I could imagine how young Native people would see Dylan as a role model. I asked him if he is aware of the influence he has on his students. "It's frustrating, because I want the students to do well but I never set out to be a role model. I wanted to help Native people but not necessarily to use myself as an example. (When I was 16, I would not have been a good example.)"
"I used to go out drinking and partying with the students when I first started teaching in 1982 but it didn't work. The students felt because they were partying with me it was okay to miss school the next day. So I had to make some changes. Now I let them know I don't parry and drink anymore. When they know that, it's okay."
"In 1988, my first group of students graduated with B.Ed's and two of them came to me and said, 'You are the best teacher I ever had.' The thing is, what I learned didn't come from theories of education. I've learned because I've lived it. I know what my people have experienced. If you understand that you can understand how to work with those students in order to bring out the best in them. You have to bring out that desire to succeed, that will to say 'I can do it.' I just try to influence them in positive ways."
All the while we had been talking I had been drawn to a poster behind Dylan's chair of a beautiful, bright-faced Native child. The words on the poster read "Native Destiny Through Education". When I asked Dylan about his own beliefs in the need for the education of Native people he said, "I knew a long time ago - well, actually a year or two after I got out of university - that I wanted to change the world for Native people. I had high-falutin' ideas. Then very quickly I realized, 'This isn't realistic'. Then I began to accept the fact that the only people I'm going to have any influence on are the people I work with and the students. To me that is the most satisfying work. If I were rich I would do this job for nothing."
"I often quote Sitting Bull. He was a spiritual leader. He said, 'Education is our future. With it, we are the white man's equal. Without it, we are his slave.' He recognized things were changing. He fought the battle of Little Big Horn. He saw the buffalo disappear. I believe what he said with all my heart."
"I'm not a radical; I don't believe in blockading roads or threatening people. If I blow up the bridge in Peace River, I won't be able to get my mail. It isn't useful. We haven't exhausted all peaceful avenues to solve conflict. I believe that education is the way we are going to do it. There is no other way. I'm realistic about it; I don't think we've given education a chance. I'm betting my reputation and my life on it."
It was really hard to say goodbye to Abe at the airport. He would be leaving for Bolivia in a few months; I wondered at the likelihood of our paths ever crossing again.
It was snowing again as I walked across the tarmac to board the little plane. A woman walking beside me reminded me to do up my coat; I was pleased that I was finally more accustomed to the cold. I found a window seat where I could see the airport terminal. There is a big window on the side of the terminal building and through it I could see Abe talking and visiting with people in the waiting area - some who had just arrived, others seeing off family and friends.
A strand of Christmas lights hung above the "Arrivals" doorway. Half of the bulbs were burned out but it still looked festive in the snow and waning light.
I closed my eyes as the plane taxied down the runway, taking off smoothly into the dusk. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of humble gratitude. I didn't know for what exactly, I just knew that I had been moved the North - the kindness of the people and the challenge of the land and that sometime I would be back.