September 9, 2005
Students get a helping hand at Arctic College
"You're here so you won't have to struggle"
SARA MINOGUE
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Patrick Sangoya of
Pond Inlet, Saimata Manning of Cape Dorset and Darryl Qanatsiaq of Hall Beach
lounge in the sun outside of the old residence in Iqaluit where Nunavut Arctic
College fall classes got underway this past Tuesday. (PHOTO BY SARA MINOGUE)
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"Hall Beach, Rankin Inlet, Chesterfield Inlet... is anyone here from Pond?"
In the college cafeteria at Iqaluit's "old residence" building, Ron
Woodman is moving new students around like chess pieces, making sure that every
table of teenagers and twentysomethings, as well as some older students, includes
people from different parts of Nunavut.
For 230 students at the Nunatta campus, including 110 freshmen, school doesn't
start until next week, Sept. 6, but for most students here, it's their first
taste of life at Nunavut Arctic College.
"All the support is more than I expected," says Patrick Sangoya,
22, who came from Pond Inlet for the Inuktitut language and culture program.
He is now on day two of a three-day orientation session, where Woodman, director
of student services, is about to launch into a pep talk, part of his "self-awareness
workshop" for new students.
"Education beyond high school is not only possible, it is necessary,"
Woodman tells the audience of about 25 students, before he goes on to explain
the support systems in place to help students make it from day one to graduation,
from counseling services ("Or come talk to me," Woodman says) to financial
services.
"You're here so you won't have to struggle," Woodman says. "And
if you don't have to struggle, families don't have to struggle. And if families
don't have to struggle, communities don't have to struggle. And the Nunavut
government recognizes that."
The session follows an early-morning chat with Robby Qammaniq, a national aboriginal
role model from Arctic Bay who is in his third year as an anthropology and biology
student at Trent University in Peterorough, Ont., and who is here to describe
his experience in post-secondary education.
"One of the things I tell people about school in the South is all the
bands I get to see," Qamaniq tells a table of students during a lull. "I've
seen Metallica, Slayer, 50 Cent, D12... you've got to get down there, man!"
And soon he's talking about a tough physics class with another student.
Next up is a talk from Bobby McLean, a career development officer with the
Government of Nunavut's department of education. She's brought pamphlets for
a federal program that funds skills development, and explains - in plain English
- how unemployment insurance works, how to apply for income support while waiting
for Financial Assistance for Nunavut Students, and how to find her if you need
help.
"It is never a waste of my time to come and talk to me," says the
upbeat lady who is more than happy to tell stories from her own life if they
might help students relate the abstract financial matters to their own situations.
For most of the morning, however, the topic of discussion are obstacles to
finishing school - whether related to money, family or the stress of making
the grade.
Nubiya Enuaraq, 19, and Saimata Manning, 24, drink coffee and chat with future
schoolmates at an orientation session at Nunavut Arctic College's Iqaluit campus.
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Sangoya, dressed in a sleeveless Choppers T-shirt and army pants, says he wanted
to leave Pond Inlet, where he lived with his grandparents his whole life, in
order to continue with school.
But Markosie Aningmiuk, one of the older students, made a difficult choice
to leave his common-law spouse in Qikiqtarjuaq where he worked as a classroom
support assistant. He was also worried about the deaf students he communicates
with using sign language.
Others, like Napatchie Joanaphee of Iqaluit, have children - and daycare costs
- to worry about.
Yet some have big ideas. Nubiya Enuaraq, 19, is an ambitious girl from Clyde
River. Dressed in red corduroy and a pink hoodie, she says Nunavut Arctic College
is "a stepping stone." Inspired by a sister who worked in her community
health centre, she's here to study nursing, but says she has thought about going
on to become a doctor, and eventually return to her community.
Saimata Manning, 24, of Cape Dorset is settling into life at the residence
while she studies Inuktitut language and culture. She hopes to be an elementary
school teacher one day, like her mother, who has taught for 25 years.
One of the problems she's encountered are people who see her leaving her community
for school, while they stay behind.
"When I applied, I went and did it on my own, with no help whatsoever.
People say I'm lucky. I say, no, you can apply."
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