Writing first thing in the morning isn't very productive for me. I am learning these things by playing the write every day game. The only time I have time to write daily is first thing in the morning, but at this point in the day all I have to think about is "oh, good morning" and "gee, I have a headache again." So I've been writing myself little notes of things to write about when I get to my desk first thing. Today's note reads: "Parenting. Indian School." So here goes . . .

Most people know that the government did everything they could to systematically eliminate America's indigenous population. Most people know about the smallpox blankets, many people know about the government campaign "the only good indian is a dead indian." And most people know that there was a period not so long ago when all Indians were sent to boarding schools as children, where they were punished for speaking their languages and practicing traditional religious and cultural acts. For a lot of people, the understanding of how destructive boarding schools ends there. I mean, it makes sense- a lot of people did end up moving away from their traditions and eventually moved away from being Indian. People like my grandmother decided that it was bad and dirty to be indian, and then denied their heritage after being in a boarding school. I agree- this is destructive. I will only briefly mention the enormous number of children who died in boarding schools, and never even had the chance to go home.

One thing a lot of people don't talk about is the multigenerational effect of boarding schools. I didn't think about it until this year, when it started to click into place. See, there are several generations of indians in the country who were sent to boarding schools from age five until age eighteen. These people were allowed to visit home just a few times a year, if that. While at boarding school they were forced to disregard their traditions, and they were guided by serious corporal punishment. They were taught by government and church officials and nuns. They certainly weren't parented. As a result, these people never learned how to be parents. Then, at age eighteen they were booted out on their own, back to the reservation, usually, and expected to have kids and get jobs and work.

These poor people had no clue how to parent a child. They knew corporal punishment, and they knew that there had been times in their lives when they would barely recognize their own family. So when they became parents, they failed miserably. When I look at my own father's family, I see a whole group of brothers who really struggle with life. One uncle is an alcoholic who has sniffed so much gasoline his brain is completely fried. One uncle is a crazy megalomaniac who can't have intimate relationships with anyone. One uncle is a 400 pound schizophrenic. Out of five brothers, only two managed to have meaningful relationships with significant others, and only one was able to have a life-long partner. (Unfortunately, his partner died in his 50's of AIDS.) There is a point in a person's life when they have to take responsibility for their actions and behavior, but if I were part of that generation I'd be pretty pissed off at the deck of cards I'd been dealt.

My father likes to complain that indians are just overly indulgent parents. Like it's a cultural thing. He can't even see that he's bought into the destructive pattern that was established by the BIA so many years ago. But forcing your children to raise themselves isn't being overly indulgent, it's being neglectful. No wonder suicide is so prevalent in native communities. No wonder alcohol and drug abuse and poverty continue. No wonder we're all fat and dying of preventable diseases. It's like our autonomy was stolen from us when we were stolen from our families.

So that's a cheery entry for today. See you tomorrow!