Reconciliation, Indigenization, and Decolonization

Reconciliation, Indigenization, and decolonization are interconnected, often in unique ways. Their presence in distance education is needed. Reconciliation is defined by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of Canada (2015, p. 154) “as an ongoing process of establishing and maintaining respectful relationships.” The legacy of intergenerational trauma and disparities of Indigenous Peoples in Canada stems too often from the atrocities committed in residential schools. Reconciliation must be a mutual and ongoing effort involving all Canadians.

Indigenization can be reflective of reconciliation when it stems from the TRC and the 94 Calls to Action. Pidgeon (2016, p. 79) wrote that, “from Indigenous perspectives, Indigenization of the academy refers to the meaningful inclusion of Indigenous knowledge(s), in the everyday fabric of the institution from policies to practices across all levels, not just in curriculum.” That weaving in of Indigenous knowledges can be responsive to the Calls to Action and can decolonize.

Decolonization is a shift in power and perspective away from the colonial positioning and the constant whiteness too often privileged in academia and toward Indigenous perspectives and ways of knowing. The shift in epistemologies and the valuing of Indigenous knowledges are acknowledged as being uncomfortable for some concerned about their loss of privilege. Lavallee (2020, p. 127) stated that “ensuring Indigenous knowledges are recognized and valued in the academy and that Indigenous people are free from anti-Indigenous racism in the academy are two objectives that should be the focus of the reconciliation, decolonizing, and Indigenizing exercise.” We need to acknowledge that distance education has a place in the academy and a responsibility to participate in the discourse of reconciliation, Indigenization, and decolonization.

The Framework

Medicine wheels are frameworks that centre Indigenous perspectives and ways of knowing, often established with the four directions and teachings that reflect balance, wellness, and cyclical perspectives. My stories are shared through a framework based on a medicine wheel. I am centred in this Indigenous assessment framework, and I share these stories beginning in the east, emerging in the south, becoming in the west, and inspiring in the north. The framework was originally created for assessment in a study abroad class and informed by Indigenous cyclical concepts of seasonality (spring, summer, fall, and winter) and life stages (child, youth, adult, and elder) to denote evolving stages and states of mastery. These foundational Indigenous cyclical concepts were connected with the standardized university assessment descriptions in a way to bring together Indigenous and Western perspectives (Cottrell & Dreaver-Charles, 2022).

Through this framework, I examine my own experiences and growth in trying to lead decolonization in distance education. I start in the east.

Beginning/East

I was hired as an instructional designer at the University of Saskatchewan in 2014. I had completed my first education degree at the university, and I had a connection to it. I was not hired to focus on Indigenizing online courses. My position took me across campus to various colleges to meet mostly non-Indigenous instructors and to design online courses with them.

When I started working as an instructional designer, so much was once again new for me. I had to learn to navigate in my position in a very colonial place. Cote-Meek (2014, p. 63) wrote that “the structures that hold together the academy are colonial and therefore influence what is taught, how it is taught and who teaches it.” It is a place where standardization is valued and change is slow, and, honestly, it can feel so linear.

This was a year prior to the 2015 release of the report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada and our 94 Calls to Action. I watched the news stories of Indigenous people from across Canada as they shared their pain and trauma through their own stories as the commission listened to and documented their words. It was personal for me because my late husband had attended residential school with his siblings, as had both his father had his grandfather.

The divide between policy and implementation can seem vast. I could sometimes see the disconnect between the aspirations of university leadership and those of the instructors with their online classes. In the beginning, I had to learn to be an instructional designer, and I had to learn about reconciliation. Occasionally, I would encounter questions from instructors who recognized the need to include Indigenous content in their courses. These conversations made me cognizant that I needed to be part of reconciliation in higher education, and through my position I could contribute to leading and supporting change in distance education. I did not have an instructional design practice inclusive of decolonization yet, but it would come.

I realized early that my priority was to ask good questions and listen to instructors as they told me about the essential aspects of their face-to-face classes. As a lifelong learner, I was fortunate to have one-on-one time with instructors. They often told good stories as they shared their knowledge and experiences, and these stories helped me to understand who they were. By listening to and learning about them and their positions, I felt more capable of leading them through the instructional design process.

I can remember one of my first summers working on campus. I was heading to one of the colleges for a meeting, and along the way I saw three instructors with whom I had worked. I stopped and visited for a few minutes with each of them, shaking hands, and as I mentioned it to my director afterward it made me happy because I knew them. Wilson (2008, p. 84) wrote that, “if we step outside of the community of Indigenous scholars, we can see the importance of relationship building in the everyday lives of most Indigenous people.” I could recognize my need as an Indigenous woman to build good relationships with instructors through my instructional design practice.

Emerging/South

A few years after starting my job at the university, I began a second master’s degree. I could not find a place in a PhD program, and working at the university made me want to study once again. A university is a place so full of knowledge that I wanted to be in the midst of it. I never heard what went on in the college in the background, but eventually it found me a seat in a PhD program, and I transferred. I gained knowledge and skills, which helped me to navigate better the academy in which I was working. I was reading the literature, gaining an academic perspective, and because of the works of many Indigenous scholars learning about and recognizing my own Indigeneity through their words.

I struggled in those graduate classes. I remember going home one Saturday after a difficult day of class and telling my late husband that I should not have enrolled in a mainstream graduate program. I told him that I should have found an Indigenous program. I had a lot of turmoil being there. Imposter syndrome was always something with which I struggled. The positioning that seemed to go on also challenged me. But eventually I started to find my way and make friends, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, and I realized that most of us were struggling.

Emerging from my studies was a desire to bring Indigenization into my instructional design practice. I started visiting with my instructional design colleagues to talk about how we could weave an Indigenization approach into our instructional design practices. We began with a single question included in our course design plans. In what areas of your course/modules might Indigenous perspectives be authentically included?

It was a question that we could all ask and needed to ask. The responsibility for Indigenizing distance education was not mine alone. Sometimes after visiting with instructors, I could see that their courses were steeped in Indigenous perspectives, and the question was unnecessary. Instructors had room to respond to the question in various ways. We were asking them to Indigenize their teaching, not telling them that they had to do so. It was an invitation, and we were moving in the right direction.

Chief Mistawasis was my great-great-great-grandfather. During Treaty 6 negotiations, the chiefs needed time to consider the commissioner’s offer, and Chief Mistawasis said that “when a thing is thought of quietly, it was the best way” (quoted in Morris, 1880, p. 184). There is a benefit to trying to lead quietly, with subtlety. Sometimes having bold visions and grand plans are important and necessary. But sometimes trying to lead quietly by asking that one question can create a conversation on possibilities. I am hopeful that this approach has engaged instructors and offered my colleagues inspiration.

Becoming/West

After my comprehensive exam, I realized that I needed to shift my focus. Although Indigenization remained significant, I was learning about decolonization, and I could see that it better reflected what I was doing. What was becoming important to me was how I was navigating the academy and my desire to be part of changing it in a good way. While I struggled to move forward with my PhD during this time, I still found many good experiences of and opportunities for growth.

The academy is thick and heavy with colonialism. It has permeated it for too long. Tuhiwai Smith et al. (2019, p. 6) noted that, “as scholars, we are not immune to, or above, the historic trauma of our peoples and we have to work purposively to create healthy decolonized academic spaces.” It is challenging to be an Indigenous woman. Lateral violence and others’ insecurities can surface, wreaking havoc, and I needed to shift away from it. I wanted to create good relationships and support people in a way that we would be able to uplift one another.

I could recognize reciprocity in my instructional design practice as I led faculty members through the design of their online courses, offering feedback and suggestions while asking many questions. They were often uncertain of the possibilities of distance education pedagogy, and I did my best to explain it and encourage them. As we worked together, they often checked in on the progress of my studies and offered insights and stories of their experiences that a first-generation Indigenous graduate student really needed to hear.

My first scholarly publication was in a biomedical science journal. A department head with whom I was working to design an online course recognized, before I did, that as a PhD student I needed publications. It was a valuable experience because I was able to see firsthand what was involved in publishing an article. This publication also made me realize that my contributions to academia could take me in many different directions, and I liked that prospect. Mostly, I appreciated that our publication did not hinge on my Indigeneity. I was not the token Indigenous person included to give credibility to Indigenous-focused research.

I began working with one of my professors after taking a study abroad class with him in Ireland. He wanted to leverage my instructional design skills and the tools of distance education with his next study abroad class in Jamaica. We brought together open pedagogy and Indigenous epistemologies in a way that would support the transformative learning of study abroad and decolonization. The Indigenous assessment framework, as described earlier, came out of this shared effort and was first utilized in the class. During the remote teaching of the COVID-19 pandemic, we again worked to design a virtual study abroad course incorporating much from our initial designs.

Through our longer-term collaborations, we have presented both nationally and internationally. Our first publication, titled “Indigenizing Internationalization and Internationalizing Indigenization: Insights from a Virtual Study Abroad to Ireland, Jamaica, and Aotearoa/New Zealand” (Cottrell & Dreaver-Charles, 2022) was with the Open/Technology in Education, Society and Scholarship Association. We have also contributed a chapter to Rethink Learning Design, an open textbook collection, titled “Decolonizing and Opening the Academy via Study Abroad” (Dreaver-Charles & Cottrell, n.d.).

Inspiring/North

Since I started working in higher education, I have presented at conferences with faculty members. An important part of trying to lead in distance education is recognizing those good opportunities to share knowledge, and I enjoy making contributions to the academy with them. But in 2022 I was invited to speak on my own to the Canadian Association of Instructional Designers on instructional design and decolonizing approaches. I was gathering quotations and ideas as I internalized what I needed to say to and ask instructional designers from across Canada. My goal was to be inspiring, and I hoped that they would be able to see themselves as having a role in the decolonization of distance education.

I spoke about some of my experiences designing courses with faculty members. I tried to offer ideas on where instructional designers could begin and how they might build their own community of supports. I challenged them to recognize the uncomfortableness for some of them in shifting away from their positioning as experts when trying to decolonize their course designs. That uncomfortableness can lead to avoidance and hinder the efforts to decolonize distance education. Recognizing those uncomfortable moments requires leadership to support and encourage faculty in moving beyond this barrier.

A quick checklist with standard steps to decolonize distance education was not an outcome of this presentation. The uniqueness of decolonizing distance education had to be made obvious. Near the end of my presentation, I told the participants that we all need to lead the work of decolonization through our instructional design practices and that it was not only up to me because I am Indigenous.

I was so spent after finishing that presentation, but I thought that it had gone well. I reflected on it for more than a few days afterward, trying to remember what I had said and of course noting what likely needed to be revised. My presentation was the culmination of my experiences as an instructional designer and my PhD journey as I tried to lead decolonization in distance education. I hope that the participants thought that the time I spent with them was worthwhile and that I offered them some possibilities for decolonizing their course designs.

Conclusion

This journey within my Indigenous assessment framework has been invaluable. In the beginning, I could recognize my need to learn a new practice and understand more about reconciliation. From my PhD studies, I could see a focus on Indigenization emerging in my instructional design practice. As I gained experience, my need to be impactful in academia was becoming apparent. By sharing my experiences and insights with other instructional designers, I hope that I was inspiring them to see their own role in decolonizing distance education.

I acknowledge that my time as an instructional designer was not without challenges. I had much to learn along the way, and I did not always find success. A few years ago, I was sharing with my professor some of the good things that people were saying to me. He encouraged me to hold on to their words. So I have tried to remember this and to share what I have held on to from my time in distance education.

It takes a strong community to support an Indigenous woman trying to decolonize distance education. I need to remember the efforts of faculty members able to try something often new and possibly uncomfortable. I am fortunate to know some who still want to connect and collaborate with me on their projects and sometimes just to visit over tea. I am hopeful that my time in distance education has been well spent and that the relationships I have built will continue to support meaningful decolonization in higher education.

Kovach (2009, p. 94) identified the importance of stories: “Stories remind us of who we are and of our belonging. Stories hold within them knowledges while simultaneously signifying relationships.” That sense of belonging through good relationships is essential to me and my place in higher education. So, once again, I am beginning in the east with a new position as an academic innovation specialist with information and communication technology at the University of Saskatchewan. I am again hoping to build good relationships as I try to incorporate my perspective and my desire to decolonize higher education with a new group of colleagues.

References

• Archibald, J. (2009). Indigenous storywork: Educating the heart, mind, body, and spirit. UBC Press.
• Cote-Meek, S. (2014). Colonized classrooms: Racism, trauma and resistance in post-secondary education. Fernwood Publishing.
• Cottrell, M., & Dreaver-Charles, K. (2022). Indigenizing internationalization and internationalizing Indigenization: Insights from a virtual study abroad to Ireland, Jamaica, and Aotearoa/New Zealand. OTESSA Conference Proceedings, 2(1), 1–7. https://doi.org/10.18357/otessac.2022.2.1.135
• Dreaver-Charles, K., & Cottrell, M. (n.d.) Decolonizing and opening the academy via study abroad. In Rethink Learning Design. https://rethinkld.trubox.ca/chapter/decolonizing-and-opening-the-academy-via-study-abroad/
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• Morris, A. (1880). The treaties of Canada with the Indians of Manitoba and the North-West Territories and Kee-wa-tin. Belfords Clarke.
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• Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. (2016). A knock on the door: The essential history of residential schools from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. University of Manitoba Press.
• Tuhiwai Smith, L., Tuck, E., & Yang, K. (2019). Introduction. In L. Tuhiwai Smith, E. Tuck, & K. W. Yang (Eds.), Indigenous and decolonizing studies in education: Mapping the long view (pp. 1–23). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780429505010
• Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Fernwood Publishing.