The Verchères School for Girls

My Artifact-The Writing Case

My artifact is a writing case. In New France, writing cases were used for holding the supplies for writing, whether that writing be for books, school, or letters. If you look at the picture, you can easily see where the common supplies like paper, ink, and quills, would go. This particular writing case was discovered at the site of Champlain’s second habitation, and the case is believed to be from 1624-1688. It is so weird to see how writing has changed, and as I am typing this on my iPad, it is so incredible to see that change.

The Verchères School for Girls

“Welcome to the Verchères School for Girls!” announced the scrawny brunette girl standing in front of our makeshift classroom. I can’t even call it a classroom, all 27 of us were crammed into a secret room in the old fort. I can hear the trickle of water dripping from the roof, and the smell of mildew and mould is hard to ignore. “My name is Madeleine de Verchères, and I will be your teacher” she says. Murmurs spread around the room, “She can’t be more than 14”, “Her father owns the biggest farm in the town”, “How is she going to teach us?” Madeleine ignores the whispers, and instructs is to get out our books. “Madeleine, we don’t have any books”, says Louise Giroux. “No books?” Madeleine questions. This is the first time I have ever seen her falter. “Well, I have a piece of paper. I am going to write a word on it, and you will come up one at a time to read it.” Madeleine then pulled out the most beautiful writing case any of us had ever seen. It was heavy steel, and there were little sections for paper, ink, and quills. The case was obviously very expensive, and we all oohed and ahhhed over it. Madeleine wrote a word on the paper, and we all formed a line to go and read it. As the girls went up to her table, they tried to read the word and then whispered it to her. I tried asking Marguerite what it said, but she wouldn’t tell me! When I was finally at Madeleine’s table, I tried so hard to read it. She could definitely tell I was stuck, because she whispered to me, “Try spelling it out”. I tried that, and then I got it. “Rebel”, I whispered to her. “Very good job”,

she said, and smiled at me. She had that kind of smile that you could tell it was real because she smiled with her eyes. She called the next girl up, and I sat on the floor with Marguerite. “What do you think it means?”, she asked me. “I don’t know”, I responded, and I had the feeling that we were all questioning why she picked such a word. Once all the girls were done, Madeleine told us all to stand up. She looked at each and every single one of us, some of us wearing our farm clothes and covered in dirt, others wearing their best dresses who just got back from Mass. “We are all girls, living in New France. Boys get to go to school, and learn how to hunt, or build houses, or become fur traders. Us girls become seamstresses, and wives, and mothers. We are expected to do exactly what our husbands say. So what would happen if we didn’t do that? What would we be if we did exactly what they told us not to do?” The question lingered in the air, and then suddenly, a little voice from the back said, “I would be a pirate”. We turned around to see 8 year old Angélique Martine. Another voice pronounced, “I would be a hunter”. Choruses of voices announced to to group what they would be if they had their way. “A fisherwomen”, “a fur trader”, “a hunter”. Madeleine smiled even brighter at every answer, but it seemed she was looking for a word in particular. So I said, in the quietest shout I could manage, “a rebel”. All of the girls turned to look at me, and Madeleine smiled even brighter than the sun. “Yes! Yes yes yes! You are all rebels. You are here today to learn, but you first need to know who you are. You are rebels.” We all just stood there, feeling so very powerful, because we knew that we were becoming who we wanted to be. Then, out of absolute nowhere, little Angélique Martine screamed.

We all rushed over to her, and she pointed out the window with one shaking finger. We ran to the window, and saw a whole tribe of Iroquois people approaching our village. This was not good. We had only ever had one interaction with these people, and it was not good. Even more terror set in once we realized that we were alone in the fort, which was the only thing separating our homes from these people. We just stood there, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, we heard a tremendous BOOM. We looked over and saw Madeleine standing at the cannon, having just fired it. The other girls just stood there, but I knew what to do. I started grabbing muskets off the wall. “Who knows how to fire a musket?” I said, and about 5 girls raised their hands. I passed them the weapon, and then looked to Madeleine to see what we should do next. “Girls, make as much noise as possible! We want them to think that there are soldiers inside!” The other girls started stomping, banging rocks together, and one of them even found an old drum. Us girls with muskets started firing them out the window, not meaning to hit anyone or anything, we just wanted to scare them away. After about 10 minutes of this, Madeleine yelled, “They are gone!”. We all started jumping up and down, and cheering. We looked to Madeleine for more instructions, and she simply said, “Okay girls, we are moving on to the next word”.

About the Author

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Amy Sheardown is currently a Grade 8 student in the Performance Learning Program. When she is not writing books or blog posts, she enjoys painting, sewing, and roller skating. Amy has not done work on New France before, and she is looking forward to learning even more about it. This book is very loosely based on the life of Madeleine de Verchères, a 14 year old girl who defended a fort in her town against the Iroquois people. You can find Amy painting or roller skating in her neighbourhood of North Vancouver, British Columbia.