Now that we are in the season of “back-to-school” I am reminded of some of my dad’s tales. Like so many of his generation he first attended a rural school, riding on horseback across the hills of southwestern Saskatchewan. His horse picked its way around the rocks and thistles of the drought-blighted region.
His was a mother absent household, when cancer took her. His 11-year-old sister took on the responsibilities, giving him the nurturing he craved.
Neighbours sometimes provided assistance with gifts of food. On one occasion, dad was heading off to school and his sister gave him a nearby neighbour’s cast iron frying pan to return. For whatever reason, his pony chose that morning to act up. Dad said that one-handed he couldn’t get her back under control so he whacked her across the head with the frying pan. She quickly settled down and he arrived safely.
The family eventually abandoned the farm and moved into town, Fox Valley. He completed his schooling with Grade 8, all that was available at the time. He recalled one particular teacher that was able to keep the larger farm boys in control despite being only slightly older and much smaller than they were. He admired her tenacity and demeanour with all ages.
What little work his father was able to obtain quickly ran out and the family moved again, this time to Duchess, in southeastern Alberta. They hauled all their possessions in two wagons, with the milk cow tied on behind and the dog running alongside.
Dad found work as a farmhand with an elderly Mennonite family. The godly couple took him into their home and treated him as one of their own. Through their example dad gave his life to the Lord and learned how to live a Christian life.
In my own life I have had many teachers and mentors as well. In my early Christian training I had my mother and my grandmother as Sunday school teachers. They encouraged me to listen, share and commit to memory many Scripture verses.
In elementary school and later junior high school, I recall that my teachers demonstrated firm but good-natured instruction. Hazel Halverson was a favourite. We were in a mixed class, grades 4 and 5, which pressed her into creativity in order to keep both groups occupied and productive. She told great stories, personal to her own life, which gave us examples of how to face challenges with humour.
Both Mr. Turman in Grade 8 and Mr. Burke in Grade 9 encouraged us to dive into literature and experiment with writing and finding our own voice. Along the way my love of poetry was rekindled and I memorized long passages of sagas and some of Shakespeare’s more familiar lines.
My years in Peace River, largely spent as a single parent, were enhanced by several Christian friends. Their willingness to walk alongside me in guiding my children, maintaining the upkeep of my quirky house and supplying my needs for close friendship, made the journey easier.
– Joyce Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
