Students get a helping hand at Arctic College

SARA MINOGUE

“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.

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.”