Olga (5 page)

He was the master of the house, and controller of the finances. Money was scarce, so I was continually asking for grocery money. He preferred to spend his money socializing with his male friends, so I started a garden and grew vegetables to avoid going hungry and to be more self-sufficient. John wanted a wife, but not the responsibilities that come with marriage, so he and I had no emotional connection with each other. He could be gone from home for as long as a month, and when he returned, Nadine wouldn’t recognize him. This was sad, and added to my loneliness. In those days, you didn’t consider divorce, especially if you were raised Catholic. I was determined to withstand the challenges, while praying that the situation would improve. Unfortunately, things got
worse.

A few years into the marriage, John came home late while I was sleeping. The memory is a bit blurred, but I remember that he woke me up, accusing me of being unfaithful to him. This was not a new accusation, but the incident stood out in my mind because it was the first time he had accused me while holding a butcher knife to my throat. I decided to gather enough strength and courage to leave him. I went to a lawyer and explained that I was worried John might hurt me, and that Nadine could be in danger as well. The lawyer knew John’s character and told me to ‘Get the hell out!’ At first, I was stumped as to how I could leave without John knowing my plan, but fate intervened in an unfortunate way: his mother had died in her farmyard while feeding the chickens, and we were to go to the funeral. My parents knew of my plan to leave him, and they met us there. I left with them that night, and Nadine and I began a new life, but not for
long.

My parents had retired but still lived on the farm. Every morning, Dad would hitch up a team to drive Nadine two miles to school and pick her up in the afternoon. I felt bad watching my parents as they tried to look after us, so I decided to move again. We went to Saskatoon to stay at my Uncle Jim’s. This time, Nadine’s school was just a short distance away, and we enjoyed the open air skating rink a block from home. We were happy and content without the threat of an angry husband breaking up our
peace.

Soon after, I accepted a teaching position in a rural area where Nadine could be one of my pupils. She was six years old and had become my little companion. We were set to leave and had our few boxes packed up. At the train station of our destination, we loaded our few possessions onto a horse-drawn sleigh and rode from the station to the school, excited to be starting a new adventure. When we arrived at the house where we would live, John was waiting for us on the front
porch.

My excitement turned to shock then resignation. I understood that my life had taken another wrong turn, and I would have to go with him. Our boots had barely touched the snow, and I hadn’t even had a chance to unpack a single box; we got into his car and drove to Canora Saskatchewan where we lived in a hotel. I never learned how he had discovered our whereabouts and would never have questioned him about
it.

This time, things were different. One important difference was that I worked as a teacher, so I had my own money. Unfortunately, our living conditions reverted to that earlier unhappiness, but enough time had been spent away from him to give me the will to change our circumstances. I did not want to put Nadine through more distress so, again, I decided to leave him. A new motivation cinched my decision: I was not only worried for Nadine and me, but also for the child I was carrying. I was pregnant and about to travel as far as possible to get away from him, but this time I was better prepared. As my marriage had been unravelling, and I knew major changes were in order, I had started to save money to send to my sister Jean in British
Columbia.

Olga and daughters Nadine and baby
Lynda.

Jean was living in New Westminster and had invited us to come west. (Jean was the sister who had made my burgundy velvet dress, embroidered with coloured beads, for my first day in grade one.) After 10 years of haphazard married life, Nadine was now eight years old and I was pregnant with Lynda. I bid farewell to my beloved Saskatchewan and, in 1953, said hello to beautiful British Columbia. When I arrived, all my sister said was, “What took you so
long?”

By the time we arrived in B.C., I had managed to amass almost $1,000. Jean’s family, her husband Matt, son Noris, and daughter Adelka lived in New Westminster, and that was where my daughter Lynda was
born.

I enrolled Nadine in Lord Tweedsmuir Elementary School in New Westminster, and I went to work in the office of a creosote manufacturing firm. I had received my teacher certificate from Saskatoon Normal School and taught in that province for 4 years. In order to teach in British Columbia, I had to supplement my qualifications with extra hours during the summer as well as night classes, which resulted in my graduating from the University of British Columbia. I began looking for a full-time teaching position as my funds were quickly dwindling. Luckily, within the year, I was hired by the Burnaby School
Board.

Within a short time my daughters and I had our own home. I had bought a corner lot in New Westminster for $2,000. Students at New Westminster Senior Secondary High School built a house every year that they sold off as a fundraiser. I was lucky enough to buy a house from them for $5,000 and have it moved to the lot at 2101 Dublin Street. My girls and I loved that
home.

I never saw John again. His brother contacted me in 1964 to tell me he had died in Flin Flon, Manitoba. Before we were married, the Air Force had rejected John because he had a collapsed lung. This afflicted him all his life, and his smoking made it worse. Evidently, this was the condition that killed him. He was only forty-seven years old. Out of respect for him and his family, I took his two daughters to his funeral. The three of us slept in his house while his body lay in a closed coffin in the parlour. Once again, we were together under one roof, but this time, I felt safe and calm; my faith helped me to forgive him and to pray for his soul, that I believed was now at peace. He was my children’s father, and I never wished him ill will. My daughters and I followed him to the graveside where we said our last goodbyes. That part of our lives was over. My identity as a wife had gradually faded into mother and teacher, two roles I was happy to
embrace.

Now that I had obtained the requisite teaching requirements for B.C., I began my new teaching job. I worked with the Burnaby School Board for 30 years, the first 18 in the position of classroom teacher in the elementary grades, and then 12 years as a Hospital and Homebound Teacher before retiring in 1984 at the age of
65.

My teaching career in Burnaby presented me with a slight adjustment in style when compared to my experience in rural Saskatchewan. In the rural schoolroom, I taught all the curriculum subjects to 47 pupils from grades 1 to 10, but at Glenwood Elementary School in B.C., I taught a split class of 18 grade 1 and grade 2 students. I was concerned about handling the situation effectively, so I asked for help from a primary grades’ supervisor. She divided each grade into two groups which now seemed like I was teaching four grades. This arrangement made us all happy, however, and we progressed very effectively. Glenwood School was composed of two teaching classrooms, one stacked above the other with two teachers and Mr. Campbell the janitor. Mr. Campbell was such a dear man: he often helped me out by picking up Lynda from St. Peter School in New Westminster and then driving her to my school. A new Glenwood School was being constructed on the property, and in a short while we moved into a new building, and the old school was
demolished.

During my 30 years working for the Burnaby School Board, I taught in five schools: Riverway West, Glenwood, Suncrest, Clinton, and Nelson, predominantly in grades 1, 2 and 5. My expertise was the 3R’s—reading, writing, and arithmetic as well as art and physical education. For several years, I acted as the Burnaby School District Elementary School art
director.

As well as teaching my class, I would give individual help and seminars for teachers during after-school hours. As I write this book, I am reminiscing about my students and the different staff members. I cherish a letter I received from one of these
students:

Dear Mrs
Kotelko,

About forty-five years ago you made a permanent impression on a little girl. I was in your grade 1 class at Glenwood School, Burnaby. It was my first introduction to being educated and I loved it. “Mrs. Kotelko” challenged her students to always work hard and to do their best. Before the term came into popularity she was a promoter of life-long learning, encouraging her students to love the process of learning, trying new things and improving oneself. As I continued through secondary school to university until I became a teacher myself, I recognized that I had been extremely fortunate to have such a wonderful start to my
education.

I lost track of Mrs. Kotelko but I did not forget her. About ten years ago I saw an article in the newspaper. I read that after retirement Olga Kotelko became an athlete and at seventy plus years of age she was in the Seniors Olympics. This was so much like the determined
enthusiastic, undaunted woman who sang “Kookaburra” and taught me to read, that I knew it must be “my” Mrs. Kotelko. When I learned that she was giving a workshop at the Vancouver Health and Wellness Show I gathered up my first grade class photos and went downtown to
reconnect.

The audience was mostly seniors and as Olga spoke they became engaged in her message of “try something new, challenge mind, body and spirit and see where it takes you”. Surrounded by her medals, trophies and awards we were all inspired. There were questions afterwards, some timid, some fearful. With insight, clear directions and lots of humour, Olga answered each one, encouraging and inspiring with her words, her optimism, her “you can do it” approach to sports and to
life.

I was not the only student who contacted Mrs Kotelko. Other students called, and this year we had the first Glenwood School Grade 1 reunion dinner. Olga had prepared a package for each of us that came with her words, “You Can Do It”. It should be noted that on that evening the actor Harrison Ford was also eating chow mein in the restaurant, but he got very little attention from our table. We had Mrs.
Kotelko!

All the newspaper articles, interviews, ribbons and accolades confirm that Olga Kotelko has made overwhelming achievements in the Seniors Olympics and is worthy to be nominated to the Saskatchewan Sports Hall of Fame and Museum. What may not be as evident is that she has always been challenging herself, as a single parent, as a teacher and in her retirement as an athlete. From first grade she inspired her students to find new challenges, do their best and never, ever give up. Forty-seven years later, we all remembered that. Today, Olga Kotelko promotes sports along with her inspiring outlook on life. She is proof and motivation that advancing in age can be a joy and a challenge as much as any other stage in life. At the Aquatic Center in West Vancouver, and the Burnaby Retired Teachers Association, at conferences, on radio and TV, one can always find Olga Kotelko where the action is: full of life, full of laughter, full of new ambitions and goals and full of encouragement for
others.

It is a great honour to support her nomination to the Saskatchewan Sports Hall of Fame and
Museum.

Caprice Soames August 9,
2005

My Glenwood School students had located their 1958 grade 1 teacher,
Mrs. Kotelko
in 2008. Since we reunited they have been treating me to annual dinners at very fine restaurants. My students are now in their 50s: a businessman, a nurse, a teacher, a firefighter, a horse trainer, and two happily married housewives. It is a delight to relive with them those happy school memories. It reminds me of a lovely quote: “A teacher affects eternity; she/he can never tell where her/his influence
stops.”

One of my goals as an elementary school teacher was to go beyond teaching my students the 3 R’s, and to teach them about life and different cultures. I recall one time when my grade 5 class in Nelson School had completed all of their assignments, were tidying up their desks, and then quietly waiting for the lunch bell. I sat on my desk facing the class and decided to introduce them to my family’s Christmas traditions. I shared with them family customs that involved the cooking of special and delicious foods, and explained the intricate preparations that required much effort. I told them that the effort was well worth it because the preparation of the feast created joy and happiness for the whole family. My students learned that for Ukrainians the most beloved and joyful festivity is
Christmas.