We鈥檝e worked in education long enough to know that idea is not only wrong, it鈥檚 dangerous. And if educators let it guide the future of schooling, we鈥檒l hurt the very children we say we鈥檙e trying to serve.

For more than two decades, we have led , an Indigenous, community-based public charter school in Northeast Los Angeles. We started this school because we believe education is not just a service 鈥� it鈥檚 a sacred responsibility that communities carry together. It is how communities sustain themselves, how culture is carried forward and how children learn to protect the world they will inherit. It was never meant to be a marketplace.

Yet the U.S. educational system increasingly treats it as one.

Schools are pressured to compete for students, buy pre-packaged curricula from multibillion-dollar publishing companies and outsource major decisions to consultants with a focus on standardization. Anyone who has sat through those meetings knows how quickly the conversation shifts from students to numbers. We鈥檝e seen teachers, parents and even children reduced to data points.

These aren鈥檛 random shifts. They are all part of a growing push to marketize education.

You can see this trend in national politics as well. Recently, President Trump highlighted a meant to set up trust funds for children to invest in the stock market. It was framed as an investment in their future. But it also sends a message: that children鈥檚 opportunities will depend not on the strength of their education or the support of their communities, but on their relationship to speculative financial markets.

At the same time, efforts to dismantle the U.S. Department of Education would place schools even more at the mercy of market forces. Yes, schools need funding. Yes, a functioning economy matters. But if schools teach children that their futures begin and end with the stock market, they are failing them. Their creativity, their relationships, their roots in community and their future鈥攖hose are the things that actually carry them through life.

We know this because we鈥檝e watched it happen at our school.

For 23 years, Anahuacalmecac has drawn from Indigenous knowledge systems, systems that kept communities alive on this land long before California was called California. Our students learn Nahuatl, English and Spanish. They plant gardens and learn where their water comes from. They study their own histories, including the parts of California鈥檚 story that don鈥檛 make it into mainstream textbooks. They participate in cultural protocols. They learn that they belong to a community and that their choices matter.

This isn鈥檛 nostalgia. It鈥檚 preparation for the world they鈥檙e inheriting.

In parts of Los Angeles, kids grow up breathing unhealthy air and drinking water that isn鈥檛 always safe. Their families struggle with rent. Parks and open land disappear to development. The effects of climate change show up in severe weather and devastating wildfires, in asthma rates and in the daily lives of students. These crises aren鈥檛 limited to L.A., or even California. This is the reality for many children across the country 鈥� and the globe.

Schools can鈥檛 pretend these conditions don鈥檛 exist. Our job is not simply to help young people navigate crises; it鈥檚 to give them the tools and imagination to change them.

That requires something beyond training students for the workforce. It means teaching resilience, curiosity, cultural memory and responsibility to the places they come from. It means helping them recognize that their value is not determined by an economy, but by their ability to strengthen their communities and repair what has been harmed.

This approach isn鈥檛 just Indigenous. Denmark鈥檚 education system 鈥� a model U.S. policymakers often praise 鈥� focuses on creativity, collaboration and student well-being. Danish children aren鈥檛 pushed into competition at every turn or told that their future hinges on financial speculation. They are taught to think, to create and to care for the world they live in. The U.S. could learn from that.

At our school, we鈥檝e seen firsthand that when students understand who they are and what they carry from previous generations, they don鈥檛 run from hard problems. They move toward them with confidence.

So we have to ask: What if our public education system centered on children鈥檚 well-being instead of the demands of the market? What if schools invested as much in belonging and culture as they do in standardized tests and outside consultants? What if they trusted communities 鈥� and children 鈥� to shape solutions that actually address the problems they face?

The crisis in public education isn鈥檛 because families or teachers failed. It鈥檚 because its roots in colonial missions to civilize our ancestors, factory models of training wage laborers and Native American听boarding schools committed to destroying culture and language still embody the illusion of democracy through government schooling.

Educators can choose to transform this reality.

When we all create schools grounded in dignity, culture, connection and care, we prepare young people not just to face the future but to shape it. And if we want a healthy society 鈥� one capable of meeting climate, social and economic challenges 鈥� there is no better investment than that.

The first night of the Democratic National Convention, vice presidential candidate Tim Walz鈥檚 lieutenant governor strode onto the stage to help kick things off. To Minnesotans, Peggy Flanagan has been a constant presence during Walz鈥檚 two terms as governor. But to many delegates in attendance 鈥� and people watching the event from around the world 鈥� hers was a new face.听

鈥淢y name in the Ojibwe language is Gizhiiwewidamoonkwe, or in English, Speaks with a Clear and Loud Voice Woman,鈥� . 鈥淚’m a member of the White Earth Nation and my family is the Wolf Clan. And the role of our clan is to ensure that we never leave anyone behind.鈥�

If Kamala Harris is elected president in November, Flanagan will assume Walz鈥檚 office, making her the first Indigenous woman governor in U.S. history. Since her DNC appearance, headlines in national news outlets have dubbed her Walz鈥檚 鈥渦nderstudy,鈥� a rising party star 鈥渨aiting in the wings鈥� for her turn. 

The actual story is much more interesting. In a rise marked by serendipity, two pivotal moments stand out. The first took place in 2002, when, as a new University of Minnesota graduate, Flanagan was walking past Sen. Paul Wellstone鈥檚 campaign headquarters and decided to stop in. She was 22 and eager to help him win a third term. 

It didn鈥檛 happen. The senator was killed in a plane crash 12 days shy of what seemed certain re-election 鈥� a tragedy that served as prelude to the second defining moment. Wellstone鈥檚 death galvanized a generation of progressive political activists who created an organization, Wellstone Action, dedicated to teaching ordinary people the fundamentals of running a grassroots campaign. 

Flanagan 鈥� who had used the Wellstone formula to become the youngest person ever elected to the Minneapolis School Board 鈥� was working for the candidate incubator in 2005 when a small-town high school teacher and football coach named Tim Walz turned up at one of its boot camps. He was considering a run for Congress as a Democrat in a deep-red southern Minnesota district. . They as each rose through the political ranks. 

As lieutenant governor, Flanagan has been a driving force behind many of the policies now being showcased as the middle-class wins Walz brings to the presidential ticket. Advocacy for kids, vulnerable families and early childhood education have topped her agenda at each stage of her political career. 

The universal free school lunches, child tax credit and paid family and sick leave that Harris and Walz are campaigning on? Good retail politics, certainly 鈥� and also an outgrowth of Flanagan鈥檚 childhood experience knowing that her friends were watching as she handed the lunch ladies the issued to kids who got free food. 

鈥淯niversal school meals is one of the most important things that I’ve ever worked on in my entire career 鈥� removing that shame and that stigma is a powerful tool to make sure that kids are eating right,鈥� Flanagan says. 鈥淎necdotally, we have heard attendance is up. 鈥� And instead of asking if kids have enough money in their account, we are asking, 鈥楧o you want chicken and rice or do you want pizza?鈥� 鈥�

A literal political pedigree

Flanagan grew up at political strategy meetings. Her grandmother, mother and aunts were Irish social-justice Catholics who worked alongside the late Hubert Humphrey in Democratic politics for decades. When Humphrey ran for president in 1968, Flanagan鈥檚 mother, Patricia, moved to Washington, D.C., to work on his campaign.

鈥淚 grew up in a family where women just did the work,鈥� Flanagan says. 鈥淚 didn’t know anything different, right? My grandmother was absolutely the matriarch and was involved in party politics before it was, you know, polite for women to do that work.鈥�

She did not realize that organizing was an activity with a name until she was older and doing it herself, Flanagan continues. 鈥淚t was just like, well, you see a need, and then you bring people together and try to work together to solve the problem.鈥�

Pat Flanagan was a single parent, getting by thanks to Medicaid, a Section 8 housing voucher, food stamps, state child care assistance, free- and reduced-price school lunches and the Minnesota Family Investment Program 鈥� the household subsidy that replaced welfare. She used the benefits to move herself and her daughter to a middle-class suburb of Minneapolis, St. Louis Park, that had good schools and stable neighborhoods. 

Eventually, Pat became a phlebotomist, but struggle shaped Peggy Flanagan鈥檚 views. She has also referred to herself on several occasions, without elaborating, as a 鈥� of domestic violence.鈥� She speaks passionately about her mother鈥檚 insistence that when food was scarce. Somehow, she says frequently, Pat Flanagan always found enough resources to meet her daughter鈥檚 needs.  

If the women in Flanagan鈥檚 life taught her to build coalitions, her father nurtured her sense of resolve. Marvin Manypenny spent to recoup lands swindled from , one of the homes of Minnesota鈥檚 largest indigenous group, the Anishinaabe, who were dubbed Ojibwe by colonists. In 1986, Manypenny sued the U.S. government in a case that chronicled more than a century of betrayed promises by federal officials to respect Native lands. In 1991, an appeals court , ruling that it did not have jurisdiction to decide the claims. 

Manypenny was a frequent fixture at protests and active in tribal politics, but not a consistent voter himself until his daughter鈥檚 name appeared on a statewide ticket as the candidate for lieutenant governor in 2018. 

鈥淢y dad oftentimes would say, 鈥楳y girl, I want to burn down the system, and you want to get into the system and change it from the inside out,鈥� 鈥� Flanagan when he died in 2020. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a pretty good summary of how my dad operated and how I operate.鈥�

When Flanagan walked into Wellstone鈥檚 campaign office, it was with her maternal lineage鈥檚 coalition-building skills and her father鈥檚 spine. Wellstone鈥檚 organizers put her to work mobilizing the urban Native American community. 

A political science professor at Carleton College, located an hour south of the Twin Cities, Wellstone ran a then-unorthodox, bare-bones campaign for U.S. Senate in 1990, ousting two-term Republican Rudy Boschwitz, the owner of a chain of lumber stores. 

Accompanied by an army of door-knockers 鈥� many of them his students 鈥� Wellstone rode an old green school bus around the state, giving stump speeches from a platform on the back. He could afford to air only one TV ad one time, but his grainy, low-budget 鈥淟ooking for Rudy鈥� 鈥� in which he went seeking his rival to set up a debate 鈥� became a news story itself. 

Flanagan was an early linchpin of Wellstone Action鈥檚 grassroots training efforts. A campaign policy aide and longtime friend of the senator鈥檚, Pam Costain traveled the country with Flanagan for several years, teaching people about what they called the Wellstone triangle. Even in her 20s, Costain says, Flanagan had experience with all three legs.

鈥淵ou cannot do electoral politics without an appreciation for what it takes to build grassroots involvement,鈥� she explains. 鈥淎nd you can鈥檛 do [community organizing] work if you’re not willing to contend for power 鈥� because then you’re just always going to be the agitator and not the decision-maker.鈥�

Out of college, Flanagan was employed by the Division of Indian Work, a Twin Cities nonprofit service provider, helping to build relationships between the school system and Native families. She had been encouraged by a longtime Minneapolis School Board member to run for a seat in the 2004 election, but begged off.听听听听听

鈥淚 was like, you know, I’m 23. I don’t have any kids in the district,鈥� Flanagan recalls. 鈥淚 don’t think I’m the one. But I will help you find somebody.鈥�

Not long after that conversation, at a meeting where American Indian Movement founder Clyde Bellecourt was speaking, she raised her hand and told the crowd that if anyone wanted to run for school board, she would help. 鈥淔olks in the room were like, my girl, why don’t you do it?鈥澨�

As she drove home from the meeting, Flanagan passed Wellstone鈥檚 former campaign office, where she had stopped to volunteer. She pulled over and decided to run.听

鈥淚 didn’t think we’re going to win,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淏ut at the very least, the issues that are happening in the urban Native community 鈥� will be brought forward. It turned out that a number of people in Minneapolis shared those concerns.鈥澨�

鈥業t wasn鈥檛 a small thing鈥�听

Flanagan was not the first Native person to serve on the board, but her presence made the district鈥檚 ongoing failure to serve its Indigenous students harder to ignore. In the 1970s, Indigenous dropout rates in Minneapolis schools hovered around 80%, fueled by decades of official indifference to the continued legacy of American Indian boarding schools that stripped Native children of their languages and cultures. Mistrust of government-operated schools is still high.听

Bullying and a near-total lack of Native teachers or curriculum fueled truancy rates, sometimes leading to court-ordered removals of Native children from their families. Before its closure in 2008, a free, private alternative school operated by the American Indian Movement graduated more Indigenous students than Minneapolis Public Schools combined.

Flanagan had graduated from high school in St. Louis Park, a suburb located just west of Minneapolis, but she understood what it was like not to see herself represented in the classroom.听听听

鈥淲hen I got to the University of Minnesota, I had for the very first time a teacher who looked like me 鈥� in my intro to American Indian Studies class,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t changed everything. Learning accurate history, knowing that there is a teacher who will absolutely understand who you are and where you come from.鈥澨�

On the school board 鈥� where she served alongside Costain, who had also sought and won a seat 鈥� Flanagan was instrumental in the negotiation of , long in coming, between urban tribal leaders and the district. The first of its kind in the country, it required the school system to create specialized programs aimed at engaging mistrustful families, preserving Native languages and strengthening cultural identity.听

Now the head of the Minneapolis Foundation, R.T. Rybak was in the first of three terms as mayor of Minneapolis when the pact was signed. 鈥淚t wasn’t a small thing to negotiate an agreement between a public school system and Native leaders, because it starts with an extraordinary amount of historical inequity,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hat was a very significant achievement.鈥�

American Indian students were guaranteed placement at three schools designated 鈥渂est practices鈥� sites. Educators would be required to interview for positions 鈥� a departure from the strict seniority-based placement system then required by the teachers union contract 鈥� and would have to agree to undertake ongoing, specialized training and observation. To ensure continuity, they were also supposed to be protected from being bumped from their positions during layoff.

At the time, 38% of Minneapolis Public Schools Native students graduated, more than two-thirds of them from alternative schools not operated by the district. The number of Indigenous students graduating from district schools has ticked up slightly in the intervening two decades, but partly because of a change in the way state officials define American Indian. In 2023, 42% graduated, with 14% dropping out and the fate of another 20% unknown.听

Almost half of Minneapolis鈥檚 Native graduates enroll in some postsecondary education within 16 months. But in 2022, the most recent year for which data is available, none had earned one year鈥檚 worth of credits within two years. Since 2021, the percentage of Minneapolis Indigenous students reading at grade level has fallen from 22% to 19%, while math proficiency has hovered between 10% and 13%.听听

The agreement between the district and Native leaders , but there is no evidence the staffing exceptions were codified in the teacher contract. Last May, the district鈥檚 American Indian Parent Advisory Committee notified the school board that it considers the schools out of compliance with regarding its obligations to Native students.听

Flanagan鈥檚 elected term on the board ended in 2009, but the following year she was appointed to replace Costain, who had resigned to take over the district鈥檚 nonprofit education partner. At , the board heard on the district鈥檚 racial and ethnic achievement gaps, complete with an estimate that at the incremental pace of change taking place, it would take decades for Minneapolis students to to their peers statewide.

Flanagan had an emotional reaction to the lack of meaningful progress. 鈥淲e know what works for kids. And we鈥檝e just got to be courageous enough to do it, to ask for it, to demand it,鈥� she said. 鈥淚f white kids were failing in this district 鈥� at the rate that children of color and Native students are failing, people would be on fire. They would be storming the Capitol, they would be burning that place down.鈥�

In 2013, Marian Wright Edelman, then president of the Children鈥檚 Defense Fund, tapped Flanagan to head its Minnesota branch. During her time with the organization, she spearheaded a successful effort to get lawmakers to raise the state鈥檚 minimum wage 鈥� then $6.15, more than a dollar an hour less than the federal minimum 鈥� and index it to inflation. For large employers, it is now $10.85.

A few months later, Minneapolis鈥檚 new mayor-elect, Betsy Hodges, asked Flanagan to head her 鈥淐radle to K Cabinet,鈥� an effort to in the city.听

鈥淧eggy understood very clearly that one of the challenges of working with prenatal to 3-year-olds is you cannot help and support them without helping and supporting their parents,鈥� says Hodges. 鈥淎nd lots of people love to support young people but do not love to support young people’s parents. When they’re in school, it’s a little easier to heed that reality. But when it’s prenatal to 3, it’s not. So what are the supports parents need to be really effective?鈥�

Flanagan made it clear up front that families鈥� opportunities to shape the cabinet鈥檚 strategies needed to be meaningful. 鈥淲e wanted to have enough parents as part of the group that they didn’t feel like they were being tokenized,鈥� Hodges recalls. 鈥淲e made sure to arrange meetings for times that they would be able to be there. We made sure to have child care. We did our best to set it up in a way where we could get their feedback in a way that didn’t feel dismissive or condescending.鈥�

The pull of public office听

But electoral politics still tugged. In 2015, Flanagan won a seat in the Minnesota House of Representatives, serving a handful of suburbs on Minneapolis鈥檚 western boundary, including the one where she grew up. She served until 2019, authoring bills in support of early childhood education and a range of benefits for families. She sponsored just one K-12 education measure, to fund diversity, equity and inclusion training for educators in her home district.听

In 2017, Walz called Flanagan and asked her to run for lieutenant governor. (In Minnesota, the governor and the No. 2 are elected as a ticket.) For many of her predecessors, the job has been a one-way trip to obscurity, but since their inaugurations, Walz and Flanagan have typically been seen together.听

鈥淓very major decision she is there from the beginning and helps me see about them differently and think about them differently,鈥� . 鈥淵ou have a 55-year-old rural white guy who was in the Army [National Guard] and coached football, and you have a 39-year-old Indigenous woman who lived in St. Louis Park. That brings a wealth of [ways] to approach these issues.鈥�

Flanagan has an office in the same Capitol suite as the governor. The White Earth flag hangs in the hall alongside the Stars and Stripes and a new state flag adopted last spring, replacing one that was offensive to Native Minnesotans.听听

Privately, some Republicans have groused that they believe Flanagan pushed Walz to the left politically. Whether that is true is debatable, but her policy priorities have been front and center in the six years since they took office.

One of her first accomplishments as the state鈥檚 second-highest executive was securing the first increase in decades to the Minnesota Family Investment Program, the cash assistance program for low-income families her mother depended on when she was a child. In 2019, lawmakers increased the payments by $100 a month.听

Flanagan also played a key role in ensuring Native history and culture are included in new state social studies standards. Topics differ by grade level and include Indigenous people鈥檚 relationships to land and water, the current state of treaties and American Indian perspectives on the doctrine of Manifest Destiny.

A Flanagan administration鈥檚 priorities听

This year鈥檚 appearance was not Flanagan鈥檚 first DNC speech. In 2016, she took to the stage to read a letter to her daughter Siobhan, then 3. She was still in the state House, and only the second Native woman to address the convention.听

The following year, she told the Minneapolis Native newspaper The Circle that she would run for the House of Representatives seat occupied by Keith Ellison if he did not stand for re-election. She ended up on Walz鈥檚 ticket instead.听

Many of the political wins the governor and lieutenant governor have enjoyed in recent years were possible because Democrats controlled both branches of the state legislature and the executive branch 鈥斕齜y a very slim margin. That could change if Republicans gain control of either the Minnesota House or Senate.

If Flanagan becomes governor, state Senate Minority Leader Mark Johnson would like to see more emphasis on closing achievement gaps.听

鈥淲hile Walz and Flanagan both have experience in the education system, their priorities too often focused on satisfying political interests instead of ensuring kids were getting the education they deserved,” he says. 鈥淥nce a leader in education, Minnesota now lags Mississippi in some areas despite years of historic funding increases.鈥�

Flanagan says her priorities will remain the same if Harris and Walz are elected and she becomes governor. High on her list is addressing chronic absenteeism: 鈥淎ttendance matters, especially in the post-pandemic world that we live in.鈥�

She also hopes to promote career and technical education, invest more state aid in kindergarten readiness and continue diversifying the state鈥檚 teacher corps, which has historically been more than 90% white.听听听

Flanagan says her daughter attends the same school system she did but is having a wholly different experience. 鈥淭here are over 40 Native kids in her school,鈥� and Ojibwe language is taught to fourth- and fifth-graders, she says. 鈥淪he can fully show up as her Indigenous self in the classroom and know that she will be valued for who she is, that there will be a curiosity about her identity and culture that is demonstrated in a supportive way.鈥澨�

The change, she adds, benefits all kids. 鈥淚 am hopeful that we are in a place, not only in talking about the history of Native people and ensuring we have Indigenous education for all, but also acknowledging Native people are contemporary people who still exist and who live all across the state,鈥� she says. 鈥淓verybody benefits from learning the full, rich history of our state.鈥�

The children are buried in 74 unmarked and marked graves, as tribes assess repatriation of remains and protection options more than five decades after U.S. policy shifted away from the practice. Nearly 19,000 children were estimated to be kidnapped from their families, often at gunpoint, and enrolled in government schools with the aim of assimilation, decimating tribal cultures, and reducing land possession.  

While the department acknowledged the figures are underestimated, the data provide the fullest picture of the system鈥檚 scale, marking the end of a to unearth the toll and legacies of the nearly two-century long U.S. policy. Research was obscured by inconsistent public record keeping and that many records are held by private religious institutions.

The remains of 973 children were found at 65 schools and their surrounding communities, but the Department is withholding their locations 鈥渋n order to protect against well-documented grave-robbing, vandalism, and other disturbances to Indian burial sites.鈥� 

The final report, released last week, also documented how the boarding school system negatively impacted genetics and for Native families, who for generations have had the nation鈥檚 highest rates of substance abuse, suicidal ideation and chronic illnesses, such diabetes, arthritis, and cancer. 

鈥淎s we have learned over the past three years, these institutions are not just part of our past,鈥� Assistant Secretary of the Interior Bryan Newland wrote in the report鈥檚 opening letter. 鈥淭heir legacy reaches us today, and is reflected in the wounds people continue to experience in communities across the United States.鈥�  

Oral testimonies from hundreds of genocide survivors, many sharing for the first time during a Road to Healing tour, catalog horrific physical and psychological abuse.听

Children regularly witnessed each other raped in their beds and in bathrooms, by priests, teachers and school staff, according to the report, and seeing peers, aged 11, 12 or 13, sent home in the middle of the school year pregnant.

One Montana school implemented night checks, shining flashlights randomly into kids鈥� eyes as they slept. In some instances, kids were sent to sleep in basements as punishment, but 鈥渇orgotten鈥� for hours or days. Many more were subject to 鈥渙uting,鈥� sent to live temporarily with nearby white, often Quaker families, and used for free labor.  

鈥淚 think the worst part of it was at night, listening to all the other children crying themselves to sleep, crying for their parents, and just wanting to go home,鈥� a survivor from Michigan recounted. 鈥淎nd I remember one girl was a bedwetter, and they made her scrub the entire bathroom on her hands and knees with her toothbrush.鈥�

On arrival, children were often stripped, their hair cut 鈥� against sacred cultural norms 鈥� provided uniforms and numbers. 

鈥淲e [were] never called by our name, we were all called by our numbers. My number was 77, too because my sister was there before me and her number was 77鈥� it was marked on everything you owned,鈥� said one Alaska survivor.

Living thousands of miles from home with little hope of escape, children witnessed every aspect of their identities and prior life erased and replaced 鈥� belief systems, language, hair and dress. 

鈥淔ood was also weaponized in Indian boarding school settings, in sharp contrast to traditional Native American practices of food as medicine,鈥� the report stated. 鈥淔ood that was seen by Federal Indian boarding school staff to be reminiscent of Native American culture was not allowed, and survivors frequently spoke of being forced to eat highly processed, unfamiliar, or spoiled food.鈥� 

A survivor from Alaska described the impact of suddenly eating only processed, canned meats and vegetables, and powdered milk and eggs: 鈥淥f course, we all got violently ill because our bodies couldn鈥檛 process changing our diet over from our traditional Native foods. We had vomiting, we had diarrhea, we had both and we were often punished for soiling our pants or clothing or bedding and we got beaten for that.鈥� 

Over $23 billion, adjusted for 2023 inflation, was invested in the federal Indian boarding school system between 1871 and 1969. The figure omits child labor estimates which cut down operation costs: Children often maintained school infrastructure, digging for plumbing or maintaining roofs. 

The U.S. government operated and supported , of which 210 were run by predominantly Protestant or Catholic religious groups, across 37 states and territories. 

The final death and enrollment counts do not take into account records from the 1,025 鈥渙ther institutions,鈥� including day schools and orphanages which did not receive federal funding, where children were subject to similar abuses in pursuit of the government鈥檚 explicit policy goal of mass assimilation. 

鈥淚 was told I wouldn鈥檛 make a good mother. And I would tell God when I have children I will love them and care for them. And treat them like a person, because in boarding school you鈥檙e not a person. You鈥檙e not even a human being,鈥� said another survivor from Minnesota. 

Resistance was common, with runaways, secret language use, and challenges when government agents entered reservation land to take children. 

A year after 104 children were taken from the Third Mesa of Hopi to attend Keams Canyon Boarding School, Hopi tribal leaders refused armed government agents. Nineteen leaders were taken as prisoners of war, locked up in an underground cell on Alcatraz.

Even after the residential boarding school system fell out of favor politically, forced removal continued with the Indian Adoption Project from 1958-68, when up to 35% of Native children were removed from their families after discriminatory welfare investigations and overwhelmingly placed in non-Indian homes. 

The disparities, as intended, were clear: In Minnesota, Native children were placed in foster care and adopted five times as often as non-Indian families; in Washington, adoption rates were 19 times greater. 

The practice was widespread until 1978 with passage of the Indian Child Welfare Act, the first time Congress acknowledged, 鈥渨holesale separation of Indian children from their families is perhaps the most tragic and destructive aspect of American Indian life today,鈥� and denounced forced child removal and assimilation. 

Last year, was challenged in the Supreme Court after white parents 鈥� who had already won custody to adopt a Cherokee and Din茅 child over a family from the Navajo nation, in opposition to ICWA’s protections to prioritize adoptions within their culture 鈥� filed a federal lawsuit alleging the law was discriminatory. Three other white couples followed. The court ultimately upheld ICWA . All of the children had Native relatives that wanted to raise them, but only one Ojibwe grandmother, after six years, won their custody battle.

In pursuit of healing and reconciliation with tribal nations, the report recommended investments in family reunification, education, first language revitalization, identification and repatriation of childrens鈥� remains, healthcare, and creation of public memorials or education to share information about the system. 

鈥� without assimilationist aims or systematic violence. A new Senate bill has bipartisan support and will soon reach a vote to establish a and over a six year period, which Native leaders have said is 鈥渓ong overdue.鈥� Members of at least seven tribes in Arizona and New Mexico are now eligible to file claims against the Franciscan Friars of California for clergy sexual abuse. 

鈥淲e鈥檙e not just people here on this earth taking up space,鈥� said Department of the Interior Secretary Deb Haaland, addressing survivors and descendants during the Road to Healing tour. 鈥淲e have an obligation to honor the legacy of our ancestors, so they didn鈥檛 starve in vain, so they didn’t die in vain, so they weren鈥檛 ripped away from their mother鈥檚 arms in vain.鈥� 

Below are a selection of survivor testimonies collected during the Interior Department鈥檚 Road to Healing tour:

鈥淚 would like to say my aunt said after we all left, after the planes came and we all left, she said the village was so quiet because there was no children. No children in the village.鈥�
– Alaska

鈥淢y sister talked about being put in the closet with the mops and the brooms. And, to this day, she can鈥檛 sleep without a light on. She could be deep in her sleep, and as soon as somebody turns off the bathroom light, she wakes up screaming. And she鈥檚 a grandmother today. She doesn鈥檛 know where this comes from.鈥�
– Washington

鈥淪ometimes they would forget that they had put us down in the basement. Wouldn鈥檛 get out of there until early morning, and it was 鈥� maybe that鈥檚 why I鈥檓 afraid of the dark now. I don鈥檛 know. I leave the light on in my bedroom. Even today. That was a 鈥� that was hurt 鈥� hard for me. I still think about those nights when I had to sit in the basement. I was afraid of the dark. And I survived there for six years.鈥�
– Montana

…They said 鈥榃e鈥檙e going to run away and we鈥檙e going to go home and when we get home, we鈥檒l send for you.鈥� 鈥� They waved to us and were just really happy鈥� they didn鈥檛 know they were on 鈥� the school is on an island and the next morning, we went into the dining hall and they all came in 鈥� Their heads were shaven and they were all wearing little black and white prison suits and us girls just started crying.鈥�
– Alaska

鈥淭he sad part about it is a lot of us had to watch the priest sodomize our classmates 鈥� Nobody wants to share things like that. I鈥檝e learned how to be tough because you couldn鈥檛 cry. Couldn鈥檛 do that.鈥�
– South Dakota

鈥淭hey came in, they stripped them down, put all their clothes, the food they bring in, dry caribou, salmon, and stuff like that, they put it all on the side. They made them go through the shower, shave them, give them their uniform and a number 鈥� I probably cried when they took all their clothes down there and burned them in the furnace, all the beautiful, beautiful parkas and everything.鈥�
– Alaska

鈥淢y grandpa鈥檚 last words were, 鈥榃e鈥檙e going to experience some things,鈥� in Cheyenne鈥� Culturally, our hair is sacred. 鈥榃e do not cut our hair, but they鈥檙e going to do that to you. You get there, your black braids are not going to come home.鈥� And that was hard. My braids got cut off. Excuse me. Just remembering what happened to some of us first day of school.鈥�
– Montana

鈥淥nce I graduated, I had to go straight to the Marine Corps because I had no parents, nobody there when I finished 鈥� to this day, I know it affected my sister, because I haven鈥檛 seen her in probably 30 years, and she鈥檚 been in and out of prison ever since. She鈥檚 never been back to the Indian reservation 鈥� I don’t have a very good relationship with my mother, because by the time we started talking again she 鈥� there鈥檚 a lot of feelings that was brought up just because of separation.鈥�
– California

鈥淚 experience feelings of abandonment because I think of my mother standing on that sidewalk as we were loaded into the green bus to be taken to a boarding school. And I can see it 鈥� still have the image of my mom burned in my brain and in my heart where she was crying. What does a mother think? She was helpless.鈥�
– Arizona

鈥淚 don鈥檛 remember ever getting a hug from my mom. I don鈥檛 remember, ever, my mother telling me she loved me. I remember getting whipped with a switch and finally being able to go live with my father because they didn鈥檛 live together anymore 鈥� He never did anything like that. He said, 鈥楾hat鈥檚 because of the schools.鈥欌��
– Washington

鈥淭o this day I can still see that nun standing and she said, 鈥楬ere,鈥� she gave me a bag and I said, 鈥極h, what is it?鈥� 鈥極h, it鈥檚 from your brother.鈥� 鈥極h, is he here?鈥� 鈥楴o, he鈥檚 dead.鈥� I could still see her standing there and I was still a little girl. And I thanked her.鈥�
– Minnesota

鈥淚 said to Sister Naomi, I think I’m going to go home now. She leaned way over into my face and said, 鈥榊ou鈥檙e not going anywhere, you鈥檙e going to be here for a long, long time.鈥� So, I choked back my tears and I hid inside myself.鈥�
– Michigan

If you are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

Indigenous students enrolled in schools run by the Bureau of Indian Education (BIE) will have access to more comprehensive, culturally relevant agricultural training and education as part of a new partnership the BIE established with the Native American Agriculture Fund (NAAF).

鈥淭his partnership furthers BIE鈥檚 commitment to provide a high-quality, culturally relevant education while empowering Native communities and paving the way for a brighter future in Indigenous agriculture,鈥� Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs Bryan Newland said

NAAF is a private, charitable trust created by the settlement of the class-action lawsuit Keepseagle v. Vilsack, NAAF provides grants to eligible organizations for business assistance, agricultural education, technical support, and advocacy services that support Indigenous farmers and ranchers.

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鈥淎gricultural education is a fundamental focus for NAAF, offering a pathway for students, producers, and Native communities to engage in tribal agriculture, sustain food systems, bolster credit and lending opportunities, and support tribal economies,鈥� Native American Agriculture Fund CEO Toni Stanger-McLaughlin said in a press release.

As part of this partnership, the educational resources will explore Native agricultural history as well as modern practices, according to the BIE. The lessons will focus on topics such as origins, leadership, and plant science within Indigenous communities.

鈥淚ncreasing agricultural education through business and lending experiences, vocational education programs, youth initiatives and outdoor agricultural exposure helps to create increased interest and new opportunities for Native students to develop career pathways in agriculture and related fields,鈥� Newland said.

As part of the partnership, students can participate in project-based learning, according to the BIE. Students will engage with traditional agriculture principles and practices, fostering an understanding of Indigenous agricultural systems.

鈥淭his collaborative lifelong agriculture education effort addresses a crucial gap in agricultural education,鈥� Stanger-McLaughlin said. 鈥淚t aims to empower Native students with education to preserve generational knowledge and sustain holistic agricultural ecosystems.鈥�

The BIE and NAAF entered into a partnership in June and will launch educational resources at BIE-operated schools in Wingate, New Mexico, near the Navajo Nation and Zuni Pueblo.

NAAF鈥檚 sister organization, the Tribal Agriculture Fellowship program, will be leading the collaborative efforts with schools, according to the BIE, and they will be developing and tailoring resources to meet the needs of each school utilizing the educational resource.

鈥淲e are thrilled to embark on this journey with BIE schools,鈥� Nicole De Von Jackson, director of the Tribal Agriculture Fellowship program, said in a press release.

鈥淭his partnership represents an incredible opportunity to create customized resources that truly reflect each community鈥檚 unique needs and strengths,鈥� De Von Jackson added. 鈥淲e are excited to see how this initiative will inspire and empower Native students to become the next generation of leaders in agriculture.鈥�

The partnership will also support the , according to the BIE, which provides culturally based healthy nutrition education and boosts training for healthy and culturally appropriate food preparation.

鈥淔rom our Food Hubs program to community growing efforts and new degree programs, BIE has increased agricultural education opportunities from early childhood to post-secondary,鈥� Bureau of Indian Education Director Tony L. Dearman said in a press release.

were launched in 2022 by the BIE and the Department of Interior. Since its inception, it has been established in four BIE-operated schools.

The hubs use Indigenous knowledge to develop holistic approaches to support Native Food Sovereignty movements, according to the BIE, which incorporates culture, social determinants of health, food, nutrition, land management, and regenerative agriculture.

鈥淭his partnership will build upon those efforts and support Indigenous agriculture, furthering our commitment to including Indigenous knowledge in the BIE curriculum and providing career pathways in agriculture,鈥� Dearman stated.

is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Arizona Mirror maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Jim Small for questions: info@azmirror.com. Follow Arizona Mirror on and .

Survey results indicate nearly two-thirds of South Dakota public school educators are teaching the , but the number of respondents is lower than the last survey.

The essential understandings are a set of standards approved in 2018 for teaching students about Native American culture and history. 鈥淥ceti Sakowin鈥� is the collective term for Lakota, Dakota and Nakota speaking Native Americans, many of whom live in South Dakota. There are nine tribal nations within the state.

About 62% of teachers are using the standards, based on a survey conducted by the state Department of Education in 2023 鈥� a 鈥渞emarkable increase鈥� from 45% in 2021, said Fred Osborn, director of the Office of Indian Education, which is under the supervision of the state Department of Tribal Relations. He presented the survey results to the Indian Education Advisory Council earlier this month.

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Use of the standards is optional. The survey is used to understand how the standards are being implemented, and to help state officials encourage statewide adoption.

鈥淭he key is there鈥檚 improvement,鈥� Osborn said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not perfect yet. There鈥檚 still work to be done, but we鈥檝e come a long way from 45% of teachers. We hope that increases every year.鈥�

Osborn added that the Office of Indian Education provided 10,000 copies of books on the Oceti Sakowin Essential Understandings through a Bush Foundation grant since the first survey, and sent out education packets for all grade levels last fall.

Fewer survey responses

Only about 385 educators took part in the 2023 survey, compared to 554 in 2021.

The 2023 survey also does not list how many public school districts were represented in the survey, whereas 2021鈥檚 survey had responses from 125 of the state鈥檚 149 school districts. The school district identification question was changed between 2021 and 2023, said department spokesperson Nancy Van Der Weide. The department does not have any data to determine how many school districts were represented in the latest survey.

Removing the school district identification question allowed participants more anonymity, Van Der Weide told South Dakota Searchlight.

Neither Osborn nor any members of the council addressed the potential impact of fewer responses on the validity of the survey results. The survey was voluntary and available for one month, Van Der Weide said, with a notice placed in a newsletter sent to teachers throughout the state.

鈥淭hose educators who did respond provided informed recommendations,鈥� Van Der Weide said in an emailed statement. 鈥淪ome of those were educators who already incorporate a lot of OSEUs in their classrooms, while others were those who wanted to make them a part of their instruction and responded with ideas for tools that would help them to incorporate the standards into their classrooms.鈥�

Advisory council member Sherry Johnson, tribal education director for the Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate, helped shaped the standards and is participating in the standards update. She doubts the survey is an accurate representation of how the standards are being used in the state.

鈥淲e have pockets of the state that are doing well, but it鈥檚 not pervasive. It鈥檚 not required,鈥� Johnson said. 鈥淚f nothing else, there should be direct teacher training and a mandate to have this Indian education for all.鈥�

Megan Deal, a second-grade teacher in Pierre and a member of the advisory council, said her school participated in a pilot program to help create lesson plans for standards at each grade level, but not all teachers incorporated the teachings into their classrooms.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 think they鈥檙e being taught at very many schools around the state at this time,鈥� Deal said.

Council member Brian Wagner, tribal education director with the Lower Brule Sioux Tribe, said he is concerned about the lack of 鈥渢eeth鈥� with the standards. Lawmakers have introduced bills to require use of the Oceti Sakowin Essential Understandings in classrooms, but those efforts have .

鈥淜nowledge is power,鈥� Wagner said. 鈥淚f people don鈥檛 learn about history, then we risk repeating it, and unfortunately the history repeating would be the racism and the discrimination that many tribal members have experienced because people don鈥檛 understand tribal sovereignty or the treaties and the treaty rights.鈥�

Impact expected from social studies standards

Though the standards are optional, said Secretary of South Dakota Department of Education Joseph Graves, the new social studies standards that will be implemented by 2025 will include references to the Oceti Sakowin Essential Understandings. Those will encourage more teachers to use the cultural standards, he said.

鈥淲e鈥檙e going to find more Native American history and culture being taught in the schools than ever before,鈥� Graves said. 鈥淭his is actually a move forward, not a move back. I think the social studies standards have gotten an unfair black eye, and I think once you see these in place you鈥檒l find we鈥檙e teaching more of it rather than less and, I think, from an enlightened perspective.鈥�

The started in 2021 because the department removed more than a dozen references to the Oceti Sakowin from a committee鈥檚 draft revision of social studies standards. After Gov. Kristi Noem formed a new work group and ordered the process to start over, the group produced standards that drew criticism for an emphasis on rote memorization over inquiry-based learning.

Graves added that the department plans to provide teachers with weekly materials to help them utilize the social studies standards and encourage them to use the Oceti Sakowin Essential Understandings.

According to the 2023 survey results, about 84% of educators said they were aware of the standards, and 77% said it is important to implement the standards in every classroom. Only 55% of teachers said they knew the concepts well enough to teach them, but that was an 18 point increase from 2021.

Nearly 40 administrators took part in their administrator survey in 2023, compared to 164 in 2021. The 2023 survey does not list how many public school districts were represented in the administrator survey.

Nearly 80% of administrators said it鈥檚 important to implement the standards in every classroom, but two-thirds of administrators indicated a lack of confidence to implement the standards in their schools, while 56% reported an uncertainty about how to integrate the standards and 44% cited a concern for the appropriateness of the content 鈥� an increase of 28 points from the 2021 survey.

The survey does not address how using the standards affects Native American student achievement, but Osborn said it would be 鈥渋nteresting to cross analyze鈥� that.

is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. South Dakota Searchlight maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Seth Tupper for questions: info@southdakotasearchlight.com. Follow South Dakota Searchlight on and .

On the Warm Springs Indian Reservation, the loud chorus of spring birdsong is mixed with a new sound: the steady rumble of skateboard wheels on concrete.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, a young girl sat on her skateboard and prepared to drop in on the halfpipe. Then, crack! The smack of flesh on concrete as she collided with another skater. For a brief second, there was silence 鈥� quickly filled with a burst of laughter before they helped each other to their feet

鈥淥h look, I鈥檓 ripping it!鈥� a young boy chirped as he glided down a ramp. He looked up at his father, who was smiling down at him.

The Warm Springs Skatepark opened March 29. It replaced a smaller skatepark that was falling apart. After decades of use, combined with the brutal winters and blistering summers of central Oregon, the plywood-covered metal ramps were crumbling. They had become a safety hazard.

Mike Collins, director of Managed Care for the tribe, says the revamped skatepark is more than just a fun place for skateboarders to practice their moves. It鈥檚 a place where the whole community can build memories, for generations to come.

鈥淭his park is a centerpiece of our community,鈥� Collins said. 鈥淲e have our family get togethers here; barbecues, picnics, birthdays and other celebrations here.鈥�

Making it Happen

For most Indigenous youth growing up in rural reservations, access to skating facilities is hard to come by. Youth living on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation did have a skatepark, but after nearly two decades, the ramps had seen better days. Skaters were hitchhiking and walking 15 miles southeast on Highway 26 to the neighboring town of Madras, just to skate on the larger, safer concrete park.

Thankfully, those days of hitchhiking are long gone.

Scott Koerner, who until December worked to promote skateboarding and snowboarding with the Oregon company , said he first heard about the crumbling Warm Springs skate park from two young  who grew up skating there.

鈥淲e have team riders that were living in that community and they were able to kind of inform us that the park was in a bad place,鈥� Koerner said.

Those riders were Daquan Cassaway, and his friend, Nacho Ponce. The two young men saw an opportunity to revitalize the park that had brought them so much joy.

The duo turned to the skating community and the tribe for help.

鈥淲hen I first went there and saw the state of the ramps were in disrepair, I knew that we had to work with the community and make sure that they got an updated skatepark that’s safe for everybody to use, but also is fun for everybody to use,鈥� Koerner said.

He reached out to The Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, and was connected with Collins. Together, they brought the idea to create a new skate park to tribal council.

After receiving the green light, they began reaching out to concrete companies, local businesses, nonprofit organizations and the  (formerly the Tony Hawk Foundation) to help build and fundraise for the new skatepark.

Collins, a citizen of the Coeur d鈥橝lene Tribe, has worked for Warm Springs for over 25 years, and raised his family there. He said it was moving to see so many people, organizations and businesses coming together to help make it come to life.

鈥淭hat’s what’s so fantastic about this project, is because it includes all parts of the community,鈥� said Collins. 鈥淧eople think, 鈥極h, it’s a skate park, so it’s just for skaters.鈥� But it’s more than that. It’s for entire families.鈥�

Meeting the Goal

After Collins and Koerner reached out, The Skatepark Project launched a  in collaboration with , the first Native American-owned denim collection, and Steven Paul Judd, award-winning Kiowa and Choctaw contemporary visual artist and filmmaker. Judd created a limited edition T-shirt specifically for the Warm Springs skatepark.

“When Ginew reached out to me I was stoked to be a part of the project,鈥� Judd said in a statement. 鈥淚 grew up in different small towns in Oklahoma and there were zero skate parks, so the 15-year-old me is freaking out knowing that I get to be a small part of helping to bring this skatepark to life.鈥�

The goal was to raise $140,000. That would cover the cost of turning the original skatepark into a permanent concrete park, and adding new elements within the park to fit the community’s needs and desires for the space.

In the end, they exceeded their goal with the support of community members and supporters far and wide.

Tactics provided 250 skateboards for the grand opening event, and an anonymous local nonprofit donated 50 more. The Skatepark Project also provided pads and helmets, plus 100 skateboards and 25 BMX bikes.

鈥淚’ve never been a part of a project where people are so willing to open up their checkbooks and help out,鈥� said Joey Martin, owner of Collective Concrete, the company that built the park.

Building skateparks is something that Martin knows well. In 2016, Martin helped build Ethiopia鈥檚 first skateboard park, on the grounds of a government youth center in Addis Ababa.

鈥淚 look back at those kids now and I see the motivation,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 see that that state park has tripled, quadrupled, over the last four years since I’ve left.鈥�

Similarly to the Addis Skatepark in Ethiopia, Martin hopes the new park at Warm Springs will help the skating community grow.

Replanting the Seed

Now that the new park is open to the public, Martin wants to repurpose the old ramps at a new location to help spread the magic of skateboarding. Instead of dumping the old ramps and rails at the landfill, organizers decided to create a new park in the nearby Warm Springs tribal community of Simnasho.

鈥淲hat we’re going to do is take the [previous] footprint, which is metal fabricated ramps, and we’re going to move them up to a school so the kids are going to be able to use them,鈥� Martin said. 鈥淚t’s kind of awesome to be able to create a second place, as well.鈥�

Martin says he hopes the Simnasho skatepark will help foster the same love he and his team have for skateboarding.

鈥淲e’re creating opportunities for someone that may not have that ability to be a soccer star or a basketball star,鈥� said Martin. 鈥淲e’re always looking for the pursuit of happiness. And now, we’re talking about doing it with skateboarding. I mean, that’s a magical thing.鈥�

With the rise of skateboarding and its recognition as an official sport, he hopes that like skaters in Addis Ababa, there will be local Warm Springs skaters like Daquan and Nacho who will shoot for the stars and aim for going pro.

鈥淚’ve gotten to see the world because of skating,鈥� said Martin. 鈥淚’m the luckiest dude in the room. Not a lot of people get to say that. And it’s all because of a skateboard.鈥�

This story was originally published by .

Whenever November would roll around, James Gensaw, a Yurok language high school teacher in far northern California, would get a request from a school administrator. They would always ask him to bring students from the Native American Club, which he advises, to demonstrate Yurok dancing on the high school quad at lunch time.

鈥淥n the one hand, it was nice that the school wanted to have us share our culture,鈥� Gensaw told me during an interview. 鈥淥n the other, it wasn鈥檛 always respectful. Some kids would make fun of the Native American dancers, mimicking war cries and calling out 鈥榗hief.鈥� 鈥�

鈥淭he media would be invited to come cover the dancing as part of their Thanksgiving coverage, and it felt like we were a spectacle,鈥� he continued. 鈥淥ther cultural groups and issues would sometimes be presented in school assemblies, in the gym, where teachers monitored student behavior. I thought, why didn鈥檛 we get to have that? We needed more respect for sharing our culture.鈥� James Gensaw鈥檚 work in California鈥檚 public high schools as a Yurok language teacher and mentor to Native American students is part of a reckoning with equity and justice in schools.

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Yurok language in schools

Tribal officials say Gensaw is one of 16 advanced-level Yurok language-keepers alive today. An enrolled Yurok tribal member, Gensaw is also part of the tribe鈥檚 , which is at the forefront of efforts to keep the Yurok language alive.

Today, the Yurok language is offered as an elective at four high schools in far northern California. The classes meet language instruction requirements for admission to University of California and California State University systems.

Yurok language classes are also offered in local Head Start preschool programs as well as in some K-8 schools when there is teacher availability, and at the College of the Redwoods, the regional community college. To date, eight high school seniors have been awarded California鈥檚 , a prestigious accomplishment that signifies commitment to and competency in the language.

When I started researching the effects of Yurok language access on young people in 2016, there were approximately 12 advanced-level speakers, according to the Yurok Language Program. The 16 advanced-level speakers in 2022 represent a growing speaker base and they are something to celebrate. Despite colonization and attempts to by interrupting the transfer of language from parents to their children, Yurok speakers are still here.

Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, boarding schools in the United States operated as spaces for what I refer to as 鈥渃ulturecide鈥� 鈥� the killing of culture 鈥� in my latest book, 鈥�.鈥� Students in both the United States and Mexico were often made to attend schools where they were beaten for speaking Indigenous languages. Now, new generations are being encouraged to sign up to study the same language many of their grandparents and great-grandparents were forced to forget.

Language as resistance

The Yurok Tribe made the decision years ago to and as part of that, to teach Yurok to anyone who wanted to learn. They have many that are open for all. Victoria Carlson is the Yurok Language Program Manager and a language-keeper herself. She is teaching Yurok to her children as a first language, and she drives long distances to teach the language at schools throughout Humboldt and Del Norte counties.

鈥淲hen we speak Yurok, we are saying that we are still here,鈥� Carson said in an interview with me, echoing a sentiment that many Yurok students relayed to me as well. 鈥淪peaking our language is a form of resisting all things that have been done to our people.鈥�

The students in Mr. Gensaw鈥檚 classes are majority, but not exclusively, Native American. Through my research I learned that there are white students who sign up out of interest or because nothing else fit in their schedule. There are Asian American students who wish that Hmong or Mandarin was a language option, but they take Yurok since it is the most unique language choice available. And there are Latinx students who already are bilingual in English and Spanish and who want to challenge themselves linguistically.

In my book and , I document how access to Indigenous languages in school benefits different groups of students in a range of ways. Heritage-speakers 鈥� those who have family members who speak the language 鈥� get to shine in the classroom as people with authority over the content, something that in other classes. White students have their eyes opened to when they study the Gold Rush, Spanish missionaries in California, or other standard topics of K-12 education that are taught from a colonizing perspective. And students from non-heritage minority backgrounds an increased interest in their own identities. They often go to elders to learn some of their own family languages after being inspired that such knowledge is worth being proud of.

Bringing languages like Yurok into schools that are still, as historian Donald Yacovone points out, , does not in and of itself undo the effects of colonization. Getting rid of curricula that teach the 鈥� the notion that colonizers 鈥渄iscovered鈥� the Americas and had a legal right to it 鈥� is a long-term process. But placing Native American languages into public schools both affirms the validity of Indigenous cultural knowledge and also at the same time. It is a place to start.

One step at a time

In my experience, as a researcher on education policy and democracy, I have found that is something that better prepares young people to learn how to interact in healthy ways with people who are different from themselves.

Gensaw, the Yurok language teacher, is at the forefront of this. One year when he was again asked if he could bring the students to dance around Thanksgiving time, he said yes, but not on the quad. He requested a school assembly space where student behavior could be monitored. The school said yes, and the students danced without being demeaned by their peers. These steps are just the beginning of what it takes to undo the effects of colonization.

This article is republished from under a Creative Commons license. Read the . Emerson College provides funding as a member of The Conversation US.

A newly released brings much-needed visibility to this disparity, which has long been ignored in the public dialogue about educational access. The report provides comprehensive data and a fresh set of powerful personal testimonies that illuminate how Native students experience the many facets of funding their college education. It offers recommendations for making higher education more financially accessible to Native students, such as providing aid for non-tuition expenses. 

Indigenous researchers collected information from nearly 3,000 students (a 23.2% response rate). These students represent 172 Tribal nations. This Indigenous-led data sharing, collection, analysis and reporting 鈥�  an unprecedented collaboration among the nation鈥檚 four Native scholarship providers 鈥� found that college affordability, not academic performance or any other factor, is the primary obstacle preventing Native students from earning their degree. Simply put: Of the Native students who do not complete their college studies, most stop because they simply do not have enough money to keep going. 

It has long been known that Native students are far less likely than U.S. students overall to graduate from college. has shown that 36% of Indigenous undergraduates entering four-year colleges and universities in 2014 completed their academic degrees in six years, compared with 60% of all other students. 

The new study goes deeper, painting a more detailed portrait of the financial challenges facing Native students. For example, it found that 72% reported running out of money at least once in the previous six months. Many Native students report making sacrifices that no student should have to make 鈥斕齭uch as not eating in order to have enough money for education-related expenses. Over 50% said they struggled with food insecurity, and 16% experienced homelessness while pursuing their degrees.

Examining the underlying reasons for these financial challenges, the report found that Native students shoulder tremendous financial responsibilities. Many are the breadwinners for their families. Almost 50% of respondents in the survey agreed that they served as the primary source of income for their household during college. More than two thirds said they are expected to contribute to family bills. 

As a member of the Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes growing up in Montana, I experienced many of these same hardships when I attended college two decades ago. Now, as a scholarship provider, I hear each year from students enduring food insecurity and homelessness. Native Forward helps these students, providing them not just with funding for tuition, but also with housing, food aid and other forms of critical support. 

What I fear is that 20 years from now, students will still be coming to us for emergency relief. Meanwhile, the higher education system will not have evolved to meet their needs.  

The can empower colleges and universities to chart a different course 鈥� one that provides Native students with the resources and support they need to make higher education truly affordable. In my conversations with financial aid officers across the country, I鈥檝e found that few have meaningful data on Native students鈥� financial literacy or challenges. Armed with the treasure trove of statistics in this study, financial aid staff can finally begin to develop expertise around Native students鈥� experiences in paying for their education. Universities can then develop data-informed strategies to better meet these students鈥� needs.  

The report also urges secondary schools to do more to equip Native students to navigate the costs of higher education, such as strengthening financial literacy school curricula and pre-college financial planning, and expanding information and planning for families, caregivers and students around filling out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA).Year after year, Native Forward sends the majority of its funding to students enrolled at a small group of colleges and universities. This is because those schools excel at supporting this student population. Now, it鈥檚 time for more schools to follow their examples. With the听 as a new baseline, all those who support Native students, from colleges to policymakers to philanthropists, can take informed action and create the institutional change that will finally achieve full equity and opportunity for Native students.

For the first time in Arizona, Indigenous undergraduate students will get the opportunity to take classes at a major public university without worrying about how to cover tuition.

The University of Arizona announced that it is launching a first-of-its-kind program that will cover tuition and mandatory fees for full-time Indigenous undergraduate students who are from any of Arizona鈥檚 22 federally recognized tribes.

鈥淪erving Arizona鈥檚 Native American tribes and tribal students is a crucial part of the University of Arizona鈥檚 land-grant mission, and the Arizona Native Scholars Grant program is another important step among many to do that,鈥� University of Arizona President Robert C. Robbins said in a press release announcing the program.

The ANS grant is geared toward full-time undergraduate students studying on the University of Arizona鈥檚 main campus in Tucson.

The grant will make up any difference between a student鈥檚 tuition, mandatory fees, and all other financial aid the student receives, such as a Pell Grant or merit scholarships, according to the University of Arizona鈥檚. The grant can be awarded for up to four years.

鈥淚 am so proud that this university has found a way to help hundreds of students more easily access and complete a college education, and I look forward to finding ways to take these efforts even further,鈥� Robbins said.

The program will be funded through a reallocation of financial aid dollars and will be administered by the University of Arizona鈥檚 Enrollment Management, according to the university.

鈥淭he Tohono O鈥檕dham Nation is proud to partner with UArizona in its ongoing efforts to honor Native heritage and support Indigenous students,鈥� Tohono O鈥檕dham Nation Chairman Ned Norris, Jr. said in a statement to the Mirror. 鈥淭his program will help ensure that students from the Nation and other tribes have the opportunity to access the world-class education opportunity available close to home at the University of Arizona.鈥�

Gila River Indian Community Governor Stephen Roe Lewis applauded the University of Arizona鈥檚 鈥渓andmark decision鈥� on providing free tuition to Indigenous students.

鈥淨uality education will continue to lift our Tribes and our people and help create the next generation of Arizona tribal leaders,鈥� Lewis said in a statement to the Arizona Mirror. 鈥淭his important acknowledgment of UA鈥檚 responsibility to the sovereign tribal nations of Arizona should be emulated across the state and nationally.鈥�

The program begins in the fall for new and continuing full-time, degree-seeking undergraduates who will be eligible for the Arizona Native Scholars Grant program.

Education Director of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe Serina Preciado said the University of Arizona announcement is important to the tribe because Indigenous students do not enroll at the rate that other subgroups do within colleges and universities,

鈥淭he experience of Pascua Yaqui students is that they live in multi-generational households and they are contributing to the household income,鈥� she said.

This means that a lot of young Indigenous students are faced with the choice of either helping out the family by working or making the personal choice to thrive in a higher education setting.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 not a choice that they have to make anymore, at least not if they attend the university,鈥� Preciado said. 鈥淲e hope that that (this) becomes something that gets alleviated across the state and in the country.鈥�

Preciado said the new program also contributes to the intergovernmental agreement the Pascua Yaqui Tribe entered into with the University of Arizona in 2021, where the university committed to helping the Pascua Yaqui tribal members reach their higher education goals.

鈥淭he state and the country have a huge obligation to Native American communities,鈥� Preciado said. 鈥淚f you look at the rates of poverty and the kind of social conditions that are happening on reservations and in tribal communities across the state and the country, we know that education is a solution to a lot of these issues, but there has not been a significant, tangible significant investment in Native American education at a higher education level.鈥�

According to the university, serving Arizona鈥檚 Tribal Nations and students is a key part of the university鈥檚 strategic plan, and is central to the plan鈥檚 Arizona Advantage pillar, which highlights the university鈥檚 role as a land-grant institution.

鈥淭he University of Arizona is committed to recognizing and acknowledging the history endured by Native American communities,鈥� said Kasey Urqu铆dez, University of Arizona鈥檚 vice president of enrollment management and dean of undergraduate admissions, in a press release.

鈥淲e are committed to promoting access and success for Indigenous students,鈥� she added. 鈥淭his program is part of our continual commitment to serve our Indigenous Wildcats.鈥�

Preciado said that by the university offering free tuition to Indigenous students in Arizona, they stand up and begin to repair the legacy of universities as land grabbing institutions.

The University of Arizona is a land-grant university, meaning it鈥檚 one of many institutions across the country to receive land grants from the Morrill Act, that sought to provide a 鈥渓iberal, practical education鈥� for the working class.

Fifty two modern land-grant universities received land grants traceable to the Morrill Act, according to .

鈥淭he United States took the land that supplied the grants from nearly 250 tribal nations, through 162 treaties or seizures,鈥� the investigation reported. 鈥淟and-grant universities were built not just on Indigenous land, but with Indigenous land.鈥�

The University of Arizona鈥檚 main campus is based in Tucson, which is the original homelands of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe and Tohono O鈥檕dham Nation.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a significant step to take to move beyond land acknowledgments,鈥� Preciado said, and the university is showing that it values Indigenous communities and people.

This move can be seen as more restorative rather than performative, she added because more often than not, Indigenous communities have to experience performative land acknowledgments.

鈥淭his is a really big step, big movement from the university,鈥� Preciado said, because Indigenous students need access to these types of resources everywhere.

鈥淲hen we talk about valuing tribal communities, we mean it, and they鈥檙e putting their money where their mouth is,鈥� she said. 鈥淲e implore universities across the country to make this commitment to Native students.鈥�

For students to be eligible for the ANS grant, they must complete the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA), and provide tribal identification.

Native American tribes鈥� federal legal status allows universities to administer scholarships and grants to tribal members, the university said. More than 400 students enrolled at the University of Arizona last year that meet the criteria for the new program.

But the program does leave out non-traditional students, such as Indigenous undergrad students taking courses online or taking courses at the main campus on a part-time or less than part-time basis.

Levi Esquerra, the University of Arizona鈥檚 senior vice president for Native American advancement and tribal engagement, said the ANS program may later expand to graduate students, University of Arizona Online students, and students at other campuses. The university will also look to potential donor support to help fund the program.

Navajo Nation President Jonathan Nez applauded the new program, saying that it will open doors for more Indigenous students.

鈥淭his is a wonderful initiative for our young people and the University of Arizona. It not only opens doors for Native Americans to pursue higher education, but it will also add to the cultural and academic diversity of the university,鈥� Nez said in a statement to the Mirror. 鈥淲e have many bright and intelligent Navajo people who are eager to earn a degree but often lack the financial resources to do so.鈥�

Nez said that Ribbons recently visited Window Rock, the Navajo Nation capital, and they had the chance to have a conversation about different ways they could support Navajo students.

鈥淚鈥檓 proud of the University of Arizona for taking this big step forward and I hope to see other universities follow suit,鈥� he added.

For a full breakdown of the application process, visit the .

is part of States Newsroom, a network of news bureaus supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Arizona Mirror maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Jim Small for questions: info@azmirror.com. Follow Arizona Mirror on and .

The University of Montana will receive $1.8 million from a $10 million National Science Foundation grant awarded to a six-state collaboration to increase the representation of Alaska Native and American Indian (AI/AN) students in STEM.

According to a UM press release, UM鈥檚 share will help build a network for developing STEM educational resources and implement long-term programming and mentorship to support AI/AN students.

The grant funds Cultivating Indigenous Research Communities for Leadership in Education (the CIRCLES Alliance), which is led by Aaron Thomas, a UM chemistry professor and the director of UM Indigenous Research and STEM Education.

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鈥淭he CIRCLES Alliance鈥檚 goal is to encourage AI/AN students to identify academically and culturally with being a Native scientist, technician, engineer or mathematician,鈥� Thomas said in a statement provided by UM. 鈥淭he hope is that more of these students will enter and persist in STEM-related fields and the workforce.鈥�

The CIRCLES Alliance launched in 2020 with support from the National Science Foundation鈥檚 Established Program to Stimulate Competitive Research, as well as the Inclusion across the Nation of Communities of Learners of Underrepresented Discoverers in Engineering and Science program.

The alliance has previously partnered with tribal communities to understand how they value STEM and the challenges of better serving AI/AN students in public education. According to the press release, the alliance aims to 鈥渋nform educational institutions and the National Science Foundation in Native cultural understanding and humility and to shift approaches toward AI/AN education.鈥�

Partners in the grant include research institutions in Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota and Wyoming. With the new funding, the alliance hopes to serve students and teachers through all undergraduate and K-12 levels across the West.

is part of States Newsroom, a network of news bureaus supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Daily Montanan maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Darrell Ehrlick for questions: info@dailymontanan.com. Follow Daily Montanan on and .

Born and raised on Navajo and Ojibwe reservations, three of endawnis Spears鈥檚 four grandparents were among the estimated hundreds of thousands of Native children separated from their families, their tribes and their traditions and forced to attend government-run Indian boarding schools.

A federal Bureau of Indian Affairs officer took Spears鈥檚 maternal grandmother at just 6 years old from Arizona to the Albuquerque Indian School in New Mexico. The agency threatened the young girl鈥檚 parents with possible jail time if they did not surrender her. 

Her paternal grandmother was sent across state lines from Minnesota to Kansas, where she was forced to attend Lawrence鈥檚 infamous Haskell Indian Training School, unable to return home for nearly a decade.

After hiding from federal officers for years, agents took her maternal grandfather at 14 to Fort Wingate, Arizona and forced him to cut his hair, pray to a Christian god and speak English, though Navajo was the only language he knew at the time. The teen repeatedly tried to run away, and staff punished him by forcing him to spend days on end in the school鈥檚 basement without food. Spears鈥檚 parents shared these stories with her over the years. 

鈥淭hese legacies and these histories are so intimate to us as Native people,鈥� said Spears, who now lives in Hopkinton, Rhode Island and serves as Brown University鈥檚 . 鈥淲e carry them in our DNA.鈥�

At least 500 Indigenous children died while attending federally operated Indian boarding schools, according to a May 11 . Just 19 facilities, a small fraction of the 408 government-supported schools identified, account for that tally 鈥� meaning the death total is likely a severe undercount.

For 150 years, up until the late 1960s, the U.S. government stole Indigenous youth from their communities, often without parents鈥� consent, and sent them to Indian boarding schools where they were forced to use English names, wear Americanized haircuts and perform military drills. Many children suffered and , and an unknown number died, often . 

The long-awaited report represents the first time the federal government has attempted a systematic accounting of the facts and consequences of the Indian boarding school system it perpetuated.

鈥淚’m glad to see it on the news. I’m glad that there are people asking these questions because our Native families, our Indigenous families in this country carry these stories with them every day,鈥� Spears told 社区黑料. But the process is only beginning, she added. 

鈥淲e’re just learning the full scope of the truth. 鈥� People always want to jump to reconciliation and they want to skip over the truth-telling part. We need to sit in the truth for a while.鈥�

The May report represents Volume I of an investigation that Interior Department Secretary Deb Haaland, a member of the Laguna Pueblo tribe and the agency鈥檚 first Indigenous head, unveiled in June 2021. The effort is intended to provide a basis through which the U.S. may reckon with past brutality by locating gravesites 鈥� many of them unmarked or 鈥� repatriating children鈥檚 remains and offering resources to affected families.

鈥淚t is my priority to not only give voice to the survivors and descendants of federal Indian boarding school policies, but also to address the lasting legacies of these policies so Indigenous peoples can continue to grow and heal,鈥� said the secretary, who鈥檚 own grandparents were also subjected to the boarding school system.

Indigenous scholars underscore that this first report only conveys a small fraction of the violence wrought by these schools, scores of which were operated by the Catholic Church and various Protestant groups at the government鈥檚 behest. 

鈥淏asically every school had a cemetery,鈥� Preston McBride, an Indian boarding school historian and a Comanche descendent. 鈥淭here are deaths at or deaths because of virtually every single boarding school.鈥�

鈥淭he United States doesn鈥檛 even know how many Indian students went through these institutions, let alone how many actually died in them,鈥� he added.

In his own research, he has documented over 1,000 child deaths at just four boarding schools. He estimates the toll over the entire system鈥檚 century and a half of operation may be .

The Department of Interior declined to comment on whether it believes that to be a plausible estimate, though the report鈥檚 authors note they expect 鈥渃ontinued investigation will reveal the approximate number of Indian children who died at Federal Indian boarding schools to be in the thousands or tens of thousands.鈥� 

鈥淓ach one of those individuals is a story, had a story, has a story. And each one of those individuals did not have the opportunity to continue their traditions, to continue their culture, their language, to have a family 鈥� to be able to pass down the knowledge, the practices, the language that they inherited from generations past,鈥� Samuel Torres, deputy CEO of the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition, told the 74 after the investigation was first launched.

Spears said her grandparents did not talk about witnessing deaths at the boarding schools, perhaps to protect their family from that horror. 

Amazingly, her grandfather, George Kirk, who suffered deprivation and torture at the hands of the U.S. government, later went on to help the country win World War II. Kirk became a famed , one of 29 U.S. Marines whose skill at transmitting over 800 messages without error in a coded version of their native tongue proved a critical advantage to Allied forces.

鈥淭he very language he was starved for speaking, later helped save this country,鈥� Spears said.

To bring the boarding school history to light, the Interior Department鈥檚 research team is working through the review and electronic screening of roughly 500 million pages of documents held in the American Indian Records Repository in Lenexa, Kansas. 

Most of the staff who have worked on the report are themselves Indigenous, . 

鈥淚t鈥檚 been an exhausting and emotional effort for them to confront this horror on a daily basis to bring this information to you,鈥� said Assistant Secretary Bryan Newland, who led the investigation and is a member of the Ojibwe nation. 鈥淭his has left lasting scars for all Indigenous people. There鈥檚 not a single American Indian, Alaskan Native or Native Hawaiian in this country whose life hasn鈥檛 been affected by these schools.鈥�

As the team continues its investigation, they hope to further clarify the U.S. government鈥檚 role in supporting the Indian boarding system, determine the location of more burial grounds associated with these schools and identify the names, ages and tribal affiliations of those buried there. They have already identified over 50 marked and unmarked gravesites.

The Interior鈥檚 investigation, the beginnings of what may become a public, centralized archive, will continue with

The report follows a similarly disturbing and builds on years of Native-led activism to unearth the truth behind U.S. boarding school policies. Since its founding in 2012, the Boarding School Healing Coalition has filed for the, conducted their own, supported survivors, and led in Eastern Pennsylvania. 

鈥淚 don’t think the impact [of the Investigation] can be underestimated. This is such a big part of American history that has not been talked about,鈥� Jim Gerencser, a Dickinson College archivist who co-founded a, told 社区黑料 last year. Many people have reached out to him looking for in-depth archives of boarding schools, family information or sources to incorporate in their . 

Carlisle has become one of the most studied U.S. boarding school sites, in part due to its size and founder鈥檚 infamous propaganda to 鈥渒ill the Indian and save the man.鈥� The site forcibly enrolled over 10,000 children from 142 Native nations over the course of 40 years.

Spears and her husband Cassius Spears Jr. 鈥� first councilman for the Narragansett tribe and nephew of former councilwoman, Tomaquag Museum leader and educator 鈥� have worked to reclaim many of their Native ways of life for their children. Her boys grow their hair out long and have pierced ears. They teach their kids about humans鈥� relationships with plants and non-human animals. They learn words and prayers in Native languages.

鈥淚 make decisions everyday to give my children what my grandparents couldn’t have,鈥� said Spears.

Lede Image: Dan Romero or Walking Bird of the Ute Tribe encircles the graves of children with sage at Sherman Indian School Cemetery in Southern California. (Cindy Yamanaka/The Riverside Press-Enterprise via Getty Images)