History is messy. It isn't just dates on a page or old photos in a museum; it's the weight of names taken and names reclaimed. When you pick up I Am Not a Number, you aren't just reading a children's book. You're walking into the lived memory of Irene Couchie Dupuis. It’s a story that starts in 1928, but the echoes? They’re still vibrating through communities today.
Most people think history is something that happened to "other people" a long time ago. But for Irene’s family, particularly her granddaughter Jenny Kay Dupuis who co-authored the book, this was personal. It was a kitchen-table story that needed to be told so it wouldn't be forgotten. It’s about the residential school system in Canada, a dark spot that people are finally, albeit slowly, starting to look at with honest eyes.
The Reality Behind I Am Not a Number
Let’s be real for a second. The residential school system wasn't some misguided educational experiment. It was a targeted attempt to "kill the Indian in the child," a phrase that carries a lot of historical bile. Irene was only eight. Eight years old. Think about the eight-year-olds you know. They’re losing teeth. They’re obsessed with cartoons. They shouldn't be ripped away from their parents and told their names don't matter anymore.
Irene lived on the Nipissing First Nation. When the "Indian Agent" came—a term that sounds like something out of a bad movie but was a terrifying reality—her life changed. She was taken to Spanish River Indian Residential School. Upon arrival, her long hair was cut. Her traditional clothes were gone. And, most chillingly, her name was replaced by a number: 759.
Imagine being a child and having your identity reduced to three digits.
It’s dehumanizing. That’s the point, honestly. If you take away someone’s name, you take away their connection to their ancestors, their land, and their sense of self. It makes it easier for a system to process "bodies" instead of caring for human beings. The book captures this sharp, cold transition with a kind of brutal simplicity that hits harder than a 500-page textbook ever could.
Why This Story Hits Different
What makes I Am Not a Number stand out in the sea of historical literature is its restraint. It doesn't use overly flowery language to describe the pain. It just shows it. The coldness of the nuns. The hunger. The fear of speaking your own language. It’s all there.
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Kathy Kacer, the co-author, is known for writing about the Holocaust. There’s a reason that partnership worked. Both authors understand that when you’re writing for children about trauma, you don't need to exaggerate. The facts are heavy enough. The illustrations by Gillian Newland use these muted, earthy tones—browns, greys, dull greens—that make you feel the dampness of the school and the warmth of the home Irene was forced to leave.
It’s weirdly beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
Breaking Down the Residential School Impact
We talk about "intergenerational trauma" a lot these days. It’s a buzzy phrase. But what does it actually mean in the context of I Am Not a Number?
It means that when Irene finally went home for the summer and saw her mother, she was changed. She had to hide the fact that she still knew her language. She had to navigate the terror of knowing she was supposed to go back. Her parents, in an act of incredible bravery, eventually found a way to keep her and her brothers hidden so they wouldn't have to return to that place.
But not everyone got that chance.
- Thousands of children never made it home.
- The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of Canada has documented the staggering scale of the abuse.
- The "numbers" weren't just for roll call; they were for gravesites in many cases.
You’ve got to realize that the last of these schools didn't close until 1996. That’s not ancient history. That’s within the lifetime of people scrolling through TikTok right now. When we discuss the themes in the book, we’re discussing a living wound.
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Misconceptions About the Book
Some folks think that because I Am Not a Number is a picture book, it’s "Residential Schools Light." It isn’t. While it’s accessible for kids (usually recommended for ages 7 to 11), it doesn’t shy away from the cruelty.
Another misconception? That this is just a Canadian story. While the specific events happened in Ontario, the blueprint for residential schools was actually influenced by the United States' "Industrial Schools" for Native Americans. It’s a North American tragedy.
The Power of Reclaiming a Name
Names have power. In many Indigenous cultures, a name is a spirit, a history, and a responsibility. By titling the book I Am Not a Number, the authors are performing an act of resistance. They are shouting back at a system that tried to erase Irene Couchie.
Irene eventually became a community leader. She didn't let 759 define her life, but she also didn't let the world forget what happened to 759.
If you're an educator or a parent, you might feel nervous about reading this. You might wonder if it’s "too much." Honestly, kids handle the truth better than we think they do. They have a very keen sense of justice. When they hear about a girl having her hair cut against her will, they get it. They know it's wrong.
Critical Insights for Readers
- Contextualize the Indian Agent: Explain to kids that this was a government official with total power over Indigenous families. It helps them understand why Irene’s parents couldn't just say "no" at the start.
- Focus on the Homegoing: The scenes where Irene returns to her family are the emotional core. It highlights what was at stake: the family unit.
- The Role of Language: Notice how the book treats the Ojibwe language. It’s a lifeline.
How to Move Forward After Reading
Reading I Am Not a Number is a first step, but it shouldn't be the last. Knowing the story is one thing; acknowledging the systemic issues that allowed it to happen is another.
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First, look up whose land you are currently standing on. Use resources like Native-Land.ca. It’s a simple gesture, but it grounds the history of people like Irene in the physical world around you.
Second, support Indigenous creators. Don't just read about Indigenous people through the lens of their trauma. Read their poetry, watch their films, and buy from their businesses. The goal of the residential school system was erasure; the best way to honor the survivors is to ensure their vibrant, living cultures are celebrated.
Third, look into the 94 Calls to Action from the TRC. Many of them haven't been met. Whether you’re in Canada or elsewhere, the principles of reconciliation—truth-telling, legal changes, and educational reform—apply to any society built on the displacement of original peoples.
Irene’s story is a heavy one, but it’s also a story of survival. She came back. She kept her name. She told her granddaughter, and now, we know it too.
Steps to Take Today:
- Visit the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation website to view archival records and survivor testimonies.
- If you are an educator, pair this book with the Orange Shirt Day movement (September 30th) to discuss the "Every Child Matters" campaign.
- Check out other titles by Jenny Kay Dupuis or similar authors like David A. Robertson to see how different Indigenous nations are telling their own histories.
- Initiate a conversation with your family or colleagues about the difference between "integration" and "forced assimilation"—it’s a distinction that matters.
History is a living thing. By remembering Irene as a person, not a number, we keep that history honest.