When Amos Topping went to the podium to get his award, a huge cheer went up from the crowd. Many of the 600 at the banquet knew his story.
He was getting the most prestigious award of the night, the Spirit Eagle Award, which is given to students who overcame adversity, at the annual Aboriginal Achievement Awards for the Maple Ridge-Pitt Meadows school district.
“Two die in rural house fire,” read the newspaper headline in January 2001.
The sub-headline was more jarring.
“Witnesses and family hear pleas from children trapped on second floor.”
Those were Amos’ two sisters.
He, his mother Carol and two siblings made it out of the house safely, as fire tore through their 1920s farmhouse in the 21000 block of 128th Avenue.
Neighbours and two young men who were passing by tried to get the trapped girls out.
Neighbour Steve McDonald and the boys broke windows around the house and tried to gain entry, according to reports, but the heat from the fire was too intense for them to dare going in. Flames were shooting out the roof, under the eaves and from the windows.
Maple Ridge firefighters arrived within 10 minutes of the call, but it took them an hour to extinguish the raging fire. The house was gutted, the roof burned away.
Fire officials determined it started in a chimney, and spread quickly through the dry timbers of the old house.
Carjeana, 8, and Shalaina, 11, both died that night.
Amos, who was always a quiet kid, became almost non-verbal.
He arrived at Westview secondary four years ago, at the age of 15. He was nervous, and most of his communication consisted of a simple nod. He couldn’t read.
Amos had struggled with a speech impediment, of which there is no trace of now in his normal conversation. But he said it’s still there if he speaks quickly.
“I talked to people I knew, I just didn’t talk very much,” he explained quietly, fidgeting with his hands.
“My brother always spoke for me when I was younger.”
If Amos was asked a question, Deakin, four years his senior, would answer it.
“He just loves talking,” smiled Amos. “We’re total opposites.”
He remembers the night of the fire.
“It probably made me more quiet.”
Westview teachers found he was functionally illiterate. Just four years ago, Amos was reading at a level he estimates was kindergarten or Grade 1.
“I just never could read,” he said. “I just didn’t learn.”
Patti Williams, an aboriginal support worker, theorizes that teachers in the system sympathized with Amos – painfully shy, silent and having suffered emotional trauma – and they probably cut him too much slack.
“I think in elementary school they either didn’t think he was capable, or didn’t want to push him too hard,” said Williams.
She found he had minor learning disabilities that were barriers to his literacy, “but he’s pushed through it.”
His father Tom Topping is a mechanic. He has brought up a son who knows his way around an engine, and isn’t afraid of work.
“I enjoy working with my hands,” Amos said.
Metalwork, carpentry and mechanics all come easy to him, even if academics haven’t.
For him, the notion of reading for pleasure would have been a bit like doing mathematics for fun. That’s a tough sell for an educator. Williams and other teachers took a different approach, selling him on the idea that improved literacy would allow him to read manuals, building plans and enable him to pursue more schooling in the trades. That’s something Amos could buy into.
“He had a bigger reason to read,” said Williams.
Westview administration purchased an emerging reading program designed for people learning basic literacy as adults, and Linda Cartier worked through it with Amos.
“She was awesome, she really taught me to read,” he said. “She found out how I would pick it up.”
Reading, maturing, leaving school with his dogwood – it’s turned him into a young man with a bright future.
“We’re really excited for him,” said Williams. “If he hadn’t learned to read he still would have been okay, because he’s personable, but this opens more doors. He’s so much more confident now.”
Stories like Amos’ are the reason teachers love their jobs.
“There’s been a whole team of us at the school who all did our part,” said Williams. “We’re glad he’s graduating, but we’re sad he won’t be here every day.”
There were 600 people watching as Amos got his Spirit Eagle Award, and they gave him a big cheer. He was shocked. Yes, he had signed the forms that gave his permission to be nominated, but he hadn’t really paid any attention at the time – a teacher asked him to sign something, so he signed it.
Next thing he knows, he’s getting called up in front of a big crowd to receive the biggest honour at the Aboriginal Achievement Awards.
“I got more relaxed as I walked across the stage,” he remembers. “It was a total surprise.”
Amos is currently reading the Hobbit – and enjoying it. He will attend commencement ceremonies with his girlfriend later this month. He will look at the possibilities of attending BCIT, and is interested in the machining program.
When someone seldom speaks, their words carry more weight.
Amos final remark: “Thanks to all the teachers who have helped me.”