Minneapolis pre-K immersion coalition

[Richard LaFortune]

In case you missed this article in the star tribune.
 
New life for dying language
 
EAN HOPFENSPERGER,  Star Tribune
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Cleone Thompson's mother was sent as a child to an
Indian boarding school 
where she was hit with a ruler if she spoke Ojibwe.
Seven decades later, Thompson is now part of an
unusual experiment to breathe 
life back into the language her mother was punished
for speaking.
Thanks to a new federal grant, the young children she
greets with the word 
"boozhoo" at the day care center she runs from her
home in Minneapolis will be 
part of the first Indian-language immersion program in
the nation for urban 
preschoolers.
Thompson said that in about 10 years most of the
elders on the reservations 
will be gone and there won't be anyone left who speaks
the language.
"That's why we've got to do this now," she said.
Thompson's mother, Emma Fairbanks, now a frail
79-year-old, can hardly 
believe the turn of events.
"I never thought it would come back," she said. "I was
worried they [future 
generations] would forget their Indian ways." 
About 55,000 American Indians are enrolled in tribes
in Minnesota. Roughly 
3,000 are fully fluent Ojibwe speakers and about 30
are fully fluent in Dakota, 
according to estimates by the Grotto Foundation, which
has focused much of its 
philanthropy on language revitalization.
Many Indian people can say certain words and phrases,
but few can carry on a 
conversation, community leaders say. 
It's part of the legacy of the boarding schools that
American Indians were 
forced to attend for decades. "My parents didn't want
me to speak Dakota; they 
were afraid for us," said Jennifer Bendickson.
She is a program director at the Alliance of Early
Childhood Professionals, 
which was awarded the federal grant to launch the
preschools this month. "They 
would talk to each other in Dakota, but when we came
in, they'd stop."
While universities and tribal schools have offered
language and culture 
classes over the years, new ideas are taking root
across Minnesota. Dozens of 
people are attending night classes in Ojibwe and
Dakota at "language tables" in 
schools and community centers. There's an Ojibwe
immersion preschool in Leech 
Lake; Indigenous Language Symposiums are held
annually.
Specialized classes are sprouting up, including one
that teaches Dakota to 
entire households -- as opposed to an individual -- in
the Upper Sioux 
community. And University of Minnesota language
students drive up to Canada on weekends 
this time of the year for an immersion experience
harvesting wild rice and 
learning the accompanying vocabulary.
Even so, much of the learning is being done piecemeal,
said Margaret Boyer, 
executive director of the Alliance for Early Childhood
Professionals. Research 
shows that immersion programs, from preschool to high
school, are the best 
route to developing a core group students who are
truly fluent, she said.
"If you want to learn Spanish, you can go to South
America," Boyer explained. 
"If you want to learn French, you go to France. But
there's nowhere in the 
U.S. you can go and hear only Ojibwe or Dakota. So the
best way to learn is 
immersion - and starting at a young age." 
These are Minnesota's first languages and saving them
is saving an important 
piece of Minnesota heritage, say language activists.
The word Minnesota, for 
example, is based on the Dakota word Mnisota which
means "land where the water 
reflects the sky," said Neil McKay, University of
Minnesota Dakota instructor.
Values and a world view
For Indian people, the language conveys the values and
world view of their 
ancestors and their culture, said Gabrielle Strong,
who oversees the Grotto 
Foundation's language program. For example, the word
for family in Dakota means 
"the people who live in the same lodge" -- a much
broader meaning than in 
English.
A Dakota elder sat in front of several preschoolers at
All Nations Child Care 
Center last week, with a backdrop of colorful drawings
of eagles, wolves and 
other animals that long have been symbols in Indian
cultures.
"Today we're going to count numbers," he said to the
little girls. "Ready?" 
The girls nodded and began chanting, "Wancha. Nunpa.
Yamni. Topa. Zaptan."
"Wahshte," said the teacher. "Good."
For the next 15 minutes, the children practiced animal
names, colors and the 
alphabet. By next year, those 15 minutes will grow to
three hours, and the 
program will be conducted only in Dakota. Similar
immersion programs will be 
launched at Four Directions Child Development Center
and Cherish the Children 
Learning Center, as well as Thompson's home day care,
called Nokomis Child Care. 
If all goes as planned, the first batch of tiny Dakota
and Ojibwe speakers 
will graduate in three years.
There's a ripple effect, said Boyer. Parents must take
a class to learn the 
same materials as their children. The "language
tables" have agreed to 
incorporate the children's weekly vocabulary. And
people playing community bingo in 
the Phillips neighborhoods - where the immersion
centers are - will hear the 
numbers yelled out in Dakota or Ojibwe, she said.
"Our project rolls a lot of different things into
one," said Boyer. "So all 
around the community, when people meet each other,
they can use the same words."
The model, said Boyer, hails from New Zealand, where
the Maori Indians slowly 
brought back their language from near extinction.
Hawaii used the same 
technique of immersion programs starting with
preschoolers, with success, she said. 
That trend now is moving across the United States, she
said.
"We're one of the leaders," she said, referring to
Minnesota.
Dreaming of a revival
The sheer dearth of fluent speakers, much less
speakers who are skilled 
teachers, makes a full-blown language revitalization
movement difficult, said 
community leaders.
There's a distinct shortage of teaching materials such
as books, music and 
tapes in Ojibwe and Dakota. At All Nations preschool,
for example, the 
Dakota-language ABCs posted on the walls are
hand-drawn letters with hand-drawn 
pictures. And there are no pretty preschool books or
catchy kids' songs.
In fact, Grammy award-winning musician Keith Secola
has offered to record a 
CD of children's music that can be used in these and
other pre-schools, said 
Boyer. Secola, an Ojibwe, even gave a mini-performance
for the children at a 
park last weekend.
The preschools -- and other language programs -- are
likely to buy language 
materials from Canada, where language revitalization
is about 10 years ahead of 
the U.S., said Dennis Jones, an Ojibwe language
instructor at the University 
of Minnesota.
About five years ago, the Canadian government, which
also had forced its 
native children into boarding schools, issued a public
apology, he said. It 
earmarked $365 million for language revitalization,
money now being used to develop 
teaching materials and rekindle the country's first
languages.
Minnesota's language activists dream of seeing that
happen here. They imagine 
the day when American Indians can click on the radio
or TV, and find Ojibwe 
or Dakota programming; when street signs will be
printed in native languages, 
when kids can get a video of "The Lion King" dubbed in
a native language.
"Right now there's a little flame we're fanning ever
so gently," said Strong. 
"We're hoping it becomes a brushfire."



		
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