MAGDALEN ISLES anglophones
ENTRY ISLAND SCHOOL, with two students, reflects the challenges faced by anglophones living in the Magdalens
Entry Island School, with only two students, mirrors the challenges facing anglophone communities on the remote islands in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
This time of year, few visitors come to Entry Island — the most remote of Quebec’s Magdalen Islands, located in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
When visitors do come, François Babin, a teacher at Entry Island School, likes to bring his students to meet them when they get off the ferry from Cap-aux-Meules.
It doesn’t take long for Babin to round up his class. He and his fellow teacher, Judy Aitkens, have two students, making Entry Island School the smallest school in Quebec — and quite possibly the smallest school in North America.
During the 1960s and ’70s, about 70 students were enrolled at Entry Island School, one of only two schools in the Magdalens where English is the language of first instruction. That’s about the number of year-round residents on the island, which is predominantly English speaking.
The school’s story — and the question of whether it can remain open — reflects the challenges faced by anglophones living in the Magdalens.
On the day this journalist and a photographer visited Entry Island School, Babin was waiting at the harbour in his truck. His students, Logan Chenell, 11, and Braiden Clarke, 13, were in the back seat.
Nothing is far away on Entry Island, which is two kilometres wide and three kilometres long. After a bumpy drive on a dirt road (there’s no asphalt on the island), Babin pulled up in front of a ramshackle building with an unfinished roof. Outside was a sign for Entry Island School.
Inside, conditions were worse. There were boards for walls, the only light filtered in through cracks and the place smelled of diesel fuel. There were no desks, chairs or books. This reporter whipped out her notepad. The photographer shook her head. “I think we’ve been had,” she said.
It was only then that Chenell, Clarke and their teacher laughed.
The real Entry Island School was close by, near a part of the island locals call “back on the hill.” The school has a roof, walls, desks, chairs, books — and a free-standing sign.
Babin teaches English, French, math and physical education. Aitkens handles social studies, science, ethics and art.
The prank Babin and the boys pulled on their visitors was part of Babin’s English lesson. “It was directly related to storytelling. We had the setting, the characters: good guys and bad guys. And there was a climax,” he said.
Babin and Aitkens complement each other. “I’m a caveman; she’s a mom,” Babin said.
Babin grew up on the Gaspé coast and has taught every educational level from pre-kindergarten to college. He fell in love with Entry Island when he visited as a tourist in 1999. “I liked the magic, the serenity. We’re not in 2013 now; we’re in some number that doesn’t exist anywhere. The daily conversation is about nothing and everything. People don’t introduce themselves because everybody knows everybody.”
Aitkens’s husband was born on Entry Island and it’s where they raised their seven children. In such a small community, Aitkens often teaches relatives. Chenell is her nephew; Clarke, her third cousin. She calls both boys sweetheart. “I love teaching them. I want them to learn,” she said.
In social studies this fall, Aitken and her students have been doing online research to learn about Confederation, Louis Riel and buffaloes.
Babin uses a hands-on approach. When Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield returned to Earth in May, Babin arrived in school dressed as an astronaut in a non-flammable jumpsuit. “The boys didn’t believe my jumpsuit was fireproof. I’d brought along a lighter for that purpose,” he said.
The jumpsuit hangs on the wall of Babin’s classroom. There’s a black stain on the sleeve — evidence of the boys’ experiment. Clarke has not forgotten the lesson. “One of the things I like about this school is we get to try and set François on fire sometimes,” he said.
Babin designs assignments he knows the boys will enjoy, such as taking apart his broken lawn mower. “It was part gym, part math and part science. I made them take measurements,” Babin said. To encourage their creative sides, he gives them music lessons, teaching Clarke to play electric guitar, and Chenell drums and piano.
The boys are seldom late for school and haven’t had a fight since 2011. “I can’t remember what it was about,” Clarke said.
There are times, however, they wish there were more students. “I think about girls all the time,” Clarke said. “I think about them sometimes,” Chenell added.
Clarke is in Grade 7; Chenell, in Grade 6. In the past, Entry Island School has offered classes from pre-kinder garten through Grade 8, but it isn’t clear whether the school will remain open long enough for the boys to complete Grade 8 here.
Howard Miller, director of the Eastern Shores School Board, said the board is considering keeping Entry Island School open for at least another year. “We want to be kind to the families and the community. Closing a little school presents a real dilemma for the people. They realize that if the school isn’t there, a kind of lifeblood is cutoff,” Miller said in a phone interview from his office in New Carlisle, in the Gaspé.
According to Miller, the cost of running the school is not the main issue. “We’re financed by the government,” he said. Miller is more concerned about pedagogical issues. “Youngsters need a social life to grow. An important element of children’s development is having other children around to learn from and grow with,” he said.
Students who complete Grade 8 at Entry Island School often continue their high school education at Grosse Ile School — the only other English school in the Magdalens — or on nearby Prince Edward Island. The trip from Entry Island to Grosse Ile involves a onehour ferry ride and another forty minutes in a car, making a daily commute impossible. And because the ferry doesn’t run on Sundays, it is even difficult for students who come from Entry Island to return for weekend visits.
Hugh Wood, principal of both Grosse Ile School and Entry Island School, said he finds the students educated on Entry Island are not as academically or socially strong as their peers at Grosse Ile. “The quality of education on Entry is poorer. It has nothing to do with the teaching. It has to do with group work and social interaction with other students. The students who come from Entry are generally a year behind and often struggle socially,” he said.
Veronica Chenell, 15, Logan’s sister, is in Grade 9 at Grosse Ile School. She grew up on Entry Island and attended school there through Grade 8. “There was only one kid my age on Entry and he moved to P.E.I.,” she said. Chenell added that she struggled with shyness when she moved to Grosse Ile, where she lives with her grandmother, but she’s getting over it. “I’m happy to be here, to get to hang out with kids my age. But sometimes, I miss the smallness of the school on Entry Island,” she said.
Pauline Boudreau is the postmistress on Entry Island. She’s also a member of the Entry Island Future Committee, a group that is soliciting islanders for suggestions about what to do with the school should it close. “If it closes, I can’t see it reopening. There are no kids here and no young people to have kids,” Boudreau said.
And yet, there is some hope for the future. Alex Scott, his wife and two children, age 2 and 4, moved from P.E.I. to Entry Island at the end of August. “If you see a beautiful place, with people who are incredibly kind and have a long history of self-sufficiency, it seems like a pretty interesting place to raise your kids,” said Scott, a theatre director.
Though Scott is Canadian, he was educated in the United States, and his children will not be eligible to attend English school. He and his wife are considering options for their children’s education. “Maybe the community will come together and we’ll establish our own private school,” he said.
Babin said he believes the only way to save Entry Island School and Entry Island itself is by increasing the number of inhabitants with schoolaged children. “The age pyramid is inverted. It makes me sad, but it’s reality. How else can you revamp a society without pups to raise?”