OCTOBER 2020 19 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

A Research Journey with Plains Cree Elders 
Regarding Their Image of the Child

Janine Tine

Janine Tine is a PhD Candidate at the University of Alberta. Her early childhood research interests include bicultural childhoods, 
parental perceptions of childhood and childrearing held by intercultural couples, and Indigenous conceptions of childhood. Prior to 
completing her master’s degree at the U of A, Janine taught grade 2 for six years and gifted education for three. She has a Post-Degree 
Certificate in Education from the University of Saskatchewan (U of S) and a Bachelor of Education from the Saskatchewan Urban 
Native Teacher Education Program at the U of S. Email: akerman@ualberta.ca

As educators, our socioculturally constructed 
images or understandings of the child directly 
influence the pedagogy we provide for them 
(Dahlberg, Moss, & Pence, 2013). How we 
understand or view the child (e.g., as intelligent, 
competent, creative) influences how we educate 
the child and the learning opportunities we 
provide (Gandini, 2004; Malaguzzi et al., 2016). 
Understandings employed in early childhood 
education, however, are often decontextualized 
from children’s everyday cultural, historical, 
familial, and community lives (Højholt, 2018) 
and rely instead on teachers universalized Euro-
Western understandings of child development 
(Moss, 2016; New, 2018). This is especially true 
for the education of many Indigenous children 
in Canada despite the fact that Indigenous 
families and communities have a strong history 
of raising and educating their children according 
to their own cultural values, in which children are 

nurtured emotionally by parents and extended family members, fostered spiritually through language and cultural 
traditions, and educated to cultivate their interconnection to others and to Mother Earth.

The strengths and cultural traditions of Indigenous communities, including the care and education of children, 
were deliberately suppressed by the Canadian government’s policy of assimilating Indigenous children to a 
European and Christian way of life through residential schools (Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada 
[TRC], 2015a, p. 629). Residential schools, operated by the Catholic and Protestant churches, had their basis in 
an image of the Indigenous child as uncivilized, savage, inadequate, and in need of intervention and correction 
(Greenwood, de Leeuw, & Fraser, 2007; TRC, 2015a). Such “intervention” included not allowing children to speak 
their Indigenous language or engage in cultural ceremonies (TRC, 2015a). In addition to this, many children 
were emotionally, physically, and sexually abused by adults at the residential school who were supposed to care 
for them (TRC, 2015b). The “historical disadvantage and trauma” (Bezanson, 2018, p. 156) caused by residential 
school, and more current colonial practices, has meant that Indigenous children continue to experience significant 
inequities (Ball, 2012; TRC, 2015b) which are cumulative, persistent, and complex. Residential school’s legacy 

To develop culturally appropriate education for 
Indigenous children in Canada, knowledge of childhood 
in Indigenous contexts is needed. This article focuses on 
the author’s learning journey during a community-based 
participatory research project regarding two Plains Cree 
Elders’ images, or understandings, of the child. To situate 
the study, the author revisits her research with Elders 
while exploring some epistemological, ontological, and 
axiological considerations of Indigenous research and 
then shares how she employed cultural protocols and 
forged relationships. Next, the author shares and reflects 
on the Elders’ understandings of childhood and the ways 
in which she cared for the Elders’ knowledge.

Key words: Plains Cree Elders; Indigenous research; 
cultural protocol; image of the child; early childhood



OCTOBER 2020 20 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

of intergenerational trauma, for example, is perpetuated by more recent colonial injustices such as inadequate 
child welfare services on reserves (Bezanson, 2018)—resulting in a greater likelihood of children being removed 
from their home and community by child welfare services. And, a continued form of colonization is education 
built on Euro-Western ways of knowing and being which fail to meet the needs of Indigenous students (Battiste, 
2013). Insofar as Euro-Western understandings of the child dominate early childhood education (Fleer, Chen, & 
van Oers, 2018 Moss, 2016; New, 2018), it continues to be a colonial practice (Cannella & Viruru, 2004; Taylor & 
Pacini-Ketchabaw, 2015). 

To counter the dominance of Euro-Western understandings of the child in early childhood education, one of 
the calls to action of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC, 2015c) is to “develop culturally 
appropriate early childhood education programs for Aboriginal families” (p. 2). However, to do so requires a 
knowledge of childhood in Indigenous contexts, knowledge which is held by Indigenous knowledge keepers such 
as Elders. The first step in responding to this action call is therefore the act of listening to Elders’ teachings on 
childhood. However, coming to listen to and gain knowledge from Elders is an intricate and protocol-bound 
process that must be grounded in the community. To illustrate one such process in this article, I revisit and reflect 
on my master’s research1 and thesis on Plains Cree Elders’ images of the child (Akerman, 2010). 

The article begins by attending to relationships through theoretical considerations of my research journey with the 
Elders. I outline the manner in which I engaged in the research—in both method and methodology—by turning 
toward Indigenous epistemology, ontology, and axiology and enacting these constructs by engaging in cultural 
protocols or ways of relating with the Elders in my research, as well as developing and maintaining relationships 
with them. I then examine some of the limitations of my research. This all serves as a point of reflection for those 
who wish to engage in research with Indigenous Elders for the purpose of informing curriculum making and 
pedagogy for Indigenous children. The article continues by sharing the Elders’ images of the child that were so 
generously shared with me, discussing how I made sense of the Elders’ teachings, and considering the implications 
of my research. 

Indigenous epistemology, ontology, and axiology
I appreciate this opportunity to revisit my study (Akerman, 2010) regarding Plains Cree Elders’ understandings 
of the child and to reflect on the epistemology, ontology, and axiology that I employed as a means of attending 
to relationships with the participants. When I engaged in my research journey, I relied on my intuition and life 
experience as a person of European and Quw’utsun descent to guide me, as well as on my relationships with Plains 
Cree community members. I strived to employ Indigenous epistemology, ontology, and axiology in my research, 
but did not extensively articulate it in the writing of my thesis by matching it to academic literature. Perhaps I did 
not explain such written commitments to an epistemology, ontology, and axiology because I could not yet easily 
articulate the Indigenous theoretical constructs that—although I was employing them—I had taken for granted. 
Nor could I articulate in writing that which I was still in the beginnings of learning (and to this day still am). These 
learnings of Indigenous worldview were born out of my relationship with my Quw’utsun grandfather and out of 
my four formative years pursuing my Bachelor of Education through the Saskatchewan Urban Native Teacher 
Education Program at the University of Saskatchewan. It makes sense to me now to rely on the writings of strong 
Indigenous (and non-Indigenous) scholars to help articulate my research journey and to help articulate and make 
sense of the theoretical constructs and methodology that I actually employed throughout my research. 

In the past, research has primarily been done on Indigenous peoples rather than by or with Indigenous peoples 
(Smith, 2013). As a result, research has been a tool of colonization where the cultural values of Indigenous 



OCTOBER 2020 21 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

peoples were ignored (Lambert, 2014; Rigney, 2006). Such colonial research still occurs (Dei, 2013), although 
more research is being done with and for Indigenous communities (Gaudry, 2018; Kovach, 2016). It is with these 
histories in mind that I carefully planned my research project. I was astutely aware from the onset that in order for 
my research with the Plains Cree community to be fruitful, it had to derive from, as Cora Weber-Pillwax (2001) 
refers to, “Indigenous thinking and ways of being” (p. 169). Therefore, epistemology, ontology, and axiology were 
critical considerations of my research and they informed my choice of methodology and methods (Brayboy, 2018; 
Pidgeon, 2018; Wilson, 2008). 

While cognizant that Indigenous ways of thinking and doing are diverse, I offer below some constructs of Indigenous 
epistemology, ontology, and axiology found in academic literature to illustrate how these longstanding theoretical 
constructs align with, and informed, my interactions with the Plains Cree Elders in my research. Acknowledging 
that there is no one universal paradigm of Indigenous thought or knowledge (Battiste, 2013), I do acknowledge 
that there are some commonalities. Since knowledge is relational and owned by the unique community from 
which it comes, these constructs would be best explored in a living group conversation where the ideas of the 
Plains Cree community in which I journeyed are shared and discussed (Adams, Wilson, Heavy Head, & Gordon, 
2015) rather than through this written text. Below then, are some ideas to consider, although decontextualized 
from the living dialogue of the community where the research took place.

Epistemology

During my research, I continually drew on my abecedarian understanding of Indigenous epistemology—born 
from my relationships with Indigenous people and the teachings of Indigenous scholars—to inform my actions 
as a researcher. Epistemology has been defined by Shawn Wilson (2008) as “the nature of thinking or thought” 
(p. 35). Bryan Brayboy and colleagues (2011) explain that Indigenous epistemologies “focus on the processes and 
qualities of relationships between and among humans and the world they inhabit” (p. 432). One inhabits “a web 
of connections and relationships” (Wilson, 2008, p. 77), and relationships with the land are as sacred as those with 
people (Wilson, 2008). A central aspect of my research, then, was to learn about these connections.

Marie Battiste (2013) speaks to the importance of connections in Indigenous research when she states that 
“Indigenous epistemology is holistic and acknowledges the interconnection of a person’s physical, mental, 
emotional, and spiritual aspects and their relation to all living things” (p. 75). This interconnection of one’s physical, 
mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects, for example, is often conceptualized by the medicine wheel, a traditional 
component of Cree culture that is best understood under the guidance of an Elder. Together, the four interrelated 
quadrants of the medicine wheel—physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual—allow one to interpret “their relation 
to all living things” (p. 75) in a holistic and informed manner. As Marlene Brant Castellano (2000) explains:

The medicine wheel is one of the most powerful instruments currently used to convey the holistic 
character of aboriginal knowledge and experience. The circle, representing the circle of life, contains 
all experience, everything in the biosphere—animal, vegetable, mineral, human, spirit—past, present 
and future. Two lines mark the quadrants of the circle. (p. 30)

The parts of the medicine wheel can only be understood in relation to the whole. Thus, the holistic nature of 
Indigenous epistemology influences the manner in which I, the learner, experience and analyze research data. 
Brant Castellano (2000) explains:

The holistic quality of knowledge implies that isolating pieces from experience and trying to make 
sense of them apart from the environment that gave rise to them flies in the face of reality and is bound 
to lead to frustration. This does not mean that analysis of parts of the circle are dismissed; it simply 



OCTOBER 2020 22 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

means that analysis must be balanced with synthesis—placing the part that we have come to know by 
close analysis in the context of all its relations, which will continually impact on that which we thought 
we knew, and thereby transform it. (p. 30)

Weber-Pillwax (2001) echoes Brant Castellano, stating that when an Indigenous scholar is “based in Indigenous 
reality and Indigenous ways of thinking, [they] start out with synthesis” (p. 168) and remain in synthesis during 
their learning journey. Synthesis, then, was well suited to the holistic nature of Indigenous knowledge and ways of 
knowing throughout my research. 

When I synthesized Indigenous knowledge in my research with Elders, I paid heed to Indigenous knowledge 
that came from many sources and was acquired in various ways. To acknowledge this, I offer Brant Castellano’s 
(2000) three sources of Indigenous knowledge which I attended to throughout my research: traditional teachings, 
empirical observation, and revelation. First, traditional knowledge—handed down from generation to generation, 
including creation stories, genealogies, tales, and spiritual teachings—teaches the values and beliefs unique to each 
community (Brant Castellano, 2000). Traditional knowledge, for example, is what I have received through oral 
tradition from my grandfather and from the Elders in my research. Second, I gained empirical knowledge during 
my research through careful observation interpreted “in the context of existing information” (Waldram, 1986, as 
cited in Brant Castellano, 2000, p. 23), based on my own observations and perspectives and those of others. This 
process allowed me to revise my understanding of what I observed. Third, revealed knowledge, which is spiritual 
in origin, is “acquired through dreams, visions, and intuitions” (Brant Castellano, 2000, p. 24), and at times in my 
research, I relied on my intuition to guide me. All three knowledge sources—traditional, empirical, revealed—are 
interconnected, and although I may receive them in different ways, they inform one another through synthesis. 

Ontology

While epistemology has to do with the “nature of thinking” (Wilson, 2008, p. 35), ontology can be seen as the 
nature of reality (Wilson, 2008), and both epistemology and ontology rely on relationships. Wilson (2008) suggests 
that in Indigenous ontology, there is no one truth but multiple realities enacted in and born out of “different sets 
of relationships” (p. 73) and that a “relational way of being [is] at the heart of what it means to be Indigenous” 
(p. 80). As already stated, these relationships go beyond relationships with people. It is apparent that Indigenous 
epistemology and ontology can be considered one and the same when Wilson (2008) states, “it is not the realities 
in and of themselves that are important, it is the relationship that I share with the reality” (p. 74). Reality, then, 
cannot exist without relationships (Wilson, 2008). Through relationships with participants in my research, I came 
to learn about their realities, their truths. 

Axiology

Setting out to learn about and care for participants’ truths or realities in a good way requires a commitment to an 
axiology. Wilson (2008) defines axiology as “the ethics or morals that guide the search for knowledge and judge 
which information is worthy of searching for” (p. 34). Ethics, in turn, is defined by Willy Ermine (2007) as “the 
capacity to know what harms or enhances the well-being of sentient creatures” (p. 195). To develop the capacity 
to know how my actions would impact the participants, I had to be attentive to participants’ worldviews and 
anticipate how my actions as a researcher might “infringe or violate the spaces of others” (Ermine, 2007, p. 195). 
This attentiveness was only possible through fostering my relationships with the participants in my research and 
my relationships with the wider Plains Cree community.

Attending to ethics can be difficult when the researcher and participants do not share a culture and therefore 
worldview. As Ermine (2007) states, “diverse human communities do not share a common moral vocabulary, nor do 



OCTOBER 2020 23 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

they share a common vision of the nature of human beings as actors within the universe” (p. 198). Acknowledging 
that researchers and communities do not always hold morals in common, Battiste (2013) warns of problems that 
arise when the researcher’s ethical standpoint differs from that of the community in which they are researching:

Imposition of ethical rules derived from other epistemologies or ontologies or ways of life in other 
communities will inevitably cause problems in how one enters a community, what relationships 
guide the interactions, what knowledge is appropriate to be sought, how it is to be used, and other 
issues related to access and benefit, although common understandings and shared interests can be 
negotiated. (p. 71) 

With this in mind, before committing to engage in research in the Plains Cree community, I had to first familiarize 
myself with the longstanding ethical directives and protocols of that community and, second, discern if I could 
adhere to these rules with a spirit of sincerity, openness, and good intent. This included engaging in protocols and 
behaviours that aligned with the community’s cultural values (Smith, 2013).

Attending to the responsibilities that emerge from relationships with participants who operate from distinct and 
longstanding cultural values was a competing force for me as an academic researcher: I carried the responsibility of 
being accountable, not only to the community in which I was researching, but also to the academy (Brayboy et al., 
2011). Because the academic institution is built on dominant Euro-Western notions of objectivity and truth, as well 
as the belief that knowledge collected through research can be owned by and claimed as the researcher’s own, my 
Indigenous research methodologies had to, in the words of Michelle Pidgeon (2018), “go beyond standard ethical 
practices” (p. 5) of the institution and adhere to the ethical rules of the Plains Cree community in which I was 
researching. I learned the ethical rules unique to that community from community members, and these rules had 
implications from the beginning of my research when I accessed knowledge, to the dissemination and transmission 
of knowledge (Gaudry & Lorenz, 2018). This sustained regard was particularly important in the area of knowledge 
dissemination, since in many Indigenous communities, as Robin Starr Minthorn and Heather Shotton assert, “not 
all knowledge is meant for public consumption” (2018, p. 211). Some knowledge is sacred and to be kept private, 
while some is public (Pidgeon, 2018). It was my responsibility as a researcher to learn the community’s stipulations 
surrounding what knowledge can be shared, how it can be shared, and with whom. Ultimately it was my duty as 
a researcher to be a custodian of knowledge (Battiste, 2008), and this lifelong duty extends long past the written 
component (e.g., thesis, dissertation, scholarly paper) of my research project (Lavallée, 2009).

Indigenous research
Research within an Indigenous paradigm required me to develop and maintain a relationship with the Plains 
Cree people and community where my research was occurring, as well as to employ culturally informed methods 
(i.e., procedures to gather information) and methodologies (i.e., a philosophical framework) to tend to these 
relationships (Drawson, Toombs, & Mushquash, 2017). In my Indigenous research, the line between method and 
methodology was sometimes blurred, with methods such as storytelling through oral tradition, for example, being 
more than just a method to gather information but a relational human interaction that was ceremonial, spiritual, 
philosophical, and, to a varied degree, communal in nature. In a sense, in my Indigenous research, method and 
methodology became interchangeable, and as Alexandra Drawson and colleagues (2017) suggest, embodied both 
a procedure and a framework. 

Indigenous research methodologies, and the accompanying and intertwined methods, are many, which, according 
to Adam Gaudry and Danielle Lorenz (2018), represents the “plurality of Indigenous knowledges” (p. 22). With 
this plurality in mind, Lipe Kaiwipunikauikawēkiu (2018) states that “there is not one singular approach to 



OCTOBER 2020 24 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

Indigenous methodologies” (p. 209), just as there is no singular Indigenous lived reality or way of knowing. My 
Indigenous research methodology, then, allowed me and the Elders in my research to share our own stories in 
our own way (Minthorn & Shotton, 2018). Given the agency Indigenous research provides to each individual 
Indigenous community, methodology and methods are fluid and changing, because they are formed and reformed 
to match the goals of the community where the research is occurring.

Community-based participatory research
Community-based participatory research, although not inherently Indigenous, is often used as a methodology 
for Indigenous research because it aligns well with Indigenous knowledge-sharing values in terms of community 
control and the caring for, and sharing of, traditional knowledge (Drawson et al., 2017; First Nations Information 
Governance Centre, 2014). I engaged in community-based participatory research because I was aware that, in the 
Plains Cree community where I was carrying out my research, ideas around community control and knowledge-
sharing values were prominent and well established. With this came the expectation that my research, in both 
method and philosophy, was done not only in consultation with but in relationship with the community, for the 
benefit of the community, and through participation of the community (Drawson et al., 2017; Gaudry, 2018). From 
the inception of my research, I continually worked to prioritize the needs of the Elders and of the wider Plains Cree 
community by listening to their wishes in order to fuel research decisions and directives. I strived for my research 
to be driven by what Drawson et al. (2017) refer to as “the underlying goal of collaboration, research equality, and 
community control” (p. 6), and I relied on the agency of community members to point out my shortcomings in 
addressing that goal.

Fostering community control of the research required me, the researcher, to depart from “motives of control and 
individual gain” (Brayboy et al., 2011, p. 434) and to prioritize service and communal good. Within this notion of 
service came reciprocity, where I, guided by the community, strived to provide for others around me in ways the 
community saw fit (Brayboy et al., 2011). According to Brayboy et al. (2011), such research is conducted “with 
a particular sense of humility; every legitimate relationship necessitates the discarding of egos and requires the 
researcher to recognize the responsibilities that emerge from the relationship” (p. 437). Two ways that I confronted 
my ego throughout my research were by recognizing a) my limited understanding of Plains Cree culture and b) 
the expertise and knowledge of community members whose participation, direction, and counsel were vital to the 
research process. 

Theoretical framework
With my research relying on Indigenous epistemology, where knowledge and knowing are relational, and on an 
axiology and methodology that are centered on an attentiveness and commitment to relationships, it becomes 
clear that my theoretical framework is relational (Wilson, 2008). I am informed by the understandings of Wilson 
(2008), who states that a research paradigm is made up of the four “inseparable and blended” (p. 70) entities 
of “ontology, epistemology, axiology, and methodology” (p. 70). In my research, knowledge was gathered and 
synthesized through relationships, and, knowledge was later cared for with the relationships in mind. Below—
following a brief paragraph—are two sections which illustrate my relational theoretical framework in action: (1) 
“Engaging in Cultural Protocols and Ways of Relating” and (2) “Relationships as the Basis of my Research.” What I 
share is my own unique and imperfect experience. It is intended to serve as a point of reflection and then departure. 

The two main participants in my research (Akerman, 2010)2 were Helen3 and Margaret, both Elders and cultural 
advisors in a school division in western Canada in Treaty Six area where my research took place. Helen grew up in 



OCTOBER 2020 25 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

Chitek Lake First Nation (known as Pelican Lake First Nation) and learned her Plains Cree language and spirituality 
from her mother, who was a midwife. Margaret is from Thunderchild First Nation. She grew up learning her Plains 
Cree language and spirituality from her parents. Her mother was a midwife and herbalist. 

Engaging in cultural protocols and ways of relating

Prior to my initial visits with Margaret and Helen, I visited members of the Plains Cree community to ask them 
about cultural protocols. When I use the term protocol, I don’t mean hard and fast rules but the fluid, attentive, and 
culturally informed ways in which I related to Elders as my relationship with them and the community developed. 
In this sense, protocols are ways of relating, and I use these terms interchangeably. It was important that I inquired 
with people who personally knew Margaret and Helen, because the ways of relating expected from Elder to Elder 
often varies. A lot of these protocols I learned from community members ahead of meeting with the Elders, but 
some of then I learned as I communicated with the Elders and allowed their stories to inform how I should relate 
to them. Six main areas arose with regard to cultural protocol when seeking knowledge from the Plains Cree Elder 
participants. 

The first was the wearing of a skirt. My choice to wear a long skirt was, for me, a way of honouring the traditions 
of a female Elder and her wishes for me to exercise my humility and honour myself as a woman who, like Mother 
Earth, can bear life. Margaret expected me to wear a long skirt when visiting her. Helen, on the other hand, 
appreciated my gesture of wearing a long skirt, but did not expect it. 

The second way of relating was offering tobacco. For Plains Cree people, tobacco is a sacred plant that is 
interconnected to Mother Earth. I offered tobacco to honour each Elder’s wisdom and allow her to comfortably and 
culturally express, through body language, whether or not she wished to participate in my research. When Helen 
and Margaret accepted my tobacco offerings, for example, they were expressing their desire to communicate with 
me and participate in my research. Illustrating the importance of relationship, particularly with Mother Earth, the 
Elders in my study eventually offered the tobacco in prayer and thanksgiving to Mother Earth, while also praying 
for me, the person who gave them the tobacco. 

The protocols of offering tobacco varied from Elder to Elder in my research. For example, Helen told me how when 
she was a child she would only offer a small pinch of tobacco to her grandmother when she went to learn from 
her. From this indirect teaching through story, I knew I was to offer only a small pinch of tobacco when I visited 
Helen. Margaret, on the other hand, had her assistant tell me that the tobacco I offered her during our first visit was 
sufficient for all subsequent visits; I was not expected to offer her any more tobacco. During one visit, Margaret told 
me the importance of children sitting on the ground so they are close to Mother Earth. I asked her if it was best to 
offer her tobacco when we were both seated. “Yes,” she replied: 

When we’re sitting on a chair, that’s being close to Mother Earth too. And also, the Elder will not stand 
up. Well, they’ll maybe stand up to greet you. But, if you’re coming for a purpose, they’ll tell you, “Let’s 
sit down.” And to us, sitting down you’re more relaxed and you’re more open to welcome, to receive, 
and give in that relationship.

From this I learned that I was to be seated when offering tobacco to an Elder. 

The third way of relating was showing respect by offering the Elders transportation, nourishment, and 
accompaniment. When I met with Margaret for our first extensive visit, I picked her up from her home and took 
her out for supper at a restaurant. For those Elders who preferred to travel on their own, I was sure to greet them 
at the main entrance and accompany them to the room in which we were meeting. At the end of a gathering such 



OCTOBER 2020 26 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

as a talking circle, I would offer to carry their belongings to their vehicle for them, ensuring they made it to their 
vehicle safely and comfortably. This walk also gave me an opportunity to thank the Elder for their time spent 
with me and for the knowledge they shared. These ways of relating allowed me to show the Elders respect and 
acknowledge the mental and physical fatigue that can come from commuting, meeting new people, and sharing 
knowledge—activities Helen and Margaret undertook while of retirement age. 

The care I provided for the Elders in my research resembled, in a small way, not only the care I have provided for 
my grandfather in the past, but also the care many Indigenous people provide for Elders in their community. For 
example, while attending Plains Cree powwows, I have noticed that Elders are offered accompaniment or a golf cart 
ride to the Elders’ tent or lodge, where they sit in the shade and are served refreshments by younger community 
members. From observing this, I gathered empirical knowledge to learn how to care for and relate to Helen and 
Margaret in culturally appropriate and respectful ways. I then used this knowledge in my research by providing 
(or at least offering) transportation, nourishment, and accompaniment. Eventually a relationship developed where 
the Elders were willing to share their traditional knowledge with me. For me, gathering knowledge empirically—
coupled with good intent for the Elders and the community—was a precursor to being gifted with traditional 
knowledge. 

The fourth way of relating was acknowledging that Elders are experts in their own right. When I set out to do 
my research, my topic focused on the Plains Cree image of the child from age 4 to 7—the age range that early 
childhood education generally encompasses. Helen was quick to point out, however, that in a Plains Cree paradigm, 
where all life is valued, childhood begins at the moment of conception. My narrow focus on children aged 4 to 
7 quickly broadened to include conception, birth, and infancy. Putting at the forefront the Elders’ “underlying 
values” (Gaudry, 2018, p. 254) allowed my research to become more community based and participatory as it 
acknowledged the Elders’ expertise. Further acknowledging the Elders’ expertise, I did not ask initial questions 
of the Elders beyond “What is your understanding of the child?”, since I did not have the traditional knowledge 
and experiences the Elders carried. Because of their wisdom, the Elders inherently knew what I needed to learn. I 
entered into learning sessions with them rather than interviews. 

The fifth way of relating was determining whether I should record the conversations with the Elders. Helen did not 
want me to use an audio recorder when meeting with her. Asserting “tobacco is your computer,” Helen explained 
that one of the reasons I offered her tobacco was to help me remember her teachings—the prayers she would later 
say while offering the tobacco to Mother Earth included prayers for my learning journey. Helen also said, “the 
really important information will stay with you.” After each session, with Helen’s permission, I would write down 
all I could remember of her teachings. From session to session, my listening skills improved, and I was able to 
recall more information, allowing me to partially experience some of the benefits of oral tradition.

The sixth protocol was to invite the Elders to remove from the final draft of my thesis information that was sacred 
or private. I slowly read the thesis draft to them as they listened and interjected when they wished. This allowed 
them to safeguard their Indigenous knowledge. For instance, I responded to Margaret’s request to remove some 
spiritual teachings (or revealed knowledge) that she did not want included, because she preferred to share such 
teachings with a select audience and a public thesis would not allow this. 

Learning about the specific protocols preferred by each Elder was a very important component of preparing to 
carry out my research. Ahead of meeting with an Elder, I would dialogue with a respected member of the Plains 
Cree community who would help me consider the Elders’ worldview and the corresponding ways of relating that 
I could engage in to respect their worldviews (e.g., offering tobacco or not audio recording conversations). The 
more I learned about and followed the Elders’ preferred ways of relating, the less I violated the Elders’ spaces 



OCTOBER 2020 27 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

(Ermine, 2007) and the easier it was for me to enter into an ethically sound research relationship with them. 
Knowing each Elder’s preferences allowed me to arrive somewhat prepared to interact with the Elder in a culturally 
appropriate way. This built respect because the Elders appreciated my efforts to accommodate them. Being unable 
to completely anticipate the specific protocols each Elder preferred placed me in a position of humility. I had to 
be open to making errors and, most importantly, I had to be receptive to the new learning opportunities these 
experiences provided.

I also learned about the preferred cultural protocols that the Elders expected me to follow by uncovering embedded 
teachings in the Elders’ stories (such as how much tobacco to offer Helen). Brant Castellano (2000) explains that 
stories “teach without being intrusive, because the listener can ignore the oblique instruction or apply it to the 
degree he or she is ready to accept, without offence” (p. 31). Through stories, the Elders indirectly offered me 
instruction and correction, and it was up to me to be both perceptive enough to notice these directives and humble 
enough to accept them.

Relationships as the basis of my research 

Before beginning my research on Plains Cree Elders’ understandings of the child, I did not know Helen or 
Margaret. Coming to know and learning from them in a respectful way relied heavily on relationships—with them, 
with members of the wider Plains Cree community, and with Mother Earth. Wilson (2008) points out that for a 
researcher, being included in an Indigenous community depends on the researcher’s past work and relationships 
in that community (and beyond) and on current work and relationships with community members. Echoing 
Wilson, Margaret Kovach (2016) emphasizes that “relational connections” (p. 36) are a key requisite of Indigenous 
research. Without my relational connections, I would not have had success in forming learning relationships 
with Elders Helen and Margaret. Throughout my research, I relied on my previous relationships with Plains Cree 
people in the school division where my research took place to lead me into new connections or relationships with 
community members and Elders, most importantly with Helen and Margaret. Such relationships were spurred 
through my ongoing interest and involvement in Indigenous education learning, as well as attendance at cultural 
gatherings, such as sweats, round dances, and powwows.

Relationships beyond the Plains Cree community also mattered. One such relationship was with my grandfather, 
who taught me through oral tradition when I visited him in British Columbia throughout my life. From our 
interactions, I knew that listening to and learning from Elders requires patience and time. When seeking 
information, I knew that I should not expect a direct response but should search for answers embedded in my 
grandfather’s stories. This included stories that initially seemed irrelevant or unrelated to the topic at hand, and 
stories from years past. 

Determining who is an Elder in an Indigenous community can be a difficult process, therefore I relied on 
recommendations from community members. Because some Elders carry a deeper traditional knowledge than 
others, I wanted to find Elders who were farther along in their journey as keepers of knowledge of Plains Cree 
childhoods. I visited respected personal contacts in the Plains Cree community in search of recommendations 
for appropriate Elders. During these meetings, Helen’s and Margaret’s names came up repeatedly. As a result, I 
was confident they were respected Elders who represented both the traditional and collective knowledge of their 
people. 

My relationship with Ben, a Métis contact of mine whom I had known for several years, was integral to forming 
successful relationships with the Elders. Acting as a gatekeeper to Helen and Margaret, Ben asked me specific 
questions about my research to learn about my intentions. He wanted to know who would own the knowledge 



OCTOBER 2020 28 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

I gathered. I explained that the knowledge the Elders shared with me would continue to belong to them, while I 
served as a steward of their knowledge. Watching out for their best interests, Ben only helped me meet these Elders 
once he was sure I would treat them and the knowledge they offered in a culturally appropriate manner. He needed 
to be assured of this primarily to protect the Elders and very secondarily to protect his reputation as a community 
member. If I were to lack integrity when interacting with the Elders, it could reflect poorly on Ben, and he could 
be held accountable for my actions. 

Under Ben’s guidance, I arranged a talking circle with five of the school division Elders to share my intentions and 
gather their feedback. Helen and Margaret were two of the Elders present. In the days leading up to the talking 
circle, I visited each Elder individually to introduce myself and offer them tobacco. 

The talking circle, which began with a smudge ceremony led by one of the Elders, proceeded according to Plains 
Cree tradition of using a stone to signify whose turn it was to speak. Passing the stone to the left, participants 
took turns speaking while others quietly listened. The Elders asked me questions regarding my research, and I 
explained my intentions. Among the Elders, there seemed to be a general consensus (not spoken, but implied) that 
my research was welcome in their school division. This was confirmed when, after the talking circle, the two lead 
Elders, Helen and Margaret, took interest in my topic and each invited me to meet with them at a later date. 

The Elders’ questioning during the talking circle, coupled with Ben’s questioning of my research intentions, served, 
in a sense, as a rigorous Indigenous community advisory board that was enacted through the epistemology of a 
talking circle. This “board” was different from the board of ethics at my university because it served to protect the 
Elders and their intergenerational knowledge and was specific to their Plains Cree ways of knowing in a particular 
time and place. Most importantly, it brought me face to face with Ben and the Elders, affording them the opportunity 
to determine whether our relationship had a chance of advancing in a manner that protected and served the 
community and its intergenerational knowledge. Our relationship did stand a chance, and it developed into a 
teaching relationship where Helen and Margaret shared with me their Plains Cree understandings of children. 

Gaining respect among the Elders through relationships with their contacts was not a one-time occurrence limited 
to the inception of my research, but rather was ongoing. For example, Stan, a Plains Cree acquaintance I had 
crossed paths with several times in the area of Indigenous education, helped me gain, or perhaps maintain, respect 
from Helen. One day when I was visiting with Helen at her workplace, Stan happened to walk into the room. He 
greeted Helen and then said, “Janine and her sister are great proponents of Indigenous education. They do good 
work.” These kinship ties with my sister (with whom Helen was acquainted) and with Stan (whom Helen knew 
very well) offered the Elder some confidence in me as she actively discerned whether to continue sharing her 
knowledge with me. 

Countering limitations
A key axiological challenge of my research was the consent form. In engaging Elders Helen and Margaret in 
informed consent, I had to find a way to be accountable to both the Elder participants and the university so I could 
carry out research that both respected the Elders and satisfied the institution. Having the Elders sign a consent 
form was considered to be very ethical by university standards, but by Indigenous standards it was incongruous 
and, given the colonial undertones of signing consent to use information or resources that Indigenous people own, 
inappropriate and potentially offensive. I had to find a way to get Indigenous protocols of consent “out in front” of 
the university consent form and to make the Indigenous protocols the primary driver of consent in my research. 
Once this was achieved, I could then position the consent form as a secondary, redundant, and clerical procedure. 
Although I had to use the consent form as a student of the university, I worked to make it auxiliary in nature in that 



OCTOBER 2020 29 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

informed consent, through gatekeepers and ultimately a talking circle, had already taken place before the consent 
form was signed. 

Not only did the consent form have implications from the beginning of my research when consent was being 
obtained, it also had implications in the dissemination of knowledge (Gaudry & Lorenz, 2018) long after the 
research had occurred. To be responsive to my relationship of trust with Helen and Margaret when disseminating 
the research, I found myself imposing relationally and culturally informed limitations on the consent forms the 
Elders had signed. Although the form outlined that the intended uses for the research findings included, but were 
not limited to, research articles, presentations, and teaching, I moved beyond the consent form to consider my 
perception of the Elders’ preferences when deciding how to disseminate their teachings. For example, years after 
my thesis was completed, I was approached by a professor to share the Elders’ teachings via video recordings to 
be shown in an online course. However, because Helen had wanted me to follow her custom of oral tradition and 
not audio-record her when she was teaching me, I deduced that she would not want me to share her teachings via 
video recordings. Consequently, I declined to share the teachings on video, even though the signed consent form 
would have allowed me to. I offered instead to share the Elders’ teachings in a face-to-face class.

Declining to share the Elders’ teachings via video recordings was a quick, intuitive response that I felt was right 
because I knew it would extend respect to the Elders, but it also caused me disappointment. This was because I 
highly respected the professor who invited me to share the Elders’ teachings via video, and I dearly wanted to 
contribute to her work with the online course. She was a person of utmost integrity and she was acting with the 
good intention of contributing to culturally informed education for Indigenous families. I could not, however, put 
my relationship with her ahead of my relationship with the Elders. Inherent to the latter was my responsibility to 
continually ask myself, as Wilson (2008) suggests, “How am I fulfilling my role in this relationship? What are my 
obligations in this relationship?” (p. 177). Here, my role—my axiological commitment—was to care for the Elders’ 
knowledge as I knew they would wish me to. These wishes and obligations lay not in the consent form, but in the 
whole of my relationship with them, the whole of my understandings of Plains Cree customs and beliefs and wider 
Indigenous beliefs, and in the whole of the traditional, empirical, and revealed knowledge I was holding. Returning 
to, and being attuned to, my relationship with the Elders and their cultural traditions, as well as determining what 
course of action would extend them the most respect, was an essential companion to the consent form. 

Beyond the consent forms, other limitations to my research were not so easily countered. For example, presenting 
Helen’s and Margaret’s teachings in the format of an academic thesis in written English (with a very small amount 
of Cree throughout) rather than through oral tradition and entirely in Cree, was one such limitation. Here, I relied 
on institutionalized practices and the colonial language of English to inaptly “define Indigenous reality” (Battiste, 
2008, p. 11). In light of this limitation, I acknowledge that my research, although intended to be Indigenous in 
nature, was the result of a carefully travelled path along two knowledge “systems”—the Indigenous tradition of 
intergenerational knowledge sharing and caretaking, and the Euro-Western academic system. I frequently sought 
Indigenous ways of knowing and doing rather than immediately defaulting to standard academic protocols. 

The participants
Helen, a Plains Cree woman from Chitek Lake First Nation, Saskatchewan (known as Pelican Lake First Nation), 
grew up speaking Cree at home. She credits much of her learning of traditional Cree ways to her mother, who 
spoke only Cree and had no formal education. Her mother’s knowledge and language were not recognized beyond 
the Indigenous community, and Helen felt that her mother had “no voice” outside the community, despite her vast 
knowledge as a midwife. Today, however, Helen says that her mother’s voice is “loud and clear—louder than ever 



OCTOBER 2020 30 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

as I speak for her.” Helen’s father was English/Scottish. Helen’s mother was baptized in order to marry him, yet she 
continued to practice Cree spirituality. Helen grew up practicing Cree spirituality and maintains this spirituality 
today.

Like her mother, Helen did not attend residential school. She explains that, because of the absence of residential 
school in her immediate family, her life is free from alcohol and drugs—substances she believes people have used 
to try and heal from the negative effects of residential school. When talking about her life without residential 
school, Helen explains, “That is why I am more comfortable. The church meant well, but the people who worked 
there [at the residential schools] were not healthy.” Helen attended kindergarten to grade 12 at a school in a nearby 
farming community and then attended the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College.

Helen has five children, twenty-three grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. She is an Elder and cultural 
advisor at a high school, and her many talents include beading, hide tanning, and tipi making/raising. Helen 
regularly shares tipi teachings, which she describes as “a woman’s teaching,” with other Indigenous women. She 
likens a tipi to a woman in that a tipi “stands with dignity and is powerful.”

Margaret is from Thunderchild First Nation in Saskatchewan and both her parents were Plains Cree. Margaret’s 
mother was a midwife and herbalist who spoke only Cree; her father spoke Cree and English. Margaret’s first 
language was Cree. She attended grades 1 to 8 at St. Anthony Residential School in Onion Lake, Saskatchewan. 
When reflecting on her residential school experience, Margaret explains how the Cree parents and Elders at 
Thunderchild 

tried to prepare children for their white cousins from the church that were going to join them. The 
Elders and parents tried to prepare their children about those Catholic teachings, but things were 
happening too fast ... too fast. The church came in too quickly and too fast. 

When reflecting on what she believes the residential school’s image of the child to be, Margaret says:

The culture of the child is not good, it’s evil. “I’m going to change the children to the way I believe.” 
Assimilate, I guess. So the people from the residential school were not ready. They didn’t even want to 
listen to our teaching. You know, they didn’t want to understand. They were just there to get the land. 
And change everybody to their way of believing, their way of living. That’s how I saw it, and I believe I’m 
not the only one who began to understand that. 

Margaret explains that regardless of what she learned in residential school, “the ways of teaching were different. 
More like, ‘I know better and I’m teaching you and you learn what I’m teaching you or else.’” 

Despite her eight years of attendance at residential school, Margaret is firmly grounded in her Cree spirituality. As a 
school child, she went home every summer to receive traditional teachings from her mother and other Elders in the 
community. It was these summertime teachings that fostered Margaret’s Cree spirituality, as well as her traditional 
knowledge and skills she still practices today. Margaret smudges and prays every morning. Her traditional talents 
include sewing clothing such as ribbon shirts and dresses for ceremonies, quilting, beading moccasins, and drying 
wild moose, deer, and fish that her relations have hunted.

Margaret never attended high school because there was no high school in her community. Moreover, after years 
of attending residential school, she was not interested in leaving home to attend boarding school. Once married, 
Margaret worked on high school equivalency courses and then completed the Indian social work program at the 
University of Saskatchewan. She worked as a community health care worker for 20 years before her current role 
as school division Elder. Margaret considered furthering her university education, but was influenced otherwise 



OCTOBER 2020 31 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

by her father, who encouraged her to spend her time cultivating her traditional Plains Cree knowledge. She 
remembers her father saying that the knowledge she had gained from her “aunties, mother and Elders along the 
way is very important.” Her father explained that there would be a lot of university-educated people in the future, 
but his people, the Plains Cree, were going to have very few keepers of traditional knowledge. 

Elders acknowledging ancestors
When sharing knowledge with me, both Margaret and Helen continually acknowledged the ancestors or Elders 
who had originally passed on knowledge to them. For instance, before introducing a teaching, Helen and Margaret 
would say things such as “one of the things my mother and the great aunties taught me about ...” or “and in our 
way, and in our culture, what they would tell us is that ...” After giving a teaching, Helen and Margaret would make 
comments such as “so that’s what my mother always told me” and “that’s what my husband’s grandmother used to 
say.” When expressing her gratitude for “the teaching from the Elders” that she has received, Margaret remarked: 

They have helped me. And even to this day I still believe in that. And, when I pray, I still thank the 
Creator for allowing me to know about these teachings. It’s not that I know about everything, but I kept 
what I learned, and if I wasn’t sure I would ask the older women. 

The Elders’ image of the child
The Elders’ image of the child can be placed into six categories: (1) the child’s awareness in the womb, (2) the 
child as powerful and pure at birth, (3) the child journeying through infancy, (4) the child’s spirit as connected to 
Mother Earth, (5) listening to the child’s voice, and 6) the child as a butterfly.

The child’s awareness in the womb

Helen, who refuses to use the European word fetus and instead talks of “a child when in the womb,” insisted that 
my research must consider the child from the moment of conception. Helen explained that “the child’s spirit is 
asked to come down from above at the moment of conception.” “Conception,” she points out, “is the English word 
that is used.” Helen describes pregnancy as a nine-month ceremony where the mother is with child or carrying a 
child, which is called kikiskahawasot in Cree. 

Margaret and Helen shared many teachings about caring for a child while it is in the womb. Margaret taught, “It’s 
not only when they’re born that they remember things. A child has the power to remember when they’re in the 
womb.” Margaret shared this teaching from her grandmother-in-law: 

She was a grand old lady, my late husband’s grandma.... She was the one that continued the teaching 
about how to look after myself when I was pregnant. She would say, “Before you go to bed, sing to your 
baby, put your hands on your tummy and sing to your baby, or even in the morning when the sun comes, 
sing to your baby. And you ask your baby, ‘Do you hear the birds singing?’” They listen. You are talking 
to your baby. And you nurture your baby through the umbilical cord. You nurture all four components: 
mental, spiritual, physical, and emotional ... and this nurturing transfers to your baby through the 
umbilical cord. And whatever you’re singing, whatever you’re talking, whatever you’re feeling goes into 
that baby and they’ll remember that.

Both Helen and Margaret believe that a child can remember experiences from their time in the womb. For instance, 
Helen’s granddaughter remembers going berry picking with her mother while in the womb. 

According to Helen, when a mother carries a child, everything the mother does, says, and thinks will affect the 



OCTOBER 2020 32 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

child. For example, if a mother uses foul language or belittles someone, the child she is carrying will hear this. 
Further, Helen spoke to the need for a mother to abstain from alcohol while “with child.” Since a child’s experience 
in the womb has direct implications for their journey to adulthood, Helen believes that a child’s time in the womb 
should be “pleasant and beautiful” rather than “threatening.” According to Helen, the necessary care while carrying 
a child “has been known by the Elders for a long time,” but their knowledge has not been recognized because of 
their lack of formal university education. 

The child as powerful and pure at birth

Margaret and Helen described the child as “powerful and pure” at birth. According to Margaret, a child illustrates 
this power when they raise their fist up and cry the moment they are born (English translation of Cree in brackets):

You know what my grandma told me a long time ago when I was a young lady about 14? “Someday 
you’ll have babies and when they are born you’ll notice that they have their little fists like this all the 
time, hanging onto something.” And ... they tell you what they’re hanging onto on their first cry, they tell 
you that. In Cree they say “esônikeyimiyan [the future is in my hands] and I have to protect it. I have to 
protect this future, but you have to help me. Mom and Dad, you have to help me.” That is what every 
child is saying. “The future is in my hands and I need you to help me protect it.”

Margaret explained how her mother and other women taught her to cleanse the child’s hands with herbal oil right 
after birth to protect the future that rests in their hands. Further, she described the child “blessing” those present:

When they have their hands open, they are blessing you ’cause they’re powerful, they’re really pure. 
With their hands they’re blessing the people around them in the house and their surroundings. That’s 
what she used to tell us, that old lady. They’re born pure, they’re very powerful, so they’re blessing you, 
talking to you and telling you you’re receiving their blessings. 

Helen also believes that the child is saying “I come with a gift” as they hold their fist in the air. This gift, which is 
unique to each child, is a talent to be used for the benefit of others. Acknowledging the spiritual power that the 
oskawâsis or newborn baby has, Helen explained that when one hears an oskawâsis cry, they are immediately 
attracted to the spiritual power and purity of that child. 

Margaret told the story of when she was born, and how she was acknowledged as both “powerful and pure”:

When I was being born my mother went through a lot of childbirth, you know it weakened her because 
of giving a lot of childbirth, and she was having problems with me. They asked this Kehtaya [Elder] in 
the community to come and do a ceremony to help my mom ... and then what he did was he put the 
pipe on my mother’s tummy and invited me to come into the world. And he called me by my name. That 
was when I was named and called opipiwakeskwun. And that means when you see a bird flying in one 
spot, that’s a thunderbird. When there’s a light drizzle of rain sending down the powers, healing waters, 
that was why the thunderbird was flying in one spot. That’s what I am named after ... opipiwakeskwun 
comes from the word Iskwew. Iskwew is a woman. See, already that old man knew I was a woman, a 
little girl. He invited me in the ceremony of birth. He invited me to come and then shortly after that I was 
born. He said, “In the future this baby will grow into a woman who is going to have this lodge, going to 
have to do this lodge.” That’s what he told my mother. And my mother told me that to help me ... those 
are the things that our culture did for babies, childbirth, those are the things that they did to help with 
childbirth. They give you to help in the natural way, and we call these the Creator’s natural laws. 

Margaret’s story about her own birth—not shared here in its entirety—can only be fully understood—and is 
only intended to be fully understood—by those who have an extensive understanding of Plains Cree spirituality. 



OCTOBER 2020 33 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

Consequently, when I read the initial thesis document draft to Margaret, she retracted some of what she had 
initially shared with me about her birth so that that sacred information would not be published in my thesis. What 
all people can learn from Margaret’s story, however, is that she was acknowledged as pure and powerful at birth. 

The child journeying through infancy

Helen described infancy as “a sacred journey” in which the child learns to walk and talk. Both Margaret and 
Helen emphasized that, since infancy is a time where the child learns an abundance of new skills, it is important 
to carefully care for the child. Margaret shared that 

children, from the time they are born, start studying. They start learning about their mother, that’s 
the closest person that they have. He or she is being nourished by their mother ... for food and also, 
you know, being warm and fed and clothed and all this and loved and cared for. But at the same time 
they’re already learning. They’re watching, you know, and feeling their mother, and they want to do that. 
Even as little and young as they are, their eyes will wander. They’ll test what they’ve seen. They do that 
and they even talk in their own little language and they think in their little minds. They even do that. 
And then they want to play and they love playing, especially if they get their mom laughing. You know 
they want that forever, and we have to let that with the children because that’s their time and we have 
to respect and honour that. That’s what I said, we have to learn patience ... and when they are about a 
year, two years old they want to do things. They want to help you. They want to please you.

Margaret believes that an infant’s interactions with their mother is a meaningful time in the child’s learning.

Carrying a child or placing a baby in a moss bag was an important part of childrearing for both Elders. A moss 
bag is traditionally made from hide and filled with dry soft moss. Moss bags have lacing all the way up the middle, 
allowing the parent to tie the laces so the baby is snug and secure. In modern times, moss bags are often decorated 
with beading. Margaret talked of her oldest son’s memories of being in a moss bag: 

He said, “I wonder how old I was?” He said, “I remember my grandmother putting me in a moss bag, 
taking my hand and putting it here and wrapping my hand so softly. And I remember taking my other 
one and putting it over, you know, after that and then I started getting really warm ’cause she was 
wrapping me that much.” He said, “I remember that.” And I said, “Well, did you see her?” He said, 
“Nope, but I know it was Grandma.” [Margaret laughs.] I said it could have been me. [Margaret laughs] 
I wrapped all of my babies in moss. Moss, it grows in muskegs, and it’s nice and soft. 

Helen believes that infants, when in a moss bag, learn how to be patient and how to observe. Because they are not 
squirming and looking at their hands, they are able to see what is going on around them. They develop their senses 
of smell, sight, and hearing, and sleep better at night. According to Helen, moss bags can be used for infants up to 
about age one. Helen showed me a beautiful moss bag she was sewing. She also showed me pictures of herself and 
her granddaughter as infants in moss bags. 

Helen shared the importance of properly holding an infant, or as she put it, “a sacred child.” Helen’s mother taught 
Helen to hold an infant by cradling him or her. Helen explained, “Don’t carry an infant under your arm like it is a 
thing—that is not respectful.” Instead, Helen said, “cradle the infant.... Don’t prop a bottle and let the infant feed, 
rather, breastfeed to allow a physical bond.” Helen’s teachings on holding the sacred child reveal her high level of 
respect for the infant. 

Helen believes that the infant has a very significant place in Indigenous ceremonies. She explained that in ceremonies 
where people are gathered in a circle, “the circle is not complete without the very young.” As such, Helen invites 
and encourages mothers to bring their very young children into the circle. She is not concerned when infants crawl 



OCTOBER 2020 34 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

around and touch ceremonial objects because, in their purity, infants “purify the circle.” “Once children begin 
walking on Mother Earth” Helen explained, “they can begin learning about how to act in a ceremony.” 

The child’s spirit as connected to Mother Earth

Helen and Margaret acknowledge the child’s spirit as being connected to Mother Earth and spoke to the importance 
of “teaching to the child’s spirit.” Helen defines the spirit of the child as “the whole child”—which includes the 
“emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual” dimensions of the child. The term Mother Earth is not something I 
myself can define. Rather, one can only begin to understand by listening to Elders’ teachings. Margaret teaches that 

Mother Earth has teachings from what’s on and in her body, you know, the plants, the medicines, the 
food, even our clothing come from her and from the animals, as the white people call them, but us, we 
call them the grandfathers, the grandmothers. Even the sky life, she connects with the sky life because 
the birds that fly come on her breast to feed from her breast. We call her waters the seas, the lakes, 
the rivers, those are her breasts to us. Because if we didn’t have that water we wouldn’t live. We have 
to have that water. And we also have to have the sun ’cause the sun ... sends down the energy to every 
living spirit on earth and the sky life to help them live. So that is one of the reasons why the woman is 
connected to Mother Earth.... And our men, they sit down too when they do the ceremonies. Yeah, they 
sit down when they do the pipe ceremony and even in our lodges the men sit down. They connect with 
Mother Earth too.

It is significant that Margaret made note of the men sitting down. Generally, it is considered most important for 
women to sit close to Mother Earth, because they are recognized by the Creator as very powerful because, like 
Mother Earth, women can give birth. According to Margaret, women can “identify with Mother Earth ’cause only 
Mother Earth can bear and give birth to life.” Margaret explained further:

Grandmother the moon blessed us women and we can identify with her every 28 days. She’s full moon 
every 28 days, and she gave us that gift, that we will become spiritual every 28 days. Because life is 
so sacred, so sacred.

In both English and Cree, Margaret expanded on women’s bond with Mother Earth: 

osâm ohci tâpiskoc kiya iskwew ehahâwasoyan ekwa enihtâwikihat ana awâsis [Because, just like 
you being a woman, you bear life, and you give birth to that child]. peyakwan kikâwînaw ehahâwasot 
pimâtisiwin ekanaweyihtahk enihtâwikîtât kahkiyaw kîkway nipiy mîciwin [Just like our Mother bears 
life, she takes care of it / preserves it, gave life to everything, water, food]. That’s how you are as a 
woman. You bear that life and give birth to that life. You give food to your child, nourish your child. 
That’s how you’re connected with Mother Earth.

Children, like adults, also have a special connection to Mother Earth because she provides many necessities for 
them, such as food and water. In the following passage, Margaret talked in both Cree and English about the 
benefits of children and adults alike sitting on Mother Earth: 

Sitting down on the ground you will feel the energy of Mother Earth, the coolness of Mother Earth. You 
can feel the grass, you can just feel. kimôsihâw kikâwînaw kâhayapiyan waskanihk [You feel Mother 
Earth when you are sitting on her breast/chest]. You know, when you’re sitting on her breast, you just 
feel Mother Earth. You feel her energy. sôhkisiwin kimôsihtân [You feel the strength]. It just goes in you 
’cause you’re connected to her. 

When children sit on the floor of a classroom, rather than sitting on the ground outdoors, Margaret believes they 
are still connected to Mother Earth and can feel her energy. She believes that when teachers sit on the ground with 



OCTOBER 2020 35 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

children, they acknowledge everyone’s connection to Mother Earth and acknowledge the child as equal to the 
adult. Margaret considers that, of all her grandmother’s teachings, one of the greatest “is to be on the same level 
with the children,” which most often involves sitting on the ground together: 

My grandmother said, “Do not scare their spirits away by being so high as if you know more and you 
silence their spirit, they’re not willing to learn. They feel so small. And they’re scared to speak up. But 
when you get to their level they will share.”

Margaret explained that when sitting at eye level with children, “you’re more relaxed and you’re more open to 
welcome, to receive and give that relationship.” According to Margaret, children can 

feel the energy of the care that you have for them because you’re getting to their level. You’re not 
standing up, like teachers do ... teachers mostly stand, and they walk around, and you have to follow 
them, you’re moving your eyes. But the closeness and the caring that we were taught about teaching 
is sitting down with the children, being on the same level with them.

Helen also believes that children are equal to the teacher, and so teachers should sit down with the children and 
be at eye level with them. She cautioned against speaking loudly to children because this is often associated with 
trouble (e.g., at home). Helen believes children cannot hear or process what the teacher is saying when the teacher 
is yelling. She believes children should be talked to with a gentle voice, which will allow the teacher to speak and 
teach to the spirit rather than the mind. Helen believes teachers need to focus on the child’s spirit rather than, for 
example, their clothes, or the fact that the child’s parents may be living an unhealthy lifestyle. “When you touch the 
spirit,” Helen explained, “the child, the awâsis, will learn.” 

Listening to the child’s voice

Margaret and Helen both believe that a child has a lot of knowledge to share with others, and so they stressed 
the importance of “listening to the child’s voice.” Margaret shared that when adults sit with children, they are 
recognizing the child’s ability to teach adults:

You’re welcoming them ... you’re being open to them and you’re welcoming their sense of level, that 
you’re not above them, that you do not know more than they do, but you’re willing to share and willing 
to teach and willing to learn from them. That’s what you’re giving them. They can teach as well.

Margaret shared: 

My grandchildren and my children have taught me how to care for them, and how to listen to them. 
They also taught me patience. Patience that in time they will want to learn what I want to share. But 
in the meantime, all I have to do is watch them, to look after them, to protect them and see that they 
don’t get hurt. Those are the kinds of things they taught me. They taught me responsibility. They made 
it stronger. They made my caring stronger and they taught me how to listen to them.... And one of the 
things that I was told, too, is that when your children don’t listen to you, you tend to start speaking 
louder and more sternly or even yelling at them and that’s when you drive their spirits away. Because 
you don’t have patience. You’re not showing them that we need to take time together. 

Margaret believes that when adults and children take time together, the child teaches the adult both patience and 
responsibility. It is the adult’s role to diligently and openly accept these teachings.

Helen believes that a child’s voice must be listened to from the moment they are conceived. When mothers with 
child ask, “What about me?” when overwhelmed by being with child, Helen reminds these mothers that there are 
now two lives, and the mother must do what is best for the child, who, is also asking “What about me?” Helen 



OCTOBER 2020 36 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

believes that mothers must care for the child in their womb in response. Helen acknowledges the difficulty that 
some mothers face but asserts that they must sit with Elders/grandmothers and receive knowledge, encouragement, 
and strength from them. 

Helen believes a parent must allow their child to have a voice and to be heard. She cautions that when a child asks 
questions, the parent must notice and respond. If the parent is not able to answer the question, they may send the 
child to an Elder who can better address the question. Helen pointed out that a child “gets used to the rhythm of 
a parent’s voice” and it becomes harder for them to internalize what their parent is telling them. Therefore, the 
parent, even if they are able to answer the child’s question or give the child a teaching, may still go to an Elder and 
ask the Elder to teach the child. With the teaching coming from “a less familiar voice,” the child will be more likely 
to listen to, and accept, the teaching. For example, Helen talked about a time when her daughter needed advice in 
a particular area. Helen had advised her several times, but her daughter did not appear to use or internalize her 
advice. So, Helen asked an Elder to give the same teaching to her daughter. Months later, at a gathering, Helen 
noticed that this Elder had quietly sought out her daughter and was speaking to her. Helen kept her distance, 
knowing that if her daughter saw her observing this, she might stop listening to the Elder. Later, Helen’s daughter 
came to Helen and excitedly shared the seemingly new teaching the Elder had given her.

According to Margaret, children willingly communicate the areas in which they want to receive teachings, and it is 
the adult’s responsibility to respond to these requests. For example, Margaret reflected on instances where children 
touch ceremonial objects which are meant to be off limits:

In ceremonies, I hear mothers say “Get away from that” before their children experience it and fulfil 
their curiosity. Let the children do that, touch the ceremonial object. And they’ll ask, “What is this for?” 
And that’s when your teaching comes in. They’re asking for your teaching. They’re asking for you to 
exercise your teachings. “What is this for?” Okay, you’ll tell them that. “And why can’t we touch them or 
play with them?” That’s when you need to explain, “They’re for ceremonies and that’s the only time we 
use them. We’ll do it together. I’ll teach you how.” 

Recognizing the importance of responding to a child’s curiosity, Margaret welcomes a child’s curiosity in a ceremony 
because it is a great opportunity for a child to ask for, and receive, teachings. 

The child as a butterfly

Margaret views the child as a butterfly who is free in spirit. She explained:

You look at a butterfly. They are so delicate. They’re so soft and there’s such beauty in them. You can 
see the purity in them and the beauty. And that’s the way a child is, a child is free in spirit. Like their 
mind will go, you know, a child has the power to leave spiritually and still have life in their body, but 
they’re flying around observing. That’s how they know where they’re gonna be and then they’ll even 
think that “Hey, I was here before ’cause my mother was talking to me while I was in her womb.” ... They 
have the ability to think and they’ll store that. They’re not forgetting it ... but they’re storing it, in their 
little minds and in their hearts and in their senses.

The child as a butterfly analogy has direct implications for early childhood educators because it illustrates a child’s 
need for flexible and free use of learning time in the classroom where the child can explore different learning 
opportunities at will:

Well, you look at a butterfly. Just watch a butterfly. It’ll go to one leaf or maybe go to another flower. 
They’ll have the taste of it, and they’ll have the experience of touching that plant and then flying away 
and learning again and then they’ll come back to where they were before.



OCTOBER 2020 37 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

Like a butterfly, children’s spirits flutter from one learning opportunity or thought to another. As such, Margaret 
cautions teachers that children will choose the amount of time they will pay attention to a task:

I always tell teachers when I go and talk to them that I’m not gonna force the children to stay two 
hours with me or an hour with me. ’Cause they have their own space, like we do. Sometimes we’re 
sitting there and we’re listening and then finally, you know, we’re not listening at all ’cause already 
your spirit had enough and needed to go elsewhere to digest what we learn. And that’s the same thing 
with children. But theirs is a shorter span because the spirit they’re given is to learn and to pick up in 
different parts and different areas. And that spirit will go, it will wander off. You’ll be talking there and 
the child will be there, but they’re not really listening. So we have to respect and honour that. 

Instead of scolding a child for not paying attention to the teacher during class, Margaret suggests that a teacher ask 
the child:

What is it that you had to experience? I’d like to learn about that. Are you willing to share, or can you 
talk about it sometime? It must be very interesting. I’d like to learn, and I’d like to know about it. 

Margaret explained that when a child is faced with such questions from the teacher, “sometimes they’ll come back 
and tell you more about it, sometimes they won’t.” 

To determine the amount of time a child requires to complete a learning task, Margaret advises teachers to listen 
to the child’s voice:

Our children, we’re always told they’re slow or behind coming from another school. But I always think 
they’re not slow, they’re not behind. It’s the teachings that we had, we are given to be free, to be flexible 
with that child to allow them their time. Even ask them, “How long do you want to spend time with me?” 
Respect and honour that and they’ll tell you. “Will you be able to get what I am gonna be teaching you 
in that time?” And they’ll tell you.

This respecting and honouring of the child and the amount of time they wish to spend with a teacher further 
illustrates Margaret’s and Helen’s belief that children’s voices need to be heard and responded to. 

After being gifted knowledge from Helen and Margaret, I had much to reflect on. Next, in the “Discussion” section, 
I touch on a few ways that I made sense of their teachings. 

Discussion
The image of the child the Elders shared with me is deeply rooted in their Plains Cree spirituality. Aligning myself 
closer to Plains Cree epistemology and whole-part relationships helped me make sense of the Elders’ teachings, 
long after the research took place. This required me to be both perceptive and reflective along a lifelong learning 
trajectory, thus being a continually active, rather than passive, recipient of the Elders’ teachings. Listening to the 
Elders’ teachings, and making sense of them, was a continuous process of synthesis, spurring me to recollect all 
the “parts” of their teachings and connecting these parts in order to understand the “whole” of what they were 
saying. This required me, at times, to silently and contemplatively question the teaching of an Elder when it did 
not immediately make sense to me or to others. By thinking back to the Elders’ previous teachings, I was able to 
synthesize connections among them, allowing me to discern answers to my query, or the query of others, and 
come to a fuller understanding of the teaching at hand. 

Such an instance of synthesis was spurred by the questioning of a colleague, “John,” after I shared with him 
Helen’s and Margaret’s understandings of the child as a butterfly. John, who very much appreciated the teachings, 



OCTOBER 2020 38 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

wondered if referring to children as butterflies belittled or essentialized them. I began to momentarily consider 
his concern regarding the possibility of belittling children. He, however, was not addressing the situation 
holistically. According to Brant Castellano (2000), “the holistic quality of knowledge implies that isolating pieces 
from experience and trying to make sense of them apart from the environment that gave rise to them flies in 
the face of reality and is bound to lead to frustration” (p. 30). Because John’s thinking was informed by a Euro-
Western epistemology in which animals and insects are considered less than human, he was initially unable to 
fully appreciate this Plains Cree teaching on children. After briefly considering John’s point of view, I thought more 
holistically and acknowledged the equality of all living creatures when I recalled Margaret referring to animals as 
the “grandmothers” and “grandfathers” of the Plains Cree people: 

Mother Earth has teachings from what’s on and in her body, you know, the plants, the medicines, the 
food, even our clothing come from her and from the animals as the white people call them, but us, we 
call them the grandfathers, the grandmothers.

By referring to children as butterflies, Margaret respectfully acknowledges butterflies as family members. This 
respect for all of creation, not just humans, is echoed by scholars (Henderson, 2000; Steinhauer, 2002), including 
Cree scholar Sharon Venne (1998, as cited in Watts, 2013), who writes that all of life, including humans, animals, 
and plants, is an interdependent and “equal part of creation” (Watts, p. 23). 

Being able to more fully appreciate the imagery of the child as a butterfly required me to stay distant from 
anthropocentricism and recognize the butterfly’s place in the whole of Plains Cree creation. As suggested by James 
Waldram (1997) in Brant Castellano (2000), I was processing and interpreting information “in the context of 
existing information” (p. 23) in order to revise my understandings of the imagery of the child as a butterfly. This 
synthesis was a process in which one observation or experience informed another. In Battiste’s (2013) terms, I 
was engaging in a “dynamic, living process of watching, listening, connecting, responding and renewing” (p. 121). 
This epistemological process required me, the recipient of knowledge, to be incisive, alert, and reflective, always 
revisiting the Elders’ teachings and discerning the meaning behind their teaching as necessary. 

Stories told by Elders often rely on the whole to understand the part. For example, the teaching on the butterfly, 
the part, relies on an understanding of creation and Mother Earth, the whole. The Elders’ teaching on the child as 
a butterfly can be better understood when one is attuned to the whole of Plains Cree creation. Here I was not just 
a passive recipient of “traditional knowledge” on the Elders’ teaching of the butterfly. Rather, I had to interpret this 
traditional knowledge in the context of my own empirical knowledge born out of my relationship with the Elders, 
and even in the context of revealed knowledge. For example, when my colleague suggested that imagining children 
as butterflies might be a way of essentializing children, I momentarily considered his viewpoint. I then followed 
my intuition, however, and challenged his suggestion by holistically referring to the butterfly as an equal part of 
creation. 

Doing my best to attend to a holistic way of knowing in an Indigenous context throughout my research with the 
Elders required me, the learner, to recurrently seek knowledge from the Elders and the community and to continually 
synthesize this knowledge. Therefore, parachuting in and out of the community to hastily gather information that 
is specific “parts” confined to the research topic would not have sufficed. Without an extended relationship with 
Elders, continued teachings, and continued immersion into the community (by way of, for example, attending 
cultural events and ceremonies when welcomed), I would not have begun an earnest and fledgling journey toward 
a holistic understanding of the Plains Cree culture—and consequently would not have been positioned to begin to 
authentically make some sense of Elders’ stories. The guidance of the Elders, community members, and ceremony 
served to holistically assist and inform me, the learner, as I interpreted and shared the Elders’ stories. The more 



OCTOBER 2020 39 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

I immersed myself in the community, the more knowledge the stories offered me. Learning from the Elders’ 
teachings required an extended commitment to learning Indigenous ways of knowing. This lifelong learning 
afforded me the skills to begin to decipher what was valued, and why, in the particular Plains Cree community 
in which I was welcomed, thus enabling me to synthesize and begin to make sense of the stories through either a 
borrowed Indigenous lens (as a non-Plains Cree learner) or an Indigenous lens (as a learner of Quw’utsun descent) 
rather than solely through a Euro-Western lens (as a learner of European descent and a student of the university). 

Moving forward: Implications
The understandings of childhood shared through my learning journey with the Elders can serve to counter the 
dominance of Euro-Western understandings of the child in early childhood education and offer a starting point 
to address the TRC’s (2015c) call to action to develop culturally appropriate early childhood education programs 
for Indigenous families. Culturally appropriate early childhood education for the Plains Cree community in my 
study, for example, incudes acknowledging children’s spirits as connected to the land that is Mother Earth. As 
recommended by Helen and Margaret, this involves ongoing opportunities for children to engage in education 
that is led by Elders, is land based, includes Indigenous language, and allows the child opportunities to be free in 
spirit, since, land, language, and the child’s spirit are all inextricably interconnected. It is important to note that my 
research is specific to one of many Plains Cree communities, and research with other Indigenous communities is 
needed to address the TRC’s (2015c) call to action. 

Providing culturally appropriate early childhood education for Indigenous children will require reconfigurations 
of educational systems built on colonial perspectives and a shift to systems based on local Indigenous community 
knowledge and culturally informed ways of understanding and teaching children (United Nations, 2008). 
Decolonizing education requires structural changes but also local classroom-level changes that can be enacted 
by curricular leaders and teachers in relationship with local Indigenous communities and Elders. In addition 
to sharing the Elders’ teachings, my research addressed the question: “In what ways can educators build and 
maintain relationships with local Indigenous communities and Elders in order to inform their understanding of the 
Indigenous children they teach?” My research process, where I forged relationships with community members—
specifically Elders—can serve as a point of reflection on how others might consider their own way of going about 
relationship building over a continuum of time in order to inform curriculum making. 

Once relationships are established with Indigenous communities and Elders, and if knowledge on Indigenous 
childhoods is shared, the Elders will have specific preferences for how this knowledge is disseminated to educators. 
For example, after the Elders in my research shared their knowledge with me, they asked that I, with help from 
the community, organize a talking circle in which the Elders shared their teachings with some of the Plains Cree 
early childhood teachers from the school division where my research took place. This talking circle provided 
an opportunity for the Elders and teachers to reflect on ways that these teachings could culturally inform their 
interactions with their Plains Cree students. At the request of the community, I also presented the Elders’ teachings 
to early childhood teachers in the division and to the Early Learning Committee. My involvement is a very minute 
component of the countless ways in which the division equips teachers to provide culturally informed education 
for Indigenous students, such as regular opportunities for teachers to attend public Indigenous celebrations that 
undoubtedly inform the teachers’ ongoing relationships with Elders and the wider Indigenous community. 

Both Margaret and Helen emphasized that learning is a lifelong journey, and so my research should not be 
conclusive in nature. Cared for and kept alive through oral tradition for generations and held in high regard by 
community members, the Elders’ teachings do not need a conclusive analysis to accord their teachings legitimacy. 



OCTOBER 2020 40 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

It is the Elders’ words that should resonate with the reader as they travel their own journey of learning about Plains 
Cree childhoods and, more broadly, Indigenous childhoods, and reflect on how these teachings can inform early 
childhood curriculum and pedagogy. The importance placed on learning as a lifelong journey was summed up by 
Helen, who, with a nod of agreement from Margaret, said, “We are thankful for the words that our ancestors have 
left behind and believe that these words will continue to teach.”

Note: This research was supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

   
1  When I refer to “my research,” I respectfully acknowledge that it is more accurately described as “a shared learning journey with Elders and 

the Plains Cree community where I was gifted with ancestral knowledge.” For ease of reading and due to the lack of a succinct term, I use “my 
research” instead.

2  Portions of this paper were drawn from Akerman, 2010 (my master’s thesis).

3  Pseudonyms were used for all participants in the study.



OCTOBER 2020 41 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

References
Adams, D. H., Wilson, S., Heavy Head, R., & Gordon, E. W. (2015). Ceremony at a boundary fire: A story of Indigenist knowledge. Sydney 

eScholarship Repository. 

Akerman, J. (2010). The image of the child from the perspective of Plains Cree Elders and Plains Cree early childhood teachers (master’s 
thesis). https://era.library.ualberta.ca/files/p8418q00h#.VpBc-JMrJ7M

Ball, J. (2012). Federal investments in strengthening Indigenous capacity for culturally based early childhood education and care. In N. 
Howe & L. Prochner (Eds.), Recent perspectives on early childhood education and care in Canada (pp. 337–366). University of 
Toronto Press.

Battiste, M. (2008). Research ethics for protecting Indigenous knowledge and heritage: Institutional and researcher responsibilities. In K. 
Norman, Y. S. Denzin, S. Lincoln, & L. T. Smith (Eds.), Handbook of critical and Indigenous methodologies (pp. 497–510). SAGE. 
https://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781483385686

Battiste, M. (2013). Decolonizing education: Nourishing the learning spirit. Purich.

Bezanson, K. (2018). Caring society v. Canada: Neoliberalism, social reproduction, and Indigenous child welfare. Journal of Law and 
Social Policy, 28, 152–173. https://digitalcommons.osgoode.yorku.ca/jlsp/vol28/iss1/8/

Brant Castellano, M. (2000). Updating Aboriginal traditions of knowledge. In G. Sefa Dei, B. Hall, & D. Rosenberg (Eds.), Indigenous 
knowledges in global contexts: Multiple readings of our world. (pp. 21–36). University of Toronto Press. 

Brayboy, B. (2018). Foreword. In R. S. Minthorn & H. J. Shotton (Eds.), Reclaiming Indigenous research in higher education. (pp. ix–xxi). 
Rutgers University Press.

Brayboy, B. M. J., Gough, H. R., Leonard, B., Roehl, R. F. II, & Solyom, J. A. (2011). Reclaiming scholarship: Critical indigenous research 
methodologies. In S. D. Lapan, M. T. Quartaroli, & F. J. Riemer (Eds.), Qualitative research: An introduction to methods and 
designs (pp. 423–450). Jossey-Bass.

Cannella, G., & Viruru, R. (2004). Childhood and postcolonization. RoutledgeFalmer.

Dahlberg, G., Moss, P., & Pence, A. (2013). Beyond quality in early childhood education and practice: Languages of evaluation (3rd ed.). 
RoutledgeFalmer.

Dei, G. J. S. (2013). Critical perspectives on Indigenous research. Socialist Studies, 18(3), 27–38. https://doi.org/10.18740/S47G64

Drawson, A. S., Toombs, E, & Mushquash, C. J. (2017). Indigenous research methods: A systematic review. The International Indigenous 
Policy Journal, 2(8), 1–25. https://doi.org/10.18584/iipj.2017.8.2.5

Ermine, W. (2007). The ethical space of engagement. Indigenous Law Journal, 6 (1), 193–204. https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/
ilj/article/view/27669/20400

First Nations Information Governance Centre. (2014). Ownership, control, access and possession (OCAP™): The path to First Nations 
information governance. https://fnigc.ca/sites/default/files/docs/ocap_path_to_fn_information_governance_en_final.pdf

Fleer, M., Chen, F, & van Oers, B. (2018). New directions in early childhood education practice: International developments and practice 
gaps. In Fleer, M & van Oers, B. (Eds.), International handbook of early childhood education (pp. 955–966). Springer Nature.

Gandini, L. (2004). Foundations of the Reggio Emilia approach. In J. Hendrick (Ed.), Next steps toward teaching the Reggio way: Accepting 
the challenge to change (pp. 13–26). Pearson.

Gaudry, A. (2018). Epilogue: Next steps in Indigenous community-engaged research: Supporting research self-sufficiency in Indigenous 
Communities. In K. Thor Carlson (Eds), Towards a new ethnohistory: Community engaged scholarship among the people of the 
river. In K. T. Carlson, J. S. Lutz, Naxaxalhts’i, & D. M. Schaepe (pp. 254–258). University of Manitoba Press.

Gaudry, A., & Lorenz, D. (2018). Indigenization as inclusion, reconciliation, and decolonization: Navigating the different 
visions for Indigenizing the Canadian academy in Indigenous communities. AlterNative, 14(3), 218–227. https://doi.



OCTOBER 2020 42 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

org/10.11771177180118785382

Greenwood, M., de Leeuw, S., & Fraser, T. N. (2007). Aboriginal children and early childhood development and education in Canada: 
Linking the past to the present and the present to the future. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 30(1), 5–21.

Højholt, C. (2018). Introducing reflections. In M. Fleer & B. van Oers (Eds.), International handbook of early childhood education (pp. 
471–482). Springer Nature.

Henderson, J. Y. (2000). Ayukpachi: Empowering Aboriginal thought. In M. Battiste (Ed), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision (pp. 
248–278). UBC Press. 

Kaiwipunikauikawēkiu, L. (2018). Toward equity and equality: Transforming universities into Indigenous places of learning. In R. S. 
Minthorn, & H. J. Shotton, (Eds.), Reclaiming Indigenous research in higher education (pp. 162–177). Rutgers University Press. 

Kovach, M. (2016). Moving forward, pushing back: Indigenous methodologies in the academy. In N. K. Denzin & M. D. Giardina (Eds), 
Qualitative inquiry through a critical lens (pp. 31–39). Routledge.

Lambert, L. (2014). Research for Indigenous survival: Indigenous research methodologies in the behavioral sciences. Salish Kootenai College 
Press.

Lavallée, L. F. (2009). Practical application of an indigenous research framework and two qualitative Indigenous research methods: 
Sharing circles and Anishinaabe symbol-based reflection. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 8(1) 21–36. doi: 
10.1177/160940690900800103

Malaguzzi, L., Castagnetti, M., Giudici, C., Rinaldi, C., Vecchi, V., Moss, P. … & McCall, J. (2016). Loris Malaguzzi and the schools of 
Reggio Emilia: A selection of his writings and speeches, 1945–1993. Routledge.

Minthorn, R. S., & Shotton, H. J. (2018). Conclusion: Repositioning the norms of the academy: Research as wisdom. In R. S. Minthorn & 
H. J. Shotton (Eds.), Reclaiming Indigenous research in higher education (pp. 206–214). Rutgers University Press.

Moss, P. (2016). Why can’t we get beyond quality? Contemporary Issues in Early Childhood, 17(1), 8–15. https://doi.
org/10.11771463949115627895

New, R. (2018). Rethinking curriculum as imagined childhoods. Journal of Early Childhood Studies, 2(2), 364–382. https://doi.
org/10.24130/eccd-jecs.196720182274

Pidgeon, M. (2018). Moving between theory and practice within an Indigenous research paradigm. Qualitative Research, 1–19. https://
doi.org/10.11771468794118781380

Rigney, L. I. (2006). Indigenist research and Aboriginal Australia. In J. E. Kunnie & N. I. Goduka (Eds.), Peoples’ wisdom and power: 
Affirming our knowledge through narratives (pp. 32–48). Ashgate.

Smith, L. T. (2013). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples (2nd ed.). University of Otago Press.

Steinhauer, E. (2002). Thoughts on an indigenous research methodology. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 26(2), 69–81. https://
www.researchgate.net/publication/234718488_Thoughts_on_an_Indigenous_Research_Methodology

Taylor, A., & Pacini-Ketchabaw, V. (2015). Introduction. In A. Taylor & V. Pacini-Ketchabaw (Eds.), Unsettling the colonial places and 
spaces of early childhood education (pp. 1–17). Routledge. 

Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC). (2015a). Canada’s residential schools: History, part 1. Origins to 1939. Final 
report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (Vol. 1). http://www.trc.ca/assets/pdf/Volume_1_History_Part_1_
English_Web.pdf

Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC). (2015b). Honouring the truth, reconciling for the future: Summary of the final 
report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. http://www.trc.ca/assets/pdf/Honouring_the_Truth_Reconciling_
for_the_Future_July_23_2015.pdf

Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC). (2015c). Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: Calls to action. http://



OCTOBER 2020 43 Vol. 45 No. 3

JOURNAL OF CHILDHOOD STUDIES ARTICLES FROM RESEARCH

trc.ca/assets/pdf/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf

United Nations. (2008). United Nations declaration on the rights of Indigenous Peoples. https://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/
DRIPS_en.pdf

Watts, V. (2013). Indigenous place-thought and agency amongst humans and non humans (First Woman and Sky Woman go on a 
European world tour!). Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education and Society, 2(1), 20–34. https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.
php/des/article/view/19145

Weber-Pillwax, C. (2001). Orality in northern Cree Indigenous worlds. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), 149–165.

Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Fernwood.