Deep thanks to the participants for your generosity of time and insight. Thank-you to the three school boards who welcomed this research. The research was supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, Lakehead University, and the Ontario Graduate Scholarship Program. This article is based on the dissertation completed by Moon (2019) and is written in the first person. Paul supervised the dissertation and provided support in this writing.

Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Martha Moon, c/o Paul Berger, Lakehead University, 955 Oliver Road, Thunder Bay, ON, P7B5E1 or via email: memoon@lakeheadu.ca

As non-Indigenous educators,[1] many of us have much to learn as we seek to honour Indigenous students and provide them with meaningful school experiences. Learning through relating with Indigenous colleagues and community members provides a valuable opportunity for non-Indigenous educators’ learning (Morcom & Freeman, 2018; Oskineegish, 2014). On a broader scale, learning through relationships is established by Indigenous scholars as a vital way to learn (Cajete, 1994; Canadian Council on Learning, 2007; Simpson, 2014). The purpose of this study was to explore specific learning relationships shared by Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators who have interacted together in publicly funded schools in Canada. Participants offered their own personal and professional stories about relationships that they identified as productive. As the authors, we take responsibility for any errors or omissions in this manuscript. In particular, we recognize that as EuroCanadian researchers, we have gaps in understanding and experience connected to colonization, and unearned social privilege that affect our viewpoints (see Sensoy & DiAngelo, 2017).

The research questions come from my experience as a non-Indigenous educator of Indigenous students in publicly funded school systems. As a young and passionate elementary school teacher, I quickly came to recognize gaps in my understanding. As a Kindergarten to Grade 6 teacher of both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students in a large Canadian city, I was blessed to have Indigenous educators in my daily work context who helped me see new perspectives as they shared their own experiences, stories, knowledge, and even friendship. My experiences and wondering during those first 4 years of teaching in a public school board led me to the heart of this research. Further teaching in other Canadian school boards, along with contract lecturing at Lakehead University, again with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students, has continued to shape how I understand this research.

I come from English, Scottish, and Irish heritage with ancestors who immigrated to Ontario in the 1800s. I come from a Jesus-seeking worldview where church community and biblical understandings shape my values. I am increasingly aware of the harmful and long-lasting impact my religious group and ancestry made—and can continue to make—through colonization and in the name of education. In grieving this and seeking to deepen my understanding and better my practice, my intent is to walk alongside Indigenous and non-Indigenous students, colleagues, and communities toward positive change in education.

To be clear, this research takes place within a context where Indigenous educators and Indigenous students face racism in Canadian school systems (St. Denis, 2010). My hope as a teacher has been to develop increasingly strong and understanding relationships with Indigenous students and colleagues as one step toward addressing this problem. On an academic level, Indigenous scholars’ work on concepts such as “ethical relationality” (Donald, 2012) help shape this vision, linked to wider work on “decolonizing education” (Battiste, 2013).

Paul supervised my master’s and doctoral research. He is a non-Indigenous educator and scholar who has been learning alongside Indigenous students and communities as a teacher and researcher in Nunavut and an academic in Ontario. We are honoured to pass on the stories and insight that Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators shared in this study.

The following questions guided this study: How do non-Indigenous educators and Indigenous educators and community members describe experiences and qualities of the productive learning relationships they share? How are these relationships initiated and sustained, and how do participants believe they affect non-Indigenous educators’ practices with respect to Indigenous students?

For this study, I take a strength-based approach to teacher learning in the context of Indigenous education in publicly-funded K-12 schools. From existing research, we know that many non-Indigenous educators have a gap in knowledge about historic and current relations between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in the land we call Canada (Godlewska et al., 2010; Rice et al., 2020). This reality is mirrored in the general Canadian population, as indicated by a large survey of 1st-year university students in Ontario (Schaefli et al., 2018), and a more general sample by Environics Institute (2016). There is also a gap in school completion and school achievement for Indigenous students (Statistics Canada, 2017), a gap that exists within the reality that Canadian school systems have not honoured Indigenous people and need systemic change (Battiste, 2013).

The need for non-Indigenous teacher learning has been established and reestablished by Indigenous leadership. According to the groundbreaking—and now historic—Indian Control of Indian Education (National Indian Brotherhood/Assembly of First Nations, 1972), “Non-Indians must be ready to recognize the value of another way of life; to learn about Indian history, customs and language; and to modify, if necessary, some of their own ideas and practices” (p. 26). Recommendations included “in-service training of teachers” (p. 26). More recently, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015) called upon Ministers of Education to commit to teacher training in “residential schools and Aboriginal history,” and “building student capacity for intercultural understanding, empathy, and mutual respect” (p. 7).

Teachers pass on knowledge and values through the formalized, political institution of schooling (Apple, 2004). Their own understanding and attitudes are factors in Indigenous and non-Indigenous students’ school experience (Bishop & Durksen, 2020; Manning et al., 2020). Recognizing that the influences on Indigenous students’ school experiences are diverse (Manning et al., 2020), the focus of this study is the relationships that have supported their non-Indigenous teachers’ growth and learning.

Non-Indigenous teachers who learn from Indigenous community members by positioning themselves as learners alongside their students can increase their understanding and improve their practices in ways that benefit students (Dion, 2016). Decades of research have underscored the importance of teachers learning from Indigenous community members, colleagues, and students inside and outside of school (e.g., Archibald, 2008; Berger, 2008; Goulet, 2001; Oskineegish, 2014). In the field of preservice teacher education, researchers have pointed to “first voice testimony” (Nardozi et al., 2014, p. 116) and learning through relating with Indigenous community members, Elders, colleagues, and students as key to educators’ learning (Blimkie et al., 2014; Moon, 2014; Tanaka, 2009).

Cree and Métis scholar St. Denis (2010) found that Indigenous educators in Canadian public schools experienced racism from some non-Indigenous colleagues and meaningful allyship in others. Describing allies, St. Denis (2010) wrote, “These non-Aboriginal colleagues tended to be genuine, honest and trustworthy, positive, open-minded and good listeners; they were persons who made an effort to learn and to change” (p. 61). St. Denis’s (2010) large study points to the existence and qualities of productive collegial relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators.

Recent studies on settlers’ learning caution about the demands placed on Indigenous educators. As Davis et al. (2017) wrote:

Experiential learning that involves being in relationship with Indigenous peoples, entering Indigenous spaces, and participating in ceremonies, teachings and on-land activities, is an undeniably rich source of learning and decentering for non-Indigenous Canadians….Yet, a tension exists in knowing how big a role Indigenous peoples should play in settler education, and in striking a balance between, on the one hand, learning from Indigenous peoples, knowledge and pedagogies, and on the other, settlers taking responsibility for their own education and unlearning of dominant narratives and histories. Finding ways to include Indigenous voices and perspectives respectfully without burdening Indigenous peoples is a balance to be considered. (p. 407)

In light of these words, it is important for me as a non-Indigenous author to note the large contribution made by Indigenous educators to the present study.

Since the research questions in the present study focused on the positive, productive aspects of learning relationships, it is possible that some of the challenges and costs may not have been voiced. Varying learning dynamics were described, with some participants engaging deeply on spiritual, emotional, and intellectual levels with colleagues. From my perspective, it is one thing to be learning on that level and another to be guiding someone else's learning (which many Indigenous educators were doing). I want to honour their work here and to recognize that further research would be needed to explore the challenges posed by such deep learning and leadership.

Story and relationship are underlying principles in this research, indicated in the context and literature review and stated by participants in the findings. I first learned of research founded in story and interpersonal relationship through the work of Kovach (2009), a scholar of Nêhiyaw and Saulteaux ancestry. Later, I read Clandinin and Connelly’s (2000) work on narrative inquiry where story and relationship were central in school-based research with teachers, valuing their experiences. My methodology draws on both Indigenous and EuroCanadian scholarship as I seek to honour story and relationship as Indigenous forms of knowledge sharing (Archibald, 2008) and recognize findings from recent research that point to the power of storytelling in settler educators’ learning (Rice et al., 2020).

At the theoretical core, my aspiration is Donald’s (2012) “ethical relationality” (p. 103) concept, which was inspired by teachings shared by Kainai (Blackfoot) Elders and Cree scholar Ermine’s (2007) work. This stance presupposes the interconnectedness of all living beings, and as Donald (2012) explains, Aboriginal people and Canadians are thereby intrinsically related—albeit through colonization. He invites “an ethical stance that requires attentiveness to the responsibilities that come with a declaration of being in relation” (Donald, 2012, p. 103). In the present study, Donald’s (2012) “declaration of being in relation” (p. 103) is highly significant at both a person-to person level and a societal level. Interpersonal relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous students and educators are central and are situated within wider societal relationships and histories, as addressed next.

Donald’s (2012) work is connected to the larger body of scholarship on decolonization. Within that nuanced body of scholarship, I highlight some underlying ideas shared by Mi’kmaq scholar Battiste (1998; 2013). Battiste (1998) described ongoing “colonial siege” (p. 19) where Canadian schools have been used against Indigenous people to discredit their knowledge bases and values, leading to loss of language and knowledge. She contrasted this with the original intent, established through treaties between the Crown and First Nations, to “enable the nations to be enriched by new knowledge that supplemented Aboriginal knowledge” (p. 19). Battiste (1998) wrote, “We cannot continue to allow Aboriginal students to be given a fragmented existence in a curriculum that does not mirror them, nor should they be denied understanding the historical context that has created that fragmentation” (p. 24). While Battiste (1998) underlined major issues in Canadian education systems, she also pointed to new possibilities: “Canadian and other nation states have a chance to comprehend another view of humanity as they never have before. They should understand Indigenous humanity and its manifestations without paternalism and without condescension” (p. 26). Thus, Battiste (1998, 2013) wrote about schools as sites of colonization, but also part of a larger vision of decolonization.

The potential for education to contribute to renewed relations while recognizing the impact of Indian Residential Schools is evident through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC, 2015). Justice Murray Sinclair, Chair of the TRC, stated: “Reconciliation is about forging and maintaining respectful relationships. There are no shortcuts” (TRC, 2018). In this study, I recognize racism and oppression within school systems and hope that school systems can be part of renewed relations at interpersonal and systemic levels.

Teaching and learning through stories has been explored in depth by several Indigenous scholars (e.g., Archibald, 2008; Kovach, 2009; Wilson, 2008). Cree scholar Wilson (2008) outlined several types of stories, which are linked to different purposes and guidelines. Recognizing diversity within the word “story,” I would like to be clear upfront: stories of personal experience were the type I sought in this research. My purpose was to understand how Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators in current school systems relate in meaningful ways. Thus, I asked about stories of their experiences as individuals and as colleagues in order to offer insight for other educators. Clandinin and Connelly (2000) argued for the value of learning from teachers’ experience and practical knowledge as expressed through stories. Sharing stories can honour the experiential knowledge of educators (Ciuffetelli Parker & Craig, 2017) and contribute to their ongoing learning (Hollingsworth & Dybdhal, 2007).

I seek to honour the prominent position of stories as ways to teach one another and to convey important knowledge in a relational way. As a researcher of Irish, English, and Scottish heritage, I acknowledge that I am interpreting these principles from my own perspective, and that my spiritual, social, and professional backgrounds come to bear on my understanding (see Absolon, 2011; Kovach, 2009; Moon, 2019).

I designed my research to centre the stories of educators. I met with 19 participants, including one trio, seven pairs, and three individuals who shared stories of relating as Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators. In addition, I observed one of the pairs in action. After summarizing interview conversations into 11 stories to represent each trio, pair, or individual, I wrote up key themes from the set of stories as a whole. The data represented in this paper provides brief glimpses into the stories shared by each trio, pair, or individual, and highlights three major themes.

Participants were recruited based on referrals or preexisting relationships. Most taught a mix of Indigenous and non-Indigenous students, and all taught in publicly funded schools. I knew some (n= 9) participants before the study and some (n=10) were recommended by school board administrators, Indigenous leads, or their colleagues across the three school boards in which I gathered data. The school boards were located in two different Canadian provinces. Since I was looking to study meaningful and productive learning relationships, I relied on participants to identify colleagues or community members with whom they had learned in meaningful ways. Where possible, I began with Indigenous educators to privilege their selection of successful learning partnerships.

The following table outlines each participant by name (pseudonym), and indicates the pairings and trio. Participants are listed as Indigenous and non-Indigenous based on how they identified in this study. Similarly, their roles are listed based on the stories they shared for the present study. Participants were offered the opportunity to choose their own pseudonyms. Several took that opportunity and I chose a pseudonym for the others.

Participants Names (pseudonyms)	Educator’s role described in this study		Mode of data collection (Martha conducted all conversational interviews, observations from February to June, 2017)
Tee-chaw	Native^a teacher, teacher educator, volunteer in schools	n/a	Individual interview
Dan	Indigenous educator at the school board and school levels	n/a	Individual interview
River	Indigenous administrator	Agnes	Shared interview with Agnes
Agnes	Non-Indigenous teacher and administrator	River	Shared interview with River
Greg	Indigenous educator	Bryn	Shared interview with Bryn
Bryn	Non-Indigenous educator	Greg	Shared interview with Greg
Simone	Indigenous educator at the school board level	Sky	Shared interview with Sky
Sky	Non-Indigenous teacher and administrator	Simone	Shared interview with Simone
Brittany	Indigenous educator at the school board level	Christine, Michaela	Shared interview with Christine Shared interview with Michaela 3 observation sessions with Michaela
Michaela	Non-Indigenous teacher	Brittany	Shared interview with Brittany, 3 observation sessions with Brittany
Christine	Non-Indigenous teacher	Brittany	Shared interview with Brittany
Hope	Indigenous educator (various roles)	Chantal	Shared interview with Chantal
Chantal	Non-Indigenous educator (various roles)	Hope	Shared interview with Hope
Max	Indigenous educator	Kate	Shared interview with Kate
Kate	Non-Indigenous teacher	Max	Shared interview with Max
Alise	Indigenous educator	Lydia, Renee	Shared interview with Lydia and Renee
Lydia	Indigenous educator at the school board level	Alise, Renee	Shared interview with Alise and Renee
Renee	Non-Indigenous teacher	Alise, Lydia	Individual interview Shared interview with Alise and Lydia
Olivia	Non-Indigenous teacher	n/a	Individual interview

^aSince Tee-chaw prefers the term “Native” to “Indigenous,” this term is used in reference to her.

Note: This table shows whether the participant was Indigenous or non-Indigenous, their roles, whom they were partnered with, and the mode of data collection used.

In terms of formal qualifications, all of the non-Indigenous educators in this study were formally trained teachers, some holding administrative roles. The Indigenous educators included teachers, administrators, and others with formal roles in schools and school boards, some of whom were not formally trained teachers.

Following research ethics reviews by Lakehead University and the three school boards, I conducted conversational interviews (Hollingsworth & Dybdhal, 2007) in person between February and June 2017. I offered each participant their choice of tobacco or loose-leaf tea as a relational way to acknowledge the time and wisdom they were sharing with me (see Lavallée, 2009). I also brought homemade snacks or treated people to a meal to express hospitality and relational connection within the research process. Sometimes participants brought items to share as well. We often began by making or reestablishing relational connections through informal conversation. Most took place in the participants’ work space, which sometimes involved me learning a bit about those environments and what they meant to the educators. Other conversational interviews took place in my university office or at a restaurant. In some cases, these places held significance to participants or to our shared past experiences.

Conversational interviews (Hollingsworth & Dybdhal, 2007) were based on the research questions and were open-ended and participant-led. Participants were offered the information and consent form and interview guide beforehand. I phrased the two research questions as topics of discussion and provided optional written prompts (see Appendix 1). During the interviews, I sometimes asked about the research topics directly, but often relied on participants to guide the conversation. In addition to asking each trio, pair, or individual about how their relationships were initiated and sustained, how they believed the non-Indigenous educators’ teaching practices were shaped for the benefit of Indigenous students, and about their overall experience of the learning relationship, I observed one pair in action. In that case, watching the Indigenous educator work alongside the non-Indigenous classroom teacher for three lessons on 3 days complimented the conversational interview about their longer-term process. The Indigenous educator was teaching on the topic of Indigenous history, and on Indigenous-Canadian interactions, including Indian residential schools and their implications.

With participants’ permission, each conversational interview was audio recorded. In addition, I took field notes (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000) on participants’ words and interactions as back-up for the audio and to add my observations and reflections. I transcribed each audio file myself, then sent transcripts back to participants for their review. Throughout the data compilation and analysis process, I sought to offer participants the chance to be the first audience, inspired by Clandinin and Connelly (2000). Thus, my next step was to present participants with very brief summaries to check that I was accurately representing them and honouring the heart of their stories before I wrote their stories in longer form. To do this, I looked for quotations in the transcripts that emphasized recurring ideas or that seemed central to the conversational interview as a whole. I also created a small interpretive watercolour painting to display the essence of the learning relationship as I understood it, with a title using descriptive words from my initial analysis. I called the product of this phase of data analysis a “snapshot document” (see example in Appendix 2). I sent each individual, pair, or trio the snapshot document from their interview conversation and welcomed feedback.

I also scheduled an optional collective discussion of the set of snapshots with participants before I began to write up findings in longer form, calling it a “co-theorizing” session (see Tuck & Yang, 2014). Two people participated. I integrated their feedback into my analysis of the story set. They also advised me to keep the interpretive watercolour paintings as part of the dissertation, which I did.

I then wrote up each of the stories in about 10 pages and shared them with the relevant participants. To write the longer version of the stories I built on the snapshot document, listened to interview audio for tone, and listed out key ideas as I reviewed the transcripts, my interview day notes and reflections, and related notes on previous interactions related to the research. To track main ideas, I created flash cards to use as reference points for writing the full story, and employed strategies such as making lists, mind maps, and art to help me summarize and synthesize. Finally, I wrote up themes and key ideas across the eleven stories, and again welcomed participant feedback on the full analysis.

In choosing themes, I sought to honour the integrity of each story, and to draw out ideas that interacted across stories. While I was immersed in the data during the writing of each story, I had taken point-form notes on key ideas and on points of interaction between the stories. To inform my writing of the key themes section, I printed off the point-form notes about connections between stories, cut them up, and reorganized them into a large mind map that I glued onto Bristol board. I found that I was at my capacity for number of stories at around the same time that I had followed up with interested or recommended potential participants. This led to 11 full stories in their own right, plus a discussion of key themes that drew on central aspects of the 11 stories and made connections between them.

Certain aspects of thematic analysis as described by Savin-Baden and Howell Major (2013) applied to this process, such as getting “a feel for the whole text by living with it prior to any cutting or coding,” and acknowledging “that analysis happens at an intuitive level” (p. 440). A commitment to “immersion in the data and considering connections and interconnections” (Savin-Baden & Howell Major, 2013, p. 440) was ongoing through being directly involved with conversational interviews, transcription, painting about the data, making snapshot documents, receiving feedback, writing full stories, and revisiting and adapting them based on participants’ feedback.

Overall, 16 of the 19 participants responded at least once during the member-checking process (Savin-Baden & Howell Major, 2013). The phases of recruitment, conversational interviews, transcribing, writing, and participant feedback took place in overlapping waves. My work was shaped in an ongoing way by prayer and reflection, participants’ feedback, and conversations with friends, educators, mentors, and Elders Barbara Hooper (who I first met as an Elder-in-Residence at Queen’s University) and Gerry Martin (Elder-in-Residence at Lakehead University).

The outcome of data analysis in the dissertation was 11 stories about learning through relationship, averaging 10 pages each, and a thematic discussion analyzing key ideas from the stories. In this article, key ideas are the focal point.

Certain themes in the 11 stories stand out because they characterized many of the learning relationships or were foundational to their development. They are a focus on students’ learning and well-being, genuine openness, and time. While the ideas shared here are excerpted from longer stories (see Moon, 2019, pp. 160–256), my approach is to present the ideas through direct quotations from participants. To provide context, brief introductions to the participants are woven into this findings section.

Students’ well-being and learning experiences at school were central to participants. Hope, an Indigenous educator, put it this way:

I’m attracted to working with genuine people who really remember the purpose of why we’re here, and it’s for the kids and their learning. Not always just academic learning, although that’s very important, but the holistic parts of self.

Hope and Chantal, a non-Indigenous educator, worked together for several years, through progression in their careers. Hope provided leadership and support for Chantal. Collaboration for student holistic well-being and success was at the forefront for these educators. Hope encouraged Chantal to challenge herself for the benefit of students, and to take leadership roles, valuing Chantal’s excellence in teaching and long-term dedication to relationship-building with Indigenous students, families, and community. Together, and with their school staff, they faced challenges and said they “enjoy the ride” together.

Greg and Bryn were another pair of participants who spoke extensively about students as central. Greg, an Indigenous educator, and Bryn, a non-Indigenous educator, worked together on projects at school board and provincial levels. Over time, their working relationship developed into a friendship characterized by trust and mutual learning. Bryn gained insight into students’ circumstances through Greg’s stories. Greg shared Indigenous teachings with Bryn, which helped her in her own growth and understanding and in her role of supporting teachers. Bryn supported Greg in sharing his ideas confidently. Greg valued Bryn as a strong source of support for students and for himself, saying:

That was one of the things that probably draws us together, is my big thing is the kids. I don’t care about anything else. I just want the best for the kids. And to be honest, the [First Nation] kids, that’s my focus.

This deep care and commitment to students framed how Greg related to Bryn, as evidenced when Greg said, “I know that Bryn has kids’ best interests and always has. You can sense that, that those relationships with those kids mean the world to Bryn, and that the kid is supported and feels loved.” Greg’s words underscored the centrality of students to the learning relationship he shared with Bryn.

Olivia, a non-Indigenous classroom teacher, provided another angle on the centrality of students to educators’ learning relationships. She related with many different Indigenous educators and Elders, some through a multi-year learning group. Olivia said, “It’s just all learning all the time,” and she valued the variety of people she learned alongside. Olivia was able to encourage her students to draw on the knowledge and presence of Indigenous educators in their school and community. Working with Indigenous students was the impetus for her learning; Olivia said, “I felt like it was the first time I ever had any interactions with any Indigenous people. Coming in super [unaware of] any history, any teachings, or just relationships, or any conflict—just not knowing.” She spoke about her gratefulness for a learning group of Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators at the school board and provincial levels, “where the big learning started for me in better understanding of Indigenous issues and relationships and history.” Through different colleagues’ knowledge and experiences, she learned more about “the land relationship,” “more sacred teachings, or the Seven Grandfathers,” and “Residential Schools.” For Olivia, the students in her class each year were the reason for her learning. In addition to the collegial learning group, she gave examples of learning with her students through the guidance of an Elder and an Indigenous program person.

Another way to see the centrality of students to educators’ learning and relating is through the eyes of Dan, an Indigenous educator who through many years worked relationally with many non-Indigenous educators. Dan supported teachers and administrators through his school board role and as a colleague. He focused on developing learning relationships with educators over time, often through sharing personal, family, and local stories and inviting teachers to share their stories as well. Dan encouraged teachers to consider their current understanding of Indigenous communities. Through educator-to-educator dialogue and relationship, Dan offered a space to ask questions and engage in meaningful learning. Dan’s aim was for teachers to “open up doors for other possibilities of a relationship with the child,” as the teacher’s “foundational knowledge” of Indigenous histories and communities was strengthened. Dan shared the following explanation:

I think our society, particularly our teachers are, again, scared, or hesitant, or not sure how to approach it, and they’re worried that they’re going to offend, they’re worried they might say something. And knowing and learning and understanding can help break down some of those insecurities. Open up doors for other possibilities of a relationship with the child .... The child is feeling recognized, feeling supported, feeling cared for in a school; well, that’s going to translate to, I’m going home and I’m talking about school, talking about the teacher, talking about what I’ve done today. And I’m wanting to go back and get more of that.

Caring about students and their well-being was often a connecting point for Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators who worked and related in meaningful ways. Students were at the center for the Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators in this study. Non-Indigenous educators often sought to learn and to connect with Indigenous colleagues in order to honour their Indigenous students or to facilitate the opportunity for all their students to learn from Indigenous perspectives. For Indigenous educators, students’ learning and well-being were a major motivator for extending knowledge, support, and time to non-Indigenous educators.

Openness, care, and genuine commitment to students is a theme that interacts with educators’ genuine and open stances toward one another. This was expressed in multiple ways. For example, Max and Kate’s story shows multiple levels of openness and being genuine.

Max is an Indigenous educator who kept an open door to support educators and students. Kate is a non-Indigenous classroom teacher who sought Max’s advice and guidance toward inviting Indigenous community members’ leadership and collaboration in the classes she was teaching. Kate gained insight into supporting Indigenous students and confidence in engaging with Indigenous topics through Max’s approachable, open support. Max valued Kate’s genuine desire to “do things properly” when seeking Indigenous community members’ guidance, her empathy for students’ circumstances, and her desire to shape her teaching to facilitate their success. This view is demonstrated in Max’s words, as follows:

I think Kate is just—she’s an extremely kind, kind person. One of the kindest teachers I’ve come across in my career in the schools …. It is really refreshing to have people seeking out this sort of information—looking to do things properly. Kate was very careful of wanting to do it properly. And you know I think that made it very easy for me to open up and to work with her. And to just connect with her on that professional level. You know of course there’s a lot of uncertainties, there’s not a lot of education out there right now …. So, I really got that sense off Kate. It was just—I sensed the genuineness from her, and I think that was really important.

Humility, kindness, and openness were important as educators related, and within the wider web of relations. Max explained it in the following way:

Being on this horizon of new learning and bringing Indigenous teachings into schools and into education, we’re, you know, you gotta have the relationships, whether it’s community people, or with teachers, and just an understanding that we’re here for best outcomes for our youth, and ultimately ourselves too, and our community. So yeah, just kind of fostering those relationships in a proper way. And you know and looking in the mirror and knowing that we don’t know it all. So, it’s important that we have people to go to and to be open with.

Being open and genuine were traits that both Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators noted in one another.

Many non-Indigenous educators experienced fear, discomfort, or nervousness when addressing Indigenous histories or perspectives in class. It seems this was mostly because they felt undereducated and inexperienced. The guidance and companionship many educators found in the Indigenous educators who taught alongside them was meaningful, leading to increased confidence. Brittany and Michaela modelled this type of meaningful interaction.

Brittany, an Indigenous educator, taught non-Indigenous teacher Michaela’s class a set of lessons on Indigenous perspectives and Residential Schools. Michaela accepted Brittany’s offer to teach when she heard about her colleague Christine’s experience with Brittany’s class visits. Brittany tailored the lessons to the students in the specific class, many of whom she knew from visiting the school over time. Michaela listened closely as Brittany taught, seeking to deepen her own background knowledge on topics like Indigenous history. Addressing “uncomfortable” and “painful” topics with Brittany in the lead made learning meaningful and within reach for both Michaela and her students. Michaela felt that Brittany “laid it bare” when teaching the history of residential schools, bringing new perspectives. Michaela said the following:

There’s always that fear that when you talk about these things, that you might not teach the things appropriately, you might not say the right things. There might be questions that are asked of you that you don’t know how to answer….We kind of glossed over the whole residential school [topic] because as a teacher, I was uncomfortable. I fully admit I did not know enough. And so, it’s nice to be able to have somebody come in, not just to have them sort of take over, but I was madly doing notes because if I’m approached with a question, I would like to be able to answer it.

At another point, referring to instances when she had approached Brittany for guidance, Michaela said, “I really felt comfortable with you because…you had a sense of humour, you came in, and you know it wasn’t just…‘Do this! You should be doing this; you’re not doing this.’” Brittany replied, “Yeah. There were no judgments….Going into a classroom, and you walk out and think, ‘Well that was interesting.’ But I can’t—it can’t be deficit driven. It’s all about, okay, where is the potential relationship here, or the growth.” Michaela’s openness—her experience of sensing her own knowledge gap—and accessing the knowledgeable support of an Indigenous educator who came alongside, resonated with several non-Indigenous educators’ stories.

Non-Indigenous educators’ openness to being challenged and to shaping their practices existed alongside Indigenous educators’ openness, support, and focus on their growth and development. Dan, an Indigenous educator, said, “It’s very exciting to be walking in that journey, and going together down this trail of growth.” River and Agnes also experienced a long-term process of shared growth.

River, an Indigenous educator, and Agnes, a non-Indigenous educator, met when Agnes came to teach in the school where River was a school administrator. They shared years of collaboration on teaching and leading in multiple contexts. Later, both were administrators who leaned on and challenged one another toward excellence in public education and cross-cultural understanding. Students were offered in-depth learning opportunities with local Indigenous knowledge holders, such as ongoing collaboration with an Elder. River’s and Agnes’s perceived impact included developing a school culture of high expectations—a challenging and growth-oriented environment for both educators and students.

River said, “I operate from a central belief system that people are people, and people have strengths, and people generally want to learn, so we need to have that space for them to be able to learn.” River described cultivating an environment that was open to teachers and challenged them. Agnes responded to that environment, and River appreciated her openness to learning and to changing her practices.

As another example of being genuine and open, Kate said that while “there is a huge level of ignorance on my part, [Max was there] helping me get further.” Max was clear that he was often “in the same boat,” describing his own learning. “We’re still learning ourselves and trying to do things properly, it’s just a never-ending path of learning. I mean, that is life, right?”

Indigenous educators’ strong support for their non-Indigenous colleagues’ learning processes was a purposeful choice. The following quotation was shared by Dan, who offered guidance to many educators in his school board:

You’ve got to be willing to go to those uncomfortable places and ask those questions. And a huge part of my work is helping teachers, administrators, first of all slow things down so they don’t trip later on. But also, to think about the right questions to ask and what they need in order to be able to ask those questions. So instead of just coming in and talking about Reconciliation, I ask teachers to tell me a little bit more about their experiences in Indigenous communities. I ask teachers to share with me some of their insights. And I share a lot of my own stories. I share a lot about who I am and how I’ve arrived at this place. I talk about my family, and their experiences in Residential Schools. And I literally open myself up to them as a process of making the environment safe, so they can see I’m willing to put myself out there; they should be willing to put themselves out there as well. And all of a sudden, we have this new type of relationship where teachers feel safe asking questions that they don’t know how to articulate, or saying things that they were worried before might offend me. And for them to be able to have that space, creates a dialogue, it creates a relationship, it creates a process where learning becomes part of who we both are.

For Dan, teacher development in Indigenous education was highly personal and interpersonal. The power of personal stories surfaced many times in the study. The personal nature of this learning was emphasized by Simone and Sky.

Simone is an Indigenous educator at the school board level who supported students, families, teachers, and administrators at Sky’s school over several years. Sky is a non-Indigenous educator who worked with Simone as a teacher and then an administrator. Sky leaned on Simone’s guidance when addressing Indigenous cultural content. Over time, the two built interpersonal trust and deep collaboration, putting knowledge into practice and modelling collegial learning. They offered students many opportunities to connect with Indigenous community members and perspectives.

Sky valued Simone’s openness. She said, “That’s where it starts. When you hear someone’s story, how can you not be affected? It’s their story.” In addition to being open to interpersonal connection, non-Indigenous educators often opened up their teaching practices, current knowledge base, or assumptions to be challenged or reformed. As examples, Michaela challenged her own assumptions and judgements related to poverty and racism through Brittany’s insight. Kate actively sought out guidance from Max to help her understand and respond to students’ situations and to deepen the Indigenous section of her World Religions course by learning from local teachers in the community.

I note that Indigenous participants did not imply that all non-Indigenous educators they encountered were open to learning alongside them. This was indicated by Tee-chaw, a Native[2] educator who shared her knowledge and experience with educators in university and school settings over her multiple-decade career. Non-Indigenous colleagues did not always ask for her guidance, but she was consistently willing to support the learning of students and staff alike who were open to it, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous. As a classroom teacher, she said the needs of her Indigenous and non-Indigenous students shaped her practice. Later, she offered professional development, presentations to students, and support to administrators. Through storytelling and bringing a “resource box” from her community, she aimed to show students how Native people “live today.” Regarding teachers, she said, “They need to be told, and shown, how to meet the needs of our children.” Tee-chaw said people weren’t always open:

The teachers seemed to have an idea that they know what’s needed and they don’t need to be told….They don’t need to be reminded how to teach. Like in all professions, most people feel they know how to do their job. I said, “Okay, fine, no problem.”

Tee-chaw operated in contexts where people sometimes made negative assumptions about Native people, but she was persistent in offering learning opportunities for students, teachers, and administrators. She often created or collaborated to offer brand new learning opportunities and relationships. She said, “People say, ‘You can’t do it.’ Sure, there’s ways to do it.” This tenacity was characteristic of her approach.

One of the ways she asked me to mention was sharing food. By inviting educators, students, or families to a gathering over lunch, for example, she offered a new learning project or opportunity to connect. Another example of tenacity and creativity comes from early in her teaching career. When expected to teach from a biased textbook, she “chucked the book out the window and said, ‘We’re going to learn about the contributions of Native people and what they do today,’” instead drawing on materials that her mother sent her from their home community.

A final quotation about an open, genuine stance comes from Alise, Lydia, and Renee. Alise and Lydia are Indigenous educators, invited by Renee, a non-Indigenous classroom teacher, to share their knowledge about local food traditions in her class. At various times, both Lydia and Alise came to class to teach specific skills, and Lydia brought another Indigenous guest as well. The presence of these guest educators offered students new learning through stories, demonstrations, and new knowledge. Renee learned from relating and sharing stories with Alise after a class session, growing her own understanding through further interpersonal learning.

Lydia, speaking about being a guest who taught in Renee’s class, noted, “When you were learning, it’s the attentiveness and just the respect. And asking questions because you were engaging with the content too.” Thus, openness was mutual and was a stance into which students were implicitly invited.

Being open and being genuine were traits that echoed through the conversational interviews again and again. The quotations provided in this section indicate that both Indigenous and non-Indigenous participants sensed this stance in one another, important for successful learning relationships. Participants noted how educator openness affected students.

Whether educators met through board-initiated positions in Indigenous education, through working together as colleagues in the same building, or via provincial or school board level projects, time was an important theme. I noted two facets of time. One was the time—often in years—that was involved in building trust and deepening collaboration. A second was time on a day-to-day scale that was vital to co-plan, share a class or co-teach, discuss and debrief, ask questions, or relate informally in ways that built familiarity, trust, and friendship.

Simone, an Indigenous educator, brought up both facets. Long-term trust-building is emphasized. She said her school board has done well at,

Allowing some opportunity for Indigenous and non-Indigenous teachers to work together….You come to learn about each other personally, which that relationship piece is key, and it’s key to Indigenous people. Not only in building relationship, but in being able to work together. Because then there’s a trust. Especially when you’re dealing with heavy things….So, there’s a risk, right, in opening yourself up to be open and honest.

Since their school board provided formal Indigenous education roles like Simone’s, and dedicated time, Simone and Sky were able to collaborate and relate in meaningful ways that benefited students. Simone also said the following:

It’s not just a one-shot deal and you’re done. It’s that continual journey….but how do we move forward in the journey when we don’t have knowledgeable people to support? Non-Indigenous people open and willing to learn ... And the time …. [And] institutional support.

The following quotations from River, an Indigenous educator, and Agnes, a non-Indigenous educator, indicate how their learning relationship was shaped over years, and how time within a day provided learning opportunities. The context was a meeting where Agnes met with River and Indigenous colleagues and Elders:

River: My brain’s going, ‘Oh my [goodness], she’s telling them what to do! Shut up!’ But I didn’t want to kick her under the table because I didn’t know her that well yet. Now I would kick her under the table [smiles].

Agnes: Sometimes that’s the best learning space. It’s like immersion …. And you need to spend a moment in that time. Watching, listening, and learning. And deciding if there’s an entry point for you at all, or if your only entry point is to sit and be an observer.

River and Agnes spoke about the Western norms that Agnes brought to that meeting, and how she had an opportunity to learn about an “entire system of communication and community and reciprocal relationships and business” by sitting quietly and listening—after realizing she needed to be quiet in that moment. Agnes, through working alongside River, had the time to learn from Indigenous community members in school that day. Years later, they continued to reflect on that instance and to share conversations and collaboration in new contexts.

The changing form and function of a learning relationship over time was expressed by Greg, an Indigenous educator:

We went from there to being co-workers, and over time I feel like that relationship has molded, not just a coworker relationship, a friendship…. I feel like Bryn is a friend of mine that I can go to that I trust, if I need help. If I need advice. If I need to vent….And that relationship means a lot to me.

While not every learning relationship represented in this study became a deep friendship, it is evident that having time to relate and work together could lead to profound mutual learning and support.

On the day-to-day level, time to collaborate professionally was an important provision. Brtittany and Christine’s learning relationship offers insight on the time involved. Brittany, an Indigenous educator, offered to teach a set of lessons on Indigenous perspectives and residential schools to any interested class at a certain grade level. Christine, a non-Indigenous teacher, eagerly accepted. Christine felt that engaging with Brittany and her stories, experiences, and knowledge meant learning about Indigenous/non-Indigenous Canadian relations in a way that she and her class would not otherwise encounter. Countering racism in their community was an outcome that Christine valued for herself and her students.

Brittany was in a school board role where she could go and spend the time with Christine and her class, and with Michaela and her class, which led to student and educator learning. Similarly, Lydia’s role meant that she could support Renee through leading classes and being present to connect her with Indigenous guests. Time dedicated to projects at school board and provincial levels allowed Olivia opportunity to collaborate with many Indigenous and non-Indigenous colleagues for her own learning and the benefit of her students. Time on large projects at the school board level also facilitated Greg and Bryn’s initial collaboration.

The three central themes of the present article—students at the centre; being open and genuine; and time—are evident in existing research. My focus in this article on stories from multiple Canadian school boards, offers nuance in each area.

Teacher learning motivated by students’ well-being is discussed by Dion (2016), Morcom and Freeman (2018), and Oskineegish (2014). In Dion’s (2016) collaborative inquiry in Ontario’s public schools, a stated goal was “student well-being and achievement” (p. 4). As both teachers and students engaged with Indigenous community members and ongoing learning in Indigenous education, students’ well-being, including their feelings of belonging at school and their relationships with teachers and peers, was affected (p. 31). In this research, non-Indigenous participants such as Renee and Michaela valued the opportunity to learn alongside students from an Indigenous educator much more knowledgeable than themselves. Lydia, who was teaching in Renee’s class, noted that students’ engagement in the topics she was teaching was informed by Renee’s engagement in her own learning. Oskineegish (2014), whose research was situated in First Nations schools in northern Ontario, studied teacher development with student success at the heart of her purpose. Thus, teacher growth in cultural competencies such as learning Anishnaabemowin and growing their own land-based understanding was noted as beneficial to students because teachers could then present more meaningful lessons and connect to students’ experiences and values. In this present study, Dan pointed to a similar positive outcome in his support of non-Indigenous teachers’ learning. He believed that teachers could build stronger relationships with students when they understood more about local Indigenous history and life, as well as colonization and its impacts.

Educators’ openness to learning is an idea that resonates with St. Denis’ (2010) findings. Indigenous educators in St. Denis’ (2010) work could sense when their colleagues were genuine about learning and about sharing their own strengths and support, which they saw as an important attribute of an ally to Indigenous education. Oskineegish (2015) also wrote about the importance of teachers’ openness to learning, and how this was part of what made them successful teachers in remote First Nation communities. Many educators in the present study emphasized being open and genuine as part of their stories, and the details they gave opens a view into their experience with their colleagues. For example, Kate, a non-Indigenous educator, explained that Max—her Indigenous colleague—always had his door literally open. Kate could seek direction and guidance, and Max highly valued that she was doing so in order to honour the Indigenous students she was teaching. Together, they could offer students connections with Indigenous community members who had the authority to teach important topics. These educators’ intuitive sense that their colleagues were genuine people and open to sharing and learning created an environment in which adult-to-adult and adult-to-youth relationships could flourish. Morcom and Freeman (2018), who studied Indigenous and non-Indigenous teachers in an Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, wrote, “Real reconciliation….requires members of the Euro-Canadian majority of society to step away from previously unexamined assumptions and incomplete understandings, and to face anger, guilt, and apathy within themselves and those around them.” They explained how this links to the Anishinaabe Seven Grandfather Teachings, including love. While each story in the present study was unique, relating from the heart was noteworthy. Friendship and humour featured in several stories, as did a sense that many teachers were open to deep learning.

In my research as well as in existing research, time commitment in collegial learning relationships is evident. Tompkins (1998), a non-Indigenous principal in an Inuit context, wrote about the power of non-Indigenous teachers teaming up with local Inuit uncertified teachers where professional development time was set aside for co-planning in the school. Oskineegish (2015) honoured the wisdom of teachers who had spent many years in an Indigenous community, giving them the time to become knowledgeable teachers. In my study, several of the Indigenous educators taught in non-Indigenous educators’ classrooms as part of their role, meaning that their time was available for that sort of guidance. Acknowledging the long-term nature of the learning in this study is essential; relationship-based learning is not a quick fix, but a genuine, ongoing process when it is flourishing. Will schools and school boards recognize and prioritize this? With so much work to be done for reconciliation—so much learning needed for non-Indigenous teachers to be able to teach Canadian-Indigenous history (Godlewska et al., 2010; Rice et al., 2020) and so much to do to combat racism (St. Denis, 2010) and cognitive imperialism (Battiste, 2013) in schooling—will time be made available?

Returning to watershed publications in Indigenous education, Indian Control of Indian Education (National Indian Brotherhood/Assembly of First Nations, 1972) stated—as quoted in the literature review above—“Non-Indians must be ready to recognize the value of another way of life; to learn about Indian history, customs and language; and to modify, if necessary, some of their own ideas and practices” (p. 26). My present study documents one venue for this learning and valuing. The educator-to-educator learning described in the findings of the present paper was a form of “in-service training of teachers” (National Indian Brotherhood/Assembly of First Nations, 1972, p. 26). While the learning was unique to the educators and their contexts, it provided an opportunity for meaningful learning with students’ well-being as a central factor.

Learning relationships shared by Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators already exist in publicly funded schools in this land known as Canada. The educators in this study were diverse and their relationships took many forms. Some learning relationships began through formal Indigenous education school board roles where lead educators offered support to classroom teachers and administrators in multiple settings. Some developed within schools and boards where educators were colleagues as teachers, administrators, or in other roles. Student learning and well-being were central motivators. Indigenous educators often offered their support to non-Indigenous educators with students’ well-being and success in mind, and many of the non-Indigenous educators were engaged in their own learning for the benefit of their students.

Being open and genuine characterized the learning relationships that educators shared. At times, non-Indigenous teachers felt tentative or fearful in addressing Indigenous perspectives since they felt their own background knowledge was low (cf. Rice at al., 2020). Indigenous educators extended their own time, stories, and presence for non-Indigenous colleagues’ learning. While dynamics varied, some of these learning relationships developed into close friendships or vital professional partnerships. Time to collaborate, plan, and discuss together was important. Many educators were familiar with one another over many years, even if their curricular collaboration was contained within a few lessons and follow-up communication. Joy, hope, collaboration, support, and learning alongside students often characterized the teacher learning that was taking place.

Based on these conclusions, I recommend that school boards and policymakers offer teachers rich learning experiences without forcing interpersonal learning. Simone, a participant in the present study, explained her approach: “You work with the people who are willing… you start here, and you try and expand it and grow it out.” Where Indigenous educators are extending themselves personally and professionally for the sake of their colleagues’ growth—as demonstrated by participants in this study—Ministries of Education and school boards should formally honour that contribution to teacher development. Examples include funding formal Indigenous education positions, setting apart professional development time for collaboration, and continuing to fund long-term Indigenous education learning groups and projects. The presence of Indigenous teachers, administrators, school staff, Elders, and community members in publicly funded schools is vital to the type of learning described in this study. School board hiring practices and policymaking should support Indigenous educators and their increased presence in public education. The time involved in developing deep collegial learning relationships—often 5 years or longer—should be honoured in policymaking and funding. While early or brief interactions mattered in the present study, the impact of longevity on learning relationships was notable.

Situated within the larger picture of current and historic relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in the land now called Canada, person-to-person learning is one way for Indigenous students’ school experiences to be enriched through the growth of their teachers. The findings in my study offer practical entry points toward productive learning relationships shared by Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators. While challenges existed, the joy, hope, and human connection among the educators in this study were remarkable.

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Endnotes:

[1] Notes on Terminology: “Indigenous” and “non-Indigenous” are terms that describe educators and community members based on how they self-identified in this study. “Indigenous” could include First Nation, Métis, and Inuit peoples. “Non-Indigenous” is used to describe participants who did not identify as First Nation, Métis, or Inuit.

“Educator,” and “teacher” are used broadly, referring to participants’ roles in promoting others’ learning. As noted in the findings, people held different roles in the school contexts described.

“Relationship-based learning” and “learning relationship” are phrases used to describe the process of people learning alongside one another, either formally or informally.

[2] This participant preferred the term “Native” to Indigenous.

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NOTE: The “general research topics” guide the entire study. I hope that each interview conversation will touch on these. All other discussion topics and story starters are optional ways to get at the research questions.

Explanation: This sample is one of eleven snapshot documents, drawn from the original dissertation (Moon, 2019). As noted in the methodology section of the present paper, creating “snapshot” documents was part of the data analysis process. Snapshots were sent to participants to verify that I captured key ideas and quotations from their interview transcripts, and became the backbone of the full-length stories published in the dissertation. In the snapshot documents, Brittany’s words are in gold and Christine’s in green.

When teachers in her school board were offered the opportunity to have Brittany in their classes to present over several lessons, Christine was one of the first to respond. She was already actively learning more about Indigenous-Canadian relations and had interacted with Brittany at the school, but this was the first time they were together in the classroom for extended time. Christine built on what Brittany shared with students to develop a longer-term project that allowed students to advocate.

Christine: “It’s a topic, in general, that is not comfortable for me…. I’m not from [this city], I’m from [city in another part of the province]. Okay, so my upbringing, and even in school, very different. I don’t even, to be honest with you, I don’t even remember having an Indigenous student in my school. I felt the education there wasn’t present. Just not having enough background and history and teaching, I feel there’s a gap in my learning. And having you [Brittany] come in is amazing for the students, but it’s also wonderful for me. It helps me feel more confident when teaching and talking about it…. I don’t want to misrepresent anything. And I want to understand it, and I want to appreciate it, and I want to represent it properly. So, I feel like having you there is comforting for me… I was taking notes while you were talking.”

Brittany: “Really, it’s the teacher engagement though that really determines the depth of the learning. I think that that’s super important, and if you don’t have classroom teacher interest or engagement, if they don’t value that learning, then the kids won’t value it as much....”

Christine: “If they feel the teacher’s invested and it’s meaningful to the teacher and it’s being presented that way, you’re right. You can grab them and pull them in.”

Christine: “It was so good for me, and I think that’s why I just jumped at it. Because I feel I need that comfort and that confidence. The only way I’m going to get it is if—it’s one thing to read about things in a book, but it’s another to have somebody who lives it. This is her life, and this is her history. I felt good about it, and I feel more confident going forward. I wish I had it sooner, to be honest with you …. ‘cuz I’ve had to teach some Indigenous curriculum through Social Studies … and I mean I teach a little bit from the book, and I can’t talk off of really a lot. Which is not—I like to be able to talk from experience, and talking to others, and now I can bring that in.”

Brittany: “And telling stories. It’s storytelling, right? ... A lot of my teaching is telling stories.”

Brittany: “So, taking more time to debrief with teachers that wanted to debrief, right? And there was some teachers that were like ‘That was great, thanks, see ya.’ But then there was some teachers that really wanted to.”

Brittany: “Yeah, wanted to dig a little deeper and just have more conversations and wanted me to come back in a different way. Some teachers even, you know like yourself, went and did something independently with kids and then brought me back as that wrap-up piece.”

Christine: “Having these raw conversations, even having you come in, it’s good. I need that. Because I want to know why, I want to know what I can do. So that—I don’t want to partake in any sort of racist views or fall into some sort of trap that other people so commonly—I hate to say it, but it’s honest, it is very, it’s there in this city. And I don’t want anything to do with it. I want to be a part of the good side, the pro side, the- I want to be the act—”

Brittany: “They’ve got this though. [Colleague] and Christine get that piece…. I never worry about kids in their class…. Because I know that their needs are looked after. Like they’re going to have clothing, they’re going to have—whatever, right?”

Brittany: “And if you can’t get it yourself, you will find a way to get it, right?”

Brittany: “You can’t force a teacher to say, ‘I’m going to have Brittany come into my classroom.’”

Brittany: “Yeah, so how do you change that mindset, and that’s where leadership comes in. ‘Cuz you can do that kind of PD at, you know, staff meetings, or you can have little snapshots …. But it’s just getting that engagement from teachers.”

Christine: “Yeah, and that’s again why it’s so important to develop it young, because as people get older, it is hard to change mindsets. Right?”