1
The first time Zack learned about dreamcatchers was in 2017 when he was teaching in Nisga'a Lands. The school principal had one hung in his office. Zack was told that the dreamcatcher started as a talisman in many Indigenous cultures. Constructed of a willow hoop with a net woven across and hung over a young child's bed, it supposedly catches bad dreams while letting the good ones trickle down the hole in the middle to reach the sleeping child below. Over time, it evolved into a good luck charm. How fantasitic are the ideology and cultural significance behind the dreamcatcher! Zack thought to himself at the time.
The iconic object caught his attention again last year. It all began with Clayton, or more exactly his mom Jayden McKay.
Clayton was an Indigenous teenage boy in his Pre-Calculus 11 class. With a well-proportioined masculine body and a mane of slightly curly black hair almost reaching his shoulders, Clayton could have passed as a cowboy of Spanish or Mexican breed in Western movies if not for his distinctly high cheekbones and thick black brows. His straight nose and set lips suggested a resolute, possibly obstinate character, though he was quiet and friendly with most everybody.
Zack wanted to meet with Clayton's parents because his attendance and work ethic had been an issue. After the interim reports were sent home, teachers routinely reached out to parents of those students whose academic performance or behavior raised red flags. A quick check in the student database revealed that Clayton was living in foster care, so Zack contacted the foster parents to set up an optional parent-teacher conference. To his disappointment, neither foster parent responded to email or voice messages.
"They couldn't care less about these conferences," Clayton muttered when Zack asked him about his foster parents' apparent lack of interest. "All they care is the money the Ministry pays them for my care." Zack could hear the scorn in his voice and struggled to picture him interacting with the foster parents at home.
"I need to talk to someone who cares about how you're doing in school. Could you give me a number that I can call?" Zack pressed him for a replacement contact .
That was how he got hold of Jayden McKay, the boy's birth mother. Mindful of the protocols to be followed in this kind of situation, Zack went through Clayton's files; he also touched base with his school counselor. It was then agreed that although the birth mother did not have guardianship over the son, she had the right to know the status of his education provided prior approval was given by the child welfare agency in charge of him. After all the necessary paperwork was done, the mother was set to come to school after the usual parent-teacher conference hours were over.
"I don't want to sound like a pessimist, but don't expect too much from the meeting," the counselor forewarned Zack on her way out on the day of the meeting. She is probably right, Zack reflected. After all didn't Clayton's files say that he did not take kindly to his biological mother for some reason?
2
Sitting opposite him across the teacher desk was a woman in her early forties. She had a worn look that one would associate with people having crossed vast oceans, deserts, or wind-swept tundra, with deep wrinkles cut in the forehead and a few streaks of grey hair oddly standing out in an otherwise luxuriantly covered crown. She had on a floral cottton frock a tad too large for her size. Zack could tell where Clayton got his sleek hair and firm lips.
"Thank you for taking an interest in my son's study, Mr. Wayne. Clayton had been such an agreeable boy all these years, but lately he has been a rebel. And the foster home doesn't help," Ms. McKay heaved a heavy sigh.
Zack nodded. He had read Clayton's history, but the rebel part was new. He decided to go straight to his main concerns, though. "Clayton has had 5 lates and 4 absences in the first three weeks, and he seems to struggle in his math work. Is there anything you know that can account for his poor attendance and lack of preparation for the math work he is learning?"
"Clayton's attendance through Grade 10 had been good. I wonder what got him off track this term. Is there any pattern you noticed?"
Zack pulled up the records on his ThinkPad. "Four lates on Mondays, first block, and the absences were erratic."
"Looks like he is showing up late mostly on Mondays. Hm...Do you still play the national anthem on Monday? That's what they did when I was a teen," snorted Ms. McKay.
"Yes, that's the first thing we do every Monday. First land acknowledgement, then the national anthem. It's been like this forever," Zack affirmed, wondering how the Monday morning ritual had anything to do with Clayton's tardiness.
"Nothing has changed, has it? What's funny about this thing is that nowadays they acknowledge the land as the traditional and unceded territory of my people, but in the same breath they call it their native land in the anthem and teach their kids every freaking Monday." Ms. McKay sounded pretty worked up, and the petals on her floral dress started to quiver as she spoke. Probably realizing she was a bit beside herself, she presently composed herself and went on.
"I'm sorry. I may have unwittingly influenced my son on these things with all this negative energy. I should have known better than burdening a teenager with all this trashy stuff."
"It's alright. I'm also learning about this country. I see what might have caused him to dawdle on Monday morning. The good news is that he hasn't had many lates with other teachers, if his counselor's information is correct." Zack wanted to quickly move onto the other two, possibly related issues.
"Would you consider Clayton a strong math student, Ms. McKay?" he approached the matter with caution.
"No, he missed so much during Covid. They all did, but I still hope he will be able to make it through high school, and not repeat my life." She pointed a finger at her bosom as if for Zack to take a good look.
"But wouldn't Workplace Math 11 also help him get there? Plus in doing workplace math he will learn practical skills he can use in jobs like auto mechanics, welders, crane operators, electricians..." Zack recited those occupations as obvious reasons for Ms. McKay to consider.
"No, Clayton will be an engineer," Ms. McKay interrupted. "I saw great promise in him as early as age three -- he picked up things real quick, just like that." She snapped her fingers, eyes glistening. "Nowadays more and more Indigenous people are becoming doctors, lawyers, teachers, conservationists, and all that. I don't see why they can't also be engineers." She literally glowed at the idea. Zack saw no point in discussing the relevancy of her representation, so he focused on the issue at hand that called for immediate remedy.
"Okay, Clayton will stay in the Pre-Cal class, but he shouldn't expect to pass if he keeps skipping classes or putting off homework. If he needs extra help, he can drop in during lunchtime or Wednesday after school -- I am usually here for those who need help. Now, do you think you could do something about those absences and overdue assignments?"
"I will try, but I can't promise much." She looked to the left and then to the right. When she was able to settle her gaze again, she sighed, "He has stopped answering my calls or messages ever since I moved in with my new boyfriend." As though reading Zack's mind she added, "He called me this time to come meet with you."
A few minutes later, while taking leave, Ms. McKay took out a carefully wrapped small bundle from her bag and placed it on Zack's desk. Inside it was a neat, palm-sized dreamcatcher. It had the look of a family heirloom.
"You know what it is?" Seeing Zack nodding, Ms. McKay continued. "It was once hung over my cot before I was scooped up by social workers in the early 80s. Now Clayton's grandmother is dying, she wants him to have it. It would be very kind of you if you could pass it on to Clayton." She was almost beseeching.
"Of course I will," Zack assured her. "Anything else I can do for you, or Clayton?" he offered.
Ms. McKay paused a moment, and then said:
"Now that he refuses to see me, I would appreciate it if you could keep me in the know who he is hanging out with these days. I am a bit concerned being shut out as I am, with so many temptations around kids."
"I will try my best," Zack promised. He remembered the school counselor's parting words earlier in the day. He took a deep breath. Well, this is the least I can do as his teacher, he told himself, regarding the dreamcatcher laid on his desk as though with fresh insight.
(To be continued)
