Tagaa Qanuq? Sunialirqitaa Illinnianikkut?

As a first time writer of an article or essay to be read by anyone besides professors, I have had some difficulty coming up with a topic that is both interesting and which I can write about with any expertise. I have thus decided on what I think of and concern myself with considerably; Inuit in post-secondary education. I am an Inuk student myself, and I use my own experiences as insight to this topic. 

I often ask myself 'What do young Inuit need to do to succeed in post-secondary education?' There is a fair amount of focus and concern for Inuit with regard to their post-secondary success rates. It is apparent that we perform substantially worse when compared to our mainstream, non-aboriginal counterparts. There are various explanations to this under-achievement; dramatic change of an ancient lifestyle in a matter of decades, the introduction of alcohol and drugs, astronomical suicide rates. Many such explanations are valuable and provide insight and context to the Inuit educational experience. However, this article does not aim to reiterate or challenge those ideas. The intention here is to build on those descriptions in the hopes of infusing new ideas and get young Inuit thinking about their academics from a different, constructive, and long-term perspective. The focus of this article is to analyze the negative side effects government funding has on young Inuit post-secondary students and understand how we can be aware of those negative side effects in order to improve our academic success rates. First, let us discuss what the relationship is between Inuit and the governments that fund their education so all readers are on the same page.

As is common knowledge to many Canadians, most aboriginals receive substantial, if not full funding for their post-secondary endeavors from the federal and provincial governments. What is often a misconception though is that we automatically qualify to get what some call a 'free ride' simply on account of being aboriginal. In reality these funding arrangements have long ago been tediously negotiated and agreed upon between a specific cultural group, the territory or province, and country through land claims agreement.

A hypothetical and grossly over-generalized land claims then may look like the following: a government wants to harness the hydroelectric power of a river or forest the woods. Around the woods or along the river lives an aboriginal group. Exploitation of the natural resources in their vicinity will directly affect the aboriginal's lives because they affect the landscape; fish no longer swim up the trickle of a damned river or caribou can no longer find protection in a forested treeless sub-arctic. The wildlife migrates elsewhere, and the diet of the aboriginal group who depends on them is adversely affected. This is what is conceptualized before land claims are discussed. Aboriginals, such as Inuit, will therefore leverage the situation knowing full well their lifestyles will change once their surrounding area is exploited. Therefore they ensure themselves to receive educational entitlement for future generations to ensure those children and grandchildren grow up with plenty of opportunities. Governments agree to this because the cost of paying for aboriginal post-secondary funds is peanuts compared to the economic returns they stand to gain once those natural resources are exploited and projects are operational. In a sense everyone wins in such land claims agreements.  Also, the goal of such generous and supportive funding seems to have been developed with the intention of giving a formally undereducated population like Inuit a fighting chance of keeping up with the country and the world, economically and socially. Canadians at large seem to agree with this altruistic gesture their government proposes. The terms and conditions of my own funding are known as the James Bay Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) which was signed relatively recently in 1975.

My own experience in talking about this topic with non-aboriginal Canadians usually takes on the theme of being told how 'lucky' we are to have this overwhelming financial support. Indeed, I have heard even young Inuit students claim how great it is that our education is 'free'. In some cases, it's a wonder we need any money of our own personal earning when in post-secondary studies. Tuition, check. Travel expenses, check. Textbooks, check. Accommodation, check. In a very real sense the students under certain programs need only bring a pocketful of motivation and there should be Inuit doctors, engineers and political scientists popping up all around in no time. This is a foolproof formula for success, isn't it? How could anyone go home empty handed? Yet, so many Inuit do.

Is it possible that this perfect formula may also mask some lurking side effects? One may go as far as stating that these conditions are a perfect recipe for failure for the majority of Inuit students. To dissect this possibility let us consider the psychological aspects of achievement. What does a person need to achieve any significant task? What do Inuit need to do to achieve post-secondary degrees?

 Motivation comes to mind and that exists on some substantial level in Inuit students; they get to travel and try out an independent lifestyle different from their own small, isolated communities which is exciting.  Young Inuit do genuinely want to succeed and get degrees. Formal education is held in high regard within Inuit communities and that drives motivation.

Another important factor toward achievement is familial support. Parents want their kids to succeed, but a counterbalance also exists with Inuit. The dramatic intergenerational change in lifestyle has not been absorbed and adapted by today's Inuit population. Parents of primary and secondary school kids today were likely some of the first Inuit in our civilization to attend formal education classes. They went to school only until they were old enough to start helping out their families during their teens whence many discontinued classes. Therefore emphasis and value on fully completing studies is still developing.

To achieve academically there needs to be an absence or minimization of negative elements such as homesickness, cultural shock, racism and discrimination, overindulgence in alcohol and drugs. These negative elements deserve massive separate descriptions in themselves which therefore warrants merely mentioning for the moment.

Three other extremely important psychological mechanisms that contribute to achievement are responsibility, accountability, and discipline. These elements are often overlooked. With the case of Inuit students pursuing higher education degrees, these psychological mechanisms are nearly non-existent. Their absence is a large result of heavy government funding provision for our studies.

Young Inuit students, or even their parents, do not take matters into their own hands when it comes time to move beyond high school education. They are never responsible. Inuit education boards provide all the logistics for a smooth transition from high school to CEGEP or university. They find the post-secondary institution, contact it, fill out applications, send transcripts, reserve the plane tickets, and allocate accommodation. The Inuk student studying has nothing to do beyond expressing desire to go to college or university to the homeroom teacher or centre director. What kind of responsibility or skills are we instilling in our youth if we do everything for them? Is it ever a wonder kids have low self-esteem? They have no self-efficacy, no self-discipline, no problem-solving skills.

We do not take personal financial responsibility for our education either which negates any accountability on our part. Post-secondary education is a costly endeavor for most Canadians. Often it requires moving out of permanent or parents' residence and finding an apartment, paying tuition and textbooks and giving up potential time that could be used to generate income from a full-time occupation. When non-aboriginal Canadians go to post-secondary, it is a conscious, calculated choice. They save for years or take out massive loans and go into debt to just to attend university. Their expenditures become accountability to the hard work they commit themselves to.  What about Inuit? We may gain a living and academic coverage over the course of a year that amounts to fifteen thousand dollars yet if we go home empty handed and drop out, we have not lost the fifteen thousand dollars. We simply stay home after a small setback without any intention of an improved effort.  Our failure does not reach a deep level because we did not spend years saving up thinking and dreaming of going to university. We hardly go into the murky reds depths of deficit upon dropping out. We go back home, find a job, and convince ourselves what a waste of time our effort was. This conviction is a defense mechanism; we fail our classes but we distance ourselves from our failure by tallying up what little we have lost in failing, which in Inuit cases, is only time. We are not accountable to the most important party; ourselves. The stakes for us Inuit are never high because we are never financially, personally, or psychologically invested in our own future education. When there is no effort required to get to college or university dropping out is just as effortless. 'Easy come, easy go', as they say.

So what is there to do? Shall we do away with financial funding for Inuit students to teach them to work hard?  Certainly not. There are a handful of Inuit students who are very successful and would not otherwise have achieved what they have without the generous funding and they are conscientious and grateful about their beneficial situation. The Inuit who signed the JBNQA did so with the intention of making funded education a first step in a long process of improving educational opportunities; not an end in itself or a magic pill. There are many creative possibilities to experiment with to improve post-secondary education. All we have to do is build the psychological mechanisms that are absent in young Inuit minds.

To build responsibility we can take a first step in refraining from doing the work for our young Inuit students when they want to continue onto post-secondary. We have taught them to speak, read, and write English and French. Let the students surf the web and find the CEGEPS or Universities they want to attend under the guidance and assistance of teachers and counselors. Let us nurture their sense of self-efficacy. Get them to find the application forms, fill them in, and send them. Get them to send their transcripts and interact with administrative and educationally oriented people. This will not only instill responsibility but also help students reflect and reinforce the reasons they want to go to school.

To build accountability get Inuit students to reserve the plane tickets and possibly even pay for them, making the refund conditional upon passing marks or at least making a considerable effort. This will stop the immature abusers who fly to southern cities to party for 3 weeks pretending they have an interest and leave home when they can no longer support themselves or their partying lifestyle. It is not uncommon that such youth mislead their hardworking, initially good-intentioned peers anyway.

The beauty of instating or experimenting with these possibilities is they require no extra money or change in financial transactions. The option (and it is one that can be foregone) of having students pay their airfare would simply require a little forward planning and would always be refunded given an effortful attendance is observed.  A system for helping students from financially under-privileged families can easily be setup should they need immediate assistance in acquiring airfare. The practice of making students responsible has the potential to create tremendous returns in the form of mentally preparing them for the necessary maturity needed for serious effort and academic achievement in post-secondary institutions.

            As great as such ideas may be, they are only ideas until we unanimously decide we want improvement and confidently choose to make such possible measures a reality.  And even then, there will still be factors other than responsibility and accountability for why some young Inuit drop out of college or university. We Inuit students are in a great position with the privileges we have and the school boards have the ability to maximize success for the money they spend by allowing creative ideas some trial. Inuit post-secondary education success is in everyone's interest. I do not mean to paint our situation as bleak. By contrast, we are doing great; Inuit student success is at its highest and undoubtedly on the rise. There are Inuit studying abroad and in fields that may have been unimaginable ten to fifteen years ago.  I have no doubt more and more Inuit students are going to keep achieving post-secondary degrees in the near years to come regardless of what changes are made or not made. I simply want infuse some awareness how we can optimize our educational spending so the majority of students who attempt college or university complete the year and their degrees without becoming easily discouraged.

            For our Inuit readers, give gratitude to the people before you who made educational funding possible. Our education is not 'free'. You can be anything you want and go anywhere you choose.  You have one very simple obligation in return for the support you receive. You have an obligation to succeed.