
Tingle, Tim (Choctaw), Crossing Bok Chitto: A Choctaw Tale of Friendship & Freedom, illustrated by Jeanne Rorex Bridges (Cherokee). Cinco Puntos Press, 2006. Unpaginated, color illustrations; grades 2-5
American Psychological Association Resolution on American Indian Imagery
In 2005, the American Psychological Association passed a resolution calling for the immediate retirement of American Indian mascots, symbols, images, and personalities used by schools, colleges, universities, athletic teams, and organizations.
The APA's Justification Statement for the resolution reads, in part:
“It is especially difficult when American Indian peoples are trying to present their tribal identity as accurately as possible, to have the dominant culture employ symbols, mascots, images and personalities that depict American Indians in an inaccurate and offensive manner (Staurowsky, 1999; Pewewardy, 1991).”
Here’s another excerpt from the APA Justification:
“The stereotyping of any racial, ethnic, or religious group by other groups and social institutions—especially public educational institutions and educators—had the potential to teach children and youth that stereotyping of ethnic minority groups is acceptable (US Commission on Civil Rights, 2001).”
A lot of people are inclined to dismiss stereotypical images in a children’s book because “it is just a children’s book.” Others defend dressing up as an Indian, especially if the Indian is/was a real and heroic person (i.e. Pocahontas), arguing that such actions are informative to the person dressing up that way, and potentially to those who the person interacts with while dressed that way. And still others cite freedom of expression, first amendment rights, etc.
Read the APA document and consider what we do, as individuals who create, edit, publish, review, and purchase children’s books with American Indian imagery. You can read the entire statement by clicking below or pasting the URL in your browser window: http://www.apa.org/pi/oema/justification_amindian_mascots.pdf
Gerald McDermott’s Arrow to the Sun won the prestigious Caldecott Medal in 1978.
Awarded annually by the American Library Association, the Caldecott Medal is given to the most distinguished American picture book for children published in the
I think most teachers, prepping to use this book, would know that kivas are not scary places, but more like a church or temple. Hopefully, that teacher will pause as she reads the story, to tell her students that McDermott’s representation of a kiva is wrong. Fortunately for her students, they will have had a valuable experience, as they learn to question the books they read, no matter how popular they may be.
What if the teacher does not know anything about
And, what about Pueblo Indian children in this or any classroom where the book is used?
Another problematic area of Arrow to the Sun is the status of the protagonist. In the story, the protagonist is mocked and chased away by other boys in the pueblo who say to him “Where is your father?” and “You have no father.” This conflict is the impetus for the boy’s journey to the sun. However, the conflict is one that does not reflect
"I'd just like to point out that I'm very very fond of "A Coyote Columbus Story" by Thomas King. If you haven't seen this picture book, you might do well to give it a glance."King's book is terrific. My dear friend and colleague, Jean Mendoza, has an essay about it in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children. The essay, titled "Goodbye, Columbus: Take Two," discusses A Coyote Columbus Story and Jane Yolen's Encounter.
A Coyote Columbus Story is no finger-pointing lament. None of its characters slouch in defeat with body parts morphing into thin air, as does the narrator at the end of Encounter. The reader sees indignation, not stoicism, on the faces of the people being kidnapped.Your school or public library probably has a copy of Yolen's book, but not King's. Order a copy of A Coyote Columbus Story and a copy of A Broken Flute and read Jean's essay. You will gain insights that you can apply to other books.
The Native Radio Theater (NRT) Project presents three original radio plays, produced at a National Audio Theatre Festival workshop in West Plains, MO in June, 2006. Melba's Medicine, written by Rose-Yvonne Colletta (Lipan-Mescalero Apache) features a Native Grandmother who hosts her own radio talk show and gives out sage advice. Super Indian by Arigon Starr (Kickapoo) is about an Indian with super powers and his side kicks General Bear and Diogi. THE Best Place to Grow Pumpkins by Rhiana Yazzie (Navajo) tells the story of a young girl who helps her grandfather fight his diabetes through a magical pumpkin patch. Funded by the Ford Foundation, NRT is a project of Native American Public Telecommunications and Native Voices at the Autry.
The hour-long special will be broadcast over Native Voice One (NV1) eight times during November. NV1--The Native American Radio Service distributes through the Public Radio Satellite System to Native American radio stations around the country. Listeners all over the world can hear it on the web at www.airos.org or www.nativeradio.org
Thursday, November 16 at 8 a.m., 1 p.m., 6 p.m. E.T.
Saturday, November 18 at 1 p.m. E.T.
Sunday, November 19 at 1 p.m. E.T.
Twice on Thanksgiving Day, November 23 at 8 a.m., 1 p.m., 6 p.m. E.T.
Saturday, November. 25 at 1 p.m.
Sunday, November 26 at 1 p.m.
“I am part Native American”
In recent weeks there has been an increase in comments to my blog. For the most part, I’ve left the comments alone as a place for dialog among readers to take place. Periodically, I will respond to a specific comment or set of comments.
Today I want to respond to a recurring phrase, in which someone says “I am part Native American” and then goes on to make his/her point.
To those who say that here or elsewhere, I urge you to be specific. It is critical that people learn that the phrases “Native American” or “American Indian” are very broad, encompassing over 500 different tribes, each one different from the next.
A lot of people write to me, asking if they should use "American Indian" or "Native American" or "Indian" in their teaching. I write back, saying that best practice is to specify the tribe. If you're a teacher in New Mexico, best practice is to teach your students about the American Indians of New Mexico. Apache. Dine (Navajo). Pueblo.
Do your part in working responsibly to help everyone know more about who we are. Be explicit. State your tribe.
Cynthia Rylant's Long Night Moon
[Note: This review is used by permission of its author, Beverly Slapin, and may not be posted elsewhere without permission of the author.]
____________________________________________
Rylant, Cynthia, Long Night Moon, illustrated by Mark Siegel. Simon & Schuster, 2004. Unpaginated, color illustrations; preschool-2.
Rylant begins Long Night Moon with this: “Long ago Native Americans gave names to the full moons they watched throughout the year. Each month had a moon. And each moon had its name…” Together with the artist’s description of the author’s “tribute to the Native American tradition of naming the full moons” as “lyrical” and “magic,” and the CIP data describing Long Night Moon as “Indians of North America—Fiction,” unwary teachers may be led to believe that this book has something to do with Indians. It does not. Rather, Rylant, whose ethnicity we might safely assume is not Native American, assigns her own imaginative names and behaviors to twelve of the full moons in a year: “In January the Stormy Moon shines…on a wild wolf’s back.” “In July the Thunder Moon…listens to the clouds beat their drums.”
I can just see classroom teachers making a list of “Indian moons” on the chalkboard, teaching young students to make paper-and-feather necklaces featuring their favorite “Indian moons” or make up their own “Indian moon” names based on their own experiences (e.g., “rollerblading moon”). This kind of thing gives me a headache.—Beverly Slapin
[This review posted here with permission of its author, Beverly Slapin. It may not be published elsewhere without written permission from the author.]
------------------------------------------------------------
Bruchac, Joseph (Abenaki), Geronimo. Scholastic Press, 2006; 360 pages, grades 5-up; Ndee (Apache)
It is 1908, more than twenty years after Geronimo’s final surrender to the White Eyes, and the grouchy, once-fearsome old man is looking for his hat. When his adopted grandson, whom he once called “Little Foot,” flicks his eyes up and then respectfully looks away, the old man discovers his hat—on his head.
As narrated by a younger Little Foot coming of age during the captivity years, the life of the man history has come to call “Geronimo” and the lives of the Ndee people who have come to be called “Apache” are rich with cultural and historical markers and a litany of broken promises. As Little Foot observes, “Lies from the mouths of the White Eyes seemed as certain as the sunrise each morning in the east. Even when they wrote their promises down on paper, they still did not keep them. Paper lies are even easier to burn.”
There is great good humor here too, as when Little Foot attempts to describe the thing called “cement” and as Nana opines in the humid
Chronicling the years from 1886 to 1894, each short chapter begins with a historical third-person record that offers a counterpoint to Little Foot’s narrative and grounds it in the history of the times. Through Little Foot’s interpretation, middle readers will come to know the great spiritual leader as a man who loved his wives and many children, had an infectious sense of humor, and was an astute businessman besides.
Geronimo is a story of resistance and survival, courage and sacrifice, and, above all, the fight to maintain land, culture and community. Told from the perspective of the people themselves—with a refreshing absence of words such as “renegades” and “raiders”—Bruchac’s work is an antidote to the many toxic volumes, fiction and so-called non-fiction, that portray Geronimo and his people as savages.—Beverly Slapin
Anskohk Aboriginal Literature Festival
Nicola Campbell’s book, Shi-shi-etko, was awarded Aboriginal Children’s Book of the Year at the Anskohk Aboriginal Literature Festival on September 30th. You can read Beverly Slapin’s review of Shi-shi-etko here. Campbell is currently working on a sequel to Shi-shi-etko.
Also receiving the award is Dale Auger’s Mwakwa-Talks to the Loon: A Cree Story for Children
As noted in my profile, I am from Nambé Pueblo, located in northern
The protagonist in Jingle Dancer is not Puebloan; she is a Muscogee (Creek)-Ojibwe (Chippewa) girl named Jenna. In the story, Jenna’s family and community help her get ready to do the Jingle Dance.
Too many children (and adults) think we no longer exist. Obviously, that is no longer the case. Some of us live on reservations, but like Jenna, a lot of us live in cities and towns across the country. Instead of teaching about Pilgrims and Indians this year, consider teaching students about American Indians as we are today. Start with Jingle Dancer.
[Note: This review is by Beverly Slapin of Oyate. I am grateful to her for sending me her reviews. Early in my graduate work, I read Through Indian Eyes: The Native Perspective in Books for Children, edited by Slapin and Seale. It marked an important moment in my work. In the field of children's literature, it is a touchstone, and its sequel A Broken Flute: The Native Perspective in Books for Children is equally important. As is clear to regular readers of my blog, I link to Oyate often, suggesting you order books like Hidden Roots from there. I would not do that if Oyate was a for-profit bookseller. Oyate is a not-for-profit organization that is doing very important and necessary work on a shoestring. ---Debbie]
______________________________________
Bruchac, Joseph (Abenaki), Hidden Roots. Scholastic Press, 2004. 136 pages, grades 5-up
Living with his family in a tiny town in upstate
Taking place in the early 1960s, Hidden Roots is rooted in the Vermont Eugenics Program that began some thirty years before and left the Abenaki people, for generations, “hiding in plain sight.”
Slowly, Sonny begins to understand how a Jewish librarian’s parents’ secret saved her life and how Indians had to pretend they weren’t Indian: “Sometimes people jes have to do the hardest things for their children,” Louis says. The hardest things, such as giving your children away so they can survive.
When Louis can no longer contribute to the silence and shame, Sonny begins to understand the “whys” of having to leave your home in the middle of the night, having secrets hanging heavily in the air, having to keep your head down and not bring attention to yourself, having to watch your father’s self-hatred turn to violence, having been told your grandfather is your “uncle” because he still lives in the Indian way. And Sonny begins to come to know that roots—even hidden roots—run deep.
Hidden Roots is for all those Indian families whose lives were interrupted by the eugenicists and for all the elderly mothers who still whisper to their adult daughters, “You better get your hair cut, or everybody’ll know you’re an Indian.” For all those who see their lives in this story, and for all those who never knew and now bear the responsibility to bring about change.
In a poem called “Rez Kid” (in Above the Line, West End Press, 2003), Joe Bruchac writes,
…hidden roots still give you strength.
There will always be another day.
The wind will always remember our name.
No matter how many roads they build,
the earth under our feet is our mother.
Joe Bruchac has written an honest, truth-telling story that may well be the most important book this prolific writer has ever produced. Thank you, Joe. You have done a good thing.
—Beverly Slapin