My Grandfather Ran Away From Boarding School Twice. I Finally Understand Why.
After talking with my grandmother, I realized there was so much I didn’t know about my grandparents’ history.
Not just little details—but big pieces.
So after I spoke with her, I called my grandpa.
He was relaxed, like always. Easy to talk to. I told him I wanted to know more about him—his past, how he grew up. I wanted to document it so the story wouldn’t be lost.
So I pulled out my big old VHS recorder and we started talking.
Before that conversation, I really didn’t know much about his childhood.
I always knew that his mother—my great-grandmother—was full-blooded Indian, and that she had married a white man. And I always loved that I got my blue eyes from him. Apparently when I was born, he said, “There’s my blue-eyed baby, finally.” He had ten children with my full-blooded grandma, and they all had brown eyes.
But that was about the extent of what I knew.
So I was surprised when he told me he had gone to boarding school too.
He had this mischievous look—almost a little twinkle in his eye—when he told me he ran away.
And not just ran away… he made it all the way home.
I remember asking him how he did it.
He said he mostly walked at night, slept in ditches during the day, and sometimes got lucky enough to hitch a ride.
I asked him how old he was.
He said about nine… maybe ten.
Can you even imagine that?
The boarding school was near the Minnesota/Iowa border. The reservation was about forty miles south of the Canadian border.
I was shocked—and honestly impressed—that a child that young could make that kind of journey.
Then he told me they came and got him again the next year.
And he ran away again.
After the third time, they stopped coming for him.
I asked him why he ran away—especially because my grandmother had just told me she liked it there because she was “never hungry.”
That’s when everything shifted.
He got quiet.
Put his head down.
Then he looked up at me and said,
“There are very, very, very bad people there.”
At the time, I didn’t fully understand what he meant.
Years later, as I learned more about what children endured in those schools, I began to understand why a nine-year-old boy would risk everything just to get away.
When I think about that little boy walking that distance—twice—
I can only imagine what he must have been running from.
I have always had this theory the sickp Oblate Priests at Kamloops Indian Residential often preyed on the weakest children from what the priests heard in the confessional. First, we were brainwashed into believing we were doomed to burn in hell for our sins. But guess what. Those sins could be absolved by confessing them to the priest in the confessional. The priest would then say your sins are absolved by saying the penance ae gave to you. What was admitted in the confessional might have been titillating to the priest so here was his next victim.
I attended Kamloops Indian Residential from 1956 to 1963.
Allen, 1956 to 1963. Thank you for trusting this space with that.
The weight of what you carry — and what so many others carry — is exactly why these stories need to be heard.
👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
My mother was an orphan at the age of 10, lived with an abusive grandmother until she was taken to the missionaries. She went as high as 8th grade, a self-taught carpenter, seamstress, mathematician, and artist. At age 38, she received her GED.
There are so many common stories of boarding schools with Alaskan Natives.
Thanks for sharing your family story. I cannot wait to read your book.
Your mother built herself from almost nothing, Dee. Carpenter, seamstress, mathematician, artist — and she never stopped learning.
That is resilience in its purest form.
Alaska, Oklahoma, Canada — the same story told across every nation. Thank you for adding your mother’s to this conversation.
The book is coming — newsletter subscribers hear it first. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
breaks my heart that these children went thru so much.
Mine too, Bonnie. Every single time.
And the only way to honour them is to keep telling the truth. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
I can relate to your grandfather’s experience in boarding school and like him, I ran away from the boarding school. I was a little bit older than 10 years old but made it across two states to my home reservation. I haven’t spoken much about my boarding school experiences because I was embarrassed. One of my stories “Room 19” is in Denise Lajimodierre’s book titled, “Stringing Rosaries”
Dennis. Across two states. You made it.
That shame you carried was never yours — and the fact that your story is already in print tells me you found your way to the truth eventually.
Room 19. I’ll be looking for that book.
Thank you for speaking here. You belong in this conversation. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
I never knew this existed until I saw the movie “killers of the flower moon”. I didn’t understand why. But after that I learned a little bit here and there. I would love to hear more.
Sandra, that film opened a lot of eyes.
Sandra, that film opened a lot of eyes.
There is so much more to know — and so much that Hollywood still gets wrong. That’s why Native voices telling Native stories matter.
Come join us. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Im glad he was willing to tell his story..my grandmother was so ashamed she wouldnt tell us hers.she was not in a boarding school. We wanted to know our heritage..she died with her secrets and kniwledge.
That shame was put there deliberately, Annette. It wasn’t hers to carry.
So many of our grandmothers died with stories we’ll never get back. That’s exactly why the ones who are willing to speak — have to.
👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Thank you for doing this, i know it isn’t easy.
My grandmother was full blood Cherokee.
It isn’t always easy. But it’s necessary.
Your grandmother’s blood is part of this story too, Dakota. Welcome here. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
interesting
Stick around Tracy — it gets deeper. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Thank you for this work. My grandfather was at Carlisle in Pennsylvania.
Carlisle. Where it all began.
Thank you for being here, Raye. Your grandfather’s story is part of this too. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
interested in your book when its published
You’ll hear it here first, Gail. Join the newsletter and I’ll make sure of it. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
I really want to read the book. I too have blue eyes and these stories are so interesting. These stories need to be told.
They do need to be told, Valerie — and I’m not stopping at one book.
Sign up for the newsletter and you’ll know the moment it’s out. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Would love to know when the book is out, please.
Sign up for my newsletter Terry — that’s exactly where you’ll hear it first.
👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
The book sounds very interesting and can’t wait to read it.
Thank you! Please join the newsletter list and you’ll be the first to know 🙂 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
It’s coming, Mary — and newsletter subscribers get the first look inside.
👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
My Mom was also in a residential school in Spanish Ontairo. The Canadian government took her when she was seven years old, they also took her brothers. She was not alowed to speak Mohawk, they cut her hair and when she went home, her father only spoke Mohawk and she was unable to comunicate with him because her Mohawk language was stolen from her. When she was 18 she was dropped off in Cornwall and she had to walk to the Reservation where she came from. It was a very long walk probally about 15-20 miles for a young girl.
Seven years old. Dropped off at eighteen with nowhere to go and a language she could no longer speak to her own father.
The language theft was deliberate. That silence between a daughter and her father — that’s the wound they intended.
Thank you for sharing your mother’s story Christine. She survived something enormous and so did you.
If you want to stay in touch join my newsletter here 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
I watched the movie “We Were Children” Very sad.
That film stays with you, doesn’t it Christine.
So much of our history has been hidden in plain sight. The more people watch, read and listen — the better. Welcome here. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
The stories of our family/people in the United States was the same here in Canada. I am a day school survivor. My older siblings went to residential schools. We all experienced physical, emotional, mental, psychological, and sexual abuse, plus attempted murder at these schools. Our people have gone through 2 class action suits against the Canadian government. What we need to do is take action against the Roman Catholic Church. It was those priests, nuns and brothers who hurt us in the worst ways, for decades. If your families decide to take an action against your government, I encourage you to talk with the named plaintiffs from Canada. We can help you.
Angela, thank you for this.
The border never separated our experiences — only our governments. What happened to your family, to your siblings, to you — it echoes in every Native American story I write.
And you’re right. The accountability is not finished.
Thank you for reaching out to offer guidance to others. That is leadership. That is healing in action.
If you want to hear more of my stories 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
He was truly one of the lucky ones that made it home. Chaney Wenjack should have made it home too but the journey was too far me cold
Chanie Wejack deserved to make it home. Saying his name here matters more than you know.
There are so many stories still waiting to be told. My newsletter is where I keep telling them — join us. 👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
yes , I can only imagine…
there is a movie coming out in May 2026 called ” Nine little Indians” about the abuse at , St. Paul’s Indian Mission, now knowing as Marty Indian School. about sisters that went to school there and now have told there story…
Thank you for sharing this, Agnes.
Nine Little Indians. I’ll be watching for it.
Stories like this one — the sisters who finally spoke — that’s how the truth survives. Someone has to be willing to say it out loud. And when they do, it opens the door for everyone else who was waiting for permission to remember.
This is exactly why Native American stories need to be told by Native people. In our own words. In our own time.
I write about all of it — the history, the culture, the survival, the life we’re still living today. If you want to stay connected to that conversation, I have a newsletter where I go deeper than a blog post allows. History, culture, and a look inside my books as they come together.
I’d love for you to be part of it.
👉 https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Thank you for being here, Agnes. Keep watching for those stories. They matter.
My mother went to Wheelock and I went to Oaks Indian Mission. There are so many stories out there to tell. Most are bad but there are a few good ones.
Your mother at Wheelock. You at Oaks Indian Mission. Two generations. Two schools. So many stories carried between them.
You’re right — not all of it was bad. And that’s important to say out loud. The full truth is complicated, and it deserves to be told that way. Not just the horror. All of it.
That’s exactly why I write.
There is so much of our history, our culture, our lives that never gets told honestly. I’m a Native American author and I’ve made it my mission to change that — one story at a time.
I have a newsletter where I share perspectives on Native American life, history and culture — and if you’re a reader, you’ll also get a look inside my books before they’re published.
It’s a place where this conversation gets to keep going.
You can join here: https://diannagoodsky.kit.com/6e6b5fd243
Thank you for being here. Your stories matter.