We Were Children

In the 1950s, Lyna's mother gets her ready for the long trip to a Christian boarding school far away. The family faces the emotional weight of separation as a young child is sent away. This setup sets the tone for the indoctrination narrative to follow.

A man arrives at the home and takes Lyna to the boarding school, marking the abrupt detachment from family. The mother and grandfather grieve as the child disappears from sight. This departure begins Lyna's yearslong ordeal within the school system.

Upon arrival, Lyna undergoes intake procedures: she undresses, showers, and a bandanna with bug powder is kept on for 24 hours. The staff assign a number to her, and names are replaced by numbers, with a uniform haircut for all the girls. The setting establishes a dehumanizing routine from the start.

The school houses about 120 beds and enforces church attendance and prayers multiple times a day. Some children speak their native language, but those who don’t learn English face punishment. The environment pressures assimilation and erodes cultural identity.

An older boy defies a nun by speaking his native language, testing the limits of control. After several attempts, the nun disciplines him with a ruler to force compliance. This moment illustrates the harsh disciplinary methods used to enforce conformity.

Glen is led to believe he will visit his family, but the priest takes him to the priest's house and down into a trap-filled crawlspace. The door is locked, leaving Glen to cry in darkness while adults outside go about ordinary routines. The moment underscores the hidden abuses within the walls.

An older child shows Lyna a picture contrasting purgatory and heaven, and she longs to be with her ancestors. This imagery reveals how the children seek spiritual solace amid the harsh realities of the school. The longing for home becomes a coping thread for many.

Lyna begins to lose weight after arriving at the school, initially thriving on natural foods at home but unable to tolerate the porridge and dry milk provided. She passes out in class, and staff attempt to force-feed her. The struggle highlights the toll of deprivation on the children.

One night, a priest is implicated in abuse of a boy, and Lyna overhears cries in the hall. When she tries to tell the nurse, the language barrier and fear lead to a failure to understand, and the nurse reacts harshly toward Lyna. The abuse compounds the trauma within the school’s walls.

A nurse frees Glen after about a week and a half, but two priests catch her before they can flee. A sister attempts to help another abused girl, but she disappears. The priest who locked Glen away is reassigned to another school, highlighting a cycle of concealment and transfer.

During Christmas, the sister who tried to assist the children is sent away, signaling the precarious position of caregivers who challenge the system. The priests’ authority remains unshaken as discipline continues through the holidays. The scene emphasizes the institutional protection surrounding abuse.

Five years after the initial events, two boys escape from the schoolyard and head toward a nearby town. When recaptured, the priests punish the group harshly, reflecting ongoing cycles of control and punishment. The escape demonstrates the desperate desire for freedom among the students.

In 1965, a new girl arrives, and Lyna helps the ensemble by bringing food to the table. The group is caught, but the nun later provides bread, peanut butter, and cocoa for the children, revealing a rare moment of informal compassion amid routine deprivation.

The children finish school around age 18 and are sent home; many classmates struggle with trauma, including suicides. Glen spirals into heavy drinking and thoughts of self-harm, but he ultimately decides to stay for his own children, choosing a protective path despite despair.

Historically, Canada began forcibly placing Aboriginal children in residential schools in the late 1850s, with the aim of assimilating Indigenous cultures. In 2008, Prime Minister Stephen Harper publicly apologized for the harm caused. The timeline underscores a long legacy spanning generations.

Today, there are over 80,000 residential school survivors, reflecting the enduring impact of the system on individuals, families, and communities. The story’s real-world resonance continues through ongoing remembrance and reconciliation efforts.