By Miles Patrick Yohnke
© 2025 All Rights Reserved.
In the wee hours on a mild October 17, 1968, Thursday morning my father, Francis Lewis Yohnke, was being transported from the Duval (now Cory) potash mine by the then station wagon style ambulance to the Royal University Hospital in Saskatoon with the machine my father was working with lodged in his skull. His physical life ended on route at age thirty-nine, six months and five days old. My life only really started on the ninth anniversary of my father's departure on the Monday morning, October 17, 1977, when I took bus eight, transferred to bus one on route to a special high school for the learning impaired and there I was introduced to the magical life of teacher and the next year teacher/principal Mr. Ronald Melnychuk.
By the time I reached Mr. Melnychuk my life was one of hopelessness. One of being scared. When I entered grade one, I wasn't comprehending anything. They thought that because of the loss of my father I was blocking; and perhaps it would pass, but it didn't. They thought perhaps I needed eyewear. Perhaps I couldn't see the chalkboard? My teacher asked my mother. My mother replied: "Well my two older sons, myself, we don't have issues with eyesight but will get his eyes tested." And sure enough, I needed eyewear. I got eyewear but nothing changed. I was still a retard, for this is how I was perceived up to this point (mental retardation was the commonly used name back in that era that I grew up in the late 1960s, 1970s). Those first three years came with so many challenges to get to the bottom of it--my learning challenges. My poor dear mother. Not only did she have to cope with the loss of her best friend and husband, but she had two teenage sons going through teenage experiences and she had me--a complete retard.
They shipped me around those first few years--from professionals to more professionals--clinic after clinic before I was diagnosed with 'Double Deficit Dyslexia' - the worst case of dyslexia. Mother and I were told by those paid professionals that I was a retard, and I wouldn't amount to much in life because of the severity of it.
I wasn't even able to spell my own last name until I was nine years old. Getting called a retard so many times that you lose count eats away at you. You feel like a chocolate cosmos flower in the Great Galveston Hurricane.
You don't laugh at the deaf. You don't laugh at the blind. I sure was laughed at.
Finally, after eight years and six weeks--at age fourteen and six days old--my elementary school simply gave up on my life and I found myself on route to Sion High School and into the comforting, guiding and loving arms of Mr. Melnychuk.
Sion High School had a ping pong table in its cafeteria, and we had one at home that I loved, and I played at school, and I never lost a game to a student and soon the teachers noticed this, and I found myself playing them, including Mr. Melnychuk and I never lost to them either. Often Mr. Melnychuk would ask me if I wanted to play after school and we did. Again, same results with him always losing.
Once he gave me a ride home as we had played extra late, and at the intersection of 20th street and Idylwyld Drive waiting for the light in his small Ford Courier truck he told me that at age sixteen he worked in a gas station and in came a man who robbed it at gunpoint. That young Ronald Melnychuk thought he was going to physically die that day. He was scared for his life. There in the cab of his little truck it was the first time I heard an adult man expressing his vulnerability and real emotions and that he was scared and so much wanted to experience a full life cycle. These mere moments would stay with me my entire life.
In the spring of 1978, Mr. Melnychuk (and Mr. Barry Sawchuk) noticed I was very skilled at floor hockey in our gym classes and created a floor hockey tournament with the top scorer receiving a trophy, and I won. I too received a 'Proficiency Award' through the Knights of Columbus in that same year of 1978. In my final year, Sion High School had a ping pong tournament. Like the floor hockey tournament, I focused so hard, tried so hard as I wanted to win as my older brothers excelled at school and at sports and had so many trophies. I wanted to be just like them, and I won, and I received a trophy. I felt so good about myself and my accomplishment. Three trophies in my time at Sion High School.
In that final year of schooling, in 1981, I wrote a short piece that got traction in our school. Mr. Melnychuk asked me to read it to our class, so I did. He asked me to write another piece. I did. Again, I was asked to read it to our class. He then asked me to write something and read it at my graduation. I wrote something for my first public speaking performance.
At the time I didn't realize Mr. Ronald Melnychuk had a four-year plan for me. It was only later in life I realized his remarkable vision of teaching. The Ronald Melnychuk method of teaching.
The symbolism of the chocolate cosmos flower is often associated with love and passion. With the passion and love of Mr. Ronald Melnychuk he restored my being and made me bloom thoroughly. You wouldn't be reading this if it wasn't for the life of Mr. Ronald Melnychuk. He knew who was going to win that ping pong tournament trophy. He knew who was going to be the top scorer and win the floor hockey tournament trophy. They held those tournaments just the once. They were really for Miles Patrick Yohnke and the development of my existence. I owe this life of mine to Ronald Roy Melnychuk.
In Loving Memory of Ronald Roy Melnychuk (October 13, 1946 - April 17, 2024)
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