Excerpts from Teaching in Canadian Exile by Frank Moritsugu and Ghost Town Teachers Historical Society, Toronto, 2001.
Ups and Downs of the First School Year
Problems? During that first school year each camp school had plenty to overcome. In addition to their overall lack of experience the teachers had to contend with inadequate physical conditions in most school buildings.
Not to mention the problem pupils, problem parents, and, in a few cases, even problem teachers. The following accounts from former teachers and pupils illustrate what that first year was like.
Tashme: School in a Barn That Wasn’t Big Enough
Hiroshi (Rosie) Okuda, Tashme’s first principal, describes how he organized the school in the camp 14 miles (22.5 km) from Hope, B.C.
When the Hastings Park Manning Pool began to accommodate families from the outlying districts of coastal B. C. and the B. C. Security Commission decided to open a temporary school there for children of elementary and secondary levels, I volunteered to teach all the mathematics courses to high-school students at the Park.
Meanwhile I had applied to evacuate to Popoff, but sometime in August 1942, I learned that I was to be delegated to Tashme to organize a school in that camp. However, since that evacuation centre was being newly built, with the exception of a huge barn and an annex or two, there wasn’t much sense in my going to Tashme immediately.
So I left Vancouver on October 30, 1942, one day before the closing deadline for wholesale evacuation. I arrived in Tashme at a time when the evacuees were still in a state of flux. Consequently, it wasn’t easy to undertake the task of starting a school.
At the outset, my priorities were twofold: to find an appropriate building to accommodate the students and to recruit their teachers. It was decided to convert the barn being used as a huge bunkhouse for single men. It was divided Into classrooms. That solved the school building problem. The recruiting of the teachers proceeded rather slowly at first but by the end of December we had enough of a complement of teachers.
The conversion of the barn into classrooms took longer than anticipated because the rooms had to be partitIoned off with removable walls over six feet hlgh. That was so that the building could be used at times for assemblies, meetings, movies, concerts, dances, etc.
In the interim, (assistant school supervisor) Terry Hidaka came to Tashme to assist in the mammoth task of teaching the recruits things pedagogic.
It was around Christmas that I informed the parents we were ready to register the students who had been denied schooling for so long. The registration revealed there were over 700 students from Grades 1 to 8 who had come to Tashme from 60 different schools on the coast.
This meant the barn wasn’t big enough for all grades, so the Grade 8s had to find accommodation in an annex across the street.
On the scheduled opening day in January, an assembly was held in the camp’s D Building–the large barn Okuda described being partitioned into spaces for the main classes. About 600 pupils and others showed up for that first day of the Tashme school. But even indoors, it soon proved too cold to keep the children long.
As Okuda reported to Mrs. Booth in Vancouver,
On (Monday) Jan. 18, 1943, we held our opening assembly. We believe we had 100 per cent attendance, for the temporary hall was packed. As the weather
was extremely cold, after due consultation with Mr. DesBrisay (then Tashme’s acting B.C. Security Commission supervisor), we announced to the pupils
that the school would be delayed until the cold spell is over, or until the heating system was functioning properly.
The temperature was 8 below (Fahrenheit) when the assembly was held, and even at this point of writing (Jan, 22), it is still cold. On Tuesday night, the thermometer hit 20 below, and so in spite of the heating facilities it was nigh impossible to hold school.
Furthermore, as it snowed heavily from Tuesday through Wednesday, there are no fuel supplies available for the school. I’m told that the heating pipes are now frozen and that it will take some time before the school building can be adequately heated.
That same week, acting Tashme supervisor DesBrisay also wrote to Mrs Booth about the abortive school opening situation:
The school opened on Jan. 18th, and although we assembled some 600 pupils and people in our main room the temperature was so low, namely 13 below we thought it best to say only a few words to these pupils and dismiss them.
We have issued instructions that until the weather moderates, there will be no school classes. If you have no idea how cold it is in the school building, the writer suggests that you might pay us a visit, but does not advise you really do so, it is really cold!
Imagine the frustration felt by the Tashme parents, teachers and many of the children at this setback. After missing at least half of a school year because of the evacuation, the children had to go home early from the school’s much-anticipated first day. Not only that, the message they took home to their parents said that they were not to come back until conditions became suitable for carrying on classes.
The Tashme classes finally began eight days later, on Tuesday, January 26, for the Grades 1-4, and nine days later, on Wednesday, January 27, for Grades 5-8.
For all grades, the first weeks of classes were restricted to half days as renovation work continued in the school building.
Tashme: Teaching Over the Noise of 25 Classes
Hiroshi Okuda, first principal of the largest of the camp schools, remembered getting his Tashme school organized for its January 1943 opening.
The pupil registration conducted in the camp around Christmas 1942 revealed that we had more than 700 students in Tashme from Grades 1 to 8.
At a general meeting, I advised the parents that because more than half of the school year was over, all pupils would repeat the grade they were in prior to the evacuation. I also warned them that slow learners might be demoted to a lower grade.
Tashme was divided into 10 streets and a boulevard. And problems arising in any particular block could be discussed between the block representative and the school.
Delegations from a number of blocks asked that some of the demotions be reconsidered. But I stood firm because the demotions were due to the teachers’ appraisals of their charges. Most of the demotions took place In Grades 2 to 5.
Imagine trying to teach at the same time in one of more than 25 classrooms with removable partitions as the only barriers between them. The cacophony of sounds emanating from the classrooms sometimes reached crescendo pitch. But despite the tremendous handicaps, the teachers performed their duties remarkably well. So did the students.
And the parents’ association, headed by Mr. Masaharu Moritsugu and others, got behind the school, as did the entire Tashme community. This made the teachers’ task much easier.
For example, the Security Commission provided only so many textbooks per grade. This meant schedules for different classes taking a subject in the same grade had to be staggered. In Grade 1, for instance, I think there were four or five classes.
And because the texts were so scarce, the books had to be kept in the school office after classes. That meant students weren’t able to use them for homework. In response, the parents’ association raised enough money from the camp residents, poorly paid though they were, to buy extra texts so students could do their work at home.
Tashme: Classroom “Door” Was a Commission Blanket
Shiz Hayakawa was a member of Okuda’s teaching staff.
Anyone who saw that huge old relic of a barn when the evacuees first arrived in Tashme could not have imagined the transformation that followed soon after. How many craftsmen and labourers did it take to rebuild the upper floor of that building?
The multi-purpose hall was designed to be used in many ways by the community of 2,000. The finished part of the barn was known “D Building”. Three sets of stairs led up to the hall, one at each end, and one at the side facing the main street. For five days of each week, D Building was our school.
On Mondays, the hall – in which concerts, movies, and dances were held on weekends – was quickly converted to many small rooms by sliding partitions more than six feet high into place. In each classroom, one partition had an opening without a door. A corridor in the middle between the classrooms ran the length of the building.
A permanent room built in one corner of D Building was the principal’s office. It was also the staff and supply room. A long table and a few wooden upright chairs occupied the middle of the room. Built-in shelves on two walls were stocked with textbooks and supplies of paper. I also remember an old manual Remington typewriter and a hectograph-a jelly-pad copy set-up. After using it, your hands and fingers turned purple.
During the fall of 1942, many of us answered a call for volunteers to teach. With Hiroshi Okuda as our principal, the staff was made up of young untrained volunteers. In preparation for the start of school, we were issued a syllabus – a thick blue book-to plan the courses we were to teach.
I was assigned a Grade 5 class. On my pupils’ list I was happy to recognize three names. Toshio Adachi and Keiji Nagami were children of family friends. And Masako Kamino was a daughter of the judo teacher of my brothers. At least, I didn’t have to face a roomful of strangers.
May Inata, Sadie Sakuma, and I were responsible for the three classes of Grade 5s. I knew May and Sadie from our Vancouver days before evacuation, so it was no problem working closely with them. One of our first decisions was planning a timetable for each day of the week. This was particularly tricky because the classes had to be arranged so that we could smoothly take turns using the few textbooks available.
A typical teenager’s apparel in those days was a cardigan blouse, short skirt that was above the knees, ankle socks, and saddle shoes. I was still a teenager myself, and that description fits my outfit for my first day of teaching. I remember too, that I had short, straight hair parted on the left side and bobby-pinned behind my ears.
On that first day I arrived early to exchange a few words of mutual encouragement with my fellow teachers, and to check my room.
The classroom entrance had no door. Some privacy was provided by a grey Security Commission blanket attached to the opening. On the outside wall of the room was a small drop-down window, which afforded some daylight. I don’t recall the room being dark, although the only other light source was a single naked bulb dangling on a long cord In the middle of the room.
To the left side of the entrance to my classroom, I placed my new small high desk with open shelf, and my tall stool. The old blackboard hanging on a partition close to my desk designated the front of the room. For the pupils, there were well-worn two-seater desk sets much like the ones we used in the Japanese language school in Kitsilano. The classroom furniture had been shipped in to camp schools from the coast by the Custodian of Enemy Alien Property.
At 9 a.m. that first day, a big brass bell was rung by hand, and all the children gathered at their pre-arranged entrances. Orderly lines were formed. My class was at the side entrance to D Building, and we filed into our room without incident.
After the blanket was pulled down in the doorway, and we were thus isolated
from the other classes, the first day began. I lettered my name, “Miss Hayakawa,” on the blackboard, turned to say, ”Good morning, class,” and the answer came back, “Good morning, Miss Hayakawa.”
There were 10 girls and 15 boys in my class, ages 10 and 11 years. One exception was an older, larger boy of 14–a quiet and unassuming youngster who tended to fade into the background in spite of his height. In fact many of the children were my size or bigger and taller, which was a little unnerving. After roll call I distributed foolscap paper and pencils, and soon the pupils were copying The Lord’s Prayer for memory work. They also copied their timetable.
And I told them to speak English only while attending school. I heard a few snickers. It must have seemed a strange rule because we were all Japanese a wartime camp.
On this first day, it was noticeable how high the noise level was because of the lack of full walls between the classrooms. And because I have a naturally loud voice, I had to be careful, too, about my own talking.
Tashme High School: The Church Did Something
Winnifred McBride became one of the high-school teachers who moved into Tashme. In Tashme: A Japanese Relocation Centre 1942-46, she told how the United Church setup the high school in that camp.
The parents went to Mr. McWilliams of the United Church who was workingin Tashme and said, “Can the church do something? Our children need high school or they will always be labourers.”
Mr. Mac (the Reverend WR. McWilliams) knew that May McLachlan had returned the previous summer on the first trip of the M.V. Gripsholm from Japan with returning Canadians. After doing a WM.S. speaking tour, she had left to go to New York to study at Union Theological College.
May McLachlan had spent many years with the United Church in rural Japan, had remained after war’s outbreak, and had been under house arrest for a year.
Mr. Mac phoned her. Could she come back and help? Miss Mac was delighted and returned West at once.
May Mclachlan arrived in Tashme in January 1943 and during the rest of that school year, she and the Reverend McWilliams helped many high-school students with their correspondence courses. Miss McBride, who joined the staff later, continues:
The Commission did not want the high school in Tashme. They refused both the parents and the church permission to build a building for the high school so we used the public school classrooms after they finished classes.
Miss Mac (McLachlan) told me of sitting down a few nights before school opened in September ’43, trying to learn French in order to teach it, when Mr. Mac (McWilliams) came in and said ‘I’ve brought someone who will teach the French’.
It was Ernie Best. She said it meant so much to have him to share the teaching. I think it was during that year that the school became an organized school body with a school song and a student council. The council looked after a lot of the non-academic activities of the school including a music appreciation period once a week, sports, recreation and a school annual.
Winifred McBride herself joined the Tashme high school teaching staff in 1944, its second year of operation. She had graduated from the University of British Columbia in 1940 with a degree in agriculture with emphasis on plant pathology.
Her work experience included greenhouse work for her father and testing fish oils in the lab of the Canadian Fishing Company on the Vancouver waterfront.
Through the Student Christian Movement she heard of the need for teachers in Tashme and initially visited the camp on a two-week holiday. There, she was persuaded by teachers Helen McWilliams (daughter of the minister) and Ernie Best to come to teach science.
There were 90 students coming into Grade 9 and they had no one to teach science. My first reaction was to say; “Can’t you get a qualified teacher?” (The reply was) “Nobody will come to this isolated place.”
I had no teacher training or experience but I did have training in the sciences. I felt that I could not say that I believed in the brotherhood of man and refuse this challenge.
In September 1944, when Winifred McBride began her teaching career, the Tashme high school had a total of approximately 175-180 pupils: 90 students In Grade 9, about 40 in Grade 10, 30 in Grade 11, and from 15-20 in Grade 12.