This is a Métissage of my journey through EDUC 868. It has been an absolute privilege to be in this course and to have gained a new understanding of myself and my relations with the world and Indigenous ways of knowing. This has been a journey of tracking myself to better understand. Gregory Cajete talks about Indigenous Tracking in his book “Look to the Mountain: An Ecology of Indigenous Education.

“Everything leaves a track, and in the track is the story; the state of being of each thing in its interaction with everything else.”

(Cajete, 1994, p. 55)

Cajete also talks about concentric circles

“Concentric Circles of action are the primary structures of Nature’s creative process. In Nature, concentric circles of action connect to form a path revealing, through track and signs, the story of ‘the animals moving through their lives.’ Tracks and the concentric circles of living they represent are the manuscript of existence in a place and through time.

(Cajete, 1994, p. 56)

The concentric circles I am tracking are “Where do I come from”, “Who am I”, and “Where am I going.” Through this Métissage, the journey of learning is revealed.

I teach Theatre Performance and History at the high school level. I have a deep interest in both disciplines, and I like to believe that I am well versed in both, and yet I confronted a deficiency through the coursework of the semester. While I know a lot about what happened in the recent past, I do not know a lot about my origin. When tasked with sharing our ecology with a partner, I realized that there is a lot about my past that I do not know. While I am not much further along the journey of knowing than I was at the start of the course, I have started walking the path toward knowing a lot more.

On the Pacific coast

Where the mountains meet the sea

In South-Western Canada, there is a city

Called Vancouver

Nature meets urban

I am a descendant of urban settlers

And while I understand the overall history of European Settlers

And that the history is complicated and at times distressing

I want to know who, and where I come from.

I want to know that my past is worth celebrating.

What I know is that I am from Vancouver and that Vancouver must have been the place to be, as all four of my grandparents ended up here. I even know that I had great-grandparents who settled here. The journeys to get here are less than clear at the moment, but I know that my maternal grandmother was from Vancouver B.C., and my maternal grandfather was from Rosthern Saskatchewan. My paternal grandmother was from Winnipeg Manitoba, and my paternal grandfather was from Medicine Hat Alberta. All four grandparents passed away in the Vancouver area.

I have a Great-grandfather who owned a haberdashery in Vancouver on the 600 block of Granville Street between Georgia and Dunsmuir (See photograph below; “Turpin Bros.” can be seen on the awning of the shop in the bottom right corner of the photograph). I would like to find a better photograph but the one below is the best one we can find to date.

Through my journey of trying to track my existence, I spoke to relatives, and I visited the website of the B.C. Archives discovered that they have digitized parts of the genealogy collection for easy access. The Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba archives do not have a digital collection, so the only way to obtain information would be to either send away for information via Canada Post or to be at that archive in person. Through the B.C. archives, I was able to see from marriage and death certificates where my relatives arrived from. My paternal Grandmother’s death certificate lists her parents' place of birth as Austria, but her Marriage certificate lists her parent's place of birth as Poland. Some of the territory that is part of Modern-day Poland would have been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire about the time that those great-grandparents were born, but since no town is listed, I am still at a loss. Other records show that I have lineage to England, and I have been told that on my mother's side, there is ethnic German in me, but the places of parents' birth on my grandparents' death certificate list a Canadian city, Perth Ontario, and an “Unknown” which could be the German roots.

This past Remembrance Day I learned that my paternal grandfather served with the Anti-Aircraft 3rd Division, and I found a used book store online that was selling a copy of the regimental history “The History of the Third Canadian Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment: From 17 August, 1940, to 7 May 1945, World War II”. I have ordered it, and I hope to learn more about my grandfather's service.

My mother was born in Vancouver B.C., and my father was born in Edmonton Alberta, but moved to B.C. at a young age. Both of my parents attended high school in Vancouver and were married in Vancouver. My paternal grandmother was the primary caregiver when my parents were unavailable; that is to say, she was the primary babysitter. I spent a great deal of time with her, and her favourite restaurant was Whitespot. The very first Whitespot location was on South Granville Street, and I know that a lot of time was spent there by my relatives. I was taught to love Whitespot as well.

Vancouver is home. The ancestors came here, and this is where I begin.

I was born in Vancouver the year the world came to town. Vancouver hosted a Worlds Fair in 1986. The theme of the fair was Transportation and Communication. I was born in January on the exact day that the Challenger Space Shuttle exploded, killing all seven crew onboard including one named Christa McAuliffe. McAuliffe was selected to be the first teacher to fly in space, and had the mission been successful she would have delivered lessons onboard the shuttle in orbit back to the earth. McAuliffe was a High School Social Studies teacher. I have known from a young age that my life on earth began as others ended on international television and that may be a reason why my path has led me to be a teacher of both theatre art and Social Studies. The significance of my birth is not lost on me; I was born in a city hosting a world fair that focused on transportation and communication on the day that one of the most sophisticated vehicles ever conceived failed killing a teacher that was aiming to communicate lessons from space, and I went into that same profession, which is effectively based around the ability to communicate.

One thing that my parents had in common is that as kids, they both went camping a lot and didn’t enjoy the experiences. When my brother and I were born, we weren’t taken on any camping trips, and our relationship with nature was very much kept at arm's length. It isn’t that we weren’t allowed to go outside, but our outdoor excursions were decidedly urban. If we went out to a park, we came home that day. All of our vacations were in the hotel/motel world. This is not because we were wealthy, it was quite the opposite, my family held a lot of credit card debt to go on vacation. It is simply that my parents had an urban upbringing that involved camping trips that they didn’t enjoy, and they didn’t want to put my brother and me through that experience. We were, however, taught to respect nature. Both my brother and I were part of the Cub Scouts, and we were taught about the value and importance of nature.

What my childhood lacked in outdoor experiences, my parents made up for with athletic, artistic, and civic community exposure. Growing up, both of my parents worked as civil servants in local municipalities. I have attended hundreds of live sporting events all across North America. My parents used to take my brother and me to community festivals, the symphony, and to various other arts and culture events whenever possible.

Music has always played an important role in my life. I often think that one of the greatest gifts my parents gave me was exposure to music that was older than me. Car radios were often tuned to either CKNW news or 650 CISL, the “Oldies” station. My grandmother also had a terrific fondness for music. When we would go to her condo in Vancouver to be taken care of if our parents were out for the evening, Grandma would often watch reruns of Lawrence Welk, an American variety show featuring wonderful musical acts. On the drive home from my Grandmothers, my parents would often have the radio tuned to CKNW for a program called the “Owl Prowl” hosted by famous Vancouver Disc Jockey Jack Cullen. The program was soft Big Band Jazz classics from the 1930s and 40s. I will never forget those late nights, being cuddled in a warm car and listening to that music as we drove down West 12th past Vancouver City Hall with the bright neon glow of the clock atop the art deco building.

I was nine years old, in 1995, when a brand new performing arts venue opened in Vancouver, then called “The Ford Centre for the Performing Arts.” The first show to occupy the theatre was a production of a legendary Broadway Musical called “Show Boat.” My Grandmother and Great Aunt had tickets to a matinee of Show Boat, but neither of them drove, so my father played chauffeur for the day with my

brother and I in tow. I remember how excited the two family matriarchs were as we made our way downtown. They were dressed in their best and were excited for an afternoon of entertainment. When we dropped them at the front of the theatre, I recall having a sense of envy. It might be the first instance of “FOMO” (fear of missing out) that I can call to mind. I didn’t know anything about Show Boat at the time, but it was the fact that Grandma and Auntie Barb were so excited, and I couldn’t go, that made me express an interest in seeing a show like that. When we picked them up a few hours later, I remember they were just glowing with excitement. It had clearly been something spectacular that they had seen in that theatre, and I wanted to know what it was. I had been to the movie theatre before, but I had never left a movie with the same excitement that they had coming out of this live performance venue. My father took note.

Just over a year later, we were going to see a matinee of the next production to occupy the Ford Centre, an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical called “Sunset Boulevard.” I knew who Andrew Lloyd Webber was because when I was younger I had been taken to see a performance of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” but while I remember being amazed, I was too young at the time to appreciate what I was witnessing. On the afternoon of Saturday, December 7th, 1996, we attended Sunset Boulevard. We sat fairly close to the stage, and for the entire show, I was completely enraptured. Somewhere deep within a fire had been ignited. I wanted to be a part of this amazing work that I was seeing before me. I was also excited because I now understood why my Grandma was so excited when she went to the theatre. I felt a deep connection with her. Sadly I never had the opportunity to speak with her about this wonderful experience. My Grandmother was in the hospital fighting cancer when we attended the matinee, and late that night the telephone rang, much later than usual at my home. I was already in bed, but I was awakened to hear my father leaving the house late that night. It was the hospital that had called, and my father was urgently needed. My Grandma passed away that night, less than twenty-four hours after I had seen the performance. I never had the opportunity to tell her how much I loved going to the theatre, and I never had the opportunity to share that experience with her. While it still brings me sadness to think about it, somewhere within me, I know that my love and passion for theatre art come directly from her, and a part of her is with me every time I am on stage, or in an audience.

In the summer of 2004, I had just completed my first year of Theatre Performance studies at Capilano College, and I was cast in the Theatre Under the Stars production of “Crazy for You” which is a musical written around a catalog of George and Ira Gershwin songs. Theatre Under the Stars is a theatre tradition that is part of the fabric of the history of entertainment in Vancouver. To perform on that stage, with the material of the show, was such a privilege, and I just know my Grandma was proud. She was there, I know she was.

My journey has taken me to many incredible places. While performing at Theatre Under the Stars, I found employment at the Vancouver Aquarium, at first as an admissions cashier, but I eventually worked my way up into the interpretation department. I don’t have a marine biology background, but my theatre training was an asset. I was the voice and personality that narrated the animal training sessions. I loved that job, I loved sharing the wonder of these amazing creatures with people of all ages from all over the world. To me, it was a storytelling job. As a conservation-based marine science centre, the Aquarium was very firm in the language that the animals were not performing, but I certainly was. While working at the Aquarium and continuing the pursue theatre gigs, I eventually found myself taking a job directing a youth theatre production. It was in this job that I discovered a love of teaching. It was the perfect blend of my passion for theatre, and the storytelling job I was already doing in Stanley Park. The idea finally occurred to me that I could potentially do this job full time, so I left my job at the Aquarium and applied to university to finish a performing arts degree and go into education full-time as a Drama teacher. While putting myself through university I took on several part-time jobs. I worked as an usher at Rogers Arena when the Vancouver Canucks went to the Stanley Cup finals in 2011, I worked as a storyteller for a Vancouver Walking-tour company, guiding historic walking tours through Gastown, and I worked at the Gulf of Georgia Cannery National Historic Site in Steveston as an interpreter. Telling stories is what I am passionate about. I knew that about myself before I had language to describe it. So who am I? Am I an Actor, Director, Writer, Teacher, Student, or Historian? Am I simply a Storyteller? I am all of those things, but more importantly, I am a human being. I am not just a human being, but I am a human, being. As I am being a human, I am continuing to tell and create stories. Three of the greatest stories that I get to be a part of are the stories of my wife and my two beautiful daughters. The passion for the theatre has been passed on to the young ones. My eldest daughter is enrolled in four dance classes, and a musical theatre class this year. She is six years old, and she is in grade one. My wife and I never pushed her into theatre, she found it through exposure because my wife and I are active in theatre, but her curiosity is what led her to find her love. My Grandma would be so proud watching my daughter on stage.

“To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high!

From “In Flanders Fields”

by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae

(McCrae, 1919)

To say that being a student in the 2023 cohort of EDUC 868 was a life-changing experience would be a terrific understatement. I feel as though I am now on a path to being a better human, and ancestor. Before this course, I had given thought to my legacy, and how potential grandchildren would remember me, but I hadn’t thought of it in terms of “What kind of ancestor do I want to be?”

When asked “What are we reaching for” the image that came to my head was that of a lit torch or candle. I gather this image came to me because of the famous poem written by Canadian Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae during the First World War. I feel like my ancestors held a torch, it is mine to hold for a brief period, and then I will pass it along to the next generation. Through my profession, and as a parent I have the privilege and responsibility to make sure that when I pass the torch, it is in better condition than it was when I received it. What I have learned in this course will help me do that.

I learned a lot in this course, but I also “re-membered” a lot. A great deal of enlightenment came from small moments or resources that made the new knowledge so inherent, as if I already knew it, and perhaps deep down I did; I just didn’t know I knew it.

Firstly, I learned about the sanctity of storytelling. All my life I have loved telling stories. In my teaching, I often use stories to teach lessons. Throughout my career, I have often felt the pressure of the clock that has made me feel as though my stories are frivolous and not a good use of class time. We have a teacher in my building who asks students to provide anonymous positive feedback to teachers, and then she comes around and gives us these small handwritten cards that provide this gift of meaningful positive commentary. I frequently get from students that they love the stories I tell and how they add so much to the lessons I teach. When Gregory Cajete speaks about storytelling in “Look to the Mountain: An Ecology of Indigenous Education”, I feel incredibly affirmed.

“Humans are one and all storytelling animals. Story - in combination with encounters, experiences, image making, ritual, play, imagination, dream, and modeling - forms the basic foundation of all human learning and teaching ”

(Cajete, 1994, p. 68)

I will no longer worry about telling a story. I will share this quote with students so they can also have a better understanding of why I find it important to use stories in all of my lessons.

I learned about the animacy of grammar. Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about the grammar of animacy in her book “Braiding Sweetgrass”

“In English, we never refer to a member of our family, or indeed to any person as it. That would be a profound act of disrespect. It robs a person of selfhood and kinship, reducing a person to a mere thing. So it is that in Potawatomi and most other Indigenous languages, we use the same words to address the living world as we use to for our family. Because they are our family.”

(Kimmerer, 2013, p. 55)

This made so much sense to me. It felt like something that I already knew, yet never acted on. Robin Wall Kimmerer speaks of a similar phenomenon while working with a student named Andy.

“[...] He said it felt like an awakening to him. More like a remembering, I think. The animcacy of the world is something we already know, but the language on animacy teeters on extinction - not just for native peoples, but for everyone.”

(Kimmerer, 2013, p. 57)

“I’ve been considering the phrase ‘all

my relations’ for some time now. It’s hugely

important. It’s our saving grace in the end. It

points to the truth that we are related, we

are all connected, we all belong to each other.

The most important word is all. Not just those

who look like me, sing like me, dance like me,

speak like me, pray like me or behave like me. ALL

my relations. It means every person just as

it means every blade of grass, rock, mineral and

creature. We live because everything else does. If

we were to collectively choose to live that teaching,

the energy of that change of consciousness would

heal each of us — and heal the planet

(Wagamese, 2016, p. 36)

It is the responsibility of all of us to respect the world around us as relatives. We relate to a world of amazing creation. There are so many living beings, that like us humans, are in the process of being. Why don’t we offer them the same respect that we do to other humans. They contribute just as much, if not more than we do to the world.

“Here it is, almost tax day, when my fellow humans are getting ready to make their contribution to the well-being of the community., but the maples have been giving all year long. Their contribution of limb wood kept my old neighbor Mr. Keller’s house warm all winter when he couldn’t pay the oil bill. The volunteer fire department and the ambulance squad as well rely on maple contributions to their monthly pancake breakfast, to raise funds for a new engine. The trees make a real dent in the energy bill for the school with their shade, and, thanks to big canopies of maples, nobody I know ever pays a bill for air-conditioning. They donate shade to the Memorial Day parade every year without even being asked. If it weren’t for the maples’s ability to break the wind, the highway department would have to plow snow drifts off the road twice as often.”

“[...]We haven’t even mentioned how they create a habitat for songbirds, and wildlife cover, golden leaves to shuffle through, tree forts, and branches for swings. Centuries of their falling leaves have built this soil, now farmed for strawberries, apples, sweet corn, and hay. How much of the oxygen in our valley comes from our maples? How much carbon is taken from the atmosphere and stored away? These processes are what ecological scientists term ecosystem services, the structures and functions of the natural world that make life possible. We can assign an economic value to maple timber, or gallons of syrup, but ecosystem services are far more precious. And yet, these services go unaccounted for in the human economy. As with the services of local government, we don’t think about them until they are missing. There is no official tax system to pay for these services, as we pay for snowplowing and school-books. We get them for free, donated continually by maples. They do their share for us. The question is: How well do we do by them?”

(Kimmerer, 2013, p. 168)

Robin asks, “how well do we do by them?” The answer is really quite simple; it is love. If we all made a commitment to loving all of our relations the same way that we love our human family, our entire world would be a much healthier place. Robin describes this very well when she speaks of the reciprocal love between her and her garden.

“No one would doubt that I love my children, and even a quantitative social psychologist would find no fault with my list of loving behaviors.

• Nurturing health and well-being
• Protection from harm
• Encouraging individual growth and development
• Desire to be together
• Generous sharing of resources
• Working together for a common goal
• Celebration of shared values
• Interdependence
• Sacrifice by one for the other
• Creation of beauty.

If we observed these behaviors between humans, we would say ‘She loves that person.’ You might also observe these actions between a person and a bit of carefully tended ground and say ‘She loves that garden.’ Why then, seeing this list, would you not make the leap to saw that the garden loves her back”

(Kimmerer, 2013, p. 123)

The learning of this course didn’t just happen through the readings. It happened through being an active participant in the ceremonies, learning and singing the songs, receiving the stories, and being a witness to the amazing sharing that took place in class. All of the Indigenous ways of knowing that I am now open to will undoubtedly shape the rest of my life. I will continue to tune myself to a room when I arrive and will continue to seek to understand my orientation wherever my journey takes me. I will proudly take my small bundle along with me and know that the tobacco, cedar, sweetgrass, and sage are sacred medicines.

When I pass the torch or candle, I desperately want it to be in better condition than it is as I am receiving it. I believe the act of receiving it, holding it, and passing it on is so fluid and fleeting that it will feel as if it is one graceful moment. Like Olympic marathon runners who pass a baton, there is a moment when both are holding the baton simultaneously to ensure that it is not dropped. Both are running at that moment, and the speed at which the race takes place makes it so that each individual only holds the baton briefly before carefully passing it along to the next. I feel like I am in that moment of receiving the torch while it is also being carefully held by those passing it along. I don’t know what it will feel like when I am the sole custodian of it, but I desperately want to do well by it and pass it to the young ones knowing it is safe.

My land practice took me to the Coquitlam River, and to Mundy Park. On two occasions I had my two lovely little stowaways with me as I spent time with the relatives, but most often it was just me. Every time I went for a walk, I always felt so nourished. The fog in my brain seemed to clear, and I felt as though I had been washed. In Japanese culture, they have a term for what I felt. It is called Shinrin-yoku, or Forrest bathing. At first, I didn’t understand why I felt the way I did after spending time with the land. At first, I recall feeling a sense of regret. In September when the weather was still warm, and the foliage was still very luscious, I felt almost as if I had wasted my summer by not spending as much time with the land. The further we moved through the semester, and the more we learned, the more attuned I became to the experience.

In his article “We Need a New Story: Walking and the wâhkôhtowin Imagination” Dwane Donald says

“Walking is an intrinsically relational activity that carefully attunes mind, body, and spirit to surrounding life energies.”

(Donald, 2021, p. 58)

He goes on to explain what wâhkôhtowin means.

“In nêhiyawêwin (the Cree language), a foundational wisdom concept that is central to nêhiyaw (Cree) worldview is wâhkôhtowin.Translated into English, wâhkôhtowin is generally understood to refer to kinship and relationality. In a practical way, wâhkôhtowin describes ethical guidelines regarding how you are related to your kin and how to conduct yourself as a good relative. The guidelines teach how to relate to human relatives and address them in accordance with traditional kinship teachings. However, wâhkôhtowin also refers to more-than-human kinship relations. The nêhiyawworldview emphasizes honouring the ancient kinship and relationships that humans have with all other forms of life that comprise their traditional territories.

(Donald, 2021, p. 58)

While my time spent with the land was incredible, I do hope to see more animal life on future walks. Perhaps it is the way of existence in an urban park, but the absence of animals has me concerned. The absence of one animal in particular inspired a poem.

I was also inspired to write a second poem. The paths through Mundy park are generally quite clear, and most are well created as a mixture of natural dirt and rock. On the journey through the many trails in the park there are other surfaces, including pure gravel, and these paths just looked out of place to me. They seemed too human to exist in their location. Of course surrounding the park are paved roads and parking lots, and this had me thinking about my relationship to pavement.

For my making practice, I took up pen and ink drawing. The line drawings throughout this Métissage are the result of my making practice. I greatly enjoyed the peace that drawing brought to me. Time seemed to dissolve into nothing and cease to exist. Even though the activity often brought me peace, it also brought frustration. I am still very much a learner, and when something on my page didn’t look like it did in my mind, I would get frustrated and want to quit, but I reminded myself that I was going through the journey of the learner. One thing is certain, I certainly feel more connected to places that I have drawn. I took up this practice because it is very foreign to me, I have very little confidence, but I would like to improve and turn it into a hobby. I appreciate the simplicity of the art style, and in particular, I like how simplicity finds life in architecture. Drawing buildings fascinates me. If it is a way that I can bring history to life, and connect more to my city then I am interested. I am inspired by a Vancouver Artist named Tom Carter.

I don’t have the experience or talent that Tom has, but if I keep my drawings simple, using just pen and ink, perhaps one day I can achieve a sense of artistic satisfaction and something that I can be proud of. I plan to continue the practice beyond this course.

Final Thought

With everything that I have learned in this course, I feel it best to close with a piece from “Embers” by Richard Wagamese.

The miracle is that we are here at all. Life

itself is our greatest wonder. To simply BE is

awe-inspiring. I believe this. Just as I believe it’s

pointless to waste time chasing after meaningless

shit lke fame and wealth and status. Better to

spend time creating - good words, good feelings,

good relationships, good memories - the grandest,

most triumphant stories of our individual and

collective time here. Creating those stories is a

sacred act, and all that we are really meant to

do. So don’t look for me on the hilltop shouting.

Thats me in the valley with my hands in the dirt…

(Wagamese, 2016, p. 145)

[Photo] The west side of the 600 Block Granville Street looking south. (1921). City of Vancouver Archives.

Reference code: AM54-S4-: Str P427

Cajete, G. (1994). Look to the mountain: An ecology of Indigenous education.

Donald, D. (2021). We Need a New Story: Walking and the wâhkôhtowin Imagination. Journal of the Canadian Association for Curriculum Studies, 18(2), 53-63.

Dunn, A. (2015). Pen & ink drawing: A simple guide. Three Minds Press.

Kahani Pictures. (2022, December 3). Tom is saving Vancouver history one relic at a time [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpVQlWQdXZI&t=27s

Kimmerer, R. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants.

Milkweed Editions.

McCrae, J. (1919). In Flanders Fields and other poems. The Knickerbocker Press, New York. https://archive.org/details/inflandersfields00mccriala/mode/1up?view=theater

Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007

Wagamese, R. (2016). Embers: One Ojibway's meditations. D & M Publishers.

Mark Turpin 556001801 SFU Masters of Arts Education 2023