Helen Buckler, 89The Globe and Mail
Teacher. Volunteer. Reader. Mother. Born Oct. 21, 1927, in Dodsland, Sask.; died Aug. 5, 2017, in Kentville, N.S., of pneumonia; aged 89.
One of my earliest memories of my mother involves bedtime. Instead of a children's story, she would read Julius Caesar – actually, we both read it, each taking some of the parts.
Helen Powell was the first of four children, and grew up in Eston, Sask., and Pictou, N.S. Her father, Howard Vincent Powell, owned a small weekly newspaper and printing business. Before she turned 12, Helen began helping out in the printing office, folding paper, reporting on local youth events such as CGIT meetings. By 15, she was even running the hand-operated press.
Late in 1943, when Helen was 16, her father died. The next summer her mother, Christine Powell, took the family back to her hometown in Pictou.
After finishing high school in Pictou, Helen attended Dalhousie University and followed her mother into teaching.
She might have chosen her father's line of work – she worked briefly for the local weekly paper and the proprietor offered her a permanent job. But she declined when he observed that he wouldn't have to pay her as much as a man. She was, she said later, having none of that.
Helen taught in Shawinigan, Que., for a year, then in a one-room schoolhouse in Middle Stewiacke, N.S.
At her next teaching job, in Digby, N.S., she met Douglas Buckler, also a teacher. They were married in 1954 and worked as a team, ending up in New Germany, N.S., where Helen taught senior math and English, and Doug became principal.
Helen wanted to instill a love of reading in her students, so she let them report on books not on the formal curriculum. They could bring in their own or choose from an extensive collection she provided. To mark their reports, she had to read them, too, but that was no hardship, since she loved to read.
One of her favourite stories was about teaching Macbeth. During lunch hour she once heard a couple of the boys calling out to the girls and quoting Macbeth's greeting to the three witches: "How now, you secret, black and midnight hags. What is't you do?" One responded: "A deed without a name." That pleased her immensely.
Helen and Doug retired in 1974 and moved to Wolfville, N.S. After Doug died in 1985, Helen became more involved in the community and her church. She also taught English to a Vietnamese refugee family who moved to Wolfville and became good friends with them.
For years, Helen's house was where donated books were sorted and stored for an annual charity book sale for the local Canadian Federation of University Women. Members gathered there on Saturday mornings to sort and price books, the week before the sale the basement was almost impassable. Amongst all those boxes of books, Helen was in her element.
After a stroke and fall early in 2013, her life became difficult physically.
Probably the worst thing was that she could no longer hold a book or turn its pages. But almost every time I phoned her, she asked what I was reading.
Grant Buckler is Helen's son.
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