When Faye Johnson (née Verheggen) was a Lakehead student, she spent her summers doing fieldwork like tree planting for the Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR).

“It was brutal and backbreaking work, but it was one of the few forestry-related jobs available to us in the 1970s,” Faye says. “The saplings were large, over 60 cm tall…and then there were the bugs.”

Today, she’s the chair of the Temagami Forest Management Corporation (TFMC)—a 600,000-hectare forest near North Bay, Ontario. 

“We are a Crown agency with a mandate to sustainably harvest wood and provide local economic opportunities,” she says. “Forest management corporations like Temagami arose after Northern Ontario lost half of its forest industry in the 2008 downturn. This was devastating for many small towns, so they began lobbying for the development of local forest management corporations—Crown agencies with a board of directors composed of local community members, First Nations, local forestry experts, and members at large.”

Pictured right:  TFMC board of directors, including Faye, during a recent trip to the Temagami Forest. Over time, careers in forest policy development and environmental advocacy have become more popular options within the forestry profession.

Faye’s forestry career was sparked by the combination of a high school aptitude test and her love of the wilderness.

“I grew up on the outskirts of Toronto—it was the sixties when parents would give their kids a packed lunch in the morning and tell them to come back at suppertime. I’d explore nearby parks and ravines with my siblings and my friends. Family camping trips also deepened my connection to the outdoors.”

Faye was accepted to both Lakehead and the University of Toronto to study forestry, but the idea of experiencing the north won her over. In 1982, she graduated with her Honours Bachelor of Science in Forestry and began working for the MNR’s Ontario Forest Research Institute in Thunder Bay. This led to a two-year silviculture internship in Geraldton, Ontario, followed by a job as a nursery forester growing seedlings for the MNR. 

When the MNR handed over its seedling industry to the private sector, Faye found a job with Grant Forest Products and discovered that she loved both the business of forestry and the company’s focus on local economic development. 

“It felt like we were a family,” Faye says.

Unfortunately, Grant went into bankruptcy protection, prompting Faye to find a director position with the Ministry of Northern Development and Mines. Her portfolio included overseeing northern highways, a responsibility that gave rise to one of her career highlights—the construction of a new bridge over the Nipigon River on Highway 11/17.

“We had to decide to either construct a standard bridge or to do something special, so we went with a cable-stayed bridge,” she says. “We did it for the wow factor and the uniqueness as this is the only road that connects Canada’s east and west. The bridge stands out from most of Northern Ontario’s infrastructure, which is a little bland.”

Pictured left: The LU Woodsmen Team (Faye is the fourth from the left in the front row) prepares to leave for the University of New Brunswick’s 1980 Woodsmen Competition. This national competition requires forestry students to demonstrate their skills in traditional lumberjack activities such as axe throwing, wood chopping, log sawing, and pulp tossing.

Faye’s time away from the forestry sector turned out to be a temporary interlude. She jumped at the chance to rejoin the MNRF in 2013—first as the general manager of the Nawiinginokiima Forest Management Corporation and then as a director with the Forest Tenure and Economics Branch. Having a long career in forestry has allowed Faye to witness its evolution over the decades. 

“Environmental science hadn’t been established when I started, and the work was more field oriented and unpredictable. Also, pretty much everything started with manual labour. Even Annual Allowable Cut calculations were completed manually. I remember a supervisor walking into the office in the early nineties with the district’s first computer, plopping it down, and telling us that it was all the computer we would ever need.”

Attitudes towards female foresters have changed dramatically, too. “When I came north in the early 1980s, it was very acceptable for people to tell women that they didn’t belong in the workplace. Harassment and missed job opportunities were common; they were to be expected,” Faye says. “Many of these challenges are less prevalent today.”

“I’ve really enjoyed my career,” she adds, “and my successes were linked to the small northern communities that helped raise my kids as well as the support of my family and friends who helped with my work-life balance.” 

“Growing up, I knew many First Nations people who didn’t have access to basic health care,” Michaela Parenteau says, “and these inequities inspired me to study nursing at Lakehead.” 

Michaela—who’s from Wabigoon Lake Ojibway Nation near Dryden, Ontario—began working as a registered nurse (RN) in northern fly-in communities not long after she earned a Bachelor of Science in Nursing in 2018. She was excited to be recruited by Indigenous Services Canada through a new mentorship program.

Pictured left:  Michaela has a much more adventurous commute to work than most people.

“Since I was an undergrad,” Michaela says, “I’ve felt a calling to go to northern nursing stations to provide primary health care services to First Nations people living on reserve.”

She worked briefly in Wabaseemoong First Nation, a drive-in community outside of Kenora as well as the fly-in community of Poplar Hill near the Manitoba border. 

“Poplar Hill holds such a big part of my heart because it’s where I learned everything that I know,” Michaela says.

She soon built on her knowledge by enrolling in Lakehead’s Master of Public Heath (MPH) program and specializing in Northern and Indigenous Health. As part of their degree requirements, MPH students complete a practicum placement, and Michaela chose to do hers with the Northern Birthwork Collective in Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories.

“The Northern Birthwork Collective is a not-for-profit organization that advocates for reproductive justice for all birthing people,” Michaela says. “Being there was an amazing experience.”

Pictured right:  When Michaela (BScN’18/MPH’22/Cert NursP’23) arrived in Yellowknife to do her Master of Public Health practicum, she had to quickly adapt to severe winter temperatures. “It was -50C while I was there, but that didn’t stop me from going out to watch the spectacular shows that the Northern Lights put on every night.” 

The organization was a strong advocate for birthing people, especially during the closing of Yellowknife’s only obstetrical unit. 

“The closure forced all pregnant people to be evacuated to a larger centre, usually Edmonton, for the duration of their third trimester and the birth of their child,” Michaela explains. “Historically, First Nations women in northern Indigenous communities have been evacuated for births, but the Yellowknife closure created a lot of media headlines because it affected non-Indigenous women including government workers, military personnel, and teachers.” 

Pictured left: In April 2022, Michaela became part of Team Foxtrot—which consisted of interpreters, registered nurses, a nurse practitioner, and two physicians—and provided care for victims of the war.

Michaela was still in Yellowknife when she responded to an email seeking volunteers to go to Ukraine with the Canadian Medical Assistance Team after Russia invaded the country in 2022.

“I didn’t want to be a bystander who just watched the war on the news,” Michaela says. “What was happening in Ukraine reminded me of the colonization process that Indigenous Peoples went through.”

She was accepted onto Team Foxtrot, which was deployed at a crossing point on the Poland-Ukraine border where Michaela saw thousands of women and children trying to escape the devastation of the war. 

“Watching families say goodbye to each other as husbands, fathers, and brothers stayed behind to fight on the frontlines was heartbreaking,” she says.

The Foxtrot team returned to Poland every night. Every day, if it was safe, they travelled to Ukraine to staff a small primary care clinic in a refurbished train car. Foxtrot also had a mobile clinic that travelled into Ukraine to provide primary care and medications and to treat infected wounds caused by explosions and armed conflicts.

“Mental health and PTSD-related needs were very common, too. People were suffering from grief, depression, anxiety, and insomnia.” 

Michaela returned from Ukraine with a new resolve.

“My work overseas has carried over into the nurse that I am today and convinced me to become a nurse practitioner, as did my desire to provide better health care at northern nursing stations. 

Pictured right: Michaela is a nurse practitioner in Pikangikum where she works in two-week rotations. “Pikangikum is only accessible by plane or winter road so you’re either flying or taking the ice road,” Michaela says. When she’s not working, she is in her hometown of Wabigoon, Ontario, where she’s a volunteer firefighter.

Since receiving her nurse practitioner certification from Lakehead in 2023, Michaela has been able to increase her scope of practice. 

“It’s allowed me to act independently and autonomously,” she says.

For the past three years, Michaela has been working in the community of Pikangikum First Nation where her compassion and skill as a health-care professional is a step towards creating greater access to care. She is also rostered with the Canadian Medical Assistance Team so that she can step up when other humanitarian crises occur.

“I’m forever bonded with the Foxtrot team,” she says, “we witnessed what most people thought we would never see in our lifetime.”

WATCH VIDEO: "Nurse Practitioner Michaela Parenteau."

Carlin Val was only 14 years old when he went on his first climb, but he knew that he’d found his calling—even though he’s afraid of heights.

“The strength and the integrity of the equipment reassures me that I’m safe and that I’m having fun,” Carlin says.

Since then he’s reached the summit of two mountains in Peru and, as part of a fundraiser for the Canadian Mental Health Association, climbed the tallest mountain in North America—Mount Denali in Alaska.

“Mount Denali is about 6.1 km high, just over 20,000 feet,” Carlin says. “It took three weeks and the temperature was  -40 C. By the time my team summitted, we’d been climbing non-stop for 18 hours and we just made it back before a bad storm hit.”

It was this love of testing his limits that prompted Carlin to study outdoor recreation at Lakehead. The program gave him the opportunity to challenge himself and to spend time with like-minded wilderness enthusiasts.

“We went on an ice climbing trip near Nipigon, a voyageur canoe trip from Fort Frances to Kenora, and in my fourth year, a dog sledding trip,” Carlin says. “It was awesome!”

In addition to his Honours Bachelor of Outdoor Recreation (2008), Carlin earned a Bachelor of Arts (2008), and a Bachelor of Education (2009) from Lakehead. These degrees have come in handy in the life he’s built as an adventurer, an educator, and an entrepreneur. 

Carlin launched his company At Last Adventures in 2014 to offer expeditions and instruction in climbing, paddling, and caving. He also recently opened the first indoor climbing facility in Owen Sound, Ontario—where he and his family live—called the Climber’s Crush.

Pictured right:  At Last Forest Schools (ALFS) instruct children between the ages of 18 months and 12 years. All three of Carlin’s children—Willow, River, and Summer—attend ALFS in Owen Sound, Ontario.

Much of Carlin’s time during the school year, though, is taken up with running At Last Forest Schools (ALFS), which he and his wife Debbie, a fellow Lakehead education grad, founded in 2016. 

They’d hoped to enrol 12 students in ALFs first year of operation but, to their delight, 54 students signed up. Since then, demand has continued to grow, and the couple now have 13 locations in Southern Ontario and are working on a franchising model that will allow them to expand across Canada and into the United States. 

They modelled ALFS on the forest schools that were first established in Denmark in the 1950s. Like the Danish schools, ALFS offers children play-based learning in nature that ranges from climbing trees, building shelters, and fire lighting to birdwatching, hiking, and making crafts. This complementary programming to traditional schools—students attend ALFS one to two days a week—fosters resilience and independence in youngsters.

“We empower students to make decisions,” Carlin says. “For example, if a child wants to climb a tree, we ask them questions like ‘Have you ever climbed a tree before and is the tree alive or dead?’”

Pictured left: An ALFS student learns how to make a spoon.

Carlin has also discovered that forest school improves children’s focus when they are back in their regular classrooms, something that’s earned them the support of educators.

“We thought we’d face opposition from school boards, but they’ve been our biggest source of referrals,” he explains. 

Carlin’s intense work schedule doesn’t give him much free time, but even when he’s on vacation, he doesn’t like to laze around. During a recent trip to Utah, he and his family went slot canyoning, canoeing, and hiking. And he has even bigger plans for the future.

“When our three kids reach their teens, we’d like to take a year off to sail around the world,” he says.

 
Photo credit: Rita Taylor

“Bears—especially grizzlies and polar bears—have a reputation as man-eating beasts, but that’s a myth,” says wildlife expert Kim Titchener. “Bears are gracious to the humans living in their territories.” 

Although Kim had a childhood fascination with bears, she couldn’t have predicted how closely her life would become intertwined with these giant carnivores.

“I didn’t quite know what I wanted to do when I finished high school,” says Kim, who’s originally from Pickering, Ontario. “Then I found out about Lakehead’s outdoor recreation program.” 

Lakehead helped steer her towards a career in conservation after a first-year wildlife ethics course spurred her to apply for a summer job as a wildlife interpreter at the Banff National Park.

“I also liked the idea of being in a place where grizzly bears shared space with humans,” she says.

Kim worked at the park every summer while she was a Lakehead student. Then, in 2004, after receiving an Honours Bachelor of Outdoor Recreation and a Bachelor of Arts in History, she returned to Banff once again. She was assigned to a team responsible for breaking up “bear jams” caused by motorists pulling over on roads to watch and photograph bears they spotted, often getting too close.

“My job was to track bears in order to protect both them and humans.” 

One of Kim’s first calls was to help move a female grizzly named Bear 66 from a campground where she was eating an elk calf. Grizzlies are very defensive of their kills, so it was a dangerous situation. Park staff set off flares and bear bangers to scare her away. Kim parked her vehicle across a road by the campground and directed traffic to prevent Bear 66, who also had three tiny cubs, from being hit by a car.

This grizzly was given a GPS collar to monitor her movements.

“I’d never seen a grizzly before. Then, suddenly, this furry congealing ball of fat came barreling towards me,” Kim says. “She ran right past my truck—it was love at first sight for me.”

But Kim’s first grizzly encounter soon turned to tragedy. Bear 66 was struck by a train, leaving her cubs motherless. Two of the cubs were killed almost immediately. Kim followed the remaining cub on foot for a day to keep it from danger until park staff were able to capture it.

“It was hard enough when the mother died, but spending time with a mourning cub was incredibly difficult. It was crying and making distress noises because it couldn’t find its mother or its siblings.”

Unfortunately, many bears are killed by trains or euthanized after getting into people’s food. Others are euthanized after attacking humans.

“Bear attacks are rare, but they’re increasing as people continue to encroach into wild areas without the skills to safely coexist with these animals,” Kim says. “Although bears can kill us any time they want, they almost never do. Seeing them lose their lives because of humans made me want to conserve them.”

Kim’s wildlife expertise grew quickly, prompting the Town of Canmore to ask her to develop a program to reduce conflict between wild animals and humans. The result was the public education program WildSmart, which she successfully ran for 10 years.

“Then, I got a call from the oil and gas industry to create a wildlife safety course for their workers and decided to start my company Bear Safety & More.” 

After earning her outdoor recreation and history degrees, Kim completed a Bachelor of Education in 2005. "I encourage people to follow their passion to a career that is satisfying and makes the world a better place," she says. In this photo Kim helps relocate a grizzly.

The company now delivers courses to many industries, including forestry and tourism, as well as to governments and private agencies. In addition, Kim has done bear hazard assessments for National Geographic expeditions and cruise lines—journeying by boat to remote areas of Canada and Alaska—and collaborated with Polar Bears International on the first polar bear hazard assessment for a community in Canada. 

 “I travel all over Canada and the United States teaching wildlife courses on bear, cougar, elk, moose, and wolf safety.”

Kim’s conservation and wildlife safety contributions were honoured in 2023 when she received a Roland Michener Conservation Award.

“If we don’t teach people to love and respect bears, they will become extinct,” she says. “I want to stop this from happening and increase the bear population to a healthier level.”

Check out some of the online courses and free workshops that Kim offers through her website recsafewithwildlife.com.

Omer Belisle has been shaping the minds and spirits of youngsters for almost 30 years. 

He’s been a committed coach, teacher, vice-principal, and principal with the Thunder Bay Catholic District School Board (TBCDSB) and, for the past 12 years, he’s been superintendent of education overseeing the TBCDSB’s Kindergarten - Grade 8 and Student Achievement departments.

“I’m also the math lead, the Indigenous lead, the mental health lead, the French lead, and the equity and inclusion lead,” Omer explains.

It’s a heavy workload, but Omer is unfazed by the many responsibilities he shoulders.

“My parents were instrumental in instilling a strong work ethic in me and my siblings. They encouraged us to always better ourselves. Moreover, I’m fortunate to be part of a talented leadership team—it’s wonderful to go to work with them each day,” he says.

Omer was born in Nipigon, Ontario, and is a member of the Red Rock Indian Band. His family later moved to Thunder Bay where Omer attracted attention as a first-rate minor hockey player. After attending St. Ignatius High School, he played with the Barrie Colts for two years before being recruited to play varsity hockey for Bemidji State University in Minnesota. He’s also played with the Thunder Bay Flyers and the Thunder Bay Senators hockey teams.

“The commitment and discipline of being a student athlete is excellent training for any profession,” Omer says, “and I enjoyed being there for my teammates.”

He completed an education degree at Bemidji, a decision that was influenced by his hockey career.

“I had some coaches who were great mentors to me, and several of them were teachers. Dave Siciliano and Dave Bragnalo in Thunder Bay and Bob Peters at Bemidji State all steered me in the direction of coaching and teaching.” 

In 1995, Omer returned to Ontario to teach with the Thunder Bay Catholic District School Board where his first job was a grade 3-4 split class at St. Jude’s School.

“I will never forget the bonds I formed with students and colleagues at St. Jude’s. It was very special.” 

Over the following years, Omer was busy working, raising a family, and coaching his two sons’ hockey teams. But in 2010, he felt that he’d come to a crossroads and needed to push himself in a new direction.

“I remember the day I decided to get my Master of Education at Lakehead. I was working at Corpus Christi school when Superintendent of Business Tom Mustapic asked me if I’d ever thought about administration—it was his pat on the back that motivated me to go back to school.”

Lakehead introduced Omer to professors and fellow students whose shared goals would later help him implement projects at the Thunder Bay Catholic District School Board in areas close to his heart, such as Indigenous education. Through Omer’s leadership, the TBCDSB has expanded its Ojibway language programs and the availability of Indigenous counsellors.

“In addition, we’ve expanded mental health access with the help of Katie Matthews, our mental health lead,” Omer adds.

One of his proudest accomplishments is the opening of a satellite kindergarten class on the Fort William First Nation. The kindergarten, an extension of Thunder Bay’s St. Ann Elementary School, is the first of its kind in Canada.

“It gives kids comfort, a sense of belonging, and accessibility. Now, if a family from the community chooses, their four-year-old child doesn’t have a long bus ride to school.”

These kinds of initiatives give Omer a sense of purpose.

“As a superintendent, you’re able to make system changes, and that really drives me.”

In her valedictory speech as this year’s “Voice of the Class” at Lakehead Orillia’s convocation ceremony, Leah Yari shared an important and, perhaps, personal lesson with her fellow graduates:

"Although we all have an idea of the path we have shaped for ourselves, it's important to not get too caught up in what is planned. Being open to change and diversity can lead to growth we might not have been aware of in the present moment."

Growing up, Leah dreamed of becoming a professional dancer. Then, in her final year of secondary school, she had to choose  between pursuing a professional dance career or university studies. She thought she had found a way to do both. She would continue dancing while studying kinesiology at Wilfrid Laurier University, well known for its reputable dance team.

But Leah soon realized that she was not passionate about kinesiology. She spoke with a career counsellor and completed personality and aptitude tests, which revealed that she had a much stronger affinity for business and finance careers.

This came as no surprise to Leah, whose mother has been a successful businessperson. 

“My mom has always been the breadwinner in our family,” she says. “I have always been inspired by her, that she was able to support her family and be in a leadership role in finance.” 

Leah decided to pursue her Honours Bachelor of Commerce, majoring in Global Entrepreneurship and Business Administration, at a much smaller institution—Lakehead University – Orillia.

“I love the feel of a small university, the extra attention from instructors, and I was able to stay at home,” she says.

“People ask me if I have had trouble finding jobs because Lakehead may not be considered a target school (an institution with a high number of finance hires), and I say, 'No, not at all. I wouldn’t have changed my experience.'”

Leah also says that studying at a smaller university gave her more unique experiences and the chance to get to know other professionals and instructors.

Dr. Isaam Dawood, for instance, left a lasting impression and has remained a support and a mentor.

“Dr. Dawood’s classes are very collaborative,” says Leah. "The lectures were discussion based, no PowerPoint presentations. And I felt my opinion was heard.” 

Another critical part of Leah’s experience in Lakehead’s business program was the Business Orillia Student Society (BOSS). Leah served in several executive roles with BOSS throughout her studies—as public relations officer, vice-president, and president. She says BOSS provided her with valuable opportunities to learn and network. 

“This puts you ahead when you’re applying for jobs. I think networking with professionals in the industry is what helped me find a job so quickly.”

Having worked in banking, and now underwriting for an insurance company in Toronto, Leah says she will continue to look for opportunities to grow in the world of finance and make meaningful contributions. 

“It’s important to me to continue to give back, creating community. And it’s important to surround yourself with people who push you to be a better version of yourself.”

“Poetry has always come very naturally to me,” Ash Winters says. “It’s the primary way that my mind thinks—it’s my comfort zone.” 

Ash is an emerging poet whose work has appeared in Existere and Open Minds Quarterly and, in 2021, their first volume of poetry, Run Riot, was released.

Ash spent most of their childhood in Tweed, Ontario, and even as a youngster, dreamed of being a writer.

“I remember climbing trees to write in a little notebook, even though words didn’t come easily for me because I had learning disabilities.” 

By high school, Ash was scribbling poetry in the margins of their school binder. It had become part of Ash’s daily life and a powerful way to process emotions and explore identity.

“Being queer influences the way I see the world and the way I make art,” Ash explains. “It gives me the perspective to see the differences between people as well as how we’re all the same.”

“It seems like we are making progress in accepting queerness,” they add, “and that gives me the energy to work to make things better for the next generation, but there’s also some pushback, which is scary.” 

When it came time for university, the solace that Ash found in nature prompted them to enrol in Lakehead’s forestry program. By their second year, however, the pull of the written word became too strong to resist, and they switched to English.

It was a decision Ash didn’t regret. An American poetry class with Dr. Scott Pound introduced them to the Beat poets and the New York School of poets and Ash got involved with The Artery—the English Student Association’s newly established literary magazine. 

After graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in English in 2010, Ash spent nine years in Vancouver. Most of their time was spent working as a UPS courier before going to trade school for carpentry.

“I also wrote poetry, but I was just getting by,” Ash says.

Complicating the situation was Ash’s struggles with substance use.

“I’d lived with addiction for a long time and then it got to a point where I couldn’t go on anymore. I got sober and wrote my poetry collection.”

Run Riot: Ninety Poems in Ninety Days was written during Ash’s three-month stay at a Vancouver rehab centre. Their publisher describes it as “a work that navigates the intersections of addiction, identity, and trauma.” 

The Toronto Star praised the volume as “frank, touching, and sometimes wryly humorous.”

For Ash, finally being able to ask for help turned their life around. “It made me able to pursue my writing and become a good member of my community.”

Ash now combines writing poetry with carpentry—they work for a small contractor in Toronto doing home renovations, where they now live.

“I wake up at 5 am and work on my poetry for two hours and then go to my contracting job.”

Ash describes their poetry as emotionally evocative with a plainspokenness that makes it accessible, like “Day 61,” a poem from Run Riot.

Day 61

Made sense

I made it make sense

I gave the fire truck shape to the cloud

and it was shaped a bit like a fire truck

but it was never going to put this fire out

never going to get me to climb down from this tree

Took the language that the instructions were yelled in

and translated it into words that could be said calmly

Accent so thick

I use it for a diving board

so I could plunge right into deeper meanings

so thick that when anyone talks anywhere now

I can understand it

I use it as a lever to lift ten times my weight

well over my head

but I still can’t stand the sound of it

The space it takes up in me makes me want to rip myself to shreds 

start over

make myself make sense again 

You can purchase a copy of Run Riot from Chapters, Amazon, your local bookstore, or from Ash’s publisher at: https://caitlinpress.com/Books/R/Run-Riot

“The social safety net isn’t giving people the support they need,” Eden Schwartz says, “and with the housing crisis and inflation, things are becoming even worse.” 

Eden, who grew up in Toronto, is currently a community outreach worker at the Orillia Public Library.

“The position appealed to me because it was brand new and I could shape it according to the community’s needs,” she says. “I also wanted to get out of Toronto because I love hiking and biking and being out in nature.”

Social workers have become more common in libraries as people increasingly turn to them for information about housing, food insecurity, and substance use. People are also relying on libraries in greater numbers for shelter and washroom facilities.

Eden’s path to social work may seem a bit unorthodox. Before going to Lakehead, she earned a BA in Environment and Development from McGill University.

“Climate change is one of the biggest problems of my generation, which is why I chose McGill’s program. It was while there that I learned about eco-psychology, which looks at the intersection of mental health and the environment.”

Eco-psychologists support individuals who’ve been devastated by catastrophic events—like losing homes to earthquakes—as well as people suffering from chronic climate change anxiety and sadness about the disappearance of parts of our natural world.

While at McGill, Eden also volunteered with their student nightline.

“It played a part in my decision to study social work,” Eden says, “but I’d always been curious about it—not just one-on-one therapy, but also macro-social work aimed at helping communities. This encompasses activities such as taking part in environmental protests or women’s marches. It’s about ‘social’ work.”

After completing her social work courses at Lakehead, Eden did a placement with the Salvation Army in Toronto as part of her degree requirements. She joined the charity’s emergency disaster services department where she researched ways to provide better psychological first aid to people in the aftermath of disasters. 

“Debriefing someone after a trauma is complex. If it’s not done well, it can cause more harm than good,” Eden says.

She spent the last part of her placement at a Salvation Army women’s shelter. Then, after graduation, she became a community services crisis worker at Toronto’s WoodGreen Community Services before joining the Orillia Public Library in October 2022.

“I do a mix of programming and one-on-one direct services to help individuals access community services, such as mental health and housing services. I also train staff to respond to issues that come up when people visit the library.” 

Eden is especially proud of a recent $20,000 grant she and a co-worker secured from the Shoppers Foundation for Women’s Health to combat period poverty. The funding is allowing the library to stock their bathrooms with pads and tampons provided free of charge and to assemble kits containing pads, tampons, and health information that are available at the library and other Orillia locations.

Although Eden is a skilled social worker, she thinks it’s a mistake to look solely to her fellow professionals and government agencies to solve societal challenges.

“It’s even more important to seek out the opinions of people who’ve had lived experiences with things like opioid use and housing insecurity, but often they’re ignored instead of listened to,” Eden says.

“I’d like to see that change.”

Last July, Emmalee (Emm) Agnew and Terry Milne took their one-year-old son Cedar on his first Yukon expedition—a voyage snaking along the Pelly River past mountains where wolf packs, moose, and grizzly bears roamed.

It was glorious, but it wasn’t easy.

“Imagine a beautiful summer where the sun shines all day and all night and you’re trying to put your baby to sleep in a hot tent that feels like a greenhouse,” Emm says. “We had a lot of sleepless nights on that trip.”

Since then, they’ve been on shorter outings closer to their Whitehorse home and the couple is planning to take Cedar on another long expedition this summer.

“We have the highest of highs and the lowest of lows on those trips,” Terry says. “It forces us out of our comfort zone.”

Pictured right: Terry, Emm, and Cedar
“I want to give a huge shout out to Lakehead professor Dr. Julie Rosenthal,” Terry says. “She put so much energy and effort into creating incredible outdoor experiences. I was so thankful to have her as a professor, mentor, and friend.” 

Despite the hardships, they’re well prepared for the wilderness. Both Terry and Emm received Honours Bachelor of Outdoor Recreation and Bachelor of Education degrees in 2013. Emm also completed a Bachelor of Science, focusing on natural resources, in 2012.

But how did these two Lakehead grads end up making their home in Canada’s Far North?

Several Lakehead classmates originally from the Yukon often talked about how amazing it was.

“Then, the winter after we graduated, an outdoor education gig in Whitehorse came up and we both applied for it,” Terry says.

Neither of them got the job, but they decided to move anyway.     

“The following January, we packed up my great-grandma’s Ford Focus—filled with venison we’d harvested in Thunder Bay—and left,” Emm says. 

Their gamble paid off. They’re now teachers in the city of Whitehorse—Terry at Porter Creek Secondary School and Emm at Golden Horn Elementary School. 

“It’s tucked away in the woods and has a big focus on skiing, hiking, and getting children out on the land starting when they’re five years old,” Emm says.

Pictured left:  Emm walking in a river.

Lakehead’s partnership with Charles Sturt University in Australia allowed Emm to study there during her third year of university. “On campus, we lived in mud houses with composting toilets and used an eco-friendly hot-water system that used the sun to heat the water.”

Still, it’s a bit surprising that two people who grew up in southern Ontario ended up somewhere so remote. Emm’s parents are dairy farmers in the Ottawa Valley and Terry’s family had a hobby farm not far from Peterborough with highland cattle and draft horses.

Emm and Terry, though, felt an attraction to the wild at a young age.

“Every summer, my family visited my great-aunt and uncle in Kenora, Ontario,” Terry says. “I discovered that I loved the north and being outdoors. Then, in grade 11, I found out about Lakehead’s Outdoor Recreation program.”

Emm’s first contact with the wilderness came through her high school’s Outers Club as well as through outdoor research programming the school offered called OSPREY.

“We did projects like chickadee banding,” she says. 

This, combined with summer jobs such as tree planting and working as a Ministry of Natural Resources firefighter and Ontario Ranger sparked the idea of studying outdoor recreation. 

“Also, one of my older sisters, Kelsey, raved about Lakehead’s Outdoor Recreation program,” Emm says. 

During their time at Lakehead, a two-week trip to Northern Ontario’s vast Wabakimi Provincial Park was a highlight for Emm and Terry, but for Terry, it held particular significance.

“It was really magical. My dad was sick with cancer at the time, and I didn’t know if I should go, but my parents convinced me that I should. My dad passed away while I was in Wabakimi, and throughout the trip, I had experiences that connected me to him.”

Terry was reminded of a past family vacation to Kenora when he and his father paddled across a lake to explore an eagle’s nest. 

“Often, on the Lakehead Wabakimi trip, I’d wake up in the morning and there’d be an eagle flying overhead. It was like having the warm presence of my dad with me.” 

Pictured right: Terry on an expedition.
After graduating from Lakehead, Emm (HBOR/BSc’12, BEd’13) worked as a forest firefighter in Ontario and Terry (HBOR/BEd’13) as a raft guide in Jasper, Alberta.

Emm and Terry are now well settled in their teaching careers and enjoying instilling confidence in young people.

“I’m very fortunate to run outdoor programs for grades 9-11 students, including canoeing, backpacking, whitewater rafting, and water rescue trips,” Terry says. “These programs respect First Nations ways of doing and learning and empower youth to explore their territory.”

Terry has also created the Wilderness Initiatives for Leadership Development (WILD) program for grade 11 and 12 students, which gives students the certifications needed to apply for outdoor guiding jobs.

“At the end of February, my WILD students co-led a bison hunt and they’re now planning their own year-end expedition.”

“His passion and dedication to WILD is incredible,” Emm adds. “Terry is much more than your average teacher.”

Emm is now in her seventh year at Golden Horn where she’s taught phys ed, music, and outdoor education as well as grade 2 and 3 classes.

“This year, I’m providing one-on-one and small group learning assistance for students in grades 2, 4, 6, and 7 in reading and writing skills development.”

It’s not only the grandeur of the Yukon that keeps Terry and Emm there.

“The first people to drop off food at our house when Emm left the hospital after having Cedar were two of my students,” Terry says. “Not many 17-year-olds would do that—it’s those kinds of connections that make Yukon home for us.”

A few months ago, Clifford Mushquash was on the edge of Red Sea in the Egyptian city of Sharm el-Sheikh.

He was attending the United Nations’ COP 27 Climate Change Conference as a member of the delegation sent by KAIROS (a Canadian ecumenical organization that supports ecological justice and human rights). Clifford—a Master of Public Health student specializing in Indigenous and Northern Health and a member of Pays Plat First Nation from Sioux Lookout, Ontario—says that COP 27 gave him a different way to look at health issues. 

“It was a phenomenal experience that will influence the work I do at the community level for a very long time to come. 

The talks and sessions I went to were so fascinating, including a water session in the Canadian pavilion led by Indigenous women. I was also able to sit in on some of the climate negotiations.”

Pictured right:  KAIROS For the Love of Creation delegates representing the Democratic Republic of Congo, South Sudan, Colombia, Kuwait, Palestine, and Canada, arrive at COP27. “I was pinching myself when I found out that I’d been selected to go to because I’m new to climate justice conversations,” Clifford says.

KAIROS chose Clifford because he’s certified to lead their Blanket Exercise, an initiative KAIROS developed to encourage truth and reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people. Clifford describes the Blanket Exercise as a participatory workshop that explores the history of Turtle Island, an area that extends from the Arctic to Mexico. 

Pictured left:  Clifford (in orange shirt) leads a sharing circle following the KAIROS Blanket Exercise at Naama Bay, Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt. 

“It’s a story of loss, violence, and exploitation as well as a story of resilience and strength that’s presented in a non-judgmental, objective way,” Clifford says. “Participants are put into the place of the people of Turtle Island and blankets are used to represent the land. Every exercise ends with a sharing circle discussing what we as individuals can do to advance reconciliation.”

Clifford became a facilitator in 2018 and says that it’s made him better able to understand his family and his clients. 

His concern for others emerged early—Clifford was an active member of many youth and community groups. As an adult, he’s volunteered with organizations including the Rotary Club, the Canadian Cancer society, the Ontario HIV Network, the Outside Looking In mentorship program for Indigenous students, Skate Canada, and the John Howard Society. His strong sense of compassion is similarly evident in his career path. Prior to his Lakehead studies, Clifford worked in the mental health and addictions fields doing administrative and frontline work. 

“I’ve been employed at Health Canada, the Meno Ya Win Health Centre hospital in Sioux Lookout, the Sioux Lookout Health Authority, and an emergency shelter.” 

Clifford decided to build on his expertise by enrolling in two Lakehead degree programs and, in May 2020, he received a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology and an Honours Bachelor of Social Work. He was also able to balance school with employment as an administrative assistant in Lakehead’s Indigenous Language Teacher’s Diploma Program. “I enjoyed helping students from across the north who are committed to revitalizing Indigenous languages,” he says.

It was while doing his social work degree, however, that a professor suggested Clifford consider Lakehead’s Master of Public Health program after reading a paper Clifford had written about health inequities in the north. 

“I wasn’t sure it if was the right degree for me,” Clifford says, “but Elder Gerry Martin told me that Creator never gives us a journey we aren’t prepared to undertake. I also liked that it looks at health issues from a broad perspective, including food security, poverty, and housing.” 

Once Clifford finishes his master’s degree, he’s committed to advancing the health of First Nations Peoples and communities. “Wherever that happens to be,” he says, “that’s where I’ll go.”