Nov 26, 2024 1:05:26 PM
When I invite teachers to rethink how they teach Columbus at our semiannual UnColumbus Day Symposium in Philadelphia, many teachers think it’s not for them. “I don’t teach about Columbus. I don’t even mention him.” They tell me. “I just say, ‘I’ll see you Tuesday!’”
This, I think, is a mistake. It definitely seems better not to mention Columbus than to honor and hero-ify him.
But not teaching about Columbus does not erase him from the calendars, the history books, and, frankly, the unconscious minds of most Americans who could recite the second stanza of “In 1492 …” without blinking.
We are raised on Columbus, the Nina, the Pinta … and the myth of Thanksgiving. We believe it, we want to believe it, and our nationalist pride is tied to it. Meanwhile, most people have very little knowledge of the actual history that occurred or the fact that there is a group of Native people who gather annually at Plymouth Rock on the day of Thanksgiving for an “annual day of mourning” while most of the country is celebrating America with football, Macy’s and turkey.
This one-sided story—which leads to a singular day on which some citizens party while others mourn—is part of what accounts for the massive fractures in our understanding of one another, how we got here, and how to move forward. It is rooted in the way this story is told—or not told—in schools.
The mainstream history taught in most U.S. schools and U.S. culture, even when we try to “ignore Columbus,” sets up students to understand history told from the colonists' perspective. This history celebrates Columbus and erases the Indigenous people who lived here—and those Indigenous people who still live here.
This is important to me because this is the history that I learned. Starting with “sitting Indian style,” wearing feathers in a construction paper headdress, counting 1 little, 2 little, 3 little Indians in kindergarten, to a love affair with the “Little House on the Prairie” series by Laura Ingalls Wilder in which I learned to identify with a White child who was the child of settlers and see Native people as “other,” to the Oregon Trail in fifth grade!
In the Oregon Trail Game—a highlight of fifth grade for many students then and now—I was a wagon train leader who led my team on an expedition out west, facing dangerous snakes, food shortages, and “Native Americans,” all the while stopping in cities and passing landmarks that each (I know now) had multiple names—and for which we only used the Western colonized names, most of which continue to appear on official maps today. I learned to see Native people as dangerous, savage, objects, stereotypes, irrelevant and extinct.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on this.
I have spent the last twenty years of my life unlearning mainstream history so that I can connect with and understand the perspective of Native friends and colleagues. The journey is ongoing.
With my own children, I hid multiple copies of Little House on the Prairie in my “offensive books drawer,” along with “Skippyjon Jones” and “Little Miss Trouble,” before my daughter consumed the entire series during library at school. I couldn’t prevent her from reading it—it’s too ubiquitous (and my daughter maybe—even unconsciously—resistant to my heavy-handed censorship). But it did motivate me to provide a counternarrative.
Together, we read the five-book “Birchbark House” series by Ojibwe and German American author Louise Erdrich, who writes compellingly about an Ojibwe girl named Omakayas, whom readers follow from a life only tangentially impacted by colonialism through forced migration to a life bound and restricted by the mandates of the U.S. government.
My daughter and I both fell in love with Omakayas. We ached with her and her family for all that colonialism destroyed—not just the personal lives of individuals (though that was a huge part of it). Still, also the collective knowledge systems and ways of being could offer answers to some of the most challenging questions human beings ask today as we face the certain unsustainability of capitalism and consumerism. Through her storytelling, Erdrich allowed us to see history with a lens other than the mainstream one that is otherwise so easily accessible to us that we don’t even realize it’s there.
Compared to the size of the problem, UnColumbus Day—and even this blog—felt small. There were only three hours and one blog post. But in those three hours, we created a space in which we could think about a topic that is critical to understanding our country and ourselves—and we were able to critically analyze our lenses for viewing the world, lenses that are so pervasive that we often don’t even see them.
I don’t say this to justify our meager efforts or make them seem loftier than they are. I say it because I imagine there are teachers out there who think the small efforts they might make to change a book this year, do a land acknowledgment at a faculty meeting, or use different language next year might pale in comparison to another teacher’s effort to get her town to adopt “Indigenous People’s Day” in place of “Columbus Day” or have local tribal members help shape the curriculum. I say it because even a small beginning can help lead to a shift in consciousness—for you and your students.
I encourage you to join me in taking one step forward, however small it might be compared to the enormity of the shift that is required. It will take each of us breaking the silence and beginning to recognize and honor the existence of Native people on this land to begin to make change.
Listed below are a few of our suggestions for how to begin shifting how you teach about Columbus and Thanksgiving:
America Has Always Used Schools as a Weapon Against Native Americans
Ali Michael, Ph.D., is the co-founder and director of the Race Institute for K-12 Educators, and the author of " Raising Race Questions: Whiteness, Inquiry and Education " (Teachers College Press, 2015), winner of the 2017 Society of Professors of Education Outstanding Book Award. She is co-editor of the bestselling " Everyday White People Confront Racial and Social Injustice: 15 Stories"(2015, Stylus Press) and " The Guide for White Women who Teach Black Boys" (2018, Corwin Press). Ali also sits on the editorial board of the journal " Whiteness and Education." Ali teaches in the Diversity and Inclusion Program at Princeton University as well as the Equity Summits with USC. Ali’s article, " What do White Children Need to Know About Race?," co-authored with Dr. Eleonora Bartoli in Independent Schools Magazine, won the Association and Media Publishing Gold Award for Best Feature Article in 2014. She may be best known for her November 9, 2016 piece " What Do We Tell the Children?" on the Huffington Post, where she is a regular contributor. For more details see www.alimichael.org.
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