MR ARR found an element on teachership who turned a good leaf, was
revealed, leaving behind many refined teachers, still , stuck to their old
dilapidated homes, placing the black-sstones, as are fine diamonds on
earth. in India itself. Every one can find in this group, their own models,
unforgettable, changed themselves and changed others. Now the opposite from
the same WEST SIDE STORY (not that film) :
*An Indian {RED-INDIAN HERE IS INDIAN AND NOT India Indian} Father’s Plea*
By Robert Lake (Medicine Grizzlybear) — September 01, 1990
Robert Lake (Medicine Grizzlybear), a member of the Seneca and Cherokee
Indian tribes, is an associate professor at Gonzaga University’s School of
Education in Spokane, Wash.
Dear teacher, I would like to introduce you to my son, Wind-Wolf. He is
probably what you would consider a typical Indian kid. He was born and
raised on the reservation. He has black hair, dark brown eyes, and an olive
complexion. And like so many Indian children his age, he is shy and quiet
in the classroom. He is 5 years old, in kindergarten, and I can’t
understand why you have already labeled him a “slow learner.”
At the age of 5, he has already been through quite an education compared
with his peers in Western society. As his first introduction into this
world, he was bonded to his mother and to the Mother Earth in a traditional
native childbirth ceremony. And he has been continuously cared for by his
mother, father, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and extended
tribal family since this ceremony.
>From his mother’s warm and loving arms, Wind-Wolf was placed in a secure
and specially designed Indian baby basket. His father and the medicine
elders conducted another ceremony with him that served to bond him with the
essence of his genetic father, the Great Spirit, the Grandfather Sun, and
the Grandmother Moon. This was all done in order to introduce him properly
into the new and natural world, not the world of artificiality, and to
protect his sensitive and delicate soul. It is our people’s way of showing
the new-born respect, ensuring that he starts his life on the path of
spirituality.
The traditional Indian baby basket became his “turtle’s shell” and served
as the first seat for his classroom. He was strapped in for safety,
protected from injury by the willow roots and hazel wood construction. The
basket was made by a tribal elder who had gathered her materials with
prayer and in a ceremonial way. It is the same kind of basket that our
people have used for thousands of years. It is specially designed to
provide the child with the kind of knowledge and experience he will need in
order to survive in his culture and environment.
Wind-Wolf was strapped in snugly with a deliberate restriction upon his
arms and legs. Although you in Western society may argue that such a method
serves to hinder motor-skill development and abstract reasoning, we believe
it forces the child to first develop his intuitive faculties, rational
intellect, symbolic thinking, and five senses. Wind-Wolf was with his
mother constantly, closely bonded physically, as she carried him on her
back or held him in front while breast-feeding. She carried him everywhere
she went, and every night he slept with both parents. Because of this,
Wind-Wolf’s educational setting was not only a “secure” environment, but it
was also very colourful, complicated, sensitive, and diverse. He has been
with his mother at the ocean at daybreak when she made her prayers and
gathered fresh seaweed from the rocks, he has sat with his uncles in a
rowboat on the river while they fished with gill nets, and he has watched
and listened to elders as they told creation stories and animal legends and
sang songs around the campfires.
He has attended the sacred and ancient White Deerskin Dance of his people
and is well-acquainted with the cultures and languages of other tribes. He
has been with his mother when she gathered herbs for healing and watched
his tribal aunts and grandmothers gather and prepare traditional foods such
as acorn, smoked salmon, eel, and deer meat. He has played with abalone
shells, pine nuts, iris grass string, and leather while watching the women
make beaded jewellery and traditional native regalia. He has had many
opportunities to watch his father, uncles, and ceremonial leaders use
different kinds of colourful feathers and sing different kinds of songs
while preparing for the sacred dances and rituals.
As he grew older, Wind-Wolf began to crawl out of the baby basket, develop
his motor skills, and explore the world around him. When frightened or
sleepy, he could always return to the basket, as a turtle withdraws into
its shell. Such an inward journey allows one to reflect in privacy on what
he has learned and to carry the new knowledge deeply into the unconscious
and the soul. Shapes, sizes, colours, texture, sound, smell, feeling,
taste, and the learning process are therefore functionally integrated—the
physical and spiritual, matter and energy, conscious and unconscious,
individual and social.
This kind of learning goes beyond the basics of distinguishing the
difference between rough and smooth, square and round, hard and soft, black
and white, similarities and extremes.
For example, Wind-Wolf was with his mother in South Dakota while she danced
for seven days straight in the hot sun, fasting, and piercing herself in
the sacred Sun Dance Ceremony of a distant tribe. He has been doctored in a
number of different healing ceremonies by medicine men and women from
diverse places ranging from Alaska and Arizona to New York and California.
He has been in more than 20 different sacred sweat-lodge rituals—used by
native tribes to purify mind, body, and soul—since he was 3 years old, and
he has already been exposed to many different religions of his racial
brothers: Protestant, Catholic, Asian Buddhist, and Tibetan Lamaist.
It takes a long time to absorb and reflect on these kinds of experiences,
so maybe that is why you think my Indian child is a slow learner. His aunts
and grandmothers taught him to count and know his numbers while they sorted
out the complex materials used to make the abstract designs in the native
baskets. He listened to his mother count each and every bead and sort out
numerically according to color while she painstakingly made complex beaded
belts and necklaces. He learned his basic numbers by helping his father
count and sort the rocks to be used in the sweat lodge—seven rocks for a
medicine sweat, say, or 13 for the summer solstice ceremony. (The rocks are
later heated and doused with water to create purifying steam.) And he was
taught to learn mathematics by counting the sticks we use in our
traditional native hand game. So, I realize he may be slow in grasping the
methods and tools that you are now using in your classroom, ones quite
familiar to his white peers, but I hope you will be patient with him. It
takes time to adjust to a new cultural system and learn new things.
He is not culturally “disadvantaged,” but he is culturally “different.” If
you ask him how many months there are in a year, he will probably tell you
13. He will respond this way not because he doesn’t know how to count
properly, but because he has been taught by our traditional people that
there are 13 full moons in a year according to the native tribal calendar
and that there are really 13 planets in our solar system and 13 tail
feathers on a perfectly balanced eagle, the most powerful kind of bird to
use in ceremony and healing.
But he also knows that some eagles may only have 12 tail feathers, or
seven, that they do not all have the same number. He knows that the flicker
has exactly 10 tail feathers; that they are red and black, representing the
directions of east and west, life and death; and that this bird is
considered a “fire” bird, a power used in native doctoring and healing. He
can probably count more than 40 different kinds of birds, tell you and his
peers what kind of bird each is and where it lives, the seasons in which it
appears, and how it is used in a sacred ceremony. He may have trouble
writing his name on a piece of paper, but he knows how to say it and many
other things in several different Indian languages. He is not fluent yet
because he is only 5 years old and required by law to attend your
educational system, learn your language, your values, your ways of
thinking, and your methods of teaching and learning.
So, you see, all of these influences together make him somewhat shy and
quiet—and perhaps “slow” according to your standards. But if Wind-Wolf was
not prepared for his first tentative foray into your world, neither were
you appreciative of his culture. On the first day of class, you had
difficulty with his name. You wanted to call him Wind, insisting that Wolf
somehow must be his middle name. The students in the class laughed at him,
causing further embarrassment.
While you are trying to teach him your new methods, helping him learn new
tools for self-discovery and adapt to his new learning environment, he may
be looking out the window as if daydreaming. Why? Because he has been
taught to watch and study the changes in nature. It is hard for him to make
the appropriate psychic switch from the right to the left hemisphere of the
brain when he sees the leaves turning bright colors, the geese heading
south, and the squirrels scurrying around for nuts to get ready for a harsh
winter. In his heart, in his young mind, and almost by instinct, he knows
that this is the time of year he is supposed to be with his people
gathering and preparing fish, deer meat, and native plants and herbs, and
learning his assigned tasks in this role. He is caught between two worlds,
torn by two distinct cultural systems.
Yesterday, for the third time in two weeks, he came home crying and said he
wanted to have his hair cut. He said he doesn’t have any friends at school
because they make fun of his long hair. I tried to explain to him that in
our culture, long hair is a sign of masculinity and balance and is a source
of power. But he remained adamant in his position.
To make matters worse, he recently encountered his first harsh case of
racism. Wind-Wolf had managed to adopt at least one good school friend. On
the way home from school one day, he asked his new pal if he wanted to come
home to play with him until supper. That was OK with Wind-Wolf’s mother,
who was walking with them. When they all got to the little friend’s house,
the two boys ran inside to ask permission while Wind-Wolf’s mother waited.
But the other boy’s mother lashed out: “It is OK if you have to play with
him at school, but we don’t allow those kinds of people in our house!” When
my wife asked why not, the other boy’s mother answered, “Because you are
Indians and we are white, and I don’t want my kids growing up with your
kind of people.”
So now my young Indian child does not want to go to school anymore (even
though we cut his hair). He feels that he does not belong. He is the only
Indian child in your class, and he is well-aware of this fact. Instead of
being proud of his race, heritage, and culture, he feels ashamed. When he
watches television, he asks why the white people hate us so much and always
kill our people in the movies and why they take everything away from us. He
asks why the other kids in school are not taught about the power, beauty,
and essence of nature or provided with an opportunity to experience the
world around them firsthand. He says he hates living in the city and that
he misses his Indian cousins and friends. He asks why one young white girl
at school who is his friend always tells him, “I like you, Wind-Wolf,
because you are a good Indian.”
Now he refuses to sing his native songs, play with his Indian artifacts,
learn his language, or participate in his sacred ceremonies. When I ask him
to go to an urban powwow or help me with a sacred sweat-lodge ritual, he
says no because “that’s weird” and he doesn’t want his friends at school to
think he doesn’t believe in God.
So, dear teacher, I want to introduce you to my son, Wind-Wolf, who is not
really a “typical” little Indian kid after all. He stems from a long line
of hereditary chiefs, medicine men and women, and ceremonial leaders whose
accomplishments and unique forms of knowledge are still being studied and
recorded in contemporary books. He has seven different tribal systems
flowing through his blood; he is even part white. I want my child to
succeed in school and in life. I don’t want him to be a dropout or juvenile
delinquent or to end up on drugs and alcohol because he is made to feel
inferior or because of discrimination. I want him to be proud of his rich
heritage and culture, and I would like him to develop the necessary
capabilities to adapt to, and succeed in, both cultures. But I need your
help.
What you say and what you do in the classroom, what you teach and how you
teach it, and what you don’t say and don’t teach will have a significant
effect on the potential success or failure of my child. Please remember
that this is the primary year of his education and development. All I ask
is that you work with me, not against me, to help educate my child in the
best way. If you don’t have the knowledge, preparation, experience, or
training to effectively deal with culturally different children, I am
willing to help you with the few resources I have available or direct you
to such resources.
Millions of dollars have been appropriated by Congress and are being spent
each year for “Indian Education.” All you have to do is take advantage of
it and encourage your school to make an effort to use it in the name of
“equal education.” My Indian child has a constitutional right to learn,
retain, and maintain his heritage and culture. By the same token, I
strongly believe that non-Indian children also have a constitutional right
to learn about our Native American heritage and culture, because Indians
play a significant part in the history of Western society. Until this
reality is equally understood and applied in education as a whole, there
will be a lot more schoolchildren in grades K-2 identified as “slow
learners.”
My son, Wind-Wolf, is not an empty glass coming into your class to be
filled. He is a full basket coming into a different environment and society
with something special to share. Please let him share his knowledge,
heritage, and culture with you and his peers. KR IRS 9223
On Thu, 9 Feb 2023 at 05:55, ARR <[email protected]> wrote:
> Short Story
>
> The Power of Encouragement Teddy and Mrs. Thompson by Bill Bratt
>
> Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first
> day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers,
> she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that
> she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in
> front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named
> Teddy Stoddard.
>
> Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play
> well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he
> constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant. It got to the point
> during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking
> his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then marking the F at
> the top of the paper biggest of all.
>
> Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him,
> either. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to
> review each child's records and she put Teddy's off until last. When she
> opened his file, she was in for a surprise.
>
> His first-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with
> a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy
> to be around."
>
> His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-liked
> by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal
> illness and life at home must be a struggle."
>
> His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his
> mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father
> doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some
> steps aren't taken."
>
> Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show
> much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps
> in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."
> By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem but Christmas was coming fast.
> It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before
> the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Teddy Stoddard.
> Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright
> paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown
> paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs.Thompson took pains to open it in the
> middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when
> she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a
> bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's
> laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and
> dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist.
> Teddy Stoddard stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson,
> today you smelled just like my mom used to."
> After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day,
> she quit teaching reading, and writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to
> teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all
> called "Teddy." As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The
> more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days there would be an
> important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of
> the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class and...
> well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to
> love all of her children exactly the same.
> A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that
> of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favorite.
> Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote
> that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his
> favorite teacher of all time. Four years after that, she got another
> letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in
> school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest
> of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.
> Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he
> explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a
> little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite
> teacher but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed,
> Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.
> The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that
> spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He explained
> that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs.
> Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of
> the groom. And on that special day, Jean Thompson wore that bracelet, the
> one with the rhinestones missing. And on that special day, Jean Thompson
> smelled the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last
> Christmas together.
> They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs.Thompson's ear,
> "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making
> me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
> Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy,
> you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a
> difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
>
> THE MORAL: You never can tell what type of impact you may make on
> another's life by your actions or lack of action. Consider this fact in
> your venture through life
>
> Posted by
> A R Ranganathan
>
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