Post by Okwes on Jun 13, 2006 13:32:45 GMT -5
Virginia tribes pass on legacy to the young
[ ]
Christine Custalow (left) works on a pottery project with Michael
Collins at the Mattaponi Cultural Class in West Point. The class is
one of the ways Virginia Indian leaders are trying to keep their
vanishing history alive.
Date published: 6/10/2006
By Dionne Walker
fredericksburg.com//News/FLS/2006/062006/06102006/192176?rss=loca\
l
W EST POINT-- With tiny fists of fury, Raleigh Custalow pummeled an
ornery glob of tan mush.
Most kindergartners were asleep or plopped in front of Cartoon Network.
But on this Saturday morning, the 5-year-old joined other youths on the
Mattaponi Indian Reservation mashing, paddling and rolling clay chunks
into masks, boxes and whistles.
The cultural class is one way Virginia Indian leaders are trying to keep
alive their vanishing history. Fewer keepers of the old ways are around
to teach the youngsters, who are more interested in sports and the
Internet than in ancient traditions, tribal elders say.
Distracted and indifferent youths are a common lament among adults. But
in a culture that relies primarily on oral history and the skills of
fading elders, losing youths' interest could end a way of life.
"It's a concern of mine for sure and I think most of not just the
leadership, but the elders in general," said Wayne Adkins, president of
the Virginia Indian Tribal Alliance for Life. "It's a chance that a lot
of that [culture] won't be carried on."
Of the 17,613 Indians and Alaskan natives documented in Virginia in
2004, census data show approximately 3,800 were 19 and younger.
Some, like Mattaponi Raleigh and his 4-year-old sister, Lili, are
actively involved in cultural activities. They're among about a dozen
who attend the Saturday class, which teaches everything from Indian
beadwork to Algonquian language.
The class was developed for Indian students in King William County
public schools and is funded by federal grants through the U.S.
Department of Education's Office of Indian Education to improve school
performance among Indian youths.
"I thought it would be a good idea for them to get more involved and
find out more of their culture," Robin Custalow said of her children.
"This is a good start."
Among other young people, however, part-time jobs and PlayStation
overshadow lessons on antiquated languages and dances, Adkins said. None
of the children in a recent class was over the age of 13.
"Children are involved in sports and cheerleading, all kinds of
activities," he said. "It's just a competition for their time and their
interest."
Upper Mattaponi Chief Ken Adams spoke of a generational gap that weakens
the focus on culture. He said today's youths haven't experienced blunt
racial discrimination and don't see the importance of preservation.
"I probably have a lot more pride in displaying the culture than a lot
of young folk do because there was a time when I couldn't," said Adams,
who attended Indian-only schools in the segregated Virginia of his
youth.
Ashley Atkins, 21, agreed that young people are distracted--and offered
her own heavy course load as a junior at James Madison University as
proof. But the Pamunkey student said young people aren't entirely to
blame for the disconnect. Adults don't offer to share what they know,
she said.
"I had to show interest personally to get anything out of my
grandparents," she said, adding that not every youth will take the same
initiative.
Neither Adams' nor Atkins' tribe has an official plan for educating
youths. It's hard finding a building for classes, leaders say, and
harder to find volunteers with enough free time.
Instead, tribes depend on families to pass down what they know, if they
know anything. Adams estimated there are barely a dozen local experts in
Virginia Indian pottery, for example. Many of them are too old or ill to
share their skills.
Such limited expertise is common among the last few generations of
Indians nationwide, said Jacqueline Johnson, executive director of the
National Congress of American Indians. Those groups largely abandoned
Indian ways to fit into the "white man's world," she said.
Her tribe, the Tlingit, has partnered with the University of Alaska to
help future educators incorporate Indian culture into lesson plans.
Other tribes have turned to "language nests"--home-based cultural study
groups she said can be arranged to work with kids' busy schedules.
"Where there's a smaller native population, it's more challenging," she
said. "[But] it is more imperative that they actually do teach and turn
it around."
The Chickahominy had the resources to teach their youths at classes
throughout the '80s. But when terms of their federal grant began
requiring more focus on math and reading, tribe member Wayne Adkins
said, they stopped.
The Mattaponi class faces a similar threat.
Their grant is supposed to help Indian students meet state learning
standards, explained Jean Hunt, an education program specialist for the
U.S. Department of Education's Indian education branch.
"Culture can be used as an activity to meet a reading or math standard,
but it can't stand alone," she said. "That's been confusing for some of
our grantees in the past."
But Indian leaders like Gloria Custalow say local youths are excelling
in their Indian lessons and that replacing leatherwork with long
division could cut student interest in half.
Saturdays, she said, "there will be students sitting on the steps
waiting for the class to begin. You think a child is going to sit there
and show that much interest in reading?"
Instructor Christine Custalow also worries about the future of the
course. But on this Saturday morning, she was more concerned with making
sure Raleigh's clay turtle box would withstand firing.
"That's why we're training the children," she said, rushing from one
clay-covered child to another. "They have to learn their culture."
[ ]
Christine Custalow (left) works on a pottery project with Michael
Collins at the Mattaponi Cultural Class in West Point. The class is
one of the ways Virginia Indian leaders are trying to keep their
vanishing history alive.
Date published: 6/10/2006
By Dionne Walker
fredericksburg.com//News/FLS/2006/062006/06102006/192176?rss=loca\
l
W EST POINT-- With tiny fists of fury, Raleigh Custalow pummeled an
ornery glob of tan mush.
Most kindergartners were asleep or plopped in front of Cartoon Network.
But on this Saturday morning, the 5-year-old joined other youths on the
Mattaponi Indian Reservation mashing, paddling and rolling clay chunks
into masks, boxes and whistles.
The cultural class is one way Virginia Indian leaders are trying to keep
alive their vanishing history. Fewer keepers of the old ways are around
to teach the youngsters, who are more interested in sports and the
Internet than in ancient traditions, tribal elders say.
Distracted and indifferent youths are a common lament among adults. But
in a culture that relies primarily on oral history and the skills of
fading elders, losing youths' interest could end a way of life.
"It's a concern of mine for sure and I think most of not just the
leadership, but the elders in general," said Wayne Adkins, president of
the Virginia Indian Tribal Alliance for Life. "It's a chance that a lot
of that [culture] won't be carried on."
Of the 17,613 Indians and Alaskan natives documented in Virginia in
2004, census data show approximately 3,800 were 19 and younger.
Some, like Mattaponi Raleigh and his 4-year-old sister, Lili, are
actively involved in cultural activities. They're among about a dozen
who attend the Saturday class, which teaches everything from Indian
beadwork to Algonquian language.
The class was developed for Indian students in King William County
public schools and is funded by federal grants through the U.S.
Department of Education's Office of Indian Education to improve school
performance among Indian youths.
"I thought it would be a good idea for them to get more involved and
find out more of their culture," Robin Custalow said of her children.
"This is a good start."
Among other young people, however, part-time jobs and PlayStation
overshadow lessons on antiquated languages and dances, Adkins said. None
of the children in a recent class was over the age of 13.
"Children are involved in sports and cheerleading, all kinds of
activities," he said. "It's just a competition for their time and their
interest."
Upper Mattaponi Chief Ken Adams spoke of a generational gap that weakens
the focus on culture. He said today's youths haven't experienced blunt
racial discrimination and don't see the importance of preservation.
"I probably have a lot more pride in displaying the culture than a lot
of young folk do because there was a time when I couldn't," said Adams,
who attended Indian-only schools in the segregated Virginia of his
youth.
Ashley Atkins, 21, agreed that young people are distracted--and offered
her own heavy course load as a junior at James Madison University as
proof. But the Pamunkey student said young people aren't entirely to
blame for the disconnect. Adults don't offer to share what they know,
she said.
"I had to show interest personally to get anything out of my
grandparents," she said, adding that not every youth will take the same
initiative.
Neither Adams' nor Atkins' tribe has an official plan for educating
youths. It's hard finding a building for classes, leaders say, and
harder to find volunteers with enough free time.
Instead, tribes depend on families to pass down what they know, if they
know anything. Adams estimated there are barely a dozen local experts in
Virginia Indian pottery, for example. Many of them are too old or ill to
share their skills.
Such limited expertise is common among the last few generations of
Indians nationwide, said Jacqueline Johnson, executive director of the
National Congress of American Indians. Those groups largely abandoned
Indian ways to fit into the "white man's world," she said.
Her tribe, the Tlingit, has partnered with the University of Alaska to
help future educators incorporate Indian culture into lesson plans.
Other tribes have turned to "language nests"--home-based cultural study
groups she said can be arranged to work with kids' busy schedules.
"Where there's a smaller native population, it's more challenging," she
said. "[But] it is more imperative that they actually do teach and turn
it around."
The Chickahominy had the resources to teach their youths at classes
throughout the '80s. But when terms of their federal grant began
requiring more focus on math and reading, tribe member Wayne Adkins
said, they stopped.
The Mattaponi class faces a similar threat.
Their grant is supposed to help Indian students meet state learning
standards, explained Jean Hunt, an education program specialist for the
U.S. Department of Education's Indian education branch.
"Culture can be used as an activity to meet a reading or math standard,
but it can't stand alone," she said. "That's been confusing for some of
our grantees in the past."
But Indian leaders like Gloria Custalow say local youths are excelling
in their Indian lessons and that replacing leatherwork with long
division could cut student interest in half.
Saturdays, she said, "there will be students sitting on the steps
waiting for the class to begin. You think a child is going to sit there
and show that much interest in reading?"
Instructor Christine Custalow also worries about the future of the
course. But on this Saturday morning, she was more concerned with making
sure Raleigh's clay turtle box would withstand firing.
"That's why we're training the children," she said, rushing from one
clay-covered child to another. "They have to learn their culture."