At 64, farmer gained literacy, and a friend
In 2000, Ernie Schmidt started filling notebooks with stories from his life — stories written in neat cursive about picking rocks, shooting gophers and thistles.
He was 64 years old, and for the first time in his life, he had learned how to write. It was almost as though he knew he had a small window of time, and that two years later, a stroke would make it painfully uncomfortable to hold a pen.
Schmidt, who is now 82, expressed how meaningful this new skill was in a letter he wrote 18 years ago to READ Saskatoon, the organization that helped him learn it.
Little did he know the impression he had left on them.
Fast forward to 2018, when Schmidt’s daughter, Sharon Miller, found herself at a conference, sitting beside READ’S executive director. Miller mentioned her father was a past adult learner.
Director Sheryl Harrow-yurach asked Miller to share her father’s story with the board members.
After the presentation, Harrow-yurach realized Schmidt was the man who wrote the letter they’d been sharing with volunteers for years.
They lovingly called it “Ernie’s letter.”
EXCERPT FROM ERNIE’S LETTER
“It gives me great pleasure to write this note. A few months ago I Ernest could not write, I could not spell, I even had trouble thinking about writing or spelling. I was unhappy with myself.
“But deep down inside of me I so desperately wanted to write. Then one day the phone rang. It was Janinne. She said that she would be my tutor and asked if I could meet her at the library.
“We set a time and I started my learning career.
“She said ‘I want you to write about farming this week.’ Believe me, I could hardly wait to get started. So now I’m putting my thoughts into words, and enjoying every moment of it. I have found a new adventure.”
Schmidt went to school until Grade 6 and became a successful farmer and businessman, but was never confident with his spelling or writing skills.
Instead, he would leave little pictographs for his family — his special form of communication. He drew circles which he shaded to indicate what part of the land he was working on that day.
Schmidt did all kinds of work throughout his life.
He was also a competitive snow carver and made knives in his spare time. After some big life changes, including retirement and a divorce, he noticed his down time growing.
One day, while driving a tractor, he heard an advertisement for READ Saskatoon on the radio.
He later announced to his daughter, over coffee, that he was going to learn how to write.
“It was absolutely in his nature. At the time it didn’t really phase me because he was always doing something before anybody else did,” Miller said, sitting in the living room with her dad and sister.
She also realized it had never really occurred to her that Schmidt felt like something was missing from his life.
“I didn’t really take notice in our busy family life that he wasn’t comfortable in writing,” Schmidt’s other daughter, Pauline Travers, agreed.
Once a week for a year, Schmidt met with his tutor, Janinne Collins. They would start with little things, like having him write about what he did that day, or that week.
Schmidt loved that he could write unabashedly, without having to worry about making mistakes. He said Collins assured him they could go back later and correct any spelling errors. That had been one of the main things holding him back from writing.
“I was totally at ease. I enjoyed every moment I was doing it,” Schmidt said.
He would tell his daughters about what he was working on, but it wasn’t until years later that he showed them his workbooks.
Miller said his writing was incredibly genuine.
“He’s always told us stories about things that he’s done or places he’s been, but to actually see it on paper, written in his own hand, is like hearing his voice,” Miller said.
Collins was a READ tutor for only one year, and Schmidt was her only student.
“My initial thought was ‘What do we have in common?’ But just through chatting, I just found him very easy to relate to.
“I felt like we did establish a connection; I enjoyed my time with him very much.”
Schmidt’s life experience, knowledge and problem-solving skills made him a unique learner, Collins said. Her training encouraged her to use the skills adult learners already bring to the table.
For Schmidt, it was his “fabulous memory.”
Collins said he just needed the tools.
Schmidt left Collins with the heartwarming letter and a rock with the word “Learn” carved into it, which she keeps on her work desk. Collins said she thinks about Schmidt whenever she sees it. But she never expected to see him again.
Harrow-yurach found Collins’s name and number written in one of Schmidt’s notebooks and invited her to a donor appreciation evening last month, where Collins and Schmidt reunited for the first time in 18 years.
“To be able to reconnect with him was a joy, and to see the impact that it had on his family was also a joy,” Collins said.
“Janinne helped me so much,” Schmidt said. “It was just unbelievable how she treated me and got me at ease right away. I just enjoyed it so much.”
By sharing his story, Schmidt hopes to encourage other adult learners not to let embarrassment or fear of failure extinguish a burning desire to learn.
Collins is glad she could help create that safe, judgment-free space.
“It was a reminder to me that supporting community and each other can really have a lasting impact.”
To be able to reconnect with him was a joy, and to see the impact that it had on his family was also a joy.