The 25 African-born, newly immigrated students attending Ecole Alexandre-Taché have many challenges, but they are united in voicing their polite appreciation for their new school and their strange love of snow.
When questioned, each African named the one thing they like best about St. Albert, and that's snow.
"The only snow I knew was in a photo of Mount Kilimanjaro," said Axel Muco, 13, who is from Burundi.
Yves Mugambira, 14, is entranced by the white stuff. Every lunch break this winter, no matter how cold it is, he walks from his school to slide down Seven Hills on a plastic saucer.
"He cannot get enough of it. Even when there was no snow, every lunch hour he went over to the hill to slide on the ice," said principal Marcel Ouellette.
Nursing home
Alexandre-Taché is the only francophone high school in St. Albert and its unique location in the west wing of the old Youville Home also sets this school apart. As a francophone school it is in the North Central Francophone school district and draws students from Sturgeon County and north Edmonton, but the bulk of its students – 70 per cent – are St. Albert residents.
In this school, with an enrolment of just 140 junior and senior high students, the 25 who previously hailed from Rwanda, Burundi and Congo stand out.
What must it be like to come from Africa, arrive in wintery Edmonton and then be sent on a one-hour bus ride to an old nursing home/school where most of the students and teachers are Canadian born? For the most part, the students have only good things to say.
"It's a good place here," said 18-year-old Melissa Uwera.
She is still struggling to learn English and had difficulty describing her former school, except to say that it was big and made of brick.
"This school is very small. There were 42 students in my old class and one teacher. Here there are 12 (students)."
The small classes mean they get a lot of individual attention.
Uwera and her brother Ray Hodari, 16, are the oldest African students at Alexandre-Taché. Their story is typical of many of the other African students at the school because their parents immigrated separately and the family was split up in the process.
The siblings, who came to Edmonton about a year ago, are fluent in French but their understanding of English is more limited.
"They are shy by nature, especially about expressing feelings. That's the way with many new arrivals to the school," the principal said.
Language barriers
Hodari explained that his parents wanted them to attend a francophone school because they went to a French school in Rwanda, but French is not his first language.
"I speak Rwandan. My language is Kinyarwandan," he said.
"French was the institutional language of the schools and government. I believe their parents chose the francophone school because they thought it would be easier than having them try to learn a whole new language, although they do learn English in class," said Ouellette.
Ouellette provides the students with an African-born student mentor who has been in the school longer.
"The cultural steps these students must take are huge. It's overwhelming," Ouellette said, as he explained just one of the differences that it took his staff some time to figure out.
"Two years ago we had two students who didn't know or recognize the symbols of the boys' or girls' washroom. They didn't know what they meant, so they went in what we culturally here would say was the wrong washroom."
Ouellette said when he saw the students enter the wrong washroom he showed them the symbols on the door.
"But they found that confusing because in their country many of the men wear long shirts that look like gowns. Not all men there wear slacks," Ouellette said.
Post-war children
Loic Ntigura Rucogoz, 13, is a clear spokesperson for the group because his English skills are stronger, but like the others he is very private about his personal life, except to say his wish is to stay in Canada.
"I left Rwanda when I was seven. My mother lives in Belgium still. My father is in Rwanda. Now I live in Canada with my grandmother," he said.
"There's more freedom here," Ntigura Rucogoz explained, "It's less strict."
That newly found freedom is difficult for many of the students' parents to understand, said family liaison, Nshole Modeste, who works for La Cité francophone and helps new African immigrants to get settled.
"I understand the problems of the parents. Most work two jobs. They send money home to Africa and because they are working so hard, they don't have enough time with their kids," said Modeste.
Many of the families are sponsored to come to Canada by relatives, who already live here. Then one by one, as they get the funds, they bring the rest of the family members to Canada.
The immigrant parents have high hopes and high expectations for their children and often have trouble understanding why their children want to play sports or go sliding on a hill instead of studying. In addition, their children have a different level of schooling and though their parents hope they can attend university, many struggle in their classes.
"If you phone home, the parents become very concerned – more concerned than Canadian parents. And they will tell me, 'I don't want my son to play basketball. I want him to get good marks.' But the students need social interaction too. That concept is too new for some parents," Ouellette said.
In addition, the youths' social activities are often limited to school because no close friends live near their Edmonton homes.
When asked if they were homesick, all the students talked about the family they left behind.
"I miss my aunties and uncles. I miss the food. It's healthier than Canadian food," said Hodari, who works at a McDonald's Restaurant in Edmonton and is saving his money in hopes of making a trip to Rwanda soon.
He struggled to express his memories of his homeland to Canadian people, who cannot imagine what his African home was like. When asked if he lived near a jungle, he answered, 'Yes,' but his eyes clearly said that he didn't really live in a jungle. He just said that because it was easiest and what he thought the listeners expected to hear.
But then he looked straight ahead and found the words he needed.
"I miss the view. I miss the mountains. I miss a lot," he said.
In contrast, Muco, who previously thought snow was the white stuff on top of Mount Kilimanjaro, has now lived here for six years. He sounded more settled in his school and in his new Canadian life. He said the Canadian students at little Ecole Alexandre-Taché had made him welcome.
"We're a team. We like the music together. They love us and want us to teach them to speak African," he said. But then he paused and looked at the other students for help.
All of the youths spoke French together quickly.
"We remember everything about Africa. We sometimes miss it," Muco said.
