Saving Anishinaabemowin: RRC Polytech class reclaims one of North America's oldest Indigenous languages
The more people learn, 'the more we can attempt to slow down the loss,' says instructor Corey Whitford

The end of an eight-week language course in the heart of Winnipeg is really just the beginning, say students graduating from a unique opportunity to learn Anishinaabemowin.
"I hope to practise it more, incorporating it into my life every day," said Isaiah Ryle, whose final project in the introduction to Anishinaabemowin course at Red River College Polytechnic was a poem in the Ojibway language.
The 25-year-old from Obushkudayang (also called Lake St. Martin First Nation) is now part of a Facebook group with classmates, hoping they will continue to meet and practise.
One of them, Dion Desjarlais, intends to share his new words with his community in Sandy Bay, along the western shore of Lake Manitoba, and pass it on to the next generation.
"It's important that we share a language with our young ones before it gets lost. I think that this is just the beginning of something positive that'll hopefully move into something really big, and we can bring back our language," he said.

RRC Polytech launched the pilot course at its Exchange District campus to revitalize what Queen's University calls "one of the oldest and most historically important Native American languages in North America."
Thursday's graduating class marked the second time the course has been offered tuition-free, thanks to private funding.
"When we all met, we were essentially strangers," said instructor Corey Whitford, who has taught two classes of about 12 students each. Now, "we're all a large community … and I've seen 24 strangers become friends."
According to Whitford, who grew up in an Anishinaabemowin-speaking home in Sandy Bay, there are just over 3,400 people in Canada who are fluent in the language that once spanned from Manitoba to Québec.
"That's a terrifying reality, and that's a real wake-up call to the rest of us," he said.

During the weekly evening class, students learned basic greetings, alphabet systems and cultural and linguistic protocols.
Whitford uses symbols and hand gestures to put the words into context so they are able to conduct basic conversations. Students also developed personalized greetings and learned traditional songs.
"We've got a lot of interactive activities that we've engaged in," said Whitford, whose lesson plans also include field trips, art, preparing recipes and playing both traditional and contemporary games.
Students come from across Manitoba and from all backgrounds, including many who are non-Indigenous, such as Laura Gusoiu, who calls herself a cultural ally.

"Language is the heart of a culture. I'm very honoured to be here and learn," she said. "The honour is to have Indigenous friends."
She took the course to gain a deeper understanding of Indigenous cultures and perspectives, relating in some ways to the mistreatment they faced.
Gusoiu was born in Romania and grew up under the communist regime that severely restricted many freedoms, including freedom of speech, she said. Her mother, who is of Ukrainian descent, was forbidden from speaking Ukrainian in school and faced punishment if caught.
"This suppression of cultural and linguistic identity deeply impacted my upbringing," she said. "I am driven by my experiences of cultural suppression and discrimination, which have made me keenly aware of the importance of cultural identity and language."
People like Gusoiu are "helping to support the reclamation of our language," Whitford said, adding the ages of students range from teens to 60s.
"It really moves me when I can see a new student learning a new language. The more people you have from more communities, the more we can attempt to slow down the loss of language."
The other thing disappearing, however, is the funding to keep the program going. Until now, it was backed by Canadian Western Financial, but that has run out.
"We need a new funder now," Whitford said, adding he doesn't want people to have to pay to reclaim a language that was systematically taken away through colonialism.

Students like Jasmine Paul, though, plan to do what they can to ensure the language survives.
She wants to take her newfound skill and create an American Sign Language book based on Anishinaabemowin, "for parents to read with their children and practise together."
She learned ASL from her partner, for whom it was a first language. He believes he may be Cree but doesn't truly know where his family is from, so he wants to adopt Anishinaabemowin in the way he knows, Paul said.
Together, they want to teach their son the language as well — and help others to do so, regardless of the way they communicate.
"My mom tried to teach us Anishinaabemowin when we were younger, and it was just really hard for us to catch on. So having this opportunity has just been great," Paul said.
With files from Gavin Axelrod and Karen Pauls