Kathy Jo Wargin's THE LEGEND OF THE PETOSKEY STONE

[Note: This review is posted by permission of its author, Lois Beardslee. It may not be published elsewhere without her written permission.]

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Wargin, Kathy Jo, The Legend of the Petoskey Stone, illustrated by Gijsbert van Frankenhuyzen. Sleeping Bear Press (2004). Unpaginated, color illustrations, preschool-4.

My elders have told me that the very title, the very notion of this book so offends them that they will not open the book or even look at it. The Petoskey stone is so sacred to us that we have no origin story for it, they say. I understand. We are inseparable from our stories and our traditions, and to us, the fabrication of “Native American myths and legends” by white people is a threat to our very survival. When one disregards our culture, one disregards us as human beings.

I sometimes feel the urge to wash my hands after touching this type of book, but the concept of this one was so egregiously offensive to me that the book lay unopened on my office floor for over a year. I simply couldn’t find civilized words to describe such an uncivilized act against our local Indian people.

The Legend of the Petosky Stone purports to be a legend about a Native American chief from a community on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. It also purports to tell the origin of the name of the northwest Michigan town of Petoskey, as well as the transfer of that name to a fossilized coral that was made the official state stone. There is absolutely nothing factual or traditional in this book. The language pronunciation guides, the explanations, the translations, are all false.

On the northern end of Lake Michigan’s eastern shore is a large harbor that has always been populated by Native Americans, most recently, the Odawa and Ojibwe. People who lived in that region often identified themselves by that geographical location and were often referred to by others as being people who came from that place. The harbor and the western- and southerly-hooking peninsula that create it were called bidassigigiishik in Anishinaabemoin, the native language of the Odawa, Ojibwe, and Potawatomi populations who traversed up and down the coast. The Anishinaabemoin name refers to the fact that one can watch the sun rise over the water from the peninsula—an unusual phenomenon on the side of a lake that faces west. The name is not romantic. There are no direct references or linguistic romantic nuances to magical rays of sun. It is a geographic term that is also somewhat lighthearted and amusing to those who understand that particular verb and how it is used.

When European-American culture came to have an increasing presence in the region, non-Indians transferred their own cultural and linguistic concepts of name identification onto the Indians and “named” some Indian families “Petoskey” in their written records. There are many Odawa families in the region with this surname today. In researching The Legend of the Petosky Stone, Wargin could have sought out any of these families—or any other local Indian families—for their input. She apparently chose not to. Rather, it’s as if she intentionally tried to avoid acknowledgement of historical and cultural facts in the manufacture of this regional “history.”

Wargin’s story-within-a-story is about a French fur trader who was made an “honorary chief” by the local Indians and who had a son by an Indian “Princess” who grew up to be a great chief named “Be do se gay,” allegedly meaning “rays of the rising sun” or “sunbeams of promise.” When my ten-year-old son looked at this poor mutation of a real word, which he knows how to pronounce, followed by its linguistically unjustifiable translation, his response was, “This is gibberish.”

In the backstory, a non-Indian parent recounts the “legend” to his non-Indian son, while they walk along a sandy non-Indian beach. The very first lines of the “legend” state:

Long ago in 1787, an Odawa Princess and her husband were leaving their winter home. He was a French fur trader who had been welcomed into her tribe as an honorary chief, and he had worked through the winter collecting furs in an area we now call Chicago. But when spring arrived, it was time for them to travel back to their summer hunting grounds along the shores of northern Lake Michigan.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stereotypes—in text and pictures—in a single spread of a picture book! A nameless and faceless Indian woman—a “Princess” with a capital “P”—marries a French fur trader living with the local Indians, who have made him an “honorary chief.” They travel to their “hunting grounds” along the shore in a birchbark canoe made with the outside of the bark on the outside, thereby guaranteeing that it will sink.

For those who may not see the problems here, bear with me. First, we don’t have royalty in this area. Never have. We also didn’t and don’t have “honorary chiefs.” The notion of an official “chief”—one person representing and speaking for everyone—is a European-American construct created to obtain signatories to treaties that took away our land and resources. The terms “Indian princess” and “Indian chief”—both deprecating monikers used by whites throughout the 19^th and 20^th Centuries—are loathed by Native people in this region. The idea of conferring such a title (even if it were an honor) upon someone from an outside culture (one that was in the process of extirpating the Native population for the purposes of taking over their resources) is beyond absurd. Not to mention: Voyageurs were hired for their ability to paddle long distances and portage heavy packages over trails that went around falls and rapids in waterways—not for their intellect or leadership qualities. And by 1787, most voyageurs were laborers who worked for trading companies picking up and transferring goods from one company-owned fort to another, so Wargin’s “honorary chief” would hardly have been an independent trader-businessman who gathered furs from a broad region. Especially in that canoe.

So this Indian “Princess” heads off with her “honorary chief” white guy husband into the “summer hunting grounds” to give birth by herself in a “hut,” while he waits outside, leaning comfortably against a tree, contemplating the night sky. Now, no self-respecting Indian woman would go off and do such a thing, endangering her own life and the life of her child. Had she chosen to travel she would have gone straight to one of many Indian communities along the well-traveled and heavily occupied coast. Wargin’s story makes our ancestors appear to be complete, irresponsible dolts who sacrificed common sense for magically superior white unskilled laborers. And Wargin’s use of the word “hut” belies the architectural competence of the peoples who thrived in the western Great Lakes for countless generations. Our architecture was regionally appropriate, site-specific and well-constructed. My ancestors did not live in huts!

Wargin’s French fur trader “honorary Indian chief” husband of the Indian “Princess” takes his newborn male offspring in his hands, proclaims that he “shall be an important man” (by virtue of what, I might ask…), and names him “Petosegay because the word meant the rays of the rising sun, or sunbeams of promise.” This is nonsense—a syrupy, silly translation of a word whose real translation I won’t mention here, to protect it from turning up in another children’s book.

Petosegay, of course, grows up to be a “headman, which meant he was third in line in his tribe.” This is cultural gibberish, perfectly augmenting Wargin’s linguistic gibberish.

“Over the years,” the story continues, “Petosegay was such a successful trader, hunter, and farmer that he was able to purchase land…” Petosegay would not likely have accumulated wealth and purchased land in early 19^th Century Michigan. As an early form of biological warfare in an attempt to eliminate them so that the land would be available for European-American settlers and lumber barons, smallpox-infected blankets would have been intentionally distributed to his family. Other tactics used to accomplish this end would have included direct violence and withholding access to resources such as food. By 1836, the U.S. government had selected individuals among the survivors that it designated “chiefs” and coerced them into signing away title to most of the real estate, so that Michigan could soon obtain statehood.

That some of the remaining Indians in the region had to resort to farming was a result of the Indian Allotment Act, which took away the bulk of the treaty-guaranteed reservation land, making small parcels available to those Indians who found out how to file the appropriate paperwork. In 1855 the Allotment Act was implemented in northwest Lower Michigan, where roughly ninety percent of the land, deemed “surplus,” was given to white homesteaders. And non-Indian entrepreneurs and punitive policies resulted in the theft of more than ninety-nine percent of those lands actually allocated. The first deliveries of land patents to Indians in the region did not occur until the 1880s. Some occurred in the 20^th Century, and many not at all. So Wargin’s “Chief Petosegay” would’ve been at least a hundred years old before he could have begun clearing his land for farming.

In Wargin’s “legend,” there is no Indian population, save the unnamed “Indian Princess,” her son, “Chief Petosegay,” and his unnamed wife and child. One is tempted to ask, “Where is everybody?” in a region that happens to constitute one of the largest concentrations of Native Americans east of the Mississippi.

Petosegay’s own home is represented as a small log cabin with a canoe next to it on the shore of Lake Michigan, surrounded by larger, more modern homes. In fact, the remaining Odawa Indians in the area were forced farther and farther away from the white towns that increasingly took over the most suitable locations on the coastline. Most Indians were driven inland or to distant shores without protective bays. Today, there are few, if any, precious feet of waterfront property available to members of the local Odawa tribe on the bay that surrounds the city of Petoskey, Michigan.

Throughout, Wargin and van Frankenhuyzen create images in which Natives in this region coexisted benignly (albeit with few financial resources) with their non-Indian neighbors. Nothing could be further from the truth. The history of Indian/non-Indian relations in the area continues to be wrought with segregation and economic inequalities.

Wargin says of Petosegay, “it wasn’t long before the whole town began to call him Chief as a sign of admiration.” I repeat: “Chief” is a deprecating moniker used by whites throughout the 19^th and 20^th Centuries. My ten-year-old son, incredulous, asked, “Why do they show everybody in the town as being nice to him? They would have killed him or forced him to move because he’s an Indian.” And my son is right. Unless poor Petosegay took on the role of a literal community lawn jockey, he would not have been tolerated in the town of Petoskey or in any of the affluent white exurbs that built up around it. But, according to Wargin’s “legend,” Petosegay “gave” his name to the white community “he loved.” This gift of Petosegay’s is depicted by an illustration of an old Indian guy, surrounded by a group of applauding white people, undraping a sign that says, “Welcome to Petoskey.” As though, throughout the 19^th Century, the Indian elders of that section of coastline, now called Little Traverse Bay, welcomed the settlers with smiles and freshly painted signs. Or maybe it was flowers and sweets…

Fast-forward to the scene of two Victorian ladies, in long dresses and holding parasols, one of many people (read white people) who “came to enjoy the beautiful lake and to breathe the fresh air, but they also came to walk along the shore and search for a special stone that appeared to hold the rays of the rising sun inside.” Those, of course, are the “Petoskey Stones,” which—fast-forward again—are now in the hands of that white father and his white son on the sandy white beach. The father tells his son that when he finds a “Petoskey Stone,” “I carry the promise of tomorrow, which means I will have one more day in the place I love best, with the person I love most.” As the little white boy holds the stone, sunlight falls upon the white son and his white father, and “it seemed as if all the nearby lakes, rivers, and forests whispered Petosegay’s name once again.”

In Kathy-jo Wargin’s little world, all is serene. “When [white] people search for Petoskey Stones, they hope to find the rays of the rising sun. And when they do, they carry sunbeams of promise…the promise of a shining new tomorrow…for everyone.” For her, there is no racism here, because there are no Indians here.

In reality, northwest Lower Michigan is a place where whites-only businesses still persist and Native American employment off the reservations is almost nonexistent. It’s a place where violence against Indians is both active and passive. It’s a place where Indians are non-existent for white people. And it’s a place where authors and illustrators such as Kathy-jo Wargin and Gijsbert van Frankenhuyzen make money by creating pretty little books that celebrate white supremacy and Manifest Destiny.

This is all very personal for me and my ten-year-old son, who has to deal with this kind of thing every day. He doesn’t like what is said about his family and his cultural traditions in children’s books like this that are heavily marketed for classroom use. He doesn’t understand why adults who work in the local schools, libraries, and bookstores—who smile at him and call him by name—still insist upon confronting him with texts and stories that belie his home and family life and that of his ancestors. It makes him feel lesser.

—Lois Beardslee

[Lois Beardslee is a contributor to A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, published in 2005 by Alta Mira Press. Beardslee (Ojibwe/Lacandon) is the author of Lies to Live By and Rachel's Children and has been a writer and teacher for more than twenty-five years. An artist whose paintings are in public and private collections worldwide, Lois also practices many traditional art forms, including birch bark biting, quillwork, and sweetgrass basketry.]

Robert Parker's The Sound the Stars Make Rushing Through the Sky: The Writings of Jane Johnston Schoolcraft

A short post today, to let you know about a new book that, while not a children's book, does have bearing on the topic of American Indians and literature.

Go here for info about The Sound the Stars Make Rushing Through the Sky: The Writings of Jane Johnston Schoolcraft.

For those of you who know about Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, Jane was his wife. She was Ojibwe. Her Ojibwe name name was Bamewawagezhikaquay. This title of the book is her name, translated into English.

She died in 1842, and, according to the book, she was the first known American Indian literary writer, the first known American Indian poet, and the first to write out traditional American Indian stories.

Jan Bourdeau Waboose's SKYSISTERS

A few days ago, it was -6 degrees outside, and yesterday, snow fell most of the day. That snow took the edge off the bitter cold and as I brushed snow off my car, I remembered a scene in a favorite picture book in which two sisters are lying in the snow, looking up at the sky.

That book is SkySisters. In it, two Ojibway sisters walk through the winter night to see the SkySpirits (Northern Lights). As you can see on the cover, the illustrations by Brian Deines, are striking. Right away, they signal to the reader that these are kids of the present day. Inside, you learn that the girls are Ojibway. As they walk, they, like any other kids, are delighted when they see a rabbit. There is much young (and old) readers can gain by reading SkySisters.

I hope SkySisters is in your school library, and that teachers and librarians who brushed snow off their cars yesterday will read it aloud today and revel in the beauty of story and snow.


Published in 2000 by Kids Can Press, SkySisters is available from Oyate.

Sharon Creech's WALK TWO MOONS

[Note: This review is used with permission of its author, Beverly Slapin. It may not be published elsewhere without her written permission.]

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Creech, Sharon, Walk Two Moons. New York: HarperCollins (1994). 280 pages; grades 5-up; Seneca

This is a poignant story revolving around two friends—Phoebe Winterbottom and Salamanca Tree Hiddle—whose mothers have disappeared, and the journey Salamanca makes with her grandparents to find her mother. The protagonists, Sal and Phoebe, are well developed as very bright 13-year-olds with overactive imaginations. Sal’s goofy grandparents, too, are well drawn, as are some of the minor characters—such as Mrs. Cadaver, whom Sal and Phoebe suspect is an axe murderer; and Mr. Birkway, the hyperactively joyful English teacher with no sense of privacy.

This beautifully written and compelling story is deeply flawed by the “Indian” material that is thrown together with no cultural or historical context and really has nothing to do with anything actually Native. Neither does Salamanca, although frequently referring to her “Indian blood,” and constantly repeating the overdone maxim about “walking two moons in another man’s moccasins.” (In chapter 44, the phrase is actually used nine times in four pages!) Most of what she says—such as that she was given her name because her parents didn’t realize that the name of the “Indian tribe to which my great-great-grandmother belonged” was actually “Seneca”—is ridiculous.

When Sal and her grandma discuss whether to use the term “Native American” or “Indian,” she recalls her mother saying that “Indian sounds much more brave and elegant” and that the “Indian-ness” in their background made them “appreciate the gifts of nature” and makes them “closer to the earth.” Does the author really think that there is some kind of a genetic Indian-earth-nature connection?

There are episodes involving cross-cultural “legends,” casual smoking and sharing of “peace pipes,” someone referring to himself as an “American Indian person” (as compared to an American Indian chair?), and a dance described this way:

The Indians had formed two circles, one inside the other, and were hopping up and down. The men danced in the outer circle and wore feather headdresses and short leather aprons. On their feet were moccasins, and I thought again about Phoebe’s message: Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked two moons in his moccasins. Inside the circle of men, the women in long dresses and ropes of beads had joined arms and were dancing around one older woman who was wearing a regular cotton dress. On her head was an enormous headdress, which had slipped down over her forehead. I looked closer. The woman in the center was hopping up and down. On her feet were flat, white shoes. In the space between drum beats, I heard her say, “Huzza, huzza.”

One wonders why the author did this; perhaps she wanted an “Indian” title and needed to make some kind of a context for it. Although Creech’s characterizations are excellent, the way she manipulates the characters—and the child reader—is inexcusable. Not recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
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Racism, Power, and Privilege at UIUC

In previous posts to the blog, I've referred to incidents of stereotyping and racist acts that have been occurring at UIUC and elsewhere. Unlike other campuses with situations that have been on national news, UIUC has a racialized symbol/mascot for its athletic teams: "Chief Illiniwek."

In response to these incidences on our campus, a group of students, staff, faculty, and community members formed a coalition whose work led to a forum held here on Thursday, Feb. 1st.

Titled "Racism, Power, and Privilege at UIUC," it included 45 minutes for people to make statements, and 45 minutes for UI's President, and UIUC's Chancellor, Provost, and other top level administrators to respond to questions submitted by the audience. It also included context for the forum, and a list of demands developed to address the problems.

The forum was larger than expected. It was held in the largest auditorium on campus, which seats 1700. Two additional sites on campus were set up for overflow. The event was broadcast at those sites. Both sites were also full to capacity and students were turned away.

If you are interested in watching the webcast, go to the I-Resist website. It has a link to the webcast, but also to the page from which you can download software necessary to view the webcast. Or if you wish, you can go directly to the webcast page: http://siteFwd.com/4PW.

Central to the forum is the issue of representation, with students (and UIUC's mascot) dressing in ways thought to be the way that African Americans, Latino/a Americans, and American Indians dress and behave. These ways are, of course, stereotypical, whether they are deemed negative or positive.

These representations are familiar to all of us who create, review, teach, and otherwise use children's books. I've written here previously about how much "Chief Illiniwek" is similar to Native imagery found in popular children's books.

Many individuals gave powerful statements. Please view the forum and consider sharing it with your classes and colleagues.

And, if you're interested in following UIUC's mascot issue more closely, I created a blog on that topic. Recent developments? The regalia worn by the student who portrays Chief Illiniwek was bought from an Oglala man in the 1980s. He was destitute at the time. He family wants the regalia back. A few weeks ago, the Executive Committee of the Oglala Sioux Tribal Council passed a resolution calling for the end of Chief Illiniwek, and for the regalia to be returned to them. My blog on this is called A Native Perspective on Chief Illiniwek.

Good News about Tim Tingle's Crossing Bok Chitto

Tim Tingle's Crossing Bok Chitto has been selected for inclusion on the American Library Association's "2007 Notable Books List."

Visit Tim Tingle's website to learn more about his work. He is a Choctaw storyteller. Looking at his webpage, I see he's got a few other books that I will order.

BATTLEFIELD'S AND BURIAL GROUNDS

Thinking, today, about three items: Museums, American Indians, the Native American Graves and Repatriation Act, and a book called Battlefield's and Burial Grounds.

On Friday I was in Chicago giving a workshop for teachers. It took place at Chicago's Field Museum. During my presentation, I showed slides of the ways that American Indians are portrayed in children's books. Among the slides is one from Sid Hoff's Danny and the Dinosaur. Published in 1958 it is a perennial favorite and part of HarperCollins I Can Read series. In the story, Danny goes to a museum. Inside he sees "An Indian, a bear, and an Eskimo" in one of the exhibits. I showed a slide of that page in my presentation. There is much to say about why American Indians are placed alongside animals, but the point I wish to make today is about American Indian artifacts and remains that are held by museums across the country.

In 1990, Congress passed the Native American Graves and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). From the NAGPRA website:

NAGPRA provides a process for museums and Federal agencies to return certain Native American cultural items -- human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, or objects of cultural patrimony -- to lineal descendants, and culturally affiliated Indian tribes and Native Hawaiian organizations. NAGPRA includes provisions for unclaimed and culturally unidentifiable Native American cultural items, intentional and inadvertent discovery of Native American cultural items on Federal and tribal lands, and penalties for noncompliance and illegal trafficking.

In 1994, Lerner published a terrific book for children about the work of American Indians whose work led to NAGPRA. The book is called Battlefields and Burial Grounds: The Indian Struggle to Protect Ancestral Graves in the United States, by Roger C. Echo-Hawk and Walter R. Echo-Hawk. Unfortunately, it is out of print. Both men are Pawnee. This is an important book. Each year, hundreds of teachers take their students on field trips to museums. As you plan this year's trip, will you visit a museum that has American Indian exhibits? If so, spend time with Battlefields and Burial Grounds before you go. It will be time well spent.

Pamela Porter's Sky

[This review used by permission of its author, Beverly Slapin. It may not be published elsewhere without her written permission.]

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Porter, Pamela, Sky, illustrated by Mary Jane Gerber. Groundwood, 2004. 83 pages, b/w illustrations, grades 4-6

It is 1964. Eleven-year-old Georgia Salois lives with her Paw Paw and Gramma, “high in the scrub pines” on the edge of the Blackfeet reservation in northern Montana. Suddenly, on March 26, violent rainstorms overflow Birch Creek, destroying the Swift Dam and killing a number of people. The devastating floods take everything—the house, the barn, the livestock; nothing is left except the clothes on their backs, the washtub, a few blankets.

And—miraculously—a foal, whom Georgia names Sky.

Told in Georgia’s honest, open, child voice, the survival of her family and community becomes real. There is no complaining, no asking why; they accept what has happened and move on, rebuild. Georgia’s relationship with her grandparents, the economy of subsistence, the racism they encounter—all of it is real, told in Georgia’s matter-of-fact voice.

“The sheriff led us into the gym where the people who weren’t Indian were lying on cots with pillows and blankets on them,” she says. Unlike the white people who are fed for free, they are charged for the food and charged again for use of the plates and utensils, so “none of us at the Indian table even tried going back for seconds.”

Sky is based on the stories told to the author by her friend Georgia Salois. It is highly unusual for a non-Native author of children’s books to refrain from the need to “teach” something about Indians. Porter is highly unusual. It isn’t until page 58 that Georgia even mentions that she is Cree, and that is as it should be. And Georgia’s dialect—which Porter gets right, too—is engaging. —Beverly Slapin

The LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE Makeover

According to the January 29, 2007 edition of Newsweek, the acclaimed Little House on the Prairie series is getting a makeover. For the 75th anniversary of the books, illustrations are being replaced with "photos of models as Laura" instead of the illustrations by Garth Williams.

Interesting, and makes me wonder the publishers will do (already did?) with the illustrations of American Indians? There are many. Are they keeping those? Or will they simply replicate them, in photo format? Will they use American Indian models? Will they make changes to the ways the Indians are shown so that they are accurate--more accurate than the illustrations done by William?

Diane Roback of Publisher's Weekly is quoted as saying these changes are occurring to appeal to readers of today who are more likely to pick up and read a book with Dakota Fanning on the cover of Charlotte's Web (she's in the new movie version of Charlotte's Web). This makes me wonder, again, about what the Little House publisher will do with the illustrations of American Indians? Retain the savage imagery that Americans love? I'd guess so, if they are making changes according to what the public will buy.

We will see.

"Proceed with Caution: Using Native American Folktales in the Classroom"

The January 2007 issue of Language Arts, published by the National Council of Teachers of English, is out. In it is "Proceed with Caution: Using Native American Folktales in the Classroom," an article I wrote. In it, I discuss the ways that American Indian story is appropriated and distorted when authors retell those stories in picture books for children.

Specifically, I discuss McDermott's Arrow to the Sun, Pollock's Turkey Girl: A Zuni Cinderella Story, and Rodanas's Dragonfly's Tale. All three are widely available in bookstores, public and school libraries. But, all three are deeply flawed. Good stories, perhaps, but they provide little value in terms of informing readers about Pueblo Indians. And as many of you know, teachers often use children's books like these to teach their students about, in this case, Pueblo Indians.

Have you used one of these books in your teaching? Do you have it in your library? I hope the article is helpful to you, and that you view these books and others like them in a different way after reading the article.

I'll say again, I do not blame any teacher for embracing these books. We're all products of a society that romanticizes American Indians. That can change, though, and this article is one tool you can use to bring about that change.

Representation, Stereotypes of American Indians, "Chief Illiniwek"

Those of you familiar with UIUC know that its sports team mascot is "Chief Illiniwek" and that its sports teams are "The Fighting Illini." For many years, Native people on the UIUC campus and in the Urbana-Champaign community, and our allies have asked the University to stop using Native imagery for its sports program.

The regalia worn by the student portraying "Chief Illiniwek" was acquired from Frank Fools Crow in the early 1980s. He was Oglala Sioux. Details regarding how the University came to have the regalia are not clear. It may have been a gift, or it may have been purchased.

Pro-Chief groups at UIUC, including the Department of Intercollegiate Athletics, maintain that this regalia is an endorsement and support for UIUC's "Chief Illiniwek".

Yesterday, the Executive Committee of the Oglala Sioux Tribal Council passed a resolution asking that the regalia be returned to Fools Crow's family, and that the University cease use of its mascot.

We, at the Native American House on campus are authorized to distribute a press release and distribute the resolution. You can read the press release and resolution here:
http://www.nah.uiuc.edu/mascot-news.htm

Will the University return the regalia? The coming days will be revealing. The University claims it honors and respects Native peoples. That should prompt them to return the regalia immediately.

[Note on Jan 21st, 2007: If you are looking for information regarding the Facebook incident at UIUC, you can read about it at Inside Higher Ed: "Ugly Turn in Mascot Debate."]

Marlene Carvell's Sweetgrass Basket

[This review is by Beverly Slapin and used with her permission. It may not be published elsewhere without her written permission.]

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Carvell, Marlene, Sweetgrass Basket. Dutton, 2005. 243 pages; grades 5-up (Mohawk)

Sweetgrass Basket is a young adult novel, told in the alternating voices of two young Mohawk sisters attending the now-notorious Carlisle Indian Industrial School in the early 1900s. Unlike most young adult novels by cultural outsiders, Sweetgrass Basket contains no self-conscious “anthropological asides” to explain to readers what the writer assumes to be important details of an “other” culture. Rather, it’s a wrenchingly beautiful story of two sisters trying to keep themselves together in an atmosphere that fosters only hate and shame. But amidst all the abuse, the children resist the value system being foisted on them, sometimes with great good humor. “I must say,” the older sister Mattie says to Sarah about the hated Mrs. Dwyer, “‘that I hope she steps in a hole and is swallowed by the earth.’ Suddenly Sarah’s eyes brighten and a smile spreads across her face. ‘Mattie, how dreadful,’ she says in mock horror. ‘What a terrible thing to do to Mother Earth.’” The ending is a surprise that’s not really a surprise. Children died at Carlisle, in front of cold, hard white people who didn’t give a damn.

Carvell’s husband’s great-aunt Margaret, who attended Carlisle, was the inspiration for Sweetgrass Basket. Ordinarily, information like this would be enough for me to roll my eyes and close the book, at least for a while. But, as in Carvell’s earlier novel, who will tell my brother?, she really did her homework, and she’s a wonderful writer. I imagine Aunt Margaret is pleased as well.

—Beverly Slapin

Books by and about American Indians: 2005

Each year, the Cooperative Children's Book Center at the University of Wisconsin-Madison publishes an important year-in-review booklet called CCBC Choices. The essay from CCBC Choices 2006 is available on line. Below is an excerpt from the essay.

When CCBC Choices 2007 comes out, what will it tell us about books published in 2006 by and about American Indians? Will CCBC be able to say there were more than 4 books created by Native authors and/or illustrators? I hope so. Here's the excerpt from the CCBC article, "Publishing in 2005."

CCBC Statistics in 2005

Of the nearly 3,000 titles we received at the CCBC in 2005, we documented the following with regard to books by and about people of color:

• 34 books featured American Indian themes, topics, or characters. Of these, only 4 were created by individuals identified as American Indian authors and/or artists. Nine additional Native writers were featured in a single short story collection.

News regarding Seale and Slapin's A Broken Flute: The Native Perspective in Books for Children

Shonto Begay.
Eve Bunting.
Ann Nolan Clark.
Alice Dalgliesh.
Barbara Esbensen.
Russell Freedman.
Gail Gibbons.
Tony Hillerman.
Susan Jeffers.
Thomas King.
Michael Lacapa.
Angela Medearis
Redwing Nez.
Scott O'Dell.
Patricia Polacco.
Delphine Red Shirt.
Robert San Souci.
Luci Tapahonso.
Nancy Van Laan.
Gloria Whelan.
Ed Young.

You may know some of these names, but not all. Each one has written or illustrated a book about American Indians, or a book that has American Indians in the story. Each of these individuals is in the index for A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children. This is only a partial listing.

I refer readers to it again and again. It is now available in paperback for $35.00 from Oyate. I have a copy in my home office and one in my office on campus. I use it in my classes. A Broken Flute is an invaluable resource that ought to be in every classroom and school library.

Choosing Children's Books about American Indians

On Friday, January 26, I will be in Chicago leading a workshop for elementary school teachers and librarians in Chicago Public Schools. The workshop is called "Choosing Children's Books about American Indians. "

If you are a teacher in Chicago Public Schools, write to Jolene Aleck at jfaleck@cps.k12.il.us for more information.

The workshop will take place at the Field Museum from 9 to noon.

Teaching Sterling's MY NAME IS SEEPEETZA and Tohe's NO PAROLE TODAY

Last night I watched a video in which a teacher engages her middle school students in a study of boarding schools for American Indian students. The study begins with the students reading Shirley Sterling’s My Name is Seepeetza and “The Names,” which is a poem from Laura Tohe’s No Parole Today.

The video is an hour long and is part of the “Teaching Multicultural Literature” series of teacher resources available on the Annenberg Media website. Here’s the annotation for this particular segment:

Workshop 3: Research and Discovery: Shirley Sterling and Laura Tohe

At the Skokomish reservation in Washington state, Sally Brownfield and her students study and connect with the literature and issues related to the Native American boarding school program through community involvement and self-examination. Students use Shirley Sterling's novel My Name Is Seepeetza and the poetry of Laura Tohe as the lenses through which they explore topics of their choosing. The class visits the Skokomish Tribal Center to interview tribal elders about the impact of the residential boarding program on the community. Author Shirley Sterling visits the class and answers student questions related to her novel, her life, and their personal research topics. Students then decide how to make their learning public.

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This blog has several posts about My Name is Seepeetza, but not enough about Laura Tohe's poetry. A post about her is forthcoming.

It is hard for me to say which portion of the video is the most powerful. Listen to the students, many of whom are Native, talk about the book and their own families. Listen to Laura Tohe’s poem, as the Native teacher reads it aloud. Listen to the elders and what they say about their days as students in a boarding school. And, listen to Shirley Sterling and all that she gives to the students in that classroom.

Some Thoughts On Teaching About Native Americans by John A. Duerk

[Note from Debbie: Several weeks ago, I began email correspondence with John Duerk, during which he shared his experiences as a teacher. I asked him to write an essay for the blog. Here it is.]

While teaching social studies in a rural, Illinois high school, I observed a high level of ignorance and defensiveness about the Native American experience here in the United States. As a teacher who cares about history and its connection to contemporary matters of social justice, I found this to be rather disturbing. Most of my students simply did not have much prior knowledge about Native Americans beyond the generic stories they are told in grade school or the racist stereotypes that are propagated through the mainstream media. This bothered me because there is a serious disconnect between perception and reality – a disconnect that creates barriers which prevent young people from coming to terms with the past and understanding the present. After all, how can students place the current Native American state of affairs in the proper context if they lack knowledge of human experiences that have led to us all to this point? They cannot. In my history and government classes I tried to address these problems with lesson plans designed to challenge and overcome their ignorance and defensiveness.

In US History class, two of the most invaluable lessons I taught involved the voyage(s) of Christopher Columbus and President Andrew Jackson’s Indian Removal policy. With regard to the lesson on Columbus, my students read an excerpt from his journal and discussed the language he used to describe the native people he encountered. Then my students read two recent secondary sources that presented contrasting views of Columbus (one positive, the other negative). Finally, they had to write a paragraph (at least five sentences long) explaining which view they agreed with and why. A class discussion also followed the paragraph writing. Many students commented about how they had never read a criticism of Columbus. This reality speaks to the inadequacies of social studies instruction at the elementary and junior high levels. As for the lesson on Indian Removal, I conducted a mock trial of President Jackson after students studied his policy (Indian Removal Act of 1830) and its results (The Trail of Tears). While students played almost every courtroom role during the trial (I played the judge to oversee the process), contrasting views (for and against removal) were presented through prosecution and defense witnesses. In the end, the jury had to decide Jackson ’s fate based on the case facts. Many students left with a more critical view of his presidency as well as an understanding that some government policies have been incredibly harmful to Native Americans. Ultimately, when young people read and discuss a combination of primary and secondary sources that detail the lives of Indians, then they are more inclined to grasp the depth of the events that transpired.

In American Government class, I taught a provocative lesson on the case of Leonard Peltier, an American Indian Movement activist who is serving two consecutive life sentences for the killing of two federal agents on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Most of my students were unaware of the events that occurred that June day in 1975, much less the doubts many have as to his guilt. To begin this lesson, I lectured on the impoverished and corrupt state of the Pine Ridge reservation at that time, the goals of the American Indian Movement and why its members went to Pine Ridge, and who Leonard Peltier is. Next, students read an excerpt from Peltier’s book, Prison Writings: My Life is My Sundance (specifically Chapter 27 where he recounts the events of June 25^th). Then, they watched either the documentary film Incident at Oglala, or the A&E American Justice special, Murder on a Reservation. Due to the fact that some students felt Incident at Oglala contained biases in favor of Native Americans, I used the latter program in later years to address this concern. While viewing either the film or special, I instructed my students to write down five comments and five questions about the case so we could have a solid class discussion afterward. Also, before the day of the discussion, they read a lengthy news article on the case and answered several questions that I provided. This lesson proved to be more controversial than the others in history class because the event is more immediately relevant. Moreover, it involves a member of a radical civil rights group that sought to protect indigenous people through physical force when necessary. Many students found the case very unsettling regardless of their view of Leonard Peltier (his guilt or innocence).

As a social studies teacher, I tried to provide my students with as much information as possible to build their knowledge base, promote analytical thinking skills, and stir their desire to question the institutions around them. Looking back, there is so much more I wanted to do, but alas, I made a serious effort to address the Native American experience in my classroom. Young people need to learn more about life here before the colonists arrived, and then trace that history to the present to fully understand how our country came to be. They must confront the uncomfortable realities we now live with. Only through critical inquest will we uncover truth. Only through reexamining our perceptions can we bridge the social, political, and economic divides between people. The public school system is one place where genuine change can begin when young people are nurtured with the proper instruction. If there is to be some justice for surviving indigenous peoples, then we owe them a significant place in our curriculum.

John A. Duerk is a Ph. D. candidate in the Department of Political Science at Northern Illinois University and an activist who advocates a variety of progressive causes.


Duerk’s Resources for Teachers:

American Indian Movement website: http://www.aimovement.org/

"The Journey of Christopher Columbus" website: http://www.glencoe.com/sec/socialstudies/btt/columbus/

Leonard Peltier Defense Committee website: http://www.leonardpeltier.net/


No Parole Peltier Association website: http://www.noparolepeltier.com/

Peltier, Leonard. 1999. Prison Writings: My Life is My Sundance. New York , NY: St. Martin ’s Press, p. 123-130.

Stannard, David E. 1992. American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World . New York , NY: Oxford University Press, Inc., p. 69-72.

Swanbrow, Dianne. 2005. Study: Explorer Still Widely Admired. The University of Record Online: The University of Michigan News Service, 12 October. Available on the Internet, http://www.umich.edu/~urecord/0506/Oct10_05/05.shtml.

Treen, Joe. 1992. A Question of Justice. People Weekly. 4 May, v37, n17, p. 36-39.

Wallace, Anthony F.C. 1993. The Long, Bitter Trail: Andrew Jackson and the Indians. New York , NY: Hill and Wang.

Wilson, Wendy S. and Herman, Gerald H. 2000. Unit 3: “Andrew Jackson and the Removal of the Cherokee Nation” (Mock Trial) in Critical Thinking Using Primary Sources in US History. Portland , Maine: Walch Publishing, p. 16-23, 131-141.

Geraldine McCaughrean's PETER PAN IN SCARLET

A couple of weeks ago, a reader of this blog wrote to me to ask if I’d read Geraldine McCaughrean’s book, Peter Pan in Scarlet, released on October 5 of 2006. It is the much celebrated sequel to J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan which started out in the early 1900s as a short story and then a play.

The original had stereotypical portrayals of American Indians. The Disney film brought those images to the big screen, and that same stereotypical Native imagery is present in the Julie Andrews film, too.

It is surprising (and not) to learn that Native stereotypes are in McCaughrean’s sequel. I got the book, and below are excerpts from the first ten pages. When I finish the book, I’ll follow up. In the meantime, have any of you read the entire book yet? Any comments?

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Reese notes on Peter Pan in Scarlet:

1) In the opening pages we learn that John is a grown up and that he’s been dreaming about Neverland. Each morning when he wakes, there is something from Neverland in his bed:

“…an alarm clock, a pirate’s tricorn hat, an Indian head-dress” (page 3).

Reese: "An Indian head-dress" -- of course, the single artifact that stands in to signal Indian.

2) All across London, other “Old Boys” are having the same dreams. Wendy, also now grown, decides they must go back to Neverland to find out why dreams are leaking out of Neverland into the “Here and Now.” The Old Boys say:

“Go back to Neverland? Go back to the mysterious island, with its mermaids, pirates, and redskins?” (page 10).

Reese: The word "redskins." In a children's book, in 2006. Defined in most major dictionaries as offensive, yet here it is.

Allen Sockabasin's THANKS TO THE ANIMALS

My family in New Mexico is among those coping with a huge snowfall. My sister says there's two feet outside her door. They're in northern New Mexico, at Nambe Pueblo. Winter has definitely arrived there, with two huge snowfalls in a week's time. Allan Sockabasin's story sounds perfect for my nieces and nephews. Beverly Slapin's review of Thanks to the Animals is below. It may not be published elsewhere without her written permission.

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Sockabasin, Allen (Passamaquoddy), Thanks to the Animals, illustrated by Rebekah Raye. Tillbury House, 2005. Unpaginated, color illustrations; all grades.

Winter arrives, as a Passamaquoddy family prepares for the trip north to the deep woods of Maine, their winter home. Everyone helps as they dismantle their house and tie down the cedar logs and everything else they need—canoe, food, clothing, baskets—on the bobsled, making sure there is enough room for the children to ride in the back. As Papa Joo Tum drives the horses and Mama and the older children settle in for the long ride, nestling together in the warmth of their sealskin coats and patchwork blankets, they don’t notice that little Zoo Sap has tumbled off the sled.

Alerted by Zoo Sap’s cries, the animals of the forest—large and small—come together to keep him warm until Papa Joo Tum comes to get him. Joo Tum thanks the animals, one by one, and carries little Zoo Sap—none the worse for wear—back to his family. This quiet, gentle story is enhanced by the warm, watercolor-and-ink paintings, my favorite of which shows little Zoo Sap contentedly and “safely sleeping in a great pile of warm animals.” Thanks to the Animals, with Passamoquoddy names for the animals in the back, is a perfect bedtime story.

—Beverly Slapin

"I is not for Indian"

Pointing you, today, to an article linked in my "Articles" list on the right-hand side of this blog.

In 1991, Naomi Caldwell-Wood and Lisa A. Mitten, officers of the American Indian Library Association, published "Selective Bibliography and Guide for "I" IS NOT FOR INDIAN: THE PORTRAYAL OF NATIVE AMERICANS IN BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE."

Now 15 years old, it is still one of the best articles out there for teachers, parents, librarians and others interested in learning how to look critically at children's books about American Indians.

It includes an annotated list of recommended books and books that should be avoided. It's a short article. It won't take long to read it, but will increase your understanding immeasurably. It is located on the website for the American Indian Library Association.

There's much to learn from the website. Click through the various links.