Matviy, a 6-year-old boy, has been attending a school named Ridne Slovo, which means “native word” in Ukrainian, for two years and primarily focusing on reading and writing in Ukrainian — to become fluent in his mother tongue, despite being separated from it by thousands of miles.
Ukrainian Saturday school in Vancouver is not just about the educational process — it is, rather, about building the Ukrainian community, letting children preserve their attachment to Ukraine, their motherland, said Yulia, the mother of the boy.
This educational project of New Westminster Eparchy was established in 2014 by local Ukrainian families, who were interested in more diverse and comprehensive Ukrainian-speaking educational curriculum in comparison with the regular Canadian schools.
After more than 20 years in Canada, Yulia now serves as a head of the parents’ council of the school, saying that joining the school was not even a matter of choice: “We want our son to feel himself a part of the community, to understand that he is not alone and his parents are not the only Ukrainians around,” she said.
At the very beginning, there were only several dozens of pupils in the school. But this year the number has grown to 160 children — the smallest is just over 2 years old and the eldest is 14 years old, said Iryna Dziubko, a school administrator.
“A lot of newcomers from Ukraine joined the school — now there is an equal split between them and children who didn’t directly flee the full-scale Russian invasion,” Dziubko said.
As she sees it, these new students have changed the vibe of the school as children began to use Ukrainian language during the breaks and before that the school administration were struggling with English language in the corridors.
PHOTO: A teacher in class, where students are exposed to the Ukrainian language. (Yuriy Zaliznyak)
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“The actual war refugees helped us deal with this problem enabling local children to practice Ukrainian language not only during classes,” she said.
Fifteen teachers, including seven people who have also recently relocated from Ukraine, teach children how to write and read in Ukrainian, Ukrainian studies, history, math, logic and Bible studies, as preparation for the first communion.
“At first it was all about providing mostly Ukrainian cultural studies but now, with the new wave of children from Ukraine, we understood that we also can level up the general knowledge criteria,” Dziubko said. The school is also trying to help young Ukrainians to overcome the war traumas, in part by pushing the student to study — but also to relax and enjoy themselves, she said.
Ihor, 40, an IT specialist who relocated his family from Lviv, Ukraine, on March 1, 2022, just a week after the full-scale invasion began, said he and his wife are trying to help to their two boys, 13 and 11, and 9-year-old daughter, experience the benefits of attending the Canadian and Ukrainian schools at the same time.
“Our eldest son had a traumatic experience with the school back in Ukraine, he literally hated it against the background of the Canadian school he attends here — it was about the indifference of the teachers and cruelty among the students,” Ihor said.
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He said he wanted his children to know why it is so important for them to learn about Ukrainian culture and identity.
“It is all about remembering where you are from, about having friends in here and enjoying the community of your own,” Ihor said.
As he sees it, for parents this school is about community and cultural opportunity to keep holding to Ukrainian identity and consciousness in order to secure its transit to their children.
“I became a volunteer in this school, trying to be a role model and help my children with adaptation, to involve them into the learning process in the new surroundings,” said Olena.
She said she found the school while in Sri-Lanka, browsing online for schooling opportunities for her children. Her daughter, Maggie, is almost 9 years old and son, Misha, is 6, and both have been attending Ridne Slovo since last winter.
PHOTO: Olena’s family in Canada in the summer of 2024. (Yuriy Zaliznyak)
“My children got used to this school despite the fact that they assigned more homework in a week than it has been assigned during the whole year in the Canadian school.”
The whole family arrived in Sri-Lanka three days before the Russian invasion to Ukraine, hoping to spend their two weeks’ vacation there, but got stuck. They attended a local British school for 18 months. Back then, Olena realized that she had to start speaking Ukrainian instead of Russian.
“My husband is British and I am the only keeper of the Ukrainian heritage in our family — I bite it off with my teeth,” she said. “So, it was my decision to let our children attend this school as Ukrainian language is now very important, although it was not a part of our family before the war — all of us were Russian speaking.”
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“Sri-Laka it is almost India, India is a friend of Russia, and the Russians feel themselves very comfortable there — like somewhere in Krasnodar region,” she said. “There were a lot of them there and if you are speaking Russian there is almost no difference between you and them. So, they tend to make you one of them — saying that we are all together in the same boat, let’s hug each other and cry together.”
Therefore, the family relocated to Vancouver and there, in this school, Olena was deliberately looking for other Ukrainian-speaking children, hoping that they would interact more and become friends with her daughter and son.
“I hope, my children will understand who they are, where are they from — it is very important in here — in Canada where there are so many people representing different races and nationalities,” she said.
The language issue is also a key argument for Yevhen, 34, whose family moved to Canada 2 years ago after spending 8 years in Poland. He and his Polish wife are raising three children and the eldest son, 5, attends Ukrainian school.
“The language is the main issue for me — one of my biggest fears is that my children will not speak Ukrainian,” said Yevhen, who speaks four languages fluently. It was a matter of Yevhen’s personal choice to switch from Russian to Ukrainian when he turned 16 and decided to change his name to Yevhen, instead of the more Russian Yevheniy, on his passport.
“Our son was born in Poland, we are raising him in Canada, he has never got to know Ukraine for real, so, this school is the only option for us to build up some identity in him, give him the understanding who he is,” he said, adding, “I want him to promote Ukrainian culture, proving that it is as good as the others.”
The school has become a central part of the lives of some who fled the war, even if they didn’t initially intend it to become so. Alina Novytska, from Dnipro, Ukraine, was not a teacher back in her home city, but 5 years ago she joined this school community. First here two girls attended, and then she became a teacher. Now she is responsible for Ukrainian language classes, Ukrainian studies and Bible studies curriculum. “Smaller children are just singing songs about God and others are preparing for the First Communion,” she said.
As a professional graphic designer, Alina is also involved in creative workshops and art classes with children. Currently teachers are using workbooks from Ukraine, adopting them according to their schedule. Alina said she sees a difference between newcomers and children who were born in Canada or have been here for a while.
“Due to the peculiarities of the educational system and methodology, it is easier for us to work with children from Ukraine as they are more disciplined, they are listening to the teacher, are precisely following all instructions and need no additional incentives,” she said.
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At the same time, the newcomers also tend to demonstrate a generally higher level of knowledge if compared to the schoolers of the same age from Canada. But, as Alina said, it is not just about education: “Some parents may barely afford this school as it is not free of charge but their children are the ones who are asking to let them have this small native island.”
Ridne Slovo serves as a native island for the children of Father Mykhailo Ozorovych, the abbot of the Holy Eucharist Cathedral in New Westminster and the director of the school.
PHOTO: Father Mykhailo at the school. (Yuriy Zaliznyak)
“As a married priest and father, I can see how important the community, other children and this experience of each other, this growth in knowledge, in Ukrainian culture is important for my children,” he said.
In Ozorovych’s opinion, being Ukrainian means not just language, embroidery and borscht — it is something bigger and different, it is a way of thinking, way of life, attitude to the world.
On the one hand, the director admits that the religion is not a must at school and it is just offering more to the children in comparison to the regular schools in Canada. On the other hand, he insists that Ukrainians have to keep together making sure that the children have strong Christian connections. He called his school the investment into the future victory of Ukraine.
“At some point, the war will be over,” he said, “there will be a time for the renewal and I want these children, these teachers, all together to rebuild Ukraine.”
Ukrainian children who fled Russia’s invasion transform Ukrainian school in Canada originally appeared on abcnews.go.com
