OrphanPip
Part IV: The Early Years
by , 02-23-2010 at 02:52 AM (1851 Views)
I feel like my autobiographical blog has gotten a bit out of order, with me jumping around from different topics. I'm going to try and bring some sort of organizing logic to it by starting with a more in depth look at the earliest years of my life. Since most of my childhood is remembered in terms of school years, rather than by the calendar, I'll cover up until the beginning of grade 4.
As everyone can imagine, I don't remember too much of my first few years of life. I have a vague recollection of being at the zoo with my grandmother, from my mother's side, but for the most part those few years are a blur.
My memories of kindergarten to grade three are much better. At the time, Quebec school boards were divided by religious affiliation. My parents wanted me to be fluent in French, so I was sent to a French language protestant school. The kindergarten teacher's name was Madame Guilliane, she was great because she spoke English and helped me learn French. Apparently, I developed a French accent during those years of constantly speaking the language.
Most of the kids I played with at the time were those from the block I grew up on, which wasn't a very exciting block. There was one other Anglo family on the street, the kids were named Keith and Shannon and went to the same school as me. I spent a good deal of time with them since they were a year younger and older respectively. Then there was the next-door neighbours Marc-Olivier (we called him Marco) and Melanie, Marco was my best friend but he went to the Catholic school so I often spent more time around Shannon and Keith. There was also Guillaum up the street, but I never liked him, he went to the same school as me too. Sometimes the strongest memories are those of hate, I really disliked that Guillaum kid and his friend Emilie, I can't remember why I disliked him though.
At school I spent most of my time around the other kids who were able to speak English. Keith, Shannon, and this one Polish kid named Paul (immigrants are required by law to attend school in French in Quebec). I remember getting in trouble for speaking English in the schoolyard. This was at one of the heights of the separatist referendums, so English speakers weren't very popular at the time. In retrospect, I think this is probably the first moment of discrimination I can recall experiencing. I have thicker skin these days, but when you're 6 it is confusing to be yelled at merely for speaking the language you use at home.
My parents tell me that the same teacher who used to hassle me about speaking English in the schoolyard also suggested that they change my name to Michel, because I could pass for "purelain." Being purelain is quite an honor amongst the separatist, it means you haven't been sullied by the English oppressors.
Well, at the end of grade three the government had decided to disband the religious school boards and restructure them on the basis of language. This made my mother very nervous, she was sure that if my school was placed in a board of all French schools it would be dominated by Catholics. So, at the end of grade three I was switched to an English language school in an attempt to avoid Catholic theology classes, I guess. This made me furious, because it cut me off from a lot of friends. I had to learn to read and write English over the summer, and I had developed this pesky hint of a French accent that made it difficult for me to fit in at my new school. I was fifteen before I managed to pronounce /th/ like a native English speaker again haha.
Well those are my first 7-8 years of life. During that time I lost two out of the three grandparents who were alive at my birth. Both were my mother's parents. I remember my grandfather really well, since he died closer to my 7th year. My grandmother is only a vague blur, I remember she had dyed red hair (although I didn't realize it was dyed at the time) and she wasn't able to walk. After my grandmother died, my grandfather spent a great deal of time over at our home. I keep a ball we used to play catch with on my shelf at all times as a reminder. It catches people's eye because it's a hideous fluorescent green and pink, but I don't care that it clashes with the decor.
OK, well not much interesting happened to me during these years. My brother was around then too, but he was 10 years older so we spent almost no time together.
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