate her with a surprise performance from the “King of the North”, Ernest Monias.
From a little blue classroom at a boarding school in Northern Ontario to a stone-faced building in Winnipeg, my educational journey has been full of challenges. But I achieved my dream of getting that high school diploma 40 years later. This piece of paper will open doors for me now and in the future. I discovered more than graduation gifts in graduation; there is a new level of respect from the community.
And I also fulfilled my son’s wish: I continued and will continue.
Vivian Ketchum is an Anishinaabe community activist, writer, residential school survivor and high school graduate as of June 30.
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