Journal articles on the topic 'Aboriginal Canadian teachers'

Abstract This paper reports on a Talking Circle of six beginning Aboriginal teachers who discussed their roles as teachers. Participants criticized teacher education programs for not preparing them to teach in ways that are respectful of Aboriginal languages and culture. They discussed the importance of coming to know themselves and their culture. The paper concludes with suggestions for decolonizing teacher preparation so that Aboriginal teachers are enabled as protectors of Aboriginal culture and brokers with Euro-Canadian culture.

AbstractThe marriage of Aboriginal perspectives and mathematics is complex and comes with multiple interpretations. Through the research presented in this paper, we propose that one possibility for a lasting relationship between Aboriginal perspectives and mathematics lies in understanding more about teachers' experiences and stories from their own mathematics classrooms, with their own students. The purpose of this paper, and of the research project informing this paper, is to understand how Grade 6 teachers in one particular Canadian province (Saskatchewan) are addressing Aboriginal-focused curriculum goals/outcomes and to listen to teachers' perspectives on teaching mathematics with a distinctly Aboriginal focus. Data collection consisted of focus group discussions, individual interviews, and classroom observations with three case study teachers (Chris, Joe, and Lindsay). In this paper, we present three brief vignettes constructed out of the data, which provide a glimpse into the uniqueness of each teacher, each classroom, and each interpretation of what it means to teach mathematics through a distinctly Aboriginal focus. Keywords: Aboriginal education; mathematics curriculum; qualitative research; case study; Grade 6 teachers

Although Indigenous and non-Indigenous teachers, administrators, and educational policy makers have made efforts to improve Indigenous educational outcomes, slow progress limits the opportunities available to Indigenous learners and perpetuates social and economic disadvantage. Prior Canadian studies demonstrate that some teachers attribute low ability and adverse life circumstances to Indigenous students, possibly influencing classroom placement. These findings were the catalyst for an Australian-based study assessing the influence students’ Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander status had upon teachers’ placement decisions. Teachers allocated fictional students to supplementary, regular, or advanced programs. Study findings revealed that teachers’ decisions were based upon assumptions regarding the perceived ability, family background, and/or life circumstances of Indigenous learners. The research tool designed for this study provides a way for teachers to identify the implications of biases on decision making, making it a valuable resource for teacher educators engaging in equity work with preservice teachers.

AbstractThis paper explores the professional experience of an Anishnabe educator working in various organisations teaching Indigenous knowledge issues in both Aboriginal and primarily non-Aboriginal settings. The reflections span a number of years of teaching Aboriginal worldview and knowledge issues courses and include formal evaluations from both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal students who have participated in the courses over that time. This paper draws upon two examples of educational institutions where Indigenous knowledge is being explored: the University of Toronto’s Aboriginal Studies Program and the Centre for Indigenous Environmental Resources’ (CIER) National First Nations Youth Environmental Education and Training Program. Both settings represent special places for thinking about decolonising Indigenous education. Integral to Aboriginal philosophy and decolonising education is the role elders play in informing and implementing meaningful education for Aboriginal learners. Both programs involve elders in central roles where they are recognised as authorities, facilitators and teachers. Discussion is offered on the subject of Aboriginal philosophies pertaining to education and some models for acting upon them, particularly as they relate to environmental education. Further analysis summarises the challenges faced by both programs and initiatives taken to advance Aboriginal educational goals. Finally, recommendations are made as to the types of changes which may be undertaken to realise creative spaces for resistance and creativity.

This narrative study contributes to the field of school-based Indigenous education by exploring the central research question: What are the decolonizing processes of practicing teachers involved in a provincially funded initiative to improve schooling for urban Aboriginal students? Excerpts from teachers’ narratives are organized using the Anishinaabe medicine wheel, anchoring the exploration of the following five directions and associated decolonizing processes: teachings from the centre/positioning, teachings from the east/honouring, teachings from the south/understanding, teachings from the west/doing, and teachings from the north/knowing. This paper concludes with a discussion of how White, Euro-Canadian teachers’ decolonization informs the fields of Indigenous education, teacher education, and narrative inquiry.

Aboriginal education, long considered the poor relation in education, is currently in a stage of development akin to a Renaissance. The success of the one-best-method of education is seriously being questioned, as are the twin constraints of the hidden curriculum - tradition and conformity.The first major breakthrough in Aboriginal education came with the development of the concept of Aboriginal learning styles (Kearins, 1983; Harris, 1980). Teachers became aware that different strategies and materials had to be employed to cater more successfully for Aboriginal students. It is most likely the case also that school principals need to adopt an administrative style which is significantly different from that employed in urban, middle-class schools. Thomas Greenfield, a Canadian, has revolutionized thought in educational administration, and his thoughts may have relevance to administering Aboriginal schools.

Five Aboriginal Head Start early childhood educators from a northern Canadian community participated in interviews for the purpose of informing non-Indigenous teachers’ classroom teaching. Their observations and experiences highlight the importance of learning from and on the land alongside family members, and of family stability and showing acceptance of all children. Additionally, participants talked of the impact of residential schools on their families in terms of loss of their Indigenous language, and their attempts to learn and to teach the children in their classrooms the Indigenous languages and teachings.

In this article, two indigenous post-interns, who completed their 16-week extended-teaching practicum sessions in rural schools in one Western Canadian province, assess their school-based internship experiences. They summarize their perspectives in three areas: 1) the elements they perceived as positive during the internship, 2) the challenging aspects they encountered during the four-month period, and 3) advice or suggestions for enhancing future practicum programs that they offer to practicum stakeholders. These views of thet wo-post-interns are compared to the findings from earlier research that similarly examined previous post-interns evaluations of their rural extended-practicum experiences in that region. Similarities and differences between the two sets of findings are discussed and implications are drawn for enhancing rural-based teaching practicums for neophyte teachers.

Between 1903 and 1923, sisters Mary, Rebecca, Martha, Margaret, and Alma Isaacs and Rita Gédéon, left their homes in Restigouche, Quebec, to teach in federal Indian day schools on New Brunswick Indian Reserves. As Mi’kmaw women, their “Indian” status not only made them anomalies in a federal day school system that only rarely and reluctantly hired “Indians” as teachers, it also placed them in complicated positions on the frontline of Canada’s colonialist project. Tasked with imparting to Mi’kmaw students an array of assimilatory messages both within and outside of the classroom, these six teachers bolstered Canada’s colonialist agenda. In other ways, however, the women used their positions in federal schools to undermine this same colonial agenda. By insisting on the use of the Mi’kmaw language in their classrooms, and by challenging the directives of federal officials and government protocol, the Isaacs sisters and Rita Gédéon remind us of the complex and competing motives, intentions and relationships that shaped Canadian colonialism and reveal that Aboriginal women were involved in ways rarely considered.

Former Prime Minister Paul Martin discusses the importance of providing equal educational opportunities to all Canadians, particularly to our First Nations, Métis and Inuit people. He describes the propelling force behind the Kelowna Accord, which made history by bringing together Federal, Provincial, Territorial and Aboriginal peoples leaders to resolve critical problems related to education, among other things. Mr. Martin’s interest in Aboriginal education has led him to participate in four important initiatives that focus on improving K-12 education in Aboriginal communities: a Promising Practices Web site for teachers, a Mentorship Program for high school students, a Model School Program aimed at primary schools, and a Business Education Program focused on preventing dropout. He describes these programs, and the results they are achieving. Finally, Mr. Martin offers words of advice for parents, youths and governments for the future of education in Canada.

This mixed methods study examined non-Indigenous teacher candidates’ disposition towards a mandatory Aboriginal Education course in teacher education from teacher candidates’ and course instructors’ perspectives. Results from a pre- and post Likert Scale survey of two sections of an Aboriginal Education course at a small Canadian University indicated that teacher candidates felt more knowledgeable by the end of the course, and maintained a fairly strong interest in, and positive attitude towards, the course. Results from course instructors provided additional and, at times, contradictory information, describing the course as limited and, at best, an introduction to the issues and perspectives within Indigenous education. The results suggest the need for mandatory Indigenous Education courses and for faculties of education and school boards to provide further learning opportunities with Indigenous education content and resources.

In this paper, I report on a school-university collaborative research project that examined ways to merge the out-of-school literacy resources with school literacy practices for First Nations students in a small city in Western Canada. The project involved three interconnected groups of research participants: (a) a teacher researcher study group; (b) students from the participating teachers’ classes; (c) preservice teachers who were partnered with the students in literacy partnerships. Grounded in a “funds of knowledge” perspective, and utilizing ethnographic research methods, this qualitative study explored how students’ linguistic and cultural resources from home and community networks were utilized to reshape school literacy practices through their involvement in the Heritage Fair Program. This paper focuses on select lessons the preservice teachers learned through their partnerships with the First Nations students. Study findings suggest that the collaboration increased preservice teachers’ understanding of how Aboriginal culture could contribute to more successful teaching practices.

The academic difficulties experienced by many Aboriginal (First Nations, Métis, Inuit) students in Canada have been well-documented. Indicators such as school persistence and post-secondary enrollment are typically far lower for Aboriginal students as a group compared to non-Aboriginal students. Identifying facilitators of success is key to improving the academic experiences of Aboriginal students. Accordingly, the objective of the current study was to identify influential factors related to the educational success of Aboriginal students, from the perspective of students and teachers, through the lens of Bronfenbrenner’s (1995) “Bioecological Model.” The insights of participants spoke to the importance of relationships, self-concept and academic expectations, the relevance of the school curriculum, and academic aspirations as factors influencing educational success.

In this reflective paper, an expanded version of my LLRC pre-conference paper, I draw on thirty or so years of teaching and research experience, augmented by the occasional foray into my childhood, to consider issues of resonance and representation in children’s literature. In doing so, I draw on Patsy Aldana’s speech, Books that are Windows. Books that are Mirrors. How Can we Make Sure that Children see Themselves in Their Books? Aldana, then President of the Canadian Coalition for School Libraries, delivered her speech to the IBBY (International Board on Books for Young People) Congress in Malaysia, 2008.[i]As a teacher and now as a teacher educator, I am reminded by Aldana’s speech to pay close attention to the children and youth who cannot take for granted, as I was able to, “hear(ing) one’s own words, see(ing) one’s own face…in a book” (Aldana, 2008).[i] In her speech, Aldana uses this metaphor as presented by Elisa Bonilla, former director of educational materials at the Mexican Ministry of Education (SEP) of Mexico, in her address to the IBBY congress in Macau, 2006.

How is it determined who is prime minister? Does the leader of the party that wins the most seats in the House of Commons, or that gets the most votes in the election automatically become prime minister? Who appoints cabinet ministers? Do cabinet ministers have to be MPs? Who appoints deputy ministers? What are deputy ministers? What are parliamentary secretaries? What is the PCO? What is the PMO? How is the Governor General selected? What are the Governor General’s powers? What is the role of the Queen in governing Canada? What contact, if any, can senior civil servants have with opposition parties? What contact, if any, can government leaders have with judges? How are treaties with foreign countries ratified? Why does Canada have treaties with Aboriginal peoples? Are there any constraints on federal spending in areas of provincial responsibility? What is the constitutional status of the northern territories and how does the federal government’s relationship with them differ from its relations with the provinces?A Canadian citizen who wants to know how her country is governed should be able to get clear, authoritative answers to these questions without much trouble; so should a civics teacher in a school classroom or a person preparing immigrants for Canadian citizenship. These are not small technical questions — they are basic to knowing how Canadian government and democracy work — yet the citizen who looks for answers to these questions in the written text of Canada’s Constitution will look in vain.

From 2006 to 2009, Indigenous Elders and scholars shared their insights in the Comprehending and Nourishing the Learning Spirit Animation Theme Bundle of the Aboriginal Learning Knowledge Centre (ABLKC). The ABLKC was an applied research, knowledge exchange, and monitoring program with a mandate to advance Aboriginal education in Canada. One of the six bundles, Nourishing the Learning Spirit, was led by Mi’kmaw education scholar and Academic Director of the Aboriginal Education Research Centre at the University of Saskatchewan, Dr. Marie Battiste. In this paper, the authors discuss how they applied knowledge gained in the Nourishing the Learning Spirit Animation Theme Bundle to their post-secondary classroom practice. The authors argue that teachers are better able to nourish the learning spirit of students when they understand themselves as lifelong learners, validate and learn from their students, and use holistic teaching pedagogies.

AbstractThis paper relates findings from learning circles held in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, with urban Aboriginal men. The purpose of the circles was to determine how an Aboriginal cultural identity is formed in urban spaces. Education settings were mentioned by the research participants as a significant contribution to their cultural identity development. Participants described elementary and secondary school experiences as lacking in Aboriginal inclusion at best or as racist. In contrast to these earlier experiences, participants described their post-secondary education as enabling them to work on healing or decolonising themselves. Specific strategies for universities to contribute to individual decolonising journeys are mentioned. A university that contributes to decolonising and healing must provide space for Aboriginal students where they feel culturally safe. The students must have access to cultural knowledge and its keepers, such as elders. Their teachers must offer Indigenous course content and demonstrate respect and love for their students. Courses must be seen to be relevant to Indigenous people in their decolonising process and use teaching styles that include humour and engender a spirit of community in the classroom. In particular, Indigenous language courses are important to Aboriginal students.

Global neoliberal imperatives that numerically measure student success through standardized testing undermine the educational outcomes of students, in particular Indigenous students, and construct a seemingly fixed reality that avoids State responsibility to address structural inequality in Australia. Achievement gaps between Indigenous and non-Indigenous school students in mathematics have become an urgent international problem. Although evidence suggests that culturally responsive pedagogies (CRPs) improve student academic success for First Nations peoples in settler colonial countries such as the United States, Canada, New Zealand, and Australia, less prominent is a focus on how CRP is enacted and mobilized in Australian classrooms. Although some initiatives exist, this article explores how creative and body-based learning (CBL) strategies might be utilized to enact CRP. Using an ethnographic case study approach, we examined how two early career teachers serving Indigenous and ethnically diverse students implemented CBL to reengage students with mathematics. Findings suggest that the teachers were able to mobilize a number of CRP principles using CBL strategies to facilitate engagement in mathematics for urban Aboriginal students. Specifically, when teachers repositioned students as “competent” and designed embodied learning experiences that connected to their cultural backgrounds, students let go of their cautious learner histories and remade themselves as clever and competent.

A large body of Michael Finnissy's work refers to music, texts and other aspects of culture outside the mainstream European tradition. As a child he met Polish and Hungarian friends of the family, and was further attracted to aspects of Eastern European music when asked to transcribe Yugoslav music from a record, for a ballet teacher. Study of anthropological and other literature led him to a conviction that folk music lay at the roots of most other music, and related quite directly to the defining nature of man's interaction with his environment. Finnissy went on to explore the widest range of folk music and culture, from Sardinia, Yugoslavia, Rumania, Bulgaria, the Kurdish people, Azerbaijan, the Vendan Africans, China, Japan, Java, Australia both Aboriginal and colonial, Native America and more recently Norway, Sweden, Denmark, India, Korea, Canada, Mexico and Chile.

In the context of expanding community engagement efforts by universities and growing awareness of the past and current impacts of settler-colonialism in Canada, this study explores one Indigenous-settler, community-university partnership. Building on a framework of community-university engagement and decolonization, this case study explores a partnership between Fraser Valley Aboriginal Children and Family Services Society (Xyolhemeylh) and the Division of Health Care Communication at the University of British Columbia (UBC-DHCC). This partnership, called the “Community as Teacher” program, began in 2006 and engages groups of UBC health professional students in three-day cultural summer camps. This qualitative case study draws on analysis of program documents and interviews with Xyolhemeylh and UBC-DHCC participants. The findings of the study are framed within “Four Rs”—relevance, risk-taking, respect, and relationship-building—which extend existing frameworks of Indigenous community-university engagement (Butin, 2010; Kirkness & Barnhardt, 1991). Committed to a foundation of mutual relevance to their missions, both community and university partners undertook risk-taking, based on their respective contexts, in establishing and investing in the relationship. Respect, expressed as working “in a good way,” likewise formed the basis for interpersonal relationship-building. By outlining the findings in relation to these four themes, this study provides a potential framework for practitioners and researchers in Indigenous-university partnerships

Woman and nature can be considered the best creations of god. Both together keep the earth alive and balanced through the process of creation. The male dominated practices have destroyed the nature as well as women. This paper deals with the different aspects of Eco-feminism through the novel Surfacing by Margaret Atwood. The narrator’s quest to the wilderness of Canada in search for her father which leads to a quest of self-discovery in the lap of nature becomes the major focus of this paper. The unknown protagonist becomes a representative of the entire female community. The realization that women are just an object to be conquered and violated by men is what leads to the ‘surfacing’ of the protagonist. In complete harmony with nature excluding clothes, language, food etc. the protagonist goes crazy which gives her more happiness that with her other relationships. The paper also tries to analyse the close relationship between women and nature and how the virgin nature and woman are destroyed by the invasion of the male community. Repressed gender roles, submissiveness, self-realization through nature and the challenges faced by women that are presented. The concept of women and nature as both victims of the male dominated society is also emphasized. This novel is the perfect literary example of an Eco-feminist work that portrays the destruction of women and nature even in the minutest episodes in the novel. Nature is a treasure-house of many myths that lay hidden in the beliefs, rights and rituals of the aboriginals which are passed from one generation to another. In the same manner women also are the sustainer's of many myths that the male society has made upon her. The mother i.e. both woman and nature is examined here.In a vast country like Canada,nature comprises to its majority through its wilderness.This wilderness hides many priceless virtues and knowledge that can be learnt only in complete harmony with nature.Surfacing is not just the journey of a woman but it is the quest that the female gender thrives for.This paper combines the theories of eco-criticism, eco-feminism and to analyse the novel Surfacing into a biological whole that merges nature, man and the beliefs of man that make existence meaningful and life worth living. In an era of rapid industrialization and materialism, it is necessary to go on a quest back to nature and learn how life was easier in the lap of nature. Great writers like Shakespeare,Chaucer and Wordsworth were able to carve out such master pieces only because of their relationship with the purest and virgin nature which is the greatest teacher for mankind of all times.

In 2005, Canadian scholars Carol Schick and Verna St. Denis published an article entitled “Troubling National Discourses in Anti-Racist Curricular Planning.” In it, they describe encountering the same problems in their respective practices with pre-service teachers when addressing Indigenous and post-colonial curricula; namely, resistance. The authors identify four key areas of resistance offered by pre-service teachers: 1) there is a perception of loss of liberty in course selection when a required anti-racist course is mandated; 2) students perceive an affront with the possibility that they are morally lacking in some way that necessitates a course about the “other”; 3) most pre-service teachers do not see themselves as teaching aboriginal students and think they don’t need to learn about aboriginal people; and 4) students are afraid of feeling uncomfortable about the conditions of the “other” and their own implication in that power structure. The authors address these concerns through an autobiographical assignment that locates students within the matrix of political, historical and cultural power structures in Canada. In a precursor to their 2005 article, Schick and St. Denis (2003) published a similar treatise in the Alberta Journal of Educational Research entitled “What Makes Anti-Racist Pedagogy in Teacher Education Difficult? Three Popular Ideological Assumptions,” in which they provide anecdotal evidence of pre-service teacher resistance. Taken together, these two articles point to an important and difficult arena in the process of opening dialogues around post-colonial power relations embedded in the narratives of Canadian identity. As a Métis woman working in the field of education, I am particularly interested in expanding this dialogue to resolve the tensions the authors describe.

This qualitative study explores how teachers' constructions of racism consistently minimized its pervasiveness in the school. Teachers constructed racism as individual not systemic, construed it as a phenomenon of places outside the school, and attributed responsibility for addressing racism to other people, particularly Aboriginal populations. Based on written responses from 95 Canadian Prairie teachers from two schools, this research examines the discourses teachers employed to narrate racism, particularly with relation to Aboriginal students. While there were some differences between inner city and suburban teachers, teachers from both environments followed discursive repertoires that absolved themselves of responsibility for addressing racism and maintained the colour-blind image of education. Interrogating these discursive repertoires exposes the systems of denial that block meaningful action upon racialized inequalities and prevent the development of a truly inclusive educational environment. This underlines the need for expanded anti-racist professional development to support critical racial reflexivity among in-service teachers.Keywords: racism in education; critical whiteness studies; in-service teachers; Aboriginal education

<span style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;" lang="EN-US">By considering the <em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ontario First Nation, M&eacute;tis, and Inuit Policy Framework</em> (2007) from a Foucauldian perspective, the paper presents a policy discourse of knowledge, power, and identity from a multicultural education framework.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Through Foucauldian theoretical perspectives, the paper creates alternate possibilities in confronting the ways to understand public educational policy &ndash; considered the purpose of multicultural education. This paper invites teachers, administrators, district leaders, and policy makers to consider how educational policy in one Canadian province strategically situates Aboriginal peoples in a historical context, exercises Foucauldian notions of power and care and potentially endorses the subjectification of Aboriginal peoples through recommendations of self-identification practices.</span>

In 2007, the Ontario Government implemented the Ontario First Nation, Métis, and Inuit Education Policy Framework. Some schools and school boards have been active in piloting and supporting these initiatives. Because this is a newly implemented policy direction, I wanted to begin to assess best practices and challenges, so I asked participants at one school board and one high school what impact their participation in the Aboriginal education program initiatives had on them professionally, academically, and personally. The Aboriginal programming initiatives, like the ones in which I have participated and studied, have been found to be personally and academically/professionally transformative for administrators, teachers, and youth. As Indigenous-focused curriculum is brought into the mainstream, and as a space is created to consider and include Indigenous perspectives, there is potential for Indigenous and non-Indigenous participants to experience powerful learning opportunities, some of which may transform their perceptions of Canadian history and for contemporary Indigenous people to be valued, though many challenges remain systemically to decolonize the educational realm.

Our understanding of Canadian polity formation is based on a pluralistic moral democracy that recognizes a fluid concept of cultural retention, differentiated citizenship as explained by Kymlicka, and a social ethic of care. We argue that multicultural education has not addressed issues concerning the national question with respect to Aboriginal nationalist and Quebec demands or has done so only in a fragmentary manner. Anti-racist education has developed a refreshing oppositional approach that deals with structures sustaining racism, sexism, and power issues. However, we contend that the dominance of globalization as an economic ideology and concomitant educational changes have generated conditions to deal with difference in terms of a democracy that has great faith in the power of the free market and lacks confidence in the possibility of conscious collective efforts to build a apace to define and redefine a public good. There is no doubt that the economic agenda is influencing citizenship formation in our schools even as teachers and students mediate those influences. Relevant to the understanding of the building of a Canadian polity is the clarification of the concept of democracy in light of the market imperative which has permeated language and the construction of meanings.

New Year. In this edition of the news I am highlighting several online resources as well as conferences, tours, and exhibits of possible interest.First of all, I highly suggest you sign up at the Alberta School Library Council's new LitPicks site (aslclitpicks.ca). It is free, filled with promise, and includes only books recommended by the reviewers. The reviews are searchable by grade level and genre (e.g., animal, biographical fable, fantasy, humour, historical, horror, verse, realistic, mystery, myth) and include all formats. The reviews include curriculum connections and links to relevant resources. Library staff review titles based on engagement of story, readability, descriptive language, illustration excellence and integrity of data, and source for non-fiction titles. The target users are teachers, teacher-librarians, library techs, and others working in libraries. School library cataloguers can provide a link to the review from within the catalogue record.Another recommended resource is CanLit for Little Canadians, a blog that focuses on promoting children's and YA books by Canadian authors and illustrators. The blog postings can also be found on Facebook. (http://canlitforlittlecanadians.blogspot.ca/)First Nation Communities READ is another resource for your tool box. It is an annual reading program launched in 2003 by the First Nations public library community in Ontario and includes titles that are written and/or illustrated by (or otherwise involve the participation of) a First Nation, Métis, or Inuit creator and contain First Nation, Métis, or Inuit content produced with the support of First Nation, Métis, or Inuit advisers/consultants or First Nation, Métis, or Inuit endorsement. Julie Flett's Wild Berries - Pakwa Che Menisu, available in both English and Cree, was the First Nation Communities Read Selection for 2014-2015 and the inaugural recipient of the Periodical Marketers of Canada Aboriginal Literature Award. (http://www.sols.org/index.php/develop-your-library-staff/advice-consulting/first-nations/fn-communities-read)This resource should also be of great value for those schools and libraries participating in TD Canadian Children’s Book Week in 2015. Each May, authors, illustrators and storytellers visit communities throughout the country to share the delights of Canadian children’s books. Book Week reaches over 25,000 children and teens in schools and libraries across Canada every year. The theme for this year is Hear Our Stories: Celebrating First Nations, Métis and Inuit Literature, celebrating the remarkable variety of topics, genres and voices being published by and about members of our First Nations, Métis and Inuit (FNMI) communities in Canada. On a personal note, I will be touring as a storyteller in Quebec as part of this year’s Book Week tour.Freedom to Read Week: February 22-28, 2015. This annual event encourages Canadians to think about and reaffirm their commitment to intellectual freedom, which is guaranteed them under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. This year’s Freedom to Read review marks the thirtieth anniversary of its publication and of Freedom to Read Week in Canada. It was first published in 1984 to explore the freedom to read in Canada and elsewhere and to inform and assist booksellers, publishers, librarians, students, educators, writers and the public. To commemorate Freedom to Read’s thirtieth anniversary, some of our writers have cast a look back over the past three decades. As usual, the review provides exercises and resources for teachers, librarians and students. This and previous issues of Freedom to Read, as well as appendices and other resources, are available at www.freedomtoread.ca.Half for you and Half for Me: Nursery Rhymes and Poems we Love. An exhibit on best-loved rhymes and poems and a celebration of the 40th anniversary of Alligator Pie held at the Osborne Collection in the Lillian H. Smith Library in Toronto until March 7, 2015.Serendipity 2015 (March 7, 2015). An exciting day exploring the fabulous world of young adult literature with Holly Black, Andrew Smith, Mariko Tamaki, Molly Idle, and Kelli Chipponeri. Costumes recommended! Swing Space Building, 2175 West Mall on the UBC campus. (http://vclr.ca/serendipity-2015/)For educators: Call for entries for the Martyn Godfrey Young Writers Award (YABS). An annual, juried contest open to all students in Alberta in grades 4 through 9. Students are invited to submit their short stories (500-1500 words) or comic book by March 31, 2015 to the YABS office, 11759 Groat Road, Edmonton, AB, T5M 3K6. Entries may also be emailed to info@yabs.ab.ca.Breaking News: The Canada Council for the Arts has revised the Governor General’s Literary Awards Children’s Literature categories (in consultation with the literary community) in the wake of controversy regarding graphic novels. The revised category titles and definitions:The new Children’s Literature – Illustrated Books category will recognize the best illustrated book for children or young adults, honouring the text and the illustrations as forming one creative work. It includes picture books and graphic novels, as well as works of fiction, literary non-fiction, and poetry where original illustrations occupy at least 30% of the book’s space.The Children’s Literature – Text category will recognize the best book for children or young adults with few (less than 30%) or no illustrations. http://www.bookcentre.ca/news/governor_general%E2%80%99s_literary_awards_revisions_children%E2%80%99s_literature_categoriesGail de Vos, an adjunct instructor, teaches courses on Canadian children's literature, Young Adult Literature and Comic Books and Graphic Novels at the School of Library and Information Studies for the University of Alberta and is the author of nine books on storytelling and folklore. She is a professional storyteller and has taught the storytelling course at SLIS for over two decades.

The purpose of this paper is to explore the experiences of a small group of Aboriginal neophyte teachers in Saskatchewan, Canada. Part of a larger study, this research used a mixed method approach for data collection in which 18 Aboriginal beginning teachers completed a survey (with Likert-scale items and open-ended questions) and an additional two Aboriginal beginning teachers participated in individual interviews. This study is a focused attempt to highlight the voices of the Aboriginal beginning teachers. Findings suggested that many participants had difficulty obtaining employment and identified family and friends as their core supports. Most participants felt challenged by their workload and a lack of supports to address the diverse needs of their students. Most participants found teaching to be rewarding and enjoyed the autonomy of their own classrooms. Many of the issues raised by the participants can be addressed by placing a greater focus on an Aboriginal epistemology based on the concept of community. To promote Aboriginal teacher recruitment, employment, and retention rates, it is essential that neophyte teachers are provided with employment assistance, mentorship opportunities, and curricular and unit plan resources. Keywords: neophyte/beginning teachers; preservice teacher education, mixed-methodology

Knowledge of the Aboriginal socio-political history in Canada has historically been excluded from public education. In Ontario, public school children learn about Aboriginal people at specific times in the curriculum. However, teachers frequently only teach the bare essentials about Aboriginal people in Canada because they do not have adequate knowledge or feel that they lack the ability to teach about this subject. The Ontario Institute of Studies in Education at the University of Toronto has implemented the Deepening Knowledge Project to provide teacher candidates with an increased awareness and knowledge about Aboriginal history, culture, and worldview for their future teaching careers. This article will provide insight into the project and the curriculum developed for working with teacher candidates.

If changes that make a difference to Aboriginal learners are to be effected in public schools, then transformational change is required (Menzies, Archibald, & Smith, 2004). How is transformational change best achieved? In this article, I argue, based on a recently completed study (McGregor, 2013) that teacher learning—particularly among non-Aboriginal teachers—is critical to effecting transformation in how teachers think about Aboriginal learners as well as how they plan and deliver fully inclusive learning opportunities. After outlining a theoretical framework for transformation focused on networked, inquiry-based learning and culturally inclusive practices, I explore how one particular teacher-learning network—the Aboriginal Enhancement Schools Network (AESN) in British Columbia, Canada, offers a powerful example of how teacher learning networks can enable deep and transformational change among participating teachers and leaders. I provide exemplary stories of transformation to illustrate the power of this model to effect changes in teacher beliefs and mindsets about Aboriginal learners and culturally inclusive practices. Following this, I identify several key enabling features of the AESN, including socially just, distributed forms of leadership, relational accountability (Wilson, 2008), and affiliative, catalytic models of implementation, a focus on “new, strong and wise ways” (Halbert & Kaser, 2012, p.11) of learning, and provincial and district resources that support network learning activity. The conclusion highlights implications of this study for school jurisdictions and policy makers. Keywords: networked teacher learning; transformational change; socially just leadership

The realities of Aboriginal education in Ontario are complex and multi-faceted. After many years of advocacy by Aboriginal leaders, governments and educational authorities are becoming more receptive to Aboriginal education concerns. At the same time, over 42% of 15 to 29 year-olds in Ontario left school with less than a high school education (Aboriginal Peoples Survey, 2001). Even more concerning is evidence that the health of Aboriginal culture continues to decline. A recent Statistics Canada report states that “the proportion of North American Indian children with an Aboriginal mother tongue fell from 9% in 1996 to 7% in 2001” (Aboriginal Peoples Survey, 2001). Aboriginal teachers have a critical role to play in the improvement of Aboriginal education and, particularly, in the preservation and renewal of Aboriginal languages and cultures. Although there is strong evidence that the minority students have higher academic, personal, and social performance when taught by members of their own ethnic group and with culturally responsive approaches (National Collaborative on Diversity in the Teaching Force, 2004), there is little research on the needs of Aboriginal educators. The literature is particularly silent about new Aboriginal teachers’ successes, problems, and the impact of their teacher education programs on their practice. These challenges, particularly the critical need for Aboriginal teachers able to support student learning and contribute to the preservation of their distinct languages and cultures, prompted us to conduct research with new Aboriginal educators.

It is well established that educational attainment and social support are critical social determinants of health among Aboriginal Canadians. Still, the gap in educational attainment with non-Aboriginal Canadians continues to grow, and little is known about the role of social support as a health determinant among Aboriginal youth. In collaboration with The Wabano Centre for Aboriginal Health (Ottawa, Canada), we undertook focus groups with urban Aboriginal youth at-risk to examine perceptions of their urban school environments, including access to social support. Data were analyzed using a general inductive approach. Results indicate that youths’ perceived level of trust is key to the uptake of social support and vital to fostering sense of belonging. Youth identified social support as both structural and functional; the former being a symbol of the ‘potential to help’ and the latter representing ‘actual help.’ The unique challenges endured in the home environments of Aboriginal youth at-risk means that teachers and staff must be prepared to provide forms of support that are responsive to these realities. Part of the solution will come from implementing measures of cultural safety that support the resources needed for Aboriginal youth at-risk to experience sense of belonging, thereby making urban schools places where youth will achieve their educational goals.

This review provides a rough sketch of the evidence, gaps and promising directions in e-learning from 2000 onwards, with a particular focus on Canada. We searched a wide range of sources and document types to ensure that we represented, comprehensively, the arguments surrounding e-learning. Overall, there were 2,042 entries in our database, of which we reviewed 1,146, including all the Canadian primary research and all scholarly reviews of the literature. In total, there were 726 documents included in our review: 235 – general public opinion; 131 – trade/practitioners’ opinion; 88 – policy documents; 120 – reviews; and 152 – primary empirical research. The Argument Catalogue codebook included the following eleven classes of variables: 1) Document Source; 2) Areas/Themes of e-learning; 3) Value/Impact; 4) Type of evidence; 5) Research design; 6) Area of applicability; 7) Pedagogical implementation factors; 8) A-priori attitudes; 9) Types of learners; 10) Context; and 11) Technology Factors. We examined the data from a number of perspectives, including their quality as evidence. In the primary research literature, we examined the kinds of research designs that were used. We found that over half of the studies conducted in Canada are qualitative in nature, while the rest are split in half between surveys and quantitative studies (correlational and experimental). When we looked at the nature of the research designs, we found that 51% are qualitative case studies and 15.8% are experimental or quasi-experimental studies. It seems that studies that can help us understand “what works” in e-learning settings are underrepresented in the Canadian research literature. The documents were coded to provide data on outcomes of e-learning (we also refer to them as “impacts” of e-learning). Outcomes/impacts are the perceived or measured benefits of e-learning, whereas predictors are the conditions or features of e-learning that can potentially affect the outcomes/impacts. The impacts were coded on a positive to negative scale and included: 1) achievement; 2) motivation/satisfaction; 3) interactivity/ communication; 4) meeting social demands; 5) retention/attrition; 6) learning flexibility; and 7) cost. Based on an analysis of the correlations among these impacts, we subsequently collapsed them (all but cost) into a single impact scale ranging from –1 to +1. We found, generally, that the perception of impact or actual measured impact varies across the types of documents. They appear to be lower in general opinion documents, practitioner documents and policy making reports than in scholarly reviews and primary research. While this represents an expression of hope for positive impact, on the one hand, it possibly represents reality, on the other. Where there were sufficient documents to examine and code, impact was high across each of the CCL Theme Areas. Health and Learning was the highest, with a mean of 0.80 and Elementary/Secondary was the lowest, with a mean of 0.77. However, there was no significant difference between these means. The impact of e-learning and technology use was highest in distance education, where its presence is required (Mean = 0.80) and lowest in face-to-face instructional settings (Mean = 0.60) where its presence is not required. Network-based technologies (e.g., Internet, Web-based, CMC) produced a higher impact score (Mean = 0.72) than straight technology integration in educational settings (Mean = 0.66), although this difference was considered negligible. Interestingly, among the Pedagogical Uses of Technology, student applications (i.e., students using technology) and communication applications (both Mean = 0.78) had a higher impact score than instructional or informative uses (Mean = 0.63). This result suggests that the student manipulation of technology in achieving educational goals is preferable to teacher manipulation of technology. In terms of predictor variables (professional training, course design, infrastructure/ logistics, type of learners [general population, special needs, gifted], gender issues and ethnicity/race/religion/aboriginal, location, school setting, context of technology use, type of tool used and pedagogical function of technology) we found the following: professional development was underrepresented compared to issues of course design and infrastructure/ logistics; most attention is devoted to general population students, with little representation of special needs, the gifted students, issues of gender or ethnic/race/religious/aboriginal status; the greatest attention is paid to technology use in distance education and the least attention paid to the newly emerging area of hybrid/blended learning; the most attention is paid to networked technologies such as the Internet, the WWW and CMC and the least paid to virtual reality and simulations. Using technology for instruction and using technology for communication are the two highest categories of pedagogical use. In the final stage, the primary e-learning studies from the Canadian context that could be summarized quantitatively were identified. We examined 152 studies and found a total of 7 that were truly experimental (i.e., random assignment with treatment and control groups) and 10 that were quasi-experimental (i.e., not randomized but possessing a pretest and a posttest). For these studies we extracted 29 effect sizes or standardized mean differences, which were included in the composite measure. The mean effect size was +0.117, a small positive effect. Approximately 54% of the e-learning participants performed at or above the mean of the control participants (50 th percentile), an advantage of 4%. However, the heterogeneity analysis was significant, indicating that the effect sizes were widely dispersed. It is clearly not the case that e-learning is always the superior condition for educational impact. Overall, we know that research in e-learning has not been a Canadian priority; the culture of educational technology research, as distinct from development, has not taken on great import. In addition, there appears to have been a disproportionate emphasis on qualitative research in the Canadian e-learning research culture. We noted that there are gaps in areas of research related to early childhood education and adult education. Finally, we believe that more emphasis must be placed on implementing longitudinal research, whether qualitative or quantitative (preferably a mixture of the two), and that all development efforts be accompanied by strong evaluation components that focus on learning impact. It is a shame to attempt innovation and not be able to tell why it works or doesn’t work. In this sense, the finest laboratories for e-learning research are the institutions in which it is being applied. Implications for K-12 Practitioners When implemented appropriately, technology tools are beneficial to students’ learning, and may facilitate the development of higher order thinking skills. Student manipulation of technology in achieving the goals of education is preferable to teacher manipulation of technology. Teachers need to be aware of differences between instructional design for e-learning as compared to traditional face-to-face situations. Immediate, extensive, and sustained support should be offered to teachers in order to make the best out of e-learning. Implications for Post-Secondary Some educators suggest that e-learning has the potential to transform learning, but there is limited empirical research to assess the benefits. Post-secondary education would benefit from a Pan-Canadian plan to assess the impact of e-learning initiatives. It is important that instructional design match the goals and potential of e-learning. Research is needed to determine the feasibility and effectiveness of such things as learning objects and multimedia applications. Properly implemented computer mediated communication can enrich the learning environment; help reduce low motivation and feelings of isolation in distance learners. E-learning appears to be more effective in distance education, where technology use is required than in face-to-face instructional settings. Implications for Policy Makers Effective and efficient implementation of e-learning technologies represents new, and difficult, challenges to practitioners, researchers, and policymakers. The term e-learning has been used to describe many different applications of technology, which may be implemented in a wide variety of ways (some of which are much more beneficial than others). School administrators must balance the needs of all stakeholders, and the cost-benefit ratios of technology tools, in deciding not only which technologies to use, but also when and how to implement new technologies. Traditional methods of instructional design and school administration must be adjusted to deal with the demands of distance education and other contexts of technology use. Professional education, development, and training for educators must ensure that teachers will be equipped to make optimal pedagogical use of new methods.

Bouchard, David. Voices from the Wild: An Animal Sensagoria. Paintings by Ron Parker. Markham, ON: Fitzhenry & Whiteside, 2013. Print.This gorgeous book brings together two extraordinarily-talented individuals. David Bouchard is a former teacher, a former president of the Metis Nation of Greater Victoria, a recipient of the Order of Canada, and the author of many books. His popular books use poetry, prose, and visual elements to explore Aboriginal and Métis culture and traditions in both French and English. Ron Parker is one of Canada’s best wildlife artists. His career took off in the 1990s when his realistic portraits of animals in their natural habitats stood alongside those of Robert Bateman and helped to create a very hot market for signed limited edition prints. The publisher is to be applauded for thinking of bringing together Parker’s glorious paintings and Bouchard’s inspiring poetry. It was a wonderful idea, but, unfortunately, it was not well executed. It is most unfortunate that Parker’s beautiful images were not packaged in a fresher and more contemporary book design, one that would appeal to today’s young people. The author says that he “wrote this book with young people in mind” and certainly he has organized his poetry into a familiar scheme for a children’s book—sections which explore the five senses (sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste)—but unfortunately, the scheme is too childish for young adults while the poetry is too sophisticated for small children. There is great value and power in this poetry, in which the reader is asked to see the world through the senses and perspectives of numerous animals, but, just who is the intended audience?As it is, this volume does a disservice to both the author and the artist. The design may be appealing to parents or teachers of a certain age—who may feel a nostalgic affection for its familiar, if outdated, style, and who will be undaunted by the poetry—but the publisher has made a mistake in marketing this title as a children’s book. As it is, this book stands outside of normal publishing categories. Although too small to be classified as a coffee table book, both the design and the content seem more aligned with that category than any other. Although there is a great deal to applaud here, I cannot recommend this as a children’s book.Not recommended: one star out of fourReviewer: Linda QuirkLinda taught courses in Multicultural Canadian Literature, Women's Writing, and Children's Literature at Queen's University (Kingston) and at Seneca College (Toronto) before moving to Edmonton to become the Assistant Special Collections Librarian at the Bruce Peel Special Collections Library at the University of Alberta. Her favourite children's book to teach is Hana's Suitcase, not only because Hana's story is so compelling, but because the format of this non-fiction book teaches students of all ages about historical investigation and reveals that it is possible to recover the stories of those who have been forgotten by history.

Diverse student populations are now one of the distinctive features of schools in North America. This changing demographic reality in schools places equity education that includes the lived experiences of diverse students at the centre of the teaching and learning process. However, research continues to show that despite the efforts and good work of teachers, huge gaps persist in the educational achievement and outcomes of Aboriginal students, students of colour, and poor children. Based on research conducted with teachers in Southern Ontario, Canada, grounded in critical pedagogy and culturally relevant teaching, this article examines the complexities of equity education and ways to better serve the needs of diverse students. Drawing from the author’s experiences as a classroom teacher, administrator, and teacher educator, the article posits a framework for critical action on ways that teachers can embed equitable practices in their teaching.

This article studies a community-based Indigenous teacher education program in Northwestern Ontario in Canada. This program, the result of a partnership between the Northern Nishnawbe Education Council and Brock University, was designed to prepare Nishnawbe Aski teachers able to teacher through a Two Worlds Orientation: unique Indigenous understandings combined with Western educational principles. The program characteristics and structure are outlined. The strengths of the program, as identified byteacher candidates and teacher educators, are explored. Impediments to success are also considered.

Between the two World Wars, British Columbia was home to some 49 day schools for Aboriginal children, each averaging a population of about 16 students scattered across grades one to eight. By the early 1930s, some 825 youngsters were attending such schools. Little historical attention, however, has been directed toward the operations of Indian day schools, although a large literature has otherwise documented the devastating effects of the residential schools. A rich body of official correspondence and other sources describing the experiences of Anthony Walsh, a free spirited Irish war veteran who taught at Six Mile Creek and Inkameep day schools from the late 1920s to the early 1940s, presents an opportunity to examine the bureaucratic system that governed the day schools, the relationships that existed between agencies of church and state, not to mention the general myopia of the Department of Indian Affairs and religious authorities to the harsh realities of life on the reserves. Archival sources likewise disclose Walsh’s considerable success both as a teacher and promoter of Aboriginal arts and crafts during the interwar years, as well as Walsh’s role in a wider cultural movement that aimed at challenging government’s social and educational policies for Aboriginal peoples. Although not immediately effective in changing the status quo, Walsh and his colleagues played an important part in sensitizing British Columbians and other Canadians to the value of Aboriginal art and culture in national life.

News and AnnouncementsAs we move into the so-called “summer reading” mode (although reading is obviously not a seasonal thing for many people), here is a “summery” (pardon the pun) of some recent Canadian book awards and shortlists.To see the plethora of Forest of Reading ® tree awards from the Ontario Library Association, go to https://www.accessola.org/WEB/OLAWEB/Forest_of_Reading/About_the_Forest.aspx. IBBY Canada (the Canadian national section of the International Board on Books for Young People) announced that the Claude Aubry Award for distinguished service in the field of children’s literature will be presented to Judith Saltman and Jacques Payette. Both winners will receive their awards in conjunction with a special event for children's literature in the coming year. http://www.ibby-canada.org/ibby-canadas-aubry-award-presented-2015/IBBY Canada also awarded the 2015 Elizabeth Mrazik-Cleaver Picture Book Award to Pierre Pratt, illustrator of Stop, Thief!. http://www.ibby-canada.org/awards/elizabeth-mrazik-cleaver-award/The annual reading programme known as First Nation Communities Read (FNCR) and the Periodical Marketers of Canada (PMC) jointly announced Peace Pipe Dreams: The Truth about Lies about Indians by Darrell Dennis (Douglas & McIntyre) as the FNCR 2015-2016 title as well as winner of PMC’s $5000 Aboriginal Literature Award. A jury of librarians from First Nations public libraries in Ontario, with coordination support from Southern Ontario Library Service, selected Peace Pipe Dreams from more than 19 titles submitted by Canadian publishers. “In arriving at its selection decision, the jury agreed that the book is an important one that dispels myths and untruths about Aboriginal people in Canada today and sets the record straight. The author tackles such complicated issues such as religion, treaties, and residential schools with knowledge, tact and humour, leaving readers with a greater understanding of our complex Canadian history.” http://www.sols.org/index.php/links/fn-communities-readCharis Cotter, author of The Swallow: A Ghost Story, has been awarded The National Chapter of Canada IODE Violet Downey Book Award for 2015. Published by Tundra Books, the novel is suggested for children ages nine to 12. http://www.iode.ca/2015-iode-violet-downey-book-award.htmlThe 2015 winners of the Ruth and Sylvia Schwartz Children’s Book Awards were selected by two juries of young readers from Toronto’s Alexander Muir / Gladstone Avenue Junior and Senior Public School. A jury of grade 3 and 4 students selected the recipient of the Children’s Picture Book Award, and a jury of grade 7 and 8 students selected the recipient of the Young Adult / Middle Reader Award. Each student read the books individually and then worked together with their group to reach consensus and decide on a winner. This process makes it a unique literary award in Canada.The Magician of Auschwitz by Kathy Kacer and illustrated by Gillian Newland (Second Story Press) won the Children’s Picture Book Category.The winner for the Young Adult/Middle Reader Category was The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel (HarperCollins Publishers).http://www.ontarioartsfoundation.on.ca/pages/ruth-sylvia-schwartz-awardsFrom the Canadian Library Association:The Night Gardener by Jonathan Auxier (Penguin Canada) was awarded CLA’s 2015 Book of the Year for Children Award.Any Questions?, written and illustrated by Marie-Louise Gay (Groundwood Books) won the 2015 Amelia Frances Howard-Gibbon Award.This One Summer by Mariko & Jillian Tamaki (Groundwood) was awarded the 2015 Young Adult Book Award.http://www.cla.ca/AM/Template.cfm?Section=Book_Awards&Template=/CM/HTMLDisplay.cfm&ContentID=16132The 2015 Winner of the Crime Writers of Canada’s Arthur Ellis Awards for Best Juvenile/YA Book was Sigmund Brouwer’s Dead Man's Switch (Harvest House). http://crimewriterscanada.com/Regional awards:Alberta’s Ross Annett Award for Children’s Literature 2015:Little You by Richard Van Camp (Orca Book Publishers) http://www.bookcentre.ca/awards/r_ross_annett_award_childrens_literatureRocky Mountain Book Award 2015:Last Train: A Holocaust Story by Rona Arato. (Owl Kids, 2013) http://www.rmba.info/last-train-holocaust-storyAtlantic Book Awards 2015 from the Atlantic Book Awards SocietyAnn Connor Brimer Award for Children’s Literature: The End of the Line by Sharon E. McKay (Annick Press).Lillian Shepherd Award for Excellence in Illustration: Music is for Everyone illustrated by Sydney Smith and written by Jill Barber (Nimbus Publishing) http://atlanticbookawards.ca/awards/Hackmatack Children’s Choice Book Award 2015:English fiction: Scare Scape by Sam Fisher.English non-fiction: WeirdZone: Sports by Maria Birmingham.French fiction: Toxique by Amy Lachapelle.French non-fiction: Au labo, les Débrouillards! by Yannick Bergeron. http://hackmatack.ca/en/index.htmlFrom the 2015 BC Book Prizes for authors and/or illustrators living in British Columbia or the Yukon:The Christie Harris Illustrated Children's Literature Prize was awarded to Dolphin SOS by Roy Miki and Slavia Miki with illustrations by Julie Flett (Tradewind).The Sheila A. Egoff Children's Literature Prize for “novels, including chapter books, and non-fiction books, including biography, aimed at juveniles and young adults, which have not been highly illustrated” went to Maggie de Vries for Rabbit Ears (HarperCollins). http://www.bcbookprizes.ca/winners/2015The 2015 Manitoba Young Readers’ Choice Award (MYRCA) was awarded to Ultra by David Carroll. http://www.myrca.ca/Camp Outlook by Brenda Baker (Second Story Press) was the 2015 winner of the SaskEnergy Young Adult Literature Award. http://www.bookawards.sk.ca/awards/awards-nominees/2015-awards-and-nominees/category/saskenergy-young-adult-literature-awardFor more information on Canadian children’s book awards check out http://www.canadianauthors.net/awards/. Please note that not all regional awards are included in this list; if you are so inclined, perhaps send their webmaster a note regarding an award that you think should be included.Happy reading and exploring.Yours in stories (in all seasons and shapes and sizes)Gail de VosGail de Vos is an adjunct professor who teaches courses on Canadian children's literature, young adult literature, and commic books and graphic novels at the School of Library and Information Studies (SLIS) at the University of Alberta and is the author of nine books on storytelling and folklore. She is a professional storyteller and has taught the storytelling course at SLIS for over two decades.

This paper will explore the place of assessment in a culturally defined paradigm of inclusive education. Given the global trend towards inclusive classrooms, defi ned by a social justice view of learner diversity, the diagnostic/prescriptive medical view of special education is becoming increasingly antiquated. What is emerging is a growing preference towards empowering the classroom teacher with the knowledge and skills to identify the authentic needs of students and to differentiate instruction to respond to those needs. In a contemporary Canadian society characterized by shifting demographics, and increasing linguistic and cultural diversity, this perspective holds particular relevance. In fact, the history of inclusive education parallels, in many ways, the history of aboriginal1 education, as typifi ed in the territory of Nunavut where a stated commitment to establishing a broader view of diversity is creating a system in which children celebrate difference. This paper explores the wealth of literature on this issue and establishes a Canadian context to present Nunavut’s model as being exemplary within this global debate.

Indigenous cross-cultural training has been around since the 1980s. It is often seen as a way to increase the skills and competency of staff engaged in providing service to Indigenous clients and customers, teaching Indigenous students within universities and schools, or working with Indigenous communities (Fredericks and Bargallie, “Indigenous”; “Which Way”). In this article we demonstrate how such training often exposes power, whiteness, and concepts of an Indigenous “other”. We highlight how cross-cultural training programs can potentially provide a setting in which non-Indigenous participants can develop a deeper realisation of how their understandings of the “other” are formed and enacted within a “white” social setting. Revealing whiteness as a racial construct enables people to see race, and “know what racism is, what it is not and what it does” (Bargallie, 262). Training participants can use such revelations to develop their racial literacy and anti-racist praxis (Bargallie), which when implemented have the capacity to transform inequitable power differentials in their work with Indigenous peoples and organisations.What Does the Literature Say about Cross-Cultural Training? An array of names are used for Indigenous cross-cultural training, including cultural awareness, cultural competency, cultural responsiveness, cultural safety, cultural sensitivity, cultural humility, and cultural capability. Each model takes on a different approach and goal depending on the discipline or profession to which the training is applied (Hollinsworth). Throughout this article we refer to Indigenous cross-cultural training as “cultural competence” or “cultural awareness” and discuss these in relation to their application within higher education institutions. While literature on health and human services programs in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and other nation states provide clear definitions of terms such as “cultural safety”, cultural competence or cultural awareness is often lacking a concise and consistent definition.Often delivered as a half day or a one to two-day training course, it is unrealistic to think that Indigenous cultural competence can be achieved through one’s mere attendance and participation. Moreover, when courses centre on “cultural differences” and enable revelations about those differences they are in danger of presenting idealised notions of Indigeneity. Cultural competence becomes a process through which an Indigenous “other” is objectified, while very little is offered by way of translating knowledge and skills into practice when working with Indigenous peoples.What this type of learning has the capacity to do is oversimplify and reinforce racism and racist stereotypes of Indigenous peoples and Indigenous cultures. What is generally believed is that if non-Indigenous peoples know more about Indigenous peoples and cultures, relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples will somehow improve. The work of Goenpul scholar Aileen Moreton-Robinson is vital to draw on here, when she asks, has the intellectual investment in defining our cultural differences resulted in the valuing of our knowledges? Has the academy become a more enlightened place in which to work, and, more important, in what ways have our communities benefited? (xvii)What is revealed in a range of studies – whether centring on racism and discrimination or the ongoing disparities across health, education, incarceration, employment, and more – is that despite forty plus years of training focused on understanding cultural differences, very little has changed. Indigenous knowledges continue to be devalued and overlooked. Everyday and structural racisms shape everyday experiences for Indigenous employees in Australian workplaces such as the Australian Public Service (Bargallie) and the Australian higher education sector (Fredericks and White).As the literature demonstrates, the racial division of labour in such institutions often leaves Indigenous employees languishing on the lower rungs of the employment ladder (Bargallie). The findings of an Australian university case study, discussed below, highlights how power, whiteness, and concepts of “otherness” are exposed and play out in cultural competency training. Through their exposure, we argue that better understandings about Indigenous Australians, which are not based on culture difference but personal reflexivity, may be gained. Revealing What Was Needed in the Course’s Foundation and ImplementationThis case study is centred within a regional Australian university across numerous campuses. In 2012, the university council approved an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander strategy, which included a range of initiatives, including the provision of cross-cultural training for staff. In developing the training, a team explored the evidence as it related to university settings (Anning; Asmar; Butler and Young; Fredericks; Fredericks and Thompson; Kinnane, Wilks, Wilson, Hughes and Thomas; McLaughlin and Whatman). This investigation included what had been undertaken in other Australian universities (Anderson; University of Sydney) and drew on the recommendations from earlier research (Behrendt, Larkin, Griew and Kelly; Bradley, Noonan, Nugent and Scales; Universities Australia). Additional consultation took place with a broad range of internal and external stakeholders.While some literature on cross-cultural training centred on the need to understand cultural differences, others exposed the problems of focusing entirely on difference (Brach and Fraser; Campinha-Bacote; Fredericks; Spencer and Archer; Young). The courses that challenged the centrality of cultural difference explained why race needed to be at the core of its training, highlighting its role in enabling discussions of racism, bias, discrimination and how these may be used as means to facilitate potential individual and organisational change. This approach also addressed stereotypes and Eurocentric understandings of what and who is an Indigenous Australian (Carlson; Gorringe, Ross and Forde; Hollinsworth; Moreton-Robinson). It is from this basis that we worked and grew our own training program. Working on this foundational premise, we began to separate content that showcased the fluidity and diversity of Indigenous peoples and refrained from situating us within romantic notions of culture or presenting us as an exotic “other”. In other words, we embraced work that responded to non-Indigenous people’s objectified understandings and expectations of us. For example, the expectation that Indigenous peoples will offer a Welcome to Country, performance, share a story, sing, dance, or disseminate Indigenous knowledges. While we recognise that some of these cultural elements may offer enjoyment and insight to non-Indigenous people, they do not challenge behaviours or the nature of the relationships that non-Indigenous people have with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples (Bargallie; Fredericks; Hollinsworth; Westwood and Westwood; Young).The other content which needed separating were the methods that enabled participants to understand and own their standpoints. This included the use of critical Indigenous studies as a form of analysis (Moreton-Robinson). Critical race theory (Delgado and Stefancic) was also used as a means for participants to interrogate their own cultural positionings and understand the pervasive nature of race and racism in Australian society and institutions (McLaughlin and Whatman). This offered all participants, both non-Indigenous and Indigenous, the opportunity to learn how institutional racism operates, and maintains discrimination, neglect, abuse, denial, and violence, inclusive of the continued subjugation that exists within higher education settings and broader society.We knew that the course needed to be available online as well as face-to-face. This would increase accessibility to staff across the university community. We sought to embed critical thinking as we began to map out the course, including the theory in the sections that covered colonisation and the history of Indigenous dispossession, trauma and pain, along with the ongoing effects of federal and state policies and legislations that locates racism at the core of Australian politics. In addition to documenting the ongoing effects of racism, we sought to ensure that Indigenous resistance, agency, and activism was highlighted, showing how this continues, thus linking the past to the contemporary experiences of Indigenous peoples.Drawing on the work of Bargallie we wanted to demonstrate how Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples experience racism through systems and structures in their everyday work with colleagues in large organisations, such as universities. Participants were asked to self-reflect on how race impacts their day-to-day lives (McIntosh). The final session of the training focused on the university’s commitment to “Closing the Gap” and its Reconciliation Action Plan (RAP). The associated activity involved participants working individually and in small groups to discuss and consider what they could contribute to the RAP activities and enact within their work environments. Throughout the training, participants were asked to reflect on their personal positioning, and in the final session they were asked to draw from these reflections and discuss how they would discuss race, racism and reconciliation activities with the governance of their university (Westwood and Westwood; Young).Revelations in the Facilitators, Observers, and Participants’ Discussions? This section draws on data collected from the first course offered within the university’s pilot program. During the delivery of the in-person training sessions, two observers wrote notes while the facilitators also noted their feelings and thoughts. After the training, the facilitators and observers debriefed and discussed the delivery of the course along with the feedback received during the sessions.What was noticed by the team was the defensive body language of participants and the types of questions they asked. Team members observed how there were clear differences between the interest non-Indigenous participants displayed when talking about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and a clear discomfort when they were asked to reflect on their own position in relation to Indigenous people. We noted that during these occasions some participants crossed their arms, two wrote notes to each other across the table, and many participants showed discomfort. When the lead facilitator raised this to participants during the sessions, some expressed their dislike and discomfort at having to talk about themselves. A couple were clearly unhappy and upset. We found this interesting as we were asking participants to reflect and talk about how they interpret and understand themselves in relation to Indigenous people and race, privilege, and power.This supports the work of DiAngelo who explains that facilitators can spend a lot of time trying to manage the behaviour of participants. Similarly, Castagno identifies that sometimes facilitators of training might overly focus on keeping participants happy, and in doing so, derail the hard conversations needed. We did not do either. Instead, we worked to manage the behaviours expressed and draw out what was happening to break the attempts to silence racial discussions. We reiterated and worked hard to reassure participants that we were in a “safe space” and that while such discussions may be difficult, they were worth working through on an individual and collective level.During the workshop, numerous emotions surfaced, people laughed at Indigenous humour and cried at what they witnessed as losses. They also expressed anger, defensiveness, and denial. Some participants revelled in hearing answers to questions that they had long wondered about; some openly discussed how they thought they had discovered a distant Aboriginal relative. Many questions surfaced, such as why hadn’t they ever been told this version of Australian history? Why were we focusing on them and not Aboriginal people? How could they be racist when they had an Aboriginal friend or an Aboriginal relative?Some said they felt “guilty” about what had happened in the past. Others said they were not personally responsible or responsible for the actions of their ancestors, questioning why they needed to go over such history in the first place? Inter-woven within participants’ revelations were issues of racism, power, whiteness, and white privilege. Many participants took a defensive stance to protect their white privilege (DiAngelo). As we worked through these issues, several participants started to see their own positionality and shared this with the group. Clearly, the revelation of whiteness as a racial construct was a turning point for some. The language in the group also changed for some participants as revelations emerged through the interrogation and unpacking of stories of racism. Bargallie’s work exploring racism in the workplace, explains that “racism”, as both a word and theme, is primarily absent in conversations amongst non-Indigenous colleagues. Despite its entrenchment in the dialogue, it is rarely, if ever addressed. In fact, for many non-Indigenous people, the fear of being accused of racism is worse than the act of racism itself (Ahmed; Bargallie). We have seen this play out within the media, sport, news bulletins, and more. Lentin describes the act of denying racism despite its existence in full sight as “not racism”, arguing that its very denial is “a form of racist violence” (406).Through enhancing racial literacy, Bargallie asserts that people gain a better understanding of “what racism is, what racism is not and how race works” (258). Such revelations can work towards dismantling racism in workplaces. Individual and structural racism go hand-in-glove and must be examined and addressed together. This is what we wanted to work towards within the cultural competency course. Through the use of critical Indigenous studies and critical race theory we situated race, and not cultural difference, as central, providing participants with a racial literacy that could be used as a tool to challenge and dismantle racism in the workplace.Revelations in the Participant Evaluations?The evaluations revealed that our intention to disrupt the status quo in cultural competency training was achieved. Some of the discussions were difficult and this was reflected in the feedback. It was valuable to learn that numerous participants wanted to do more through group work, conversations, and problem resolution, along with having extra reading materials. This prompted our decision to include extra links to resource learning materials through the course’s online site. We also opted to provide all participants with a copy of the book Indigenous Australia for Dummies (Behrendt). The cost of the book was built into the course and future participants were thankful for this combination of resources.One unexpected concern raised by participants was that the course should not be “that hard”, and that we should “dumb down” the course. We were astounded considering that many participants were academics and we were confident that facilitators of other mandatory workplace training, for example, staff Equal Employment Opportunity (EEO), Fire Safety, Risk Management, Occupational Health and Safety, Discrimination and more, weren’t asked to “dumb down” their content. We explained to the participants what content we had been asked to deliver and knew their responses demonstrated white fragility. We were not prepared to adjust the course and dumb it down for white understandings and comfortabilities (Leonardo and Porter).Comments that were expected included that the facilitators were “passionate”, “articulate”, demonstrated “knowledge” and effectively “dealt with issues”. A couple of the participants wrote that the facilitators were “aggressive” or “angry”. This however is not new for us, or new to other Aboriginal women. We know Aboriginal women are often seen as “aggressive” and “angry”, when non-Indigenous women might be described as “passionate” or “assertive” for saying exactly the same thing. The work of Aileen Moreton-Robinson in Australia, and the works of numerous other Aboriginal women provide evidence of this form of racism (Fredericks and White; Bargallie; Bond). Internationally, other Indigenous women and women of colour document the same experiences (Lorde). Participants’ assessment of the facilitators is consistent with the racism expressed through racial microaggression outside of the university, and in other organisations. This is despite working in the higher education sector, which is normally perceived as a more knowledgeable and informed environment. Needless to say, we did not take on these comments.The evaluations did offer us the opportunity to adjust the course and make it stronger before it was offered across the university where we received further evaluation of its success. Despite this, the university decided to withdraw and reallocate the money to the development of a diversity training course that would cover all equity groups. This meant that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples would be covered along with sexual diversity, gender, disability, and people from non-English speaking backgrounds. The content focused on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples was reduced to one hour of the total course. Including Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in this way is not based on evidence and works to minimise Indigenous Australians and their inherent rights and sovereignty to just another “equity group”. Conclusion We set out to develop and deliver a cross-cultural course that was based on evidence and a foundation of 40 plus years’ experience in delivering such training. In addition, we sought a program that would align with the university’s Reconciliation Action Plan and the directions being undertaken in the sector and by Universities Australia. Through engaging participants in a process of critical thinking centring on race, we developed a training program that successfully fostered self-reflection and brought about revelations of whiteness.Focusing on cultural differences has proven ineffective to the work needed to improve the lives of Indigenous Australian peoples. Recognising this, our discussions with participants directly challenged racist and negative stereotypes, individual and structural racism, prejudices, and white privilege. By centring race over cultural difference in cultural competency training, we worked to foster self-revelation within participants to transform inequitable power differentials in their work with Indigenous peoples and organisations. The institution’s disbandment and defunding of the program however is a telling revelation in and of itself, highlighting the continuing struggle and importance of placing additional pressure on persons, institutions, and organisations to implement meaningful structural change. ReferencesAhmed, Sara. On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Duke University Press, 2012.Anderson, Ian. “Advancing Indigenous Health through Medical Education”. Focus on Health Professional Education: A Multi-Disciplinary Journal 13.1 (2011): 1-12.Anning, Beres. “Embedding an Indigenous Graduate Attribute into University of Western Sydney’s Courses”. Australian Journal of Indigenous Education 39 (2010): 40-52.Asmar, Christine. Final Report on the Murrup Barak of Indigenous Curriculum, Teaching and Learning at the University of Melbourne, 2010-2011. Murrup Barak – Melbourne Institute for Indigenous Development, University of Melbourne, 2011.Bargallie, Debbie. Unmasking The Racial Contract: Everyday Racisms and the Impact of Racial Microaggressions on “Indigenous Employees” in the Australian Public Service. Aboriginal Studies Press, 2020. Behrendt, Larissa. Indigenous Australia for Dummies. Wiley Publishing, 2010.Behrendt, Larissa, Steven Larkin, Robert Griew, Robert, and Patricia Kelly. Review of Higher Education Access and Outcomes for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander People: Final Report. Department of Employment, Education and Workplace Relations, 2012.Brach, Cindy, and Irene Fraser. “Can Cultural Competency Reduce Racial and Ethnic Health Disparities? A Review and Conceptual Model”. Medical Care Research and Review 57.sup 1 (2000): 181-217.Bond, Chelsea. “When the Object Teaches: Indigenous Academics in Australian Universities”. Right Now 14 (2014). <http://rightnow.org.au/opinion-3/when-the-object-teaches-indigenous-academics-in-australian-universities/>.Bradley, Denise, Peter Noonan, Helen Nugent, and Bill Scales. Review of Australian Higher Education. Australian Government, 2008.Butler, Kathleen, and Anne Young. Indigenisation of Curricula – Intent, Initiatives and Implementation. Canberra: Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency, 2009. 20 Apr. 2020 <http://www.teqsa.gov.au/news-publications/publications>.Campinha-Bacote, Josepha. “A Model and Instrument for Addressing Cultural Competence in Health Care”. Journal of Nursing Education 38.5 (1999): 203-207.Carlson, Bronwyn. The Politics of Identity – Who Counts as Aboriginal Today? Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 2016.Delgado, Richard, and Jean Stefancic. Critical Race Theory: An Introduction. New York University Press, 2001.DiAngelo, Robin. “Nothing to Add: A Challenge to White Silence in Racial Discussions”. Understanding and Dismantling Privilege 11.1 (2012). <http://www.wpcjournal.com/article/view/10100/Nothing%20to%20add%3A%20A%20Challenge%20to%20White%20Silence%20in%20Racial%20Discussions>.Frankenburg, Ruth. White Women, Race Matters: The Social Construction of Whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.Fredericks, Bronwyn. “The Need to Extend beyond the Knowledge Gained in Cross-Cultural Awareness Training”. The Australian Journal of Indigenous Education 37.S (2008): 81-89.Fredericks, Bronwyn, and Debbie Bargallie. “An Indigenous Cultural Competency Course: Talking Culture, Care and Power”. In Cultural Competence and the Higher Education Sector: Perspectives, Policies and Practice, eds. Jack Frawley, Gabrielle Russell, and Juanita Sherwood, Springer Publications, 295-308. <https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007%2F978-981-15-5362-2>.Fredericks, Bronwyn, and Debbie Bargallie. “‘Which Way? Talking Culture, Talking Race’: Unpacking an Indigenous Cultural Competency Course”. International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies 9.1 (2016): 1-14.Fredericks, Bronwyn, and Marlene Thompson. “Collaborative Voices: Ongoing Reflections on Cultural Competency and the Health Care of Australian Indigenous People”. Journal of Australian Indigenous Issues 13.3 (2010): 10-20.Fredericks, Bronwyn, and Nereda White. “Using Bridges Made by Others as Scaffolding and Establishing Footings for Those That Follow: Indigenous Women in the Academy”. Australian Journal of Education 62.3 (2018): 243–255.Gorringe, Scott, Joe Ross, and Cressida Fforde. Will the Real Aborigine Please Stand Up? Strategies for Breaking the Stereotypes and Changing the Conversation. AIATSIS Research Discussion Paper No. 28. Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS), 2011.Hollinsworth, David. “Forget Cultural Competence: Ask for an Autobiography”. Social Work Education: The International Journal 32.8 (2013): 1048-1060.hooks, bell. Feminist Theory: From Margin to Centre. London: Pluto Press, 2000.Kinnane, Stephen, Judith Wilks, Katie Wilson, Terri Hughes, and Sue Thomas. Can’t Be What You Can’t See: The Transition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Students into Higher Education. Final report to the Australian Government Office for Learning and Teaching. Canberra: Office of Learning and Teaching, 2014.Lentin, Alana. “Beyond Denial: ‘Not Racism’ as Racist Violence”. Continuum 32.1 (2018): 1-15.Leonardo, Zeus, and Ronald L. Porter. “Pedagogy of Fear: Toward a Fanonian Theory of ‘Safety’ in Race Dialogue”. Race Ethnicity and Education 13.2 (2010): 139-157.Lorde, Audrey. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Crossing Press, 1984.McIntosh, Peggy. White Privilege and Male Privilege: A Personal Account of Coming to See Correspondences through Work in Women's Studies. Wellesley College, Center for Research on Women, 1988.McLaughlin, Juliana, and Sue Whatman. “The Potential of Critical Race Theory in Decolonizing University Curricula”. Asia Pacific Journal of Education 31.4 (2011): 365-377.Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. The White Possessive: Property, Power, and Indigenous Sovereignty. University of Minnesota Press, 2015.Sargent, Sara E., Carol A. Sedlak, and Donna S. Martsolf. “Cultural Competence among Nursing Students and Faculty”. Nurse Education Today 25.3 (2005): 214-221.Sherwood, Juanita, and Tahnia Edwards. “Decolonisation: A Critical Step for Improving Aboriginal health”. Contemporary Nurse 22.2 (2016): 178-190.Spencer, Caroline, and Frances L. Archer. “Surveys of Cultural Competency in Health Professional Education: A Literature Review”. Journal of Emergency Primary Health Care 6.2 (2008): 17.Universities Australia. National Best Practice Framework for Indigenous Cultural Competency in Australian Universities. Universities Australia, 2011. <http://www.universitiesaustralia.edu.au/lightbox/1312>.University of Sydney. National Centre for Cultural Competence, 2016. <http://sydney.edu.au/nccc/>.Westwood, Barbara, and Geoff Westwood. “Aboriginal Cultural Awareness Training: Policy v. Accountability – Failure in Reality”. Australian Health Review 34 (2010): 423-429.Young, Susan. “Not Because It’s a Bloody Black Issue! Problematics of Cross Cultural Training”. In Unmasking Whiteness: Race Relations and Reconciliation, ed. Belinda McKay, 204-219. Queensland Studies Centre, University of Queensland Press, 1999.

In 1988, historian Nadia Wheatley and indigenous artist Donna Rawlins published their award-winning picture book, My Place, a reinterpretation of Australian national identity and sovereignty prompted by the bicentennial of white settlement. Twenty years later, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) commissioned Penny Chapman’s multi-platform project based on this book. The 13 episodes of the television series begin in 2008, each telling the story of a child at a different point in history, and are accompanied by substantial interactive online content. Issues as diverse as religious difference and immigration, wartime conscription and trauma, and the experiences of Aboriginal Australians are canvassed. The program itself, which has a second series currently in production, introduces child audiences to—and implicates them in—a rich ideological fabric of deeply politicised issues that directly engage with vexed questions of Australian nationhood. The series offers a subversive view of Australian history and society, and it is the child—whether protagonist on the screen or the viewer/user of the content—who is left to discover, negotiate and move beyond often problematic societal norms. As one of the public broadcaster’s keystone projects, My Place signifies important developments in ABC’s construction of multicultural child citizenship. The digitisation of Australian television has facilitated a wave of multi-channel and new media innovation. Though the development of a multi-channel ecology has occurred significantly later in Australia than in the US or Europe, in part due to genre restrictions on broadcasters, all major Australian networks now have at least one additional free-to-air channel, make some of their content available online, and utilise various forms of social media to engage their audiences. The ABC has been in the vanguard of new media innovation, leveraging the industry dominance of ABC Online and its cross-platform radio networks for the repurposing of news, together with the additional funding for digital renewal, new Australian content, and a digital children’s channel in the 2006 and 2009 federal budgets. In line with “market failure” models of broadcasting (Born, Debrett), the ABC was once the most important producer-broadcaster for child viewers. With the recent allocation for the establishment of ABC3, it is now the catalyst for a significant revitalisation of the Australian children’s television industry. The ABC Charter requires it to broadcast programs that “contribute to a sense of national identity” and that “reflect the cultural diversity of the Australian community” (ABC Documents). Through its digital children’s channel (ABC3) and its multi-platform content, child viewers are not only exposed to a much more diverse range of local content, but also politicised by an intricate network of online texts connected to the TV programs. The representation of diasporic communities through and within multi-platformed spaces forms a crucial part of the way(s) in which collective identities are now being negotiated in children’s texts. An analysis of one of the ABC’s My Place “projects” and its associated multi-platformed content reveals an intricate relationship between postcolonial concerns and the construction of child citizenship. Multicultural Places, Multi-Platformed Spaces: New Media Innovation at the ABC The 2007 restructure at the ABC has transformed commissioning practices along the lines noted by James Bennett and Niki Strange of the BBC—a shift of focus from “programs” to multi-platform “projects,” with the latter consisting of a complex network of textual production. These “second shift media practices” (Caldwell) involve the tactical management of “user flows structured into and across the textual terrain that serve to promote a multifaceted and prolonged experience of the project” (Bennett and Strange 115). ABC Managing Director Mark Scott’s polemic deployment of the “digital commons” trope (Murdock, From) differs from that of his opposite number at the BBC, Mark Thompson, in its emphasis on the glocalised openness of the Australian “town square”—at once distinct from, and an integral part of, larger conversations. As announced at the beginning of the ABC’s 2009 annual report, the ABC is redefining the town square as a world of greater opportunities: a world where Australians can engage with one another and explore the ideas and events that are shaping our communities, our nation and beyond … where people can come to speak and be heard, to listen and learn from each other. (ABC ii)The broad emphasis on engagement characterises ABC3’s positioning of children in multi-platformed projects. As the Executive Producer of the ABC’s Children’s Television Multi-platform division comments, “participation is very much the mantra of the new channel” (Glen). The concept of “participation” is integral to what has been described elsewhere as “rehearsals in citizenship” (Northam). Writing of contemporary youth, David Buckingham notes that “‘political thinking’ is not merely an intellectual or developmental achievement, but an interpersonal process which is part of the construction of a collective, social identity” (179). Recent domestically produced children’s programs and their associated multimedia applications have significant potential to contribute to this interpersonal, “participatory” process. Through multi-platform experiences, children are (apparently) invited to construct narratives of their own. Dan Harries coined the term “viewser” to highlight the tension between watching and interacting, and the increased sense of agency on the part of audiences (171–82). Various online texts hosted by the ABC offer engagement with extra content relating to programs, with themed websites serving as “branches” of the overarching ABC3 metasite. The main site—strongly branded as the place for its targeted demographic—combines conventional television guide/program details with “Watch Now!,” a customised iView application within ABC3’s own themed interface; youth-oriented news; online gaming; and avenues for viewsers to create digital art and video, or interact with the community of “Club3” and associated message boards. The profiles created by members of Club3 are moderated and proscribe any personal information, resulting in an (understandably) restricted form of “networked publics” (boyd 124–5). Viewser profiles comprise only a username (which, the website stresses, should not be one’s real name) and an “avatar” (a customisable animated face). As in other social media sites, comments posted are accompanied by the viewser’s “name” and “face,” reinforcing the notion of individuality within the common group. The tool allows users to choose from various skin colours, emphasising the multicultural nature of the ABC3 community. Other customisable elements, including the ability to choose between dozens of pre-designed ABC3 assets and feeds, stress the audience’s “ownership” of the site. The Help instructions for the Club3 site stress the notion of “participation” directly: “Here at ABC3, we don’t want to tell you what your site should look like! We think that you should be able to choose for yourself.” Multi-platformed texts also provide viewsers with opportunities to interact with many of the characters (human actors and animated) from the television texts and share further aspects of their lives and fictional worlds. One example, linked to the representation of diasporic communities, is the Abatti Pizza Game, in which the player must “save the day” by battling obstacles to fulfil a pizza order. The game’s prefacing directions makes clear the ethnicity of the Abatti family, who are also visually distinctive. The dialogue also registers cultural markers: “Poor Nona, whatsa she gonna do? Now it’s up to you to help Johnny and his friends make four pizzas.” The game was acquired from the Canadian-animated franchise, Angela Anaconda; nonetheless, the Abatti family, the pizza store they operate and the dilemma they face translates easily to the Australian context. Dramatisations of diasporic contributions to national youth identities in postcolonial or settler societies—the UK (My Life as a Popat, CITV) and Canada (How to Be Indie)—also contribute to the diversity of ABC3’s television offerings and the positioning of its multi-platform community. The negotiation of diasporic and postcolonial politics is even clearer in the public broadcaster’s commitment to My Place. The project’s multifaceted construction of “places,” the ethical positioning of the child both as an individual and a member of (multicultural) communities, and the significant acknowledgement of ongoing conflict and discrimination, articulate a cultural commons that is more open-ended and challenging than the Eurocentric metaphor, the “town square,” suggests. Diversity, Discrimination and Diasporas: Positioning the Viewser of My Place Throughout the first series of My Place, the experiences of children within different diasporic communities are the focal point of five of the initial six episodes, the plots of which revolve around children with Lebanese, Vietnamese, Greek, and Irish backgrounds. This article focuses on an early episode of the series, “1988,” which explicitly confronts the cultural frictions between dominant Anglocentric Australian and diasporic communities. “1988” centres on the reaction of young Lily to the arrival of her cousin, Phuong, from Vietnam. Lily is a member of a diasporic community, but one who strongly identifies as “an Australian,” allowing a nuanced exploration of the ideological conflicts surrounding the issue of so-called “boat people.” The protagonist’s voice-over narration at the beginning of the episode foregrounds her desire to win Australia’s first Olympic gold medal in gymnastics, thus mobilising nationally identified hierarchies of value. Tensions between diasporic and settler cultures are frequently depicted. One potentially reactionary sequence portrays the recurring character of Michaelis complaining about having to use chopsticks in the Vietnamese restaurant; however, this comment is contextualised several episodes later, when a much younger Michaelis, as protagonist of the episode “1958,” is himself discriminated against, due to his Greek background. The political irony of “1988” pivots on Lily’s assumption that her cousin “won’t know Australian.” There is a patronising tone in her warning to Phuong not to speak Vietnamese for fear of schoolyard bullying: “The kids at school give you heaps if you talk funny. But it’s okay, I can talk for you!” This encourages child viewers to distance themselves from this fictional parallel to the frequent absence of representation of asylum seekers in contemporary debates. Lily’s assumptions and attitudes are treated with a degree of scepticism, particularly when she assures her friends that the silent Phuong will “get normal soon,” before objectifying her cousin for classroom “show and tell.” A close-up camera shot settles on Phuong’s unease while the children around her gossip about her status as a “boat person,” further encouraging the audience to empathise with the bullied character. However, Phuong turns the tables on those around her when she reveals she can competently speak English, is able to perform gymnastics and other feats beyond Lily’s ability, and even invents a story of being attacked by “pirates” in order to silence her gossiping peers. By the end of the narrative, Lily has redeemed herself and shares a close friendship with Phuong. My Place’s structured child “participation” plays a key role in developing the postcolonial perspective required by this episode and the project more broadly. Indeed, despite the record project budget, a second series was commissioned, at least partly on the basis of the overwhelmingly positive reception of viewsers on the ABC website forums (Buckland). The intricate My Place website, accessible through the ABC3 metasite, generates transmedia intertextuality interlocking with, and extending the diegesis of, the televised texts. A hyperlinked timeline leads to collections of personal artefacts “owned” by each protagonist, such as journals, toys, and clothing. Clicking on a gold medal marked “History” in Lily’s collection activates scrolling text describing the political acceptance of the phrase “multiculturalism” and the “Family Reunion” policy, which assisted the arrival of 100,000 Vietnamese immigrants. The viewser is reminded that some people were “not very welcoming” of diasporic groups via an explicit reference to Mrs Benson’s discriminatory attitudes in the series. Viewsers can “visit” virtual representations of the program’s sets. In the bedroom, kitchen, living room and/or backyard of each protagonist can be discovered familiar and additional details of the characters’ lives. The artefacts that can be “played” with in the multimedia applications often imply the enthusiastic (and apparently desirable) adoption of “Australianness” by immigrant children. Lily’s toys (her doll, hair accessories, roller skates, and glass marbles) invoke various aspects of western children’s culture, while her “journal entry” about Phuong states that she is “new to Australia but with her sense of humour she has fitted in really well.” At the same time, the interactive elements within Lily’s kitchen, including a bowl of rice and other Asian food ingredients, emphasise cultural continuity. The description of incense in another room of Lily’s house as a “common link” that is “used in many different cultures and religions for similar purposes” clearly normalises a glocalised world-view. Artefacts inside the restaurant operated by Lily’s mother link to information ranging from the ingredients and (flexible) instructions for how to make rice paper rolls (“Lily and Phuong used these fillings but you can use whatever you like!”) to a brief interactive puzzle game requiring the arrangement of several peppers in order from least hot to most hot. A selectable picture frame downloads a text box labelled “Images of Home.” Combined with a slideshow of static, hand-drawn images of traditional Vietnamese life, the text can be read as symbolic of the multiplicity of My Place’s target audience(s): “These images would have reminded the family of their homeland and also given restaurant customers a sense of Vietnamese culture.” The social-developmental, postcolonial agenda of My Place is registered in both “conventional” ancillary texts, such as the series’ “making of” publication (Wheatley), and the elaborate pedagogical website for teachers developed by the ACTF and Educational Services Australia (http://www.myplace.edu.au/). The politicising function of the latter is encoded in the various summaries of each decade’s historical, political, social, cultural, and technological highlights, often associated with the plot of the relevant episode. The page titled “Multiculturalism” reports on the positive amendments to the Commonwealth’s Migration Act 1958 and provides links to photographs of Vietnamese migrants in 1982, exemplifying the values of equality and cultural diversity through Lily and Phuong’s story. The detailed “Teaching Activities” documents available for each episode serve a similar purpose, providing, for example, the suggestion that teachers “ask students to discuss the importance to a new immigrant of retaining links to family, culture and tradition.” The empathetic positioning of Phuong’s situation is further mirrored in the interactive map available for teacher use that enables children to navigate a boat from Vietnam to the Australian coast, encouraging a perspective that is rarely put forward in Australia’s mass media. This is not to suggest that the My Place project is entirely unproblematic. In her postcolonial analysis of Aboriginal children’s literature, Clare Bradford argues that “it’s all too possible for ‘similarities’ to erase difference and the political significances of [a] text” (188). Lily’s schoolteacher’s lesson in the episode “reminds us that boat people have been coming to Australia for a very long time.” However, the implied connection between convicts and asylum seekers triggered by Phuong’s (mis)understanding awkwardly appropriates a mythologised Australian history. Similarly in the “1998” episode, the Muslim character Mohammad’s use of Ramadan for personal strength in order to emulate the iconic Australian cricketer Shane Warne threatens to subsume the “difference” of the diasporic community. Nonetheless, alongside the similarities between individuals and the various ethnic groups that make up the My Place community, important distinctions remain. Each episode begins and/or ends with the child protagonist(s) playing on or around the central motif of the series—a large fig tree—with the characters declaring that the tree is “my place.” While emphasising the importance of individuality in the project’s construction of child citizens, the cumulative effect of these “my place” sentiments, felt over time by characters from different socio-economic, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds, builds a multifaceted conception of Australian identity that consists of numerous (and complementary) “branches.” The project’s multi-platformed content further emphasises this, with the website containing an image of the prominent (literal and figurative) “Community Tree,” through which the viewser can interact with the generations of characters and families from the series (http://www.abc.net.au/abc3/myplace/). The significant role of the ABC’s My Place project showcases the ABC’s remit as a public broadcaster in the digital era. As Tim Brooke-Hunt, the Executive Head of Children’s Content, explains, if the ABC didn’t do it, no other broadcaster was going to come near it. ... I don’t expect My Place to be a humungous commercial or ratings success, but I firmly believe ... that it will be something that will exist for many years and will have a very special place. Conclusion The reversion to iconic aspects of mainstream Anglo-Australian culture is perhaps unsurprising—and certainly telling—when reflecting on the network of local, national, and global forces impacting on the development of a cultural commons. However, this does not detract from the value of the public broadcaster’s construction of child citizens within a clearly self-conscious discourse of “multiculturalism.” The transmedia intertextuality at work across ABC3 projects and platforms serves an important politicising function, offering positive representations of diasporic communities to counter the negative depictions children are exposed to elsewhere, and positioning child viewsers to “participate” in “working through” fraught issues of Australia’s past that still remain starkly relevant today.References ABC. Redefining the Town Square. ABC Annual Report. Sydney: ABC, 2009. Bennett, James, and Niki Strange. “The BBC’s Second-Shift Aesthetics: Interactive Television, Multi-Platform Projects and Public Service Content for a Digital Era.” Media International Australia: Incorporating Culture and Policy 126 (2008): 106-19. Born, Georgina. Uncertain Vision: Birt, Dyke and the Reinvention of the BBC. London: Vintage, 2004. boyd, danah. “Why Youth ♥ Social Network Sites: The Role of Networked Publics in Teenage Social Life.” Youth, Identity, and Digital Media. Ed. David Buckingham. Cambridge: MIT, 2008. 119-42. Bradford, Clare. Reading Race: Aboriginality in Australian Children’s Literature. Carlton: Melbourne UP, 2001. Brooke-Hunt, Tim. Executive Head of Children’s Content, ABC TV. Interviewed by Dr Leonie Rutherford, ABC Ultimo Center, 16 Mar. 2010. Buckingham, David. After the Death of Childhood: Growing Up in the Age of Electronic Media. Cambridge: Polity, 2000. Buckland, Jenny. Chief Executive Officer, Australian Children’s Television Foundation. Interviewed by Dr Leonie Rutherford and Dr Nina Weerakkody, ACTF, 2 June 2010. Caldwell, John T. “Second Shift Media Aesthetics: Programming, Interactivity and User Flows.” New Media: Theories and Practices of Digitextuality. Eds. John T. Caldwell and Anna Everett. London: Routledge, 2003. 127-44. Debrett, Mary. “Riding the Wave: Public Service Television in the Multiplatform Era.” Media, Culture & Society 31.5 (2009): 807-27. From, Unni. “Domestically Produced TV-Drama and Cultural Commons.” Cultural Dilemmas in Public Service Broadcasting. Eds. Gregory Ferrell Lowe and Per Jauert. Göteborg: Nordicom, 2005. 163-77. Glen, David. Executive Producer, ABC Multiplatform. Interviewed by Dr Leonie Rutherford, ABC Elsternwick, 6 July 2010. Harries, Dan. “Watching the Internet.” The New Media Book. Ed. Dan Harries. London: BFI, 2002. 171-82. Murdock, Graham. “Building the Digital Commons: Public Broadcasting in the Age of the Internet.” Cultural Dilemmas in Public Service Broadcasting. Ed. Gregory Ferrell Lowe and Per Jauert. Göteborg: Nordicom, 2005. 213–30. My Place, Volumes 1 & 2: 2008–1888. DVD. ABC, 2009. Northam, Jean A. “Rehearsals in Citizenship: BBC Stop-Motion Animation Programmes for Young Children.” Journal for Cultural Research 9.3 (2005): 245-63. Wheatley, Nadia. Making My Place. Sydney and Auckland: HarperCollins, 2010. ———, and Donna Rawlins. My Place, South Melbourne: Longman, 1988.

The traditional German tale of the Pied Piper of Hamelin inhabits an ambiguous narrative borderland, a liminal space between fact and fiction, fantasy and horror, concrete details and elusive mystery. In his study of the Pied Piper in Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature, Wolfgang Mieder describes how manuscripts and other evidence appear to confirm the historical base of the story. Precise details from a fifteenth-century manuscript, based on earlier sources, specify that in 1284 on the 26th of June, the feast-day of Saints John and Paul, 130 children from Hamelin were led away by a piper clothed in many colours to the Koppen Hill, and there vanished (Mieder 48). Later manuscripts add details familiar today, such as a plague of rats and a broken bargain with burghers as a motive for the Piper’s actions, while in the seventeenth century the first English-language version advances what might also be the first attempt at a “rational” explanation for the children’s disappearance, claiming that they were taken to Transylvania. The uncommon pairing of such precise factual detail with enigmatic mystery has encouraged many theories. These have ranged from references to the Children’s Crusade, or other religious fervours, to the devastation caused by the Black Death, from the colonisation of Romania by young German migrants to a murderous rampage by a paedophile. Fictional interpretations of the story have multiplied, with the classic versions of the Brothers Grimm and Robert Browning being most widely known, but with contemporary creators exploring the theme too. This includes interpretations in Hamelin itself. On 26 June 2015, in Hamelin Museum, I watched a wordless five-minute play, entirely performed not by humans but by animatronic stylised figures built out of scrap iron, against a montage of multilingual, confused voices and eerie music, with the vanished children represented by a long line of small empty shirts floating by. The uncanny, liminal nature of the story was perfectly captured. Australia is a world away from German fairy tale mysteries, historically, geographically, and culturally. Yet, as Lisa M. Fiander has persuasively argued, contemporary Australian fiction has been more influenced by fairy tales than might be assumed, and in this essay it is proposed that major motifs from the Pied Piper appear in several Australian novels, transformed not only by distance of setting and time from that of the original narrative, but also by elements specific to the Australian imaginative space. These motifs are lost children, the enigmatic figure of the Piper himself, and the power of a very particular place (as Hamelin and its Koppen Hill are particularised in the original tale). Three major Australian novels will be examined in this essay: Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967), Christopher Koch’s The Doubleman (1985), and Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011). Dubosarsky’s novel was written for children; both Koch’s and Lindsay’s novels were published as adult fiction. In each of these works of fiction, the original tale’s motifs have been developed and transformed to express unique evocations of the Pied Piper theme. As noted by Fiander, fiction writers are “most likely to draw upon fairy tales when they are framing, in writing, a subject that generates anxiety in their culture” (158). Her analysis is about anxieties of place within Australian fiction, but this insight could be usefully extended to the motifs which I have identified as inherent in the Pied Piper story. Prominent among these is the lost children motif, whose importance in the Australian imagination has been well-established by scholars such as Peter Pierce. Pierce’s The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety explores this preoccupation from the earliest beginnings of European settlement, through analysis of fiction, newspaper reports, paintings, and films. As Pierce observed in a later interview in the Sydney Morning Herald (Knox), over time the focus changed from rural children and the nineteenth-century fear of the vast impersonal nature of the bush, where children of colonists could easily get lost, to urban children and the contemporary fear of human predators.In each of the three novels under examination in this essay, lost children—whether literal or metaphorical—feature prominently. Writer Carmel Bird, whose fiction has also frequently centred on the theme of the lost child, observes in “Dreaming the Place” that the lost child, the stolen child – this must be a narrative that is lodged in the heart and imagination, nightmare and dream, of all human beings. In Australia the nightmare became reality. The child is the future, and if the child goes, there can be no future. The true stories and the folk tales on this theme are mirror images of each other. (7) The motif of lost children—and of children in danger—is not unique to the Pied Piper. Other fairy tales, such as Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood, contain it, and it is those antecedents which Bird cites in her essay. But within the Pied Piper story it has three features which distinguish it from other traditional tales. First, unlike in the classic versions of Hansel and Gretel or Red Riding Hood, the children do not return. Neither are there bodies to find. The children have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. Second, it is not only parents who have lost them, but an entire community whose future has been snatched away: a community once safe, ordered, even complacent, traumatised by loss. The lack of hope, of a happy ending for anyone, is striking. And thirdly, the children are not lost or abandoned or even, strictly speaking, stolen: they are lured away, semi-willingly, by the central yet curiously marginal figure of the Piper himself. In the original story there is no mention of motive and no indication of malice on the part of the Piper. There is only his inexplicable presence, a figure out of fairy folklore appearing in the midst of concrete historical dates and numbers. Clearly, he links to the liminal, complex world of the fairies, found in folklore around the world—beings from a world close to the human one, yet alien. Whimsical and unpredictable by human standards, such beings are nevertheless bound by mysteriously arbitrary rules and taboos, and haunt the borders of the human world, disturbing its rational edges and transforming lives forever. It is this sense of disturbance, that enchanting yet frightening sudden shifting of the border of reality and of the comforting order of things, the essence of transformation itself, which can also be seen at the core of the three novels under examination in this essay, with the Piper represented in each of them but in different ways. The third motif within the Pied Piper is a focus on place as a source of uncanny power, a theme which particularly resonates within an Australian context. Fiander argues that if contemporary British fiction writers use fairy tale to explore questions of community and alienation, and Canadian fiction writers use it to explore questions of identity, then Australian writers use it to explore the unease of place. She writes of the enduring legacy of Australia’s history “as a settler colony which invests the landscape with strangeness for many protagonists” (157). Furthermore, she suggests that “when Australian fiction writers, using fairy tales, describe the landscape as divorced from reality, they might be signalling anxiety about their own connection with the land which had already seen tens of thousands of years of occupation when Captain James Cook ‘found’ it in 1770” (160). I would argue, however, that in the case of the Pied Piper motifs, it is less clear that it is solely settler anxieties which are driving the depiction of the power of place in these three novels. There is no divorce from reality here, but rather an eruption of the metaphysical potency of place within the usual, “normal” order of reality. This follows the pattern of the original tale, where the Piper and all the children, except for one or two stragglers, disappear at Koppen Hill, vanishing literally into the hill itself. In traditional European folklore, hollow hills are associated with fairies and their uncanny power, but other places, especially those of water—springs, streams, even the sea—may also be associated with their liminal world (in the original tale, the River Weser is another important locus for power). In Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock, it is another outcrop in the landscape which holds that power and claims the “lost children.” Inspired partly by a painting by nineteenth-century Australian artist William Ford, titled At the Hanging Rock (1875), depicting a group of elegant people picnicking in the bush, this influential novel, which inspired an equally successful film adaptation, revolves around an incident in 1900 when four girls from Appleyard College, an exclusive school in Victoria, disappear with one of their teachers whilst climbing Hanging Rock, where they have gone for a picnic. Only one of their number, a girl called Irma, is ever found, and she has no memory of how and why she found herself on the Rock, and what has happened to the others. This inexplicable event is the precursor to a string of tragedies which leads to the violent deaths of several people, and which transforms the sleepy and apparently content little community around Appleyard College into a centre of loss, horror, and scandal.Told in a way which makes it appear that the novelist is merely recounting a true story—Lindsay even tells readers in an author’s note that they must decide for themselves if it is fact or fiction—Picnic at Hanging Rock shares the disturbingly liminal fact-fiction territory of the Piper tale. Many readers did in fact believe that the novel was based on historical events and combed newspaper files, attempting to propound ingenious “rational” explanations for what happened on the Rock. Picnic at Hanging Rock has been the subject of many studies, with the novel being analysed through various prisms, including the Gothic, the pastoral, historiography, and philosophy. In “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush,” Kathleen Steele has depicted Picnic at Hanging Rock as embodying the idea that “Ordered ‘civilisation’ cannot overcome the gothic landscapes of settler imaginations: landscapes where time and people disappear” (44). She proposes that Lindsay intimates that the landscape swallows the “lost children” of the novel because there is a great absence in that place: that of Aboriginal people. In this reading of the novel, it is that absence which becomes, in a sense, a malevolent presence that will reach out beyond the initial disappearance of the three people on the Rock to destroy the bonds that held the settler community together. It is a powerfully-made argument, which has been taken up by other scholars and writers, including studies which link the theme of the novel with real-life lost-children cases such as that of Azaria Chamberlain, who disappeared near another “Rock” of great Indigenous metaphysical potency—Uluru, or Ayers Rock. However, to date there has been little exploration of the fairy tale quality of the novel, and none at all of the striking ways in which it evokes Pied Piper motifs, whilst transforming them to suit the exigencies of its particular narrative world. The motif of lost children disappearing from an ordered, safe, even complacent community into a place of mysterious power is extended into an exploration of the continued effects of those disappearances, depicting the disastrous impact on those left behind and the wider community in a way that the original tale does not. There is no literal Pied Piper figure in this novel, though various theories are evoked by characters as to who might have lured the girls and their teacher, and who might be responsible for the disappearances. Instead, there is a powerful atmosphere of inevitability and enchantment within the landscape itself which both illustrates the potency of place, and exemplifies the Piper’s hold on his followers. In Picnic at Hanging Rock, place and Piper are synonymous: the Piper has been transformed into the land itself. Yet this is not the “vast impersonal bush,” nor is it malevolent or vengeful. It is a living, seductive metaphysical presence: “Everything, if only you could see it clearly enough, is beautiful and complete . . .” (Lindsay 35). Just as in the original tale, the lost children follow the “Piper” willingly, without regret. Their disappearance is a happiness to them, in that moment, as it is for the lost children of Hamelin, and quite unlike how it must be for those torn apart by that loss—the community around Appleyard, the townspeople of Hamelin. Music, long associated with fairy “takings,” is also a subtle feature of the story. In the novel, just before the luring, Irma hears a sound like the beating of far-off drums. In the film, which more overtly evokes fairy tale elements than does the novel, it is noteworthy that the music at that point is based on traditional tunes for Pan-pipes, played by the great Romanian piper Gheorge Zamfir. The ending of the novel, with questions left unanswered, and lives blighted by the forever-inexplicable, may be seen as also following the trajectory of the original tale. Readers as much as the fictional characters are left with an enigma that continues to perplex and inspire. Picnic at Hanging Rock was one of the inspirations for another significant Australian fiction, this time a contemporary novel for children. Ursula Dubosarsky’s The Golden Day (2011) is an elegant and subtle short novel, set in Sydney at an exclusive girls’ school, in 1967. Like the earlier novel, The Golden Day is also partly inspired by visual art, in this case the Schoolgirl series of paintings by Charles Blackman. Combining a fairy tale atmosphere with historical details—the Vietnam War, the hanging of Ronald Ryan, the drowning of Harold Holt—the story is told through the eyes of several girls, especially one, known as Cubby. The Golden Day echoes the core narrative patterns of the earlier novel, but intriguingly transformed: a group of young girls goes with their teacher on an outing to a mysterious place (in this case, a cave on the beach—note the potent elements of rock and water, combined), and something inexplicable happens which results in a disappearance. Only this time, the girls are much younger than the characters of Lindsay’s novel, pre-pubertal in fact at eleven years old, and it is their teacher, a young, idealistic woman known only as Miss Renshaw, who disappears, apparently into thin air, with only an amber bead from her necklace ever found. But it is not only Miss Renshaw who vanishes: the other is a poet and gardener named Morgan who is also Miss Renshaw’s secret lover. Later, with the revelation of a dark past, he is suspected in absentia of being responsible for Miss Renshaw’s vanishment, with implications of rape and murder, though her body is never found. Morgan, who could partly figure as the Piper, is described early on in the novel as having “beautiful eyes, soft, brown, wet with tears, like a stuffed toy” (Dubosarsky 11). This disarming image may seem a world away from the ambiguously disturbing figure of the legendary Piper, yet not only does it fit with the children’s naïve perception of the world, it also echoes the fact that the children in the original story were not afraid of the Piper, but followed him willingly. However, that is complicated by the fact that Morgan does not lure the children; it is Miss Renshaw who follows him—and the children follow her, who could be seen as the other half of the Piper. The Golden Day similarly transforms the other Piper motifs in its own original way. The children are only literally lost for a short time, when their teacher vanishes and they are left to make their own way back from the cave; yet it could be argued that metaphorically, the girls are “lost” to childhood from that moment, in terms of never being able to go back to the state of innocence in which they were before that day. Their safe, ordered school community will never be the same again, haunted by the inexplicability of the events of that day. Meanwhile, the exploration of Australian place—the depiction of the Memorial Gardens where Miss Renshaw enjoins them to write poetry, the uncomfortable descent over rocks to the beach, and the fateful cave—is made through the eyes of children, not the adolescents and adults of Picnic at Hanging Rock. The girls are not yet in that liminal space which is adolescence and so their impressions of what the places represent are immediate, instinctive, yet confused. They don’t like the cave and can’t wait to get out of it, whereas the beach inspires them with a sense of freedom and the gardens with a sense of enchantment. But in each place, those feelings are mixed both with ordinary concerns and with seemingly random associations that are nevertheless potently evocative. For example, in the cave, Cubby senses a threateningly weightless atmosphere, a feeling of reality shifting, which she associates, apparently confusedly, with the hanging of Ronald Ryan, reported that very day. In this way, Dubosarsky subtly gestures towards the sinister inevitability of the following events, and creates a growing tension that will eventually fade but never fully dissipate. At the end, the novel takes an unexpected turn which is as destabilising as the ending of the Pied Piper story, and as open-ended in its transformative effects as the original tale: “And at that moment Cubby realised she was not going to turn into the person she had thought she would become. There was something inside her head now that would make her a different person, though she scarcely understood what it was” (Dubosarsky 148). The eruption of the uncanny into ordinary life will never leave her now, as it will never leave the other girls who followed Miss Renshaw and Morgan into the literally hollow hill of the cave and emerged alone into a transformed world. It isn’t just childhood that Cubby has lost but also any possibility of a comforting sense of the firm borders of reality. As in the Pied Piper, ambiguity and loss combine to create questions which cannot be logically answered, only dimly apprehended.Christopher Koch’s 1985 novel The Doubleman, winner of the Miles Franklin Award, also explores the power of place and the motif of lost children, but unlike the other two novels examined in this essay depicts an actual “incarnated” Piper motif in the mysteriously powerful figure of Clive Broderick, brilliant guitarist and charismatic teacher/guru, whose office, significantly, is situated in a subterranean space of knowledge—a basement room beneath a bookshop. Both central yet peripheral to the main action of the novel, touched with hints of the supernatural which never veer into overt fantasy, Broderick remains an enigma to the end. Set, like The Golden Day, in the 1960s, The Doubleman is narrated in the first person by Richard Miller, in adulthood a producer of a successful folk-rock group, the Rymers, but in childhood an imaginative, troubled polio survivor, with a crutch and a limp. It is noteworthy here that in the Grimms’ version of the Pied Piper, two children are left behind, despite following the Piper: one is blind, one is lame. And it is the lame boy who tells the townspeople what he glimpsed at Koppen Hill. In creating the character of Broderick, the author blends the traditional tropes of the Piper figure with Mephistophelian overtones and a strong influence from fairy lore, specifically the idea of the “doubleman,” here drawn from the writings of seventeenth-century Scottish pastor, the Reverend Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle. Kirk’s 1691 book The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies is the earliest known serious attempt at objective description of the fairy beliefs of Gaelic-speaking Highlanders. His own precisely dated life-story and ambiguous end—it is said he did not die but is forever a prisoner of the fairies—has eerie parallels to the Piper story. “And there is the uncanny, powerful and ambiguous fact of the matter. Here is a man, named, born, lived, who lived a fairy story, really lived it: and in the popular imagination, he lives still” (Masson).Both in his creative and his non-fiction work Koch frequently evoked what he called “the Otherland,” which he depicted as a liminal, ambiguous, destabilising but nevertheless very real and potent presence only thinly veiled by the everyday world. This Otherland is not the same in all his fictions, but is always part of an actual place, whether that be Java in The Year of Living Dangerously, Hobart and Sydney in The Doubleman, Tasmania, Vietnam and Cambodia in Highways to a War, and Ireland and Tasmania in Out of Ireland. It is this sense of the “Otherland” below the surface, a fairy tale, mythical realm beyond logic or explanation, which gives his work its distinctive and particular power. And in The Doubleman, this motif, set within a vividly evoked real world, complete with precise period detail, transforms the Piper figure into one which could easily appear in a Hobart lane, yet which loses none of its uncanny potency. As Noel Henricksen writes in his study of Koch’s work, Island and Otherland, “Behind the membrane of Hobart is Otherland, its manifestations a spectrum stretched between the mystical and the spiritually perverted” (213).This is Broderick’s first appearance, described through twelve-year-old Richard Miller’s eyes: Tall and thin in his long dark overcoat, he studied me for the whole way as he approached, his face absolutely serious . . . The man made me uneasy to a degree for which there seemed to be no explanation . . . I was troubled by the notion that he was no ordinary man going to work at all: that he was not like other people, and that his interest couldn’t be explained so simply. (Koch, Doubleman 3)That first encounter is followed by another, more disturbing still, when Broderick speaks to the boy, eyes fixed on him: “. . . hooded by drooping lids, they were entirely without sympathy, yet nevertheless interested, and formidably intelligent” (5).The sense of danger that Broderick evokes in the boy could be explained by a sinister hint of paedophilia. But though Broderick is a predator of sorts on young people, nothing is what it seems; no rational explanation encompasses the strange effect of his presence. It is not until Richard is a young man, in the company of his musical friend Brian Brady, that he comes across Broderick again. The two young men are looking in the window of a music shop, when Broderick appears beside them, and as Richard observes, just as in a fairy tale, “He didn’t seem to have changed or aged . . .” (44). But the shock of his sudden re-appearance is mixed with something else now, as Broderick engages Brady in conversation, ignoring Richard, “. . . as though I had failed some test, all that time ago, and the man had no further use for me” (45).What happens next, as Broderick demonstrates his musical prowess, becomes Brady’s teacher, and introduces them to his disciple, young bass player Darcy Burr, will change the young men’s lives forever and set them on a path that leads both to great success and to living nightmare, even after Broderick’s apparent disappearance, for Burr will take on the Piper’s mantle. Koch’s depiction of the lost children motif is distinctively different to the other two novels examined in this essay. Their fate is not so much a mystery as a tragedy and a warning. The lost children of The Doubleman are also lost children of the sixties, bright, talented young people drawn through drugs, immersive music, and half-baked mysticism into darkness and horrifying violence. In his essay “California Dreaming,” published in the collection Crossing the Gap, Koch wrote about this subterranean aspect of the sixties, drawing a connection between it and such real-life sinister “Pipers” as Charles Manson (60). Broderick and Burr are not the same as the serial killer Manson, of course; but the spell they cast over the “lost children” who follow them is only different in degree, not in kind. In the end of the novel, the spell is broken and the world is again transformed. Yet fittingly it is a melancholy transformation: an end of childhood dreams of imaginative potential, as well as dangerous illusions: “And I knew now that it was all gone—like Harrigan Street, and Broderick, and the district of Second-Hand” (Koch, Doubleman 357). The power of place, the last of the Piper motifs, is also deeply embedded in The Doubleman. In fact, as with the idea of Otherland, place—or Island, as Henricksen evocatively puts it—is a recurring theme in Koch’s work. He identified primarily and specifically as a Tasmanian writer rather than as simply Australian, pointing out in an essay, “The Lost Hemisphere,” that because of its landscape and latitude, different to the mainland of Australia, Tasmania “genuinely belongs to a different region from the continent” (Crossing the Gap 92). In The Doubleman, Richard Miller imbues his familiar and deeply loved home landscape with great mystical power, a power which is both inherent within it as it is, but also expressive of the Otherland. In “A Tasmanian Tone,” another essay from Crossing the Gap, Koch describes that tone as springing “from a sense of waiting in the landscape: the tense yet serene expectancy of some nameless revelation” (118). But Koch could also write evocatively of landscapes other than Tasmanian ones. The unnerving climax of The Doubleman takes place in Sydney—significantly, as in The Golden Day, in a liminal, metaphysically charged place of rocks and water. That place, which is real, is called Point Piper. In conclusion, the original tale’s three main motifs—lost children, the enigma of the Piper, and the power of place—have been explored in distinctive ways in each of the three novels examined in this article. Contemporary Australia may be a world away from medieval Germany, but the uncanny liminality and capacious ambiguity of the Pied Piper tale has made it resonate potently within these major Australian fictions. Transformed and transformative within the Australian imagination, the theme of the Pied Piper threads like a faintly-heard snatch of unearthly music through the apparently mimetic realism of the novels, destabilising readers’ expectations and leaving them with subversively unanswered questions. ReferencesBird, Carmel. “Dreaming the Place: An Exploration of Antipodean Narratives.” Griffith Review 42 (2013). 1 May 2016 <https://griffithreview.com/articles/dreaming-the-place/>.Dubosarsky, Ursula. The Golden Day. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2011.Fiander, Lisa M. “Writing in A Fairy Story Landscape: Fairy Tales and Contemporary Australian Fiction.” Journal of the Association for the Study of Australian Literature 2 (2003). 30 April 2016 <http://openjournals.library.usyd.edu.au/index.php/JASAL/index>.Henricksen, Noel. Island and Otherland: Christopher Koch and His Books. Melbourne: Educare, 2003.Knox, Malcolm. “A Country of Lost Children.” Sydney Morning Herald 15 Aug. 2009. 1 May 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/national/a-country-of-lost-children-20090814-el8d.html>.Koch, Christopher. The Doubleman. 1985. Sydney: Minerva, 1996.Koch, Christopher. Crossing the Gap: Memories and Reflections. 1987. Sydney: Vintage, 2000. Lindsay, Joan. Picnic at Hanging Rock. 1967. Melbourne: Penguin, 1977.Masson, Sophie. “Captive in Fairyland: The Strange Case of Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle.” Nation and Federation in the Celtic World: Papers from the Fourth Australian Conference of Celtic Studies, University of Sydney, June–July 2001. Ed. Pamela O’Neil. Sydney: University of Sydney Celtic Studies Foundation, 2003. Mieder, Wolfgang. “The Pied Piper: Origin, History, and Survival of a Legend.” Tradition and Innovation in Folk Literature. 1987. London: Routledge Revivals, 2015.Pierce, Peter. The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999.Steele, Kathleen. “Fear and Loathing in the Australian Bush: Gothic Landscapes in Bush Studies and Picnic at Hanging Rock.” Colloquy 20 (2010): 33–56. 27 July 2016 <http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/wp-content/arts/files/colloquy/colloquy_issue_20_december_2010/steele.pdf>.