My Experience In Boarding School

The day was dark. I could feel a storm approaching. The gentle sunlight glistening through the clouds, now covered by a heavy mist. Drop. Drop. Drop. The coldness of the water tinged my face. And the earth shook, as a large boom erupted from the sky followed by a light crackle. By now, I was soaked, like that night. I continued walking through the deserted streets when a large flash erupted from the sky. Oh, great lightning, today was getting better and better. A woman and her young child was running towards their car to seek shelter. The walk was a long and dreadful one, I found myself looking at the place I left 15 years ago. The house was still dark and foreboding as ever, the shutters hanging off its hinges and the roof in a state of disrepair.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

Fulfilling god’s plan, America forced Native Americans to attend boarding schools where the ideals of Christianity were implemented. In Abigail Graham’s article, “The Power of Boarding Schools,” a History of Education professor at Indiana University writes that boarding schools is a tool used to reinforce one’s ideas into individuals. Graham writes, “Boarding schools...significantly impact the social development of their students; for this reason...schools used [this] as tools for reinforcing power relationships and cultural identities.” America’s goal was to eliminate any existence of the Native’s culture by constantly embedding the values of being an American and being Christian inside the school. The boarding school is completely new to the Natives, and having someone tell them what to do was something unheard of. Within a school’s system—the students have the least authority, the teacher is second in line, and the principal is the highest. The students were of Native American descent, of course the teachers were white, and this demonstrates the power relationship with the Native Americans and the Whites; the whites had more power than the other race. Children were targets because if America were able to change the younger generation’s ideals, than as they get older their offsprings will be what America envisioned, a non-Native American who has no knowing of their culture. In Mary A. Stout book, Native American Boarding Schools, the author mentions that boarding schools

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

When the men finally made their way over to us, one man, tall, skin in size, about a quarter of the muscle tone of my pa’pa pushed him into the wall, while another, shorter in stature, with bright blue eyes, the color of sapphire, hit my father from behind. My father fell to the ground, blood dripping down his face, looking hopeless and feeble. I felt so discouraged, the only thing I could do was weep. My father, on the ground, turned to us and told us to run and we did. Half the way to the house, all I could think about was how hopeless I was and how much I wanted to help, but could not. After all that was my father back there, my friend, my protector, my pa’pa. When we finally made it to the porch of our house, we were out of air and I was about ready to collapse. My brother finally mustered up the energy to tell my mother and uncle what happen.

During the late 1870s, the construction of boarding schools for American Indians began. The purpose of these schools was to introduce the American Indians the skills necessary to function in the American society. In other words, the white American society forced the Indians to assimilate into the white culture and strip them of their Native American traditions. There has been a lot of controversy about whether or not the assimilation of the American Indians was to benefit them, or to get rid of the ethnicities the society disliked. So many people say it was imperative because that was a way to help Indians survive in the American society. However, other people object to this belief because they consider it racism. So what was the easiest way

One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she

“Mama, cover doors and windows. Everyone go to the bedroom, and put your masks on,” I directed, calmly. When I got to the bedroom, everyone was huddled around each other, with a white cloth on their face. Suddenly, the room became dark. You could hear the heavy breathing of everyone in the room, yet you couldn’t see anyone. The storm felt like it lasted for days, but only really lasted a few minutes. When I got back to the dining room table, I saw a letter on the table from the bank.

These experiences were not confined to the late 19th and early 20th centuries but reach well into the present. Nor has the theme of such occurrences changed much over the years. Each of these boarding schools and its students possessed unique qualities that were shaped by a multitude of conditions, including the cultures of the tribes represented, the location, the era, and the schools' directors. Yet each of these institutions also symbolized an education that removed the students from their homes, their families, and their indigenous communities. The curriculum and the physical work associated with the schools form one of the commonalities shared between schools regardless of the time period. Another trait among the schools is the students'

In 1830, Jackson Andrew signed the Indian Exclusion Act, making it as a law. This directly forced the Indians to migrate to the West more than 45000 people. In this long westward journey, nearly 1/4 of the Indians in the cold, hunger and disease, and ultimately lost their lives. So the Indians to a West Road named " Trail of Tear ". The minority of Indians who want to stay in the original place of residence is the price of being assimilated, which means that they need to completely deny their own culture, likes the life of a white man.

“Shut up!” A door slams. I bury my face in a pillow to drown out the noise. There is a large crash that comes from downstairs. It is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The crying, the yelling, the pain, it’s over.

A fierce Autumn wind picks up lashing at my face, as a barrage of brittle brown leaves whirl into my path. Behind me stands the foreboding structure of Ellishire Boarding School. For four years this massive enity located in the dark heart of england has shelted my bones.

Ellie and I lay in our beds, neither one of us knew what to say. In the other room, our host parents were arguing. We didn’t know what about, but we knew it was serious. Then we heard a “THWACK” followed by silence. Ellie and I sat up in our beds and looked at each other, I could tell she was as scared as I was. “Was that? Did he just?” she asked me. Then the arguing started back up again. We calmed back down until we heard it again. “THWACK” We knew then, the noise we heard, was him beating her. We got up, our hearts racing; neither of us knew what to do. We got our nerves together to go get help. When we opened the door to our room we saw the children sitting on the couch crying out for their mother. I could see the fear in their face and I knew something needed to change.

I am Nisha Katuwal, permanent resident of Num 04, sankhauwasabha, Nepal. I have completed secondary education from Garden academy boarding school, Itahari in 2011 with first division (62.25%), Government of Nepal board (SLC) and completed diploma in pharmacy education from Birat Health college, Biratnagar, in 2015 with first division (70.44%) of council for technical education and vocational training (CTEVT) board of Nepal. I have an acceptance letter from University of Queensland for bachelor of health science.

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.