Sto:lo language teachers take fluency into their own hands

A chorus of little voices cries out, “Éy swáyel, Mrs. Kelly!”

Grade 1 students in Chilliwack, B.C., are wishing their teacher Lauralee Kelly “Good Day” in Halq’eméylem, the Coast Salish dialect of Stó:lō communities across the Fraser Valley.

As a teacher and language learner, Kelly faces a steep uphill battle.

Chronic underfunding by provincial and federal governments has hobbled the immersion programs Stó:lō communities need in order to revitalize Halq’eméylem.

Now, there is only one actively fluent speaker.

“There’s been so much loss,” said Kelly. “We need to become fluent with our last remaining elder, who’s willing to teach it, so we don’t lose everything these ancestors left for us.”

Along with a small group of teachers, Kelly has resolved to become fluent and carry Halq’eméylem forward. To do that, they need sustainable funding.

Both the B.C. and federal governments have promised unprecedented support for Indigenous languages. But whether 2018 will bring the support frontline language leaders need will depend on where and how the money flows.

‘We need to get ourselves fluent.’

The loss of generations of Halq’eméylem speakers is a direct consequence of Canada’s residential school system, which included St. Mary’s school near Chilliwack.

“My mum was one of the residential school survivors who knew the language but didn’t pass it on because of ... [the] beatings she took for it,” Kelly said.

By the time St. Mary’s closed in 1984, elders and linguists had already recorded hundreds of hours of storytelling and developed a curriculum for a teacher training program.

The Shxweli program began in the 1990s and brought aspiring Halq’eméylem teachers together with a handful of fluent elders for immersive learning.

Lauralee Kelly enunciates as she reviews the Halq’eméylem names of animals from Stó:lō territory across the Fraser Valley. (Brenna Owen) Post image on Pinterest: Lauralee Kelly enunciates as she reviews the Halq’eméylem names of animals from Stó:lō territory across the Fraser Valley. (Brenna Owen)

Lauralee Kelly enunciates as she reviews the Halq’eméylem names of animals from Stó:lō territory across the Fraser Valley. (Brenna Owen)

Kelly is one of around 20 people accredited through Shxweli. None of the graduates is fully fluent, however, and when funding became sparse, teacher training fizzled.

Now, there is just one Halq’eméylem teacher under the age of 30.

Jessica Malloway, 25, kneels over flashcards she created for students at Squiala Elementary School. Soon, she will hurry to another school nearby in order to meet full-time hours.

“I do teach basic Halq’eméylem,” said Malloway. “But getting to more complex sentences, I’m starting to forget ... We need to get ourselves fluent.”

‘You’re battling your own communities for the same penny.’

Patricia Raymond-Adair is intimately acquainted with the herculean nature of language revitalization.

For almost a decade she managed the Coqualeetza Cultural Education Centre, which supports language and cultural programming in Stó:lō communities.

“We have a passion and a belief in what we’re doing but we’re losing people, because they’re tired of the fight,” said Raymond-Adair.

“I burned out, too.... You’re battling your own communities for the same penny.”

Annual federal funding of $132,700 is stretched to cover all of the Coqualeetza centre’s expenses, including wages and rent. Raymond-Adair kept programming afloat by applying for short-term grants of around $15,000 from the First Peoples’ Cultural Council — the Crown corporation responsible for distributing funding for Indigenous languages in B.C.

“Very little [funding] gets to the grassroots, to the language speakers and teachers,” Raymond-Adair said.

“Their wages are not on par with the administrative wages, where the money is funnelled through.”

Tammy Bartz, the administrator at Squiala First Nation, applied for an FPCC grant around 2005, after community members requested Halq’eméylem classes for adults.

“It took me a couple of years. I finally got a grant, which was an enormous amount of paperwork,” said Bartz.

Classes ran once a week for around a year.

“It’s not enough,” said Bartz. “What nationality has to pay to learn their language?”

Promise of new funding

In its 2018 budget, the B.C. government pledged $50 million for Indigenous languages. Federal legislation is also expected later this year.

For the first time, multi-year funding is available. The FPCC is accepting proposals for grants up to $100,000 per year for three years. It could be the boost immersion programs need.

But the application process remains arduous for communities strapped for time and resources. Lengthy proposals were due on April 25 — around six weeks after the FPCC published details online.

“We are very cognizant of the challenges that model creates,” said Language Programs Manager Aliana Parker.

She added the FPCC is exploring how to increase support for communities through the process.

Until there is funding to support a cohesive push for Halq’eméylem revitalization that reaches across all Stó:lō communities, Lauralee Kelly, Jessica Malloway and a handful of language leaders must take fluency into their own hands.

Jessica Malloway uses an online vocabulary game she created to prepare Grade 4 students at Squiala Elementary School for an upcoming Halq’eméylem translation contest. (Brenna Owen) Post image on Pinterest: Jessica Malloway uses an online vocabulary game she created to prepare Grade 4 students at Squiala Elementary School for an upcoming Halq’eméylem translation contest. (Brenna Owen)

Jessica Malloway uses an online vocabulary game she created to prepare Grade 4 students at Squiala Elementary School for an upcoming Halq’eméylem translation contest. (Brenna Owen)

Kelly and Malloway are planning to convene a group of teachers to learn with the last actively fluent Halq’eméylem speaker — 79-year-old Elizabeth Phillips.

“I haven’t had time to meet with [Elizabeth], but she would probably start crying,” said Kelly.

“That’s her dream, to see some fluent speakers out of everything she’s done for the last 40 years.”

Kelly knows of around 12 teachers interested in joining the budding fluency group.

“If we did some kind of summer program, where all the language teachers met as if it were a job ... eight-hour days, five days a week, it would be awesome,” said Malloway.

Because of the barriers to accessing funding, the group at Coqualeetza didn’t apply for an FPCC grant this year.

But Kelly said getting together to speak Halq’eméylem is an important step no matter what — both toward fluency and, she hopes, toward creating a Halq’eméylem immersion school, where she could teach as a fluent speaker.



“Deep down, that feeling of why I’m doing what I’m doing, it’s just been woken up ... I do have big dreams for our people.”

Char George looks at a tree after learning its traditional name during a class field trip to the traditional longhouse at Chiyák’mesh stakw, a piece of land on the bank of the Cheakamus River, just north of Squamish, B.C. (Dustin Patar/Marc Fawcett-Atkinson) Post image on Pinterest: Char George looks at a tree after learning its traditional name during a class field trip to the traditional longhouse at Chiyák’mesh stakw, a piece of land on the bank of the Cheakamus River, just north of Squamish, B.C. (Dustin Patar/Marc Fawcett-Atkinson)