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EESTI ELU reedel, 25. septembril 2020 — Friday, September 25, 2020
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Time Machine: Historic Rural Schools in Estonia and Canada Vincent Teetsov At the end of July, premier Doug Ford and Education Minister Stephen Lecce released Ontario’s plan to open schools again this September. The plain detailed that class sizes would stay the same. Students from grade 4 to 12 are required to wear a mask; grade 3 and below are encouraged to wear masks. In addition, lunch and recess time are staggered. As schools work through this challenging new semester, these special measures and the sub ject of class size prompts a ret rospective look at how schools have evolved over the centuries. While the current cohort of students and their teachers at tend school with concern for their health looming, different concerns have circulated through previous generations, particular ly for students attending rural schools. In the mid 1800s, many stu dents in small towns and rural areas across Canada would go to one-room schoolhouses, where pupils from a large age range (between grade 1 and grade 8) would be taught by the same teacher, though not neces
The Promised Land The pictured sculpture, if one can call it that, is intended to grace the side entrance of a new condominium building on Redpath at the corner of Roehampton. Nearby is St. Peter’s Estonian Lutheran Church. Also the Roehampton hotel, much in the news lately, thanks to the building having been turned into a residence for the homeless who have brought with them numerous
At the Walls of Jericho, calling to the downtrodden. Photo: TN
sarily at once. Rotating sche dules were applied to distribute lesson times. In Ontario, class sizes could range from 12 to 80 pupils. After grade 8, continu ing one’s studies at a grammar school was not compulsory, and accessible primarily to children from wealthy families. In terms of the school build ings themselves, the facilities were dark and cold. Students worked by the light of lamps or whatever light came through the windows. Students could be asked to carry wood from home, to contribute to the class room’s wood burning stove. In the 1840s, education activist Egerton Ryerson brought re form to implement designs with more windows and ventilation, improving the quality of school facilities. In Estonia, literacy was ad vocated for relatively early on by the Lutheran Church. As a result of this, a majority of kihelkonnad (“parishes”) had schools by the end of the 1600s. By 1867, for every 300 adults, it was legally required for there to be a school with a qualified schoolmaster. The year before, decisions on school life became the domain of peasants, rather than manor
problems, most having to do with security and hygiene. Resulting, in one instance the building of a high fence and locked gate in front of a pre viously open parking lot, abutting the hotel. Three houses, including one that serves as a pre-school day care centre, were forced to take this step for their own protection. Section 37 of the Toronto Planning Act permits the City to authorize increases in permit ted height and density as re quired by zoning laws. In return the developers must provide community benefits. Either with groomed green space, or in that nebulous category of public art. The first requires maintenance, the second is, after purchase, worry free. And if some locals do not consider that to be art, well, that is a long-lasting de bate, is it not. All the developer wants is more money, higher buildings, and the density in an already crowded neighbourhood is irrelevant with view to the bottom line. Local zoning bylaws, in fact, are the reason that avaricious developers have backed out of purchasing Toronto’s Estonian House. Even the present deal is not set in stone, as DK Acqui sitions and their partners, silent or otherwise, wish for greater density, a higher building. The local ratepayers association there will have a say; alas, in the Mt. Pleasant and Eglinton neighbourhood it was the city that went against opposition, siding with the offer of public art instead of much needed
multi-purpose spaces. In Cana da, schoolhouses could serve as community hubs and spaces for social interaction. In Estonia, schoolhouses could be used to detain parents of children who were not present at school, and did not pay the requisite fines.
Kuie schoolhouse, located at the Eesti Vabaõhumuuseum. Photo: evm.ee
owners; though the manor had to provide land and construction materials for schools to be built. In the Tsarist era, a design stan dard was applied to the con struction of schools, which we can see in the layout of the koo limaja (“schoolhouse”) in Kuie, Järvamaa, built around 1877. The schoolhouse building, which was relocated to the Eesti Vabaõhumuuseum in the year 2000, has a large class room with several windows, three rooms for the teacher to inhabit, a kitchen, two pantries, a dressing room, and an en trance room. Outside was a garden, barn, sheds, and an out house. In the depth of the school year, from October to April, walking to and from
school and to the outhouse in the snow offered an unpleasant experience. While a facility like this was better quality than the afore mentioned Canadian one-room schoolhouse, these schools came with language restrictions in the curriculum. Arithmetic, earth science, writing, and sing ing were all taught in Russian. Reading and religion were al lowed to be taught in Estonian. Class sizes were also high, with an average of 70 boys and girls from age 10 to 17 being taught at one time. School was compulsory throughout the week for children from the ages of 10 to 13. In both Estonia and Canada, these old schoolhouses were
green space. St. Peter’s church was not mentioned by accident. The homeless have repeatedly dese crated their property. They are there temporarily – for two, perhaps three years, the city is not saying – ruling the neig hourhood. The blue sculpture in the photo is sending a call to the yellow multi-legged mon strosity across the street, in front of another new condo building. Straight outta John Wyndham’s “Day of the Triffids”. (That book addressed the plight of mankind, alle gorically blinded by a meteor shower, assailed by a huge in vasive plant species. The yellow thing on Redpath could easily be such; it is not a recognizable figure at all. And if Wyndham was prescient, anticipating COVID-19, he was not the only one). Mayhap that beast is slouching toward Bethlehem, waiting to be reborn, to para phrase W.B. Yeats’ classic end-of-time poem “The Second Coming”. Or is it one of Joshua’s trum peters at the battle of Jericho, where the Israelites were fol lowing the clarion call of their leader towards their promised land? For the homeless, those unfortunately addicted to the degree that they have no neigh bourly emotions other than satisfying short-term desires, it may signalling another message – here be no law except our own. Forty years ago, when the neighbourhood was known as The Young and Eligible, with T.G.I.F just steps away a re
Kaili Kinnon’s… (Continued from page 8)
The driving, classic electric piano tone she played with on a small keyboard brought us back to the invigorating soul and r&b of her past shows. However, for this concert, the simplified live setup (keys and vocals) that she utilized led audiences to focus on her pure vocal aptitude. To start, Kaili played through two crowd favourites of hers, “Tenderness” and “Come Be Near”, both projected with con viction. Never one to leave her fans out there feeling alone, she involved the audience with the words of the latter song’s refrain, drawing us in close. In between songs, Kaili spoke about the tale of the mystical fern flower called the “sõnajalaõis.” The word sõna jalaõis itself was declared to be the most Estonian word in April 2019, after a vote organized by ERR, coming from a legend about a flower that lovers searched for on the occasion of the summer solstice. This was the catalyst for her song “Be So Sweet”, which was embellished with a shimmering key change and flourishing vocal runs.
veller might have been scared sober, going home after last call at that watering spot. Art it is not, for some, but it is definitely in your face and public. That trumpeter certainly is heralding a change today, one not wished for by the majority. TÕNU NAELAPEA
Notwithstanding the realities of small schools, limited re sources, and curriculum limita tions, disease was also a con cern for Canadian and Estonian school age children in the past. In 1910, Canada experienced its first outbreak of polio. Before Jonas Salk’s polio vaccine was approved and circulated in 1955, quarantines and school closures were periodically en acted to control the rampant spread of the disease among young children, who were most vulnerable. In 1958, a lastehalvatus (“polio”) epidemic swept through Elva, Otepää, Põltsamaa, and Tartu. 986 cases of polio were registered in Estonia in 1958, a dramatic increase from previous years. It’s astonishing how dramati cally schools have adjusted their format and become regu lated since the dawn of formal education. Now, as the time for students to return to school has arrived in Canada, we once again see how schools adapt to larger global changes.
The music of Kaili Kinnon often speaks directly to other people, almost as if she were writing a letter by the light of candles. Which correlated well with a song she brought to us, inspired by the words of her cousin, a pastor and teacher who told her “Alati on midagi veel” (“There’s always some thing more.”) Kaili brought to mind the process of “finding yourself, losing yourself, going through the long dark night, and then emerging out of it.” With somber verses and exultant choruses that burst out like a champion, she honestly ac knowledged turmoil while equipping us for personal vic tory. This is intrinsically tied to the uplifting gospel cadences she structures her songs around. At the end, Kaili treated us to an Estonian-language encore, which softly and reassuringly brought in the night. ••• You can watch Kaili’s concert in conjunction with Tartu College’s 50th birthday party video on YouTube (www. youtube.com/watch?v=xhX ZFZKuMvM&ab_channel=VE MU); or, to see just the concert, visit Estonian Music Week’s Facebook page (www.facebook. com/1324121201027503/vid eos/1033836797052318). To stay in the loop about upcoming live-stream concerts, sign up to Estonian Music Week’s email newsletter (www. estonianmusicweek.ca) and fol low Estonian Music Week and VEMU on Facebook – we sin cerely look forward to you be ing able to enjoy these shows!
