In March, 1982, a group of 10 Rainy Lake Region Tribal Chiefs were confronted with a problem of monumental proportions—far too many of their young people were sick, dying, and running afoul of the law due to issues of domestic violence, substance abuse, and severe behavioural disorders.
The existing system of child welfare services was woefully inadequate to deal with the problem, so it was decided to create a new agency—a new approach geared primarily toward native youth.
It took five years but on March 23, 1987, the Weechi-It-Te-Win Training and Learning Centre (TLC) became a reality.
Today, TLC has become the last stop for young people, aged 12-17, on what for most was a horrific road through the courts, addiction, provincial custody, and foster care.
The TLC formerly was located on Couchiching near Fort Frances but in May of this year, the band council determined it needed that space for its own purposes and TLC was required to relocate further east in Watten Township.
The centre has been there since and still is under construction.
Today, it serves as home, school, and refuge for 10 young people, with a dozen others waiting for a spot.
The centre’s mandate, as described by special education teacher Barbara Stevens, is to “provide treatment services for children with behaviour and/or substance abuse problems.”
The clients are primarily aboriginal, but not exclusively.
“The important thing is it’s community-based and community-driven,” explained Stevens. “The goals are to preserve Anishinaabe culture and heritage, to strengthen and maintain Anishinaabe families, and to assure the growth, support, and development of all children within the community.”
A tall order indeed, considering most of these children bring tremendous emotional, and in some cases physical, baggage with them. Some have suffered injury from sniffing solvents while others are victims of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.
In addition to individual and group (peer) counselling for alcohol/drug addiction and anger management, the centre provides education courses that are customized to each client’s needs.
“Many of these kids have had negative experiences in education, so we have to turn that around to build their self-esteem before they can develop job skills,” noted Stevens.
The program runs for 90 days, during which the clients are assessed and any particular learning or behavioural problems are addressed.
In addition to conventional schooling and therapy, there is a strong traditional aboriginal component. Healing circles and sweats are all part of the curriculum, as are sessions with native elders.
Of the 10 clients currently in residence, all have been before the courts, some have been convicted, most have substance-abuse issues, and some have attempted suicide.
Of the five females in the program, most have been victims of sexual assault. At least one is there as the result of an emergency placement.
Not surprisingly, it requires a full-time staff of 12 plus another 16 part-timers—native and non-native—to keep things going at TLC. Residential counsellor Doug Broman said the numbers are necessary both for the security of the clients and of the staff.
“Some of these kids are a flight risk and some are quite capable of physical violence, so we need people on duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” Broman stressed.
For the staff, each day brings new challenges—and new surprises. “You have to be addicted to stress to work here,” said Broman.
It also requires a special type of person to reach these kids, many of whom have little trust of adults. The staff at TLC come from a varied background and bring with them an eclectic blend of skills and life experiences.
For example, Stevens is a teacher with a background in psychology, business, and social work. Broman is a former journalist and broadcaster. He also is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who has been clean and sober since 1986.
The one thing they all have in common is patience and an ability to identify with their clients, which is essential to gaining their trust.
“Everybody has a story,” said Stevens. “You can’t work here without being able to empathize.”
Like many social agencies, TLC operates on a precarious budget and according to director Cathy Jack, further cutbacks are a distinct possibility, which could place the centre itself is at risk.
That, said Stevens, would be a tragedy.
“We do good things for kids in the area. We do superb stuff and we save lives every single day,” she stressed.





