Coyote? by Diné Warriors-Pistolbullet of Salish Kootenai College

In 1977, Clifton Bates took a step into the unknown when he accepted a teaching position in the small town of Bethel, Alaska. He was born and raised in Seattle, Washington, and went on to earn a master’s degree at the University of Washington where he focused his studies on education, curriculum, and instruction with an emphasis on cross-cultural educa­tion. But none of that fully prepared him for what awaited in southwestern Alaska.

When he arrived in Bethel, Bates discovered that his only housing option was a converted horse trailer with no running water and fixed portholes for windows. A non-Native, he was a minority in the town, where Yup’iks accounted for over 60% of the population. Bethel had actually grown considerably over the decades, reaching over 3,000 residents, up from the 110 people listed in the 1910 census. But it was still remote—there was one paved road in town and the only way in was by plane, dog sled, or boat, the latter of which was not an option during the winter months when the Kuskokwim Bay and River were frozen solid.

As Bates settled into his new teaching position, he took notice of the many cultural differences. One Yup’ik activity that stood out and was common at recess was the Lapp game, which resembled baseball in some ways but had a completely different culture surrounding how it was played. There was an overar­ching set of rules, so to speak, but Lapp game was largely spontaneous, flexible, and dynamic. Pitchers would toss a ball gingerly to a batter who would hit it and run toward a finish line. There were no strikes or fouls, no set number of players or teams, no winners or losers as no one even kept score. The point of the game was fun, some exercise, and having a good laugh. Anyone could play and often local elders would join the students for an always-entertaining Lapp game.

But as Bethel grew and more non-Yup’ik students attended the local school, Bates began to notice that Lapp game became compet­itive and contested. Arguments replaced laughter, as Bethel’s new students demanded scorekeeping and stricter rules. Eventually, Lapp game ceased entirely, and highly competitive Western sports grew in its stead.

Bates took note of how the school’s curriculum mimicked what he saw at recess. He developed a special interest in the struggles of one of his students named Kim-boy, who lived with his Yup’ik-speaking grandmother along the Kuskokwim River. Just 13, Kim-boy’s parents had both died, although he did not know when or how. His older brother, who was just a few grades ahead, had dropped out of school and committed suicide. Unsurprisingly, given such loss, Bates noticed that Kim-boy suffered from depression and that he was failing many of his classes. Matters took a turn for the worse when Kim-boy’s poor grades prohibited him from being on the school’s wrestling team, the one activity that brought him joy.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, when Bates made these obser­vations, the concept of culturally responsive education was still relatively new for many educators. Schools throughout North America largely adhered to the philosophy of “make the child fit the desk.” That “desk” was a K-12 educational system developed in central Europe—Prussia to be precise—during the 19th century. American educators who had visited the region, including the father of American public schools, Horace Mann, were impressed with how the volksschulen, or people’s schools, had effectively educated so many people, resolving to implement this system in the United States.

To their credit, Mann and his colleagues were genuinely interested in expanding educational opportunities beyond simply the elites in society. But in hindsight we now know that the educational model they imported was predicated on discipline, standardization, conformity, control, and compliance. Bells, periods, and desks arranged in rows facing an authority figure were and remain hall­marks of this system, which in the end defines success by test scores and grades.

The failures of this system have been glaringly apparent for many years. As Joseph Martin, Timothy Begaye, and Jon Reyhner state in their feature article, “From Conformity to Creativity,” Western standards-based education “create[s] benchmarks for what students learn, how they are taught, how their performance is assessed, and the standards they must meet for promotion and graduation.” Importantly, Martin, Begaye, and Reyhner argue that mainstream schooling is so fixed on Western conceptions of success, that it doesn’t consider meaningful learning experiences and, most importantly, the well-being of the student and the wider community. It is the system itself that has failed, not the students. Fortunately, Native educators and leaders took action when they established tribally controlled community schools, such as the Rough Rock Demonstration School in the Navajo Nation in 1966, where culture became the foundational element of all curricula. Tribal colleges and universities soon followed suit and today have turned the tide for Native students.

Take for instance the College of Menominee Nation, where the Teacher Education Department serves as a bridge connecting the tribal college to local schools and communities. In the article, “Rooted in Community,” Professor Kelli Chelberg shows how the college’s teacher education program employs a culturally responsive student support model and is informed by the Menominee people’s traditional clan framework. This unique approach utilizes talking circles, faculty mentoring, and the wisdom of the elders to prepare future Menominee educators who are reflective, committed to student success, and grounded in tribal values.

An integral part of many culturally rooted programs at TCUs is Indigenous language sustainability. College of the Muscogee Nation has emerged as a leader in the field with its Mvskoke Language Teaching Certificate Program. As illuminated in the article, “Building a Fluent Future,” this community-based program employs a master-apprentice model that taps into the deep knowl­edge of Mvskoke first language speakers. The result is a new cadre of educators who are revitalizing Mvskoke at schools, community centers, and Head Start programs.

For those who question the power of culturally responsive teacher education curriculum at TCUs, the American Indian Higher Education Consortium (AIHEC) has been systematically gathering data to underscore its efficacy. Jana M. Hanson and Wells Ling of AIHEC’s student success team have compiled enroll­ment numbers and completion rates for the American Indian Measures for Success data warehouse.

For years, Clifton Bates reflected on his student Kim-boy, who eventually succumbed to alcohol addiction. “I began wondering about the various ways schools could change so the Kim-boys of Alaska could experience success, develop healthy spirits, have choices and do what they can do in today’s world as Alaska Native people,” he wrote. Today, America’s tribal colleges and universities offer the solution and a shining light forward.

Bradley Shreve, PhD is the editor of Tribal College Journal.

REFERENCES

Alaskan Writers Series: Clifton Bates. (2020, July 10). 49 Writers. Retrieved from https://49writers.org/alaska-writers-series-clifton-bates/

Bates, C., & Oleksa, M.J. (2007). Conflicting Landscapes: American Schooling/Alaska Natives. Anchorage, AK: Kuskokwim Corporation.