FARGO — U.S. Sen. Heidi Heitkamp has introduced legislation meant to crack down on sex trafficking, which experts fear is on the rise in her home state of North Dakota because of the large influx of men coming to work in the state’s western oil patch.
Heidi Heitkamp
Heitkamp, a Democrat, introduced the bill this week on the same day that federal prosecutors in North Dakota unsealed charges against 11 Dickinson-area men who were arrested in a child prostitution sting. The men thought they were buying sex with teenage girls, prosecutors allege.
“Just looking at the recent arrests would tell you that North Dakota could be ground zero for this type of behavior,” Heitkamp told The Associated Press on Friday.
It’s a trend that has alarmed federal prosecutors in North and South Dakota. A man on the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation in North Dakota recently was sentenced to 45 years in prison for coercing women into prostitution in oilfield communities. Two men in South Dakota have received life sentences for human trafficking cases in Sioux Falls.
“With the increase in population, there’s the risk of organized crime,” said Timothy Purdon, the U.S. attorney from North Dakota. “We’re certainly very aware of the threat potentially posed by human trafficking in the oil patch.”
Heitkamp said the bill, which focuses on all forms of human trafficking, would encourage law enforcement officers and the courts to treat minors who are sold for sex as victims, not as criminals. She said it includes a safe harbor provision to encourage them to come forward.
“These are very difficult issues to expose and research,” Heitkamp said. “It’s very difficult to get the victims to speak. They’ve been conditioned not to speak. They’ve been terrorized.”
Heitkamp said estimates show that more than 100,000 minors in the U.S. are forced into sex trafficking every year. Children are 13 years old, on average, when they are forced to become prostitutes, she said.
Native American girls and women often are targets of human traffickers, Heitkamp and Purdon said.
“You have a vulnerable population in young girls on the reservation,” Purdon said. “My concern is that they could be exploited if organized human trafficking operations gain an inroad here.”
Purdon said the 11 arrests in Dickinson and three arrests in a Williston sting about a month ago “stand for the idea that there is the demand out there as well.” Trying to stop the supply is more difficult, he said.
Going after the johns could help deter other future buyers, Heitkamp said.
“Nobody wants to see their name in the paper relative to sex trafficking,” she said.
Brendan Johnson
Brendan Johnson, the U.S. attorney for South Dakota, recently argued and won a case in front of the 8th U.S. Circuit of Appeals that reinstated convictions against two men who previously were acquitted of commercial sex trafficking. The men had been arrested in a sting operation known as “Operation Crossing Guard.”
South Dakota has a couple of unique sex trafficking stages with the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and a pheasant hunting season that attracts hundreds of outdoors enthusiasts from around the country.
“Anytime you have large groups of men gathering, you’re going to have the potential for sex trafficking problems,” Johnson said. “That’s just the reality.”
When the story appeared about Tony Picard, the 400-lb running back and nose tackle for White Swan High School, it was an immediate sensation. Picard appeared in local and national news interviews, including CNN and ABC’s Good Morning America. A YouTube video of a collection of plays his plays gained more than 3 million views. ICTMN caught up with Picard for a Q&A to further introduce him to Indian Country.
What has happened to you since the story came out?
I’ve been getting multiple phone calls. I went on national news. It’s been pretty crazy. I’ve still got more to do.
What has your reaction been to all the attention?
At first it was just crazy. All the attention is nice, but after so much, it kind of gets to you. I’m liking it, but I’m not getting all big-headed about it.
Have you heard from other college coaches since the story came out?
Yeah. I’ve heard from quite a few actually. [I’m] heading up to Washington State University for a recruiting trip.
How are your teammates taking it?
They’re just supporting me.
What is your hope for the future, five or ten years down the road?
I’d be finishing my last year of playing college football. I wouldn’t mind playing in the pros, and I think it would be an honor to play in the NFL. Other than that, if I don’t go to the NFL, I’d go to school for forestry or be a wildlife conservation officer.
What do you think about when you shake the other team’s captain’s hands?
Honestly there’s nothing going through my mind. I just shake their hand to show some sportsmanship. I don’t want to beat them up, but just win the game.
Do your teammates have a nickname for you?
Everybody calls me “Big Tone.”
Away from football, do you have hobbies?
Yes I do. I like to go hunting. I like to fish. I like to be out with family and friends.
What animals have you taken?
I’ve shot deer, elk, moose, buffalo, and bear. Also, coyotes and turkeys.
Do you have a girlfriend?
Yes.
Do you feel you’re pretty much a typical high school senior?
Yeah. A lot of people see me as famous right now, but I am just a normal high school student.
Only 6,000 people speak the Lakota language, few of them under 65, but people are working to keep it alive
In Our Lady of Lourdes Elementary School on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, teacher Gloria Two Crow conducts a Lakota language session.Kayla Gahagan
PINE RIDGE INDIAN RESERVATION, S.D. — Dodge tumbleweeds and stray dogs. Venture down a deeply rutted dirt road. Walk into the warmth of a home heated by a wood-burning stove. There’ll be a deer roast marinating on the kitchen counter.
It is here, in a snug home that sits on the edge of nearly 3 million acres of South Dakota prairie, that you’ll find the heart of a culture. It’s here, at the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, where Joe and Randi Boucher make dinner for their two young daughters. The smaller one squirms and is gently admonished: “Ayustan,” she is told — leave it alone.
It’s here where the Lakota language is spoken, taught and absorbed in day-to-day life.
That makes the Boucher home a rare find. According to the UCLA Language Materials Project, only 6,000 fluent speakers of the Lakota language remain in the world, and few of those are under the age of 65. Of the nearly 30,000 people who live on Pine Ridge, between 5 and 10 percent speak Lakota.
For the past four decades, the race to save the language has started and stuttered, taken on by well-meaning individuals and organizations whose efforts were often snuffed out by lack of funding, community support or organizational issues.
Some days, saving the language “seems like an insurmountable challenge,” said Bob Brave Heart, executive vice president of Red Cloud Indian School on the reservation.
The reason, some say, is a number of serious socioeconomic issues that overwhelm the Pine Ridge communities and make it difficult to successfully revive the dying language. The reservation has an 80 percent unemployment rate, and half the residents live below the federal poverty line, making it the second poorest county in the United States. Next to Haiti, it has the lowest life expectancy in the Western Hemisphere. Men live an average of 48 years; women, 52.
But those aren’t hurdles to learning the language, Randi Boucher said. Instead, they should stand as the very reason to perpetuate it.
“It is our language and our life way that will make change,” she said. “We have a loss of self-identity. We’re trying to exist without that. The language, that’s where the healing starts.”
‘Time to do it right’
Language signs at Red Cloud Indian School, which plans to publish the first comprehensive Lakota language K-12 curriculum by the end of this year. Kayla Gahagan
Brave Heart agreed.
“If you lose the language, you lose the culture,” he said. “When students are informed and part of their culture and their language, they have a better sense of self-worth.”
From Joe Boucher’s point of view, they face a much more serious hurdle.
“The biggest enemy we’re battling is apathy,” he said. “Our young people don’t care. They’d rather live in the now.”
They aren’t the only generation resisting the past. Cultural assimilation practices in the U.S. in the 19th century — sometimes in the form of verbal and physical punishment — forced many natives to speak English.
Elders here relive stories of having their mouths washed with soap or their tongues snapped with rubber bands by boarding school staff for speaking their native language.
“We were persecuted; it was dehumanizing,” said high school language teacher Philomine Lakota. “I was completely brainwashed into thinking English was the only way.”
And yet, Brave Heart said, now is the time to move forward.
“We’ve been teaching the language for 40 years, and we’ve been very ineffective,” he said. “It’s time to do it right.”
The school, alongside the American Indian Studies Research Institute at Indiana University, is about to publish the first comprehensive K-12 Lakota language curriculum. The private Catholic school embarked on the project six years ago, developing, testing and revising the curriculum, with the goal to publish by the end of this year.
Starting next year, students will be required to take Lakota language classes through elementary, middle and the first three years of high school. The final year is optional.
“This year’s first graders will be the first group to go through the entire curriculum,” said Melissa Strickland, who serves as the Lakota language project assistant at Red Cloud. She works with the six Lakota language teachers and trains staff across campus to use the language when conversing with the 575-member student body.
An immersion school
The Boucher family lives on the edge of the nearly 3 million acres that make up the reservation. Here, a shelter, constructed with a view of the scenic Badlands, that is used by Native American artists during the summer to create and sell their artwork. Kayla Gahagan
And is it working?
Last year, language test scores at Red Cloud jumped by 84 percent, and this year more than 70 percent of students reported using Lakota at home, in school and in their communities.
Teacher Philomine Lakota is encouraged, but is also aware that many students do not have family members speaking the language at home, and that many will leave the reservation and enter a world where it is not used.
“I realize I will not turn them into fluent speakers,” she said, but her desire is that they become proficient and eventually teach others. “There is hope.”
The $2.2 million project has not been without its hiccups, including personnel changes and disagreements among staff over which materials to use.
“Many programs for language revitalization are immersion,” Brave Heart said. “We’re not. We’re trying to do it within the confines of the educational system.”
Others have taken a road less traveled.
Peter Hill taught Lakota at Red Cloud before embarking on what he calls an exhausting journey to create the reservation’s first successful Lakota language immersion program, one that promises to fill two major gaps for families — language learning and quality, affordable child care.
“Child care out here is horrible. There’s no day care,” he said. “People just kind of get by with family members.”
After months of often unfruitful fundraising and research, the Lakota Language Immersion School opened a year ago with five babies and toddlers, including one of Hill’s daughters.
“At some point, you feel like it’s now or never,” Hill said. “There’s never going to be enough money or the ideal situation.”
The word has since spread, he said, and things are looking up. Today the program has 10 kids and three full-time staff members.
“We literally have kids on a wait list a couple years into the future, for kids not even born yet,” Hill said.
‘Love’ in two languages
The program was almost derailed last month when a severe South Dakota blizzard forced it out of its building. It was given another building in Oglala and recently moved in, but Hill knows the clock is ticking.
“The oldest kids are between 2 and 3 and starting to talk,” he said. “Eventually our feet will get held to the fire. If we say we’re an immersion program, we need to produce fluent kids.”
Finding qualified staff and enforcing 100 percent spoken Lakota remains the biggest hurdle.
“Even fluent speakers aren’t used to avoiding English,” he said. “People aren’t used to speaking Lakota to children. If they were, the language would be in much better shape. It’s a steep learning curve.”
If the language is to survive, the greater movement to save it will have to center on two things, Hill said — kids learning it as a first language and people like himself learning and teaching it as a second language.
Randi and Joe Boucher, who both studied the language in college and learned it from relatives, say they are encouraged by the new efforts.
They speak in Lakota half the time, gently pushing their kids to learn more than names of household objects. They want conversation:
Le aŋpetu kiŋ owayawa ekta takuku uŋspenič’ičhiya he? (Has the dog been fed?)
Wana wakȟaŋyeža kiŋ iyuŋgwičhuŋkhiyiŋ kta iyečheča. (We should put the kids to bed.)
And: thečhiȟila (I love you), a sentiment now mastered by both girls.
Randi is pursuing a master’s degree in language revitalization and hopes to someday open a school focused on a holistic approach to culture and language.
She is expecting another child next summer, and said that even with her aspirations to start a school, the heart of language learning should be in the home.
In their home, their daughters’ traditional native cradleboards — built, sewn and beaded by family — are out on display, a visible reminder of the couple’s insistence on raising their children with ties to their native blood.
“The day we have grandchildren and they can speak to us in Lakota, then we’ll know we did it right,” Randi said. “Then we can die happy.”
Days before the government shutdown ended in October, Cheryl Crazy Bull calmly recounted some of the steps already taken by tribal colleges to cope with funding cuts.
“Over the years, they’ve never had enough [resources],” says Crazy Bull, who became president of the American Indian College Fund last year. “They operate with frugality and worst-case-scenario behavior.”
Cheryl Crazy Bull was president of Northwest Indian College near Bellingham, Wash., for nearly 10 years before joining the American Indian College Fund.
Crazy Bull knows this firsthand. She was president of Northwest Indian College near Bellingham, Wash., for nearly 10 years before joining the college fund.
“I remember as college president literally looking at cash flow every day to see what bills we could pay,” she recalls.
Crazy Bull, 58, who takes to heart her Lakota name, which means “They depend on her,” brings to her latest job persistence, business know-how, passion for the tribal college’s mission, and a willingness to take on unfamiliar challenges.
Growing up on the Rosebud reservation in South Dakota, Crazy Bull was one of five children. Her parents ran a grocery store until her father joined the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
Her parents, whom she describes as “well-educated public servants,” stressed education. But it took Crazy Bull a couple of tries to get on the right track.
She first enrolled at Dartmouth College in Hanover, N.H. — and left after one quarter. Academics weren’t a problem, but she had a sheltered life and the social scene was a “huge shock,” Crazy Bull says.
She transferred twice — to Northern State University in Aberdeen, S.D., then finally settling in at the University of South Dakota, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in business management. She later earned a master’s degree in education administration from South Dakota State University.
After graduating, Crazy Bull taught business and Native studies and held administrative positions at Sinte Gleska University, the tribal college that serves Rosebud. After 15 years at the school, she left to oversee an agency that assisted local home-based businesses, including auto mechanics, quilting and food catering.
At this point, Crazy Bull was the single parent of three children and did some consulting on the side to help support her family.
Crazy Bull then became the equivalent of a superintendent at St. Francis Indian School, which enrolled Rosebud children in kindergarten through 12th grade.
After nearly five years at the school, Crazy Bull moved to the northwest to be near her daughter and take a post that she had always wanted — president of a tribal college.
While at Northwest Indian College, she resolved issues with financing and accreditation before taking the school from a two-year to a four-year institution, something she said the community wanted badly. The college had to identify and recruit students who wanted to get their bachelor’s degrees, ensure the facility had the requisite advanced degrees, and build its curriculum and facilities. Much of the campus was rebuilt.
Crazy Bull was new to many of the tasks.
“I find myself in situations where I don’t know anything, but something needs to be done,” she says.
Sharon Kinley, director of the college’s Coast Salish Institute, which Crazy Bull established, says she brought a good mix to the school. “[Crazy Bull] is a visionary, but not just that, she has the practical, deliberate background with which visions become real,” says Kinley.
After almost 10 years at Northwest, Crazy Bull felt she should move on. She was appointed president of the American Indian College Fund, based in Denver, after her predecessor retired.
Crazy Bull’s accomplishments at Northwest helped her get the job, says Dr. Elmer Guy, chairman of the College Fund’s board of trustees.
But Crazy Bull has more mountains to climb in heading an organization that gives financial support to the nation’s 37 tribal colleges and to students who come from more than 250 tribes around the country.
The college fund is pushing for legislation to fully fund the schools, which are authorized to receive $8,000 per student per year but get more like $5,500.
Next year, to mark its 25th anniversary, the college fund will mount a $25 million fundraising campaign that Crazy Bull wants to follow with a bigger campaign for scholarships and endowments.
When she is not working on behalf of the college fund, Crazy Bull makes quilts as gifts and for traditional ceremonies. She also writes poems, stories and essays and is currently writing her memoirs.
Students made hand trees as the craft activity for the night as plans were made for future Family Nights. Photo by Monica Brown
By Monica Brown, Tulalip News Writer
Lushootseed Family Nights are back for the next eight weeks and the language department is inviting anyone with the desire to learn the Lushootseed language to attend. This season’s first meeting took place at the Tulalip administration building on Wednesday, Nov 20th and was organized to gaing ideas from students for the upcoming activities and lessons.
“We call ourselves language warriors and anyone who comes to help out is a language warrior too,” said Natosha Gobin during Wednesday’s family night. Family night events have been taking place since the early 90’s and are gaining momentum as more children and adults become dedicated to learning the language.
Lushootseed Family Nights provide the opportunity to learn the language in a comfortable and open environment. Photo by Monica Brown
Lessons teach basic phrases, words, songs and prayers that can be used in everyday conversations. All lessons and materials are provided at no charge and are open to anyone interested in attending. At the first two meetings, dinner is provided by the department but the following meetings will be potluck dinners. Future Family Nights will be held at Tulalip Hibulb on Wednesdays from 5:00pm to 7:00pm, regular attendance is not required.
Fall Lushootseed Family Nights Schedule
November 20, 27
December 4, 11, 18
January 8, 15, 22, 29
Tulalip Hibulb Cultural Center is located at 6410 23rd Ave NE, Tulalip, WA 98271. For more information, please contact: Natosha Gobin ngobin@tulaliptribes-.gov 360-716-4499.
Simple words, phrases, songs, prayers that can be used in everyday conversation are taught during Lushootseed Family Nights. Photo by Monica Brown
TULALIP, Wa -Thanksgiving has come and gone and with that comes plans for holiday gift giving. As you think up your gift giving list and begin planning for Black Friday sales and bookmarking Cyber Monday deals these are great days to score that one gift, if you know what you are looking for and are able to get it. But, between Black Friday and Cyber Monday is Small Business Saturday, a day to shop local and support small businesses.
Along with having mainstream gifts, a majority of the small business shops will have that neat and perfect gift that that isn’t made in mass quantities and can only be found within a small business shop. The best part is, these small and local businesses support local artists and offer unique gift ideas that have been hand made.
Generally, the small business shopping districts are found in small towns and are located in the old part of town. If you decide to venture out the day after Black Friday to continue your pursuit for the perfect gift, a few local and semi-local towns have a good selection of shops.
Click town names to follow a link to the list of businesses within the area and directions to get there.
·For many years, Snohomish was known for their large antique district on First St. Even though it is mostly boutiques now; it still has plenty of antique shops and both have unique gift possibilities.
·First St. in La Conner has nearly everything in one condensed area, boutiques, odds and ends, antiques, local artists and hobby shops.
·In Anacortes, on Commercial Ave there are a few odds and ends shops with a good mix of antique shops.
TULALIP, Wa – Tulalip’s Hibulb Cultural Center, on occasion, feature film screenings of films that star, are filmed by or are written by Native Americans, yet all tell one facet of the Native American life. Thursday, Oct 24th’s featured screenings were of Jeff Boice’s work with the Tulalip Tribes. Jeff Boice, a videographer/editor, has been working with the Tulalip Tribes since 1990, has also done video shootings for large media companies such as The Discovery Channel and CNN.
The evenings screening were many short segments of the Walking Tour II with Ray Moses, History Minutes and a Williams Shelton’s segment. The Walking Tour follows Tulalip tribal member Ray Moses as he tells stories about significant locations on the Tulalip reservation. “He’s quite a historian. It was great working with Ray,” commented Boice.
History Minutes are under a few minutes, are produced for the museum and focus on one particular aspect of tribal life such as boarding school life or construction of summer homes that were used in the old days.
The William Shelton segment centered on the portion of William’s life when he carved the Sklaletut pole, a culturally important piece of artwork. Boice has a genuine interest in documenting the past of the Tulalip Tribes and states, “Our hopes are that this video will help generate enough interest to be able to do a longer documentary [on William Shelton] but not just that but to generate interest in preserving the Sklaletut pole.”
Most screenings events at the Hibulb are relatively intimate, are under a few hours and include a Q and A afterwards. For more about future film screenings at the Hibulb please visit their website or call 360-716-2600. To view the works of Jeff Boice, visit Boicetv.com.
The month of November has been declared Native American Month, a time set aside to recognize the significant contributions of America’s first citizens. But as WBFO’s Eileen Buckley reports, one local Native American says it is not enough in dealing with the current struggles of those living on native territories.
“We live in a time where we are still struggling to assert our autonomy and our distinction. It’s one thing to say we want to honor our heritage, but we are still here,” said John Kane, radio host of Let’s Talk Native in Buffalo.
Kane is often outspoken on Native American issues. While Kane applauds the federal government and President Obama for declaring November Native American Month, he tells WBFO News the “level of invisibility” for Native people continues to exist. He points to the federal government probes of Native American cigarette sales as one example.
“The Tonawanda Seneca Chiefs retail facility, who got charged for purchasing cigarettes for the smoke shop out there in a sting that was set up in Kansas City. There is an attempt the state and federal officials to use anti-organized crime bills and anti-terrorism laws to criminalize the very things we do on our territories,” said Kane. “This is the stuff that I think people have to understand.”
But it’s important to note that this past June federal officials announced that after three years of litigation, lawsuits by several Native American cigarette retailers to stop a federal law seeking to restrict internet sales of cigarettes and sales to children, was dismissed by a federal judge.
In a news released issued by the U.S. Attorney’s office in Buffalo, dated June 12, 2013, U.S. William Hochul stated “With the end of this litigation, the federal government can now begin to enforce the full breadth and scope of the PACT Act and help insure that our nation’s children are protected from the sales of cigarettes to minors,” said U.S. Attorney Hochul. “The PACT Act will also allow for the proper tax revenues to be collected on the sales of cigarettes by each state, revenues which will be used to finance additional health programs to combat the devastating health effects felt by Americans due to the availability of cheap cigarettes.”
Still Kane accuses underlying racism against Native Americans. He said they are treated only as a “relative of the past”. Kane notes while debates over the use of the word Redskins for professional and high school sports teams remains important, it doesn’t go far enough in preventing stereotypes.
“That’s why people put us on the side of a football helmet. There were two high schools, this past week — two separate high schools who cited the ‘Trail of Tears’ as a way to make a comment against a team that they were playing that were called the Indians. One of them said ‘Hey Indians, get ready to leave on a Trail of Tears'”, said Kane.
Kane places blames much of the mainstream media saying they ignore Native American voices and fail to write and broadcast about what is really happening within their Native American territories.
Most of the people who run Kerr Dam on northwest Montana’s Flathead Reservation sit hundreds of miles away, and some are even across the country, in the offices of Pennsylvania Power and Light.
But that’s likely to change in 2015, when the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes have the option to buy the dam, thereby becoming the country’s first tribal hydroelectric owners and operators. Rocky Mountain Power Company built the 205-foot-tall impoundment on the Flathead River, four miles downstream of Flathead Lake, against the will of many tribal members in 1938. Gaining control of Kerr Dam will have significant economic and cultural benefits for the Salish, Kootenai and Pend d’Oreille – the three tribes of the Flathead Reservation.
It’s also given tribal member Daniel Howlett the chance to come home. When he left the Flathead Valley to study business and renewable energy management in Denver, he never expected to have a career on the reservation. Now, he’s a power-marketing coordinator for his tribe’s new energy company, which plans to offer 1.1 million megawatt hours of electricity from the dam annually, enough to power roughly 79,000 homes each year.
The Confederated Tribes already run the reservation’s utility company, have a top-notch natural resources department, and oversee the first tribally administered wilderness in the United States. Obtaining the dam will be another major step in self-determination, probably with impacts far beyond Montana.
Other tribes, such as the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs in Oregon and the Seneca Nation in New York, are vying for full or majority ownership of hydroelectric dams on their land. They are keeping track of the Kerr Dam purchase, which will shape outside perceptions of tribal energy development. “I think a lot of eyes across the nation, and certainly Indian Country, will appreciate the milestone significance of this achievement,” says Pat Smith, a former attorney for the Salish and Kootenai.
Members of the NEA and WEA present banners and library checks at Tulalip Quil Ceda Elementary. Andrew Gobin/Tulalip News
NEA recognizes Marysville schools’ turnaround
Article and photos by Andrew Gobin/Tulalip News
Tulalip − American Education Week began Monday, November 18th, with visits to Totem Middle School and Tulalip Quil Ceda Elementary school by the National Education Association (NEA) and Washington Education Association (WEA). Both campuses, earmarked as priority schools, exemplify a joint commitment of students and teachers to academic achievement. The incredible turn around embodies the intent of the School Improvement Grant (SIG grant) they received as schools in need. A change in national perspective led to the development of the grant which catalyzed the positive turn around at these schools.
“Because of previous legislation, schools that needed assistance were labeled failing,” said Kim Mead of the WEA, referring to No Child Left Behind, which decreased funding to schools that did not meet state and national standards. “We changed our perspective, failing schools came to be seen as priority schools.”
In the last five years, 97 Washington schools were considered failing and had their funding cut. With the new perspective of those schools as a priority, the US Department of Education created the SIG grant in 2010, providing three-year funding to schools on the national priority list. 28 schools were awarded grant funding of the 60 eligible schools in Washington state that applied.
The SIG grant is conditional funding, giving four plan options to bring schools up to standard. These options are closure and transfer students to high achieving schools, turnaround by reorganizing currents school curriculum and staff, transformation through a change in leadership and instruction, and restart which would convert public schools to charter schools, which were illegal in Washington state until 2012. Of the 28 Washington priority schools awarded grants, now specified as SIG schools, 1 school closed, 23 selected transformation, and 4 opted for the turnaround, including Totem, and Tulalip Quil Ceda.
Led by the teachers, these schools developed their staff and curriculum to change the professional practices in their schools. Through the SIG funding, Totem purchased laptops for each grade in order to assess individual understanding of course materials. They developed a home visit program so that teachers have the necessary skills to bring school needs into the home, while addressing home issues, not as a means lower standards or make accommodations, but to understand how to balance the school work with home life. The most prominent demonstration of home life coming to school is the morning assembly at Tulalip Quil Ceda, which incorporates traditional values into the school day. The NEA observed the assembly during their visit.
“I chose Washington to kick off American Education Week,” said Dennis Van Rockel, NEA president. “I hear so much about Washington, what you all are doing here, and I’m glad to be able to come and see it first hand.”
Programs in these SIG schools that see drastic positive improvement are leeching out into other schools throughout MarysvilleSchool District.
“This is important as we get ready to roll out the Common Core curriculum, which is the national standard equivalent,” said Tulalip Quil Ceda teacher, George Camper.
2013 marks the final year of the SIG grant funding, which means the priority schools were evaluated nationwide. Totem and Tulalip Quil Ceda not only outperformed all others in the state, they outperformed the nation’s priority schools. In recognition of their achievement, each of their libraries were given $500, and each school was given a banner acknowledging their accomplishment.
The nation is now looking to Washington as an example for the work Totem, and Tulalip Quil Ceda schools have done. They have set a standard for priority schools nationwide, which is described in a packet titled ‘Improving Student Achievement in High-Poverty Schools: Lessons from Washington State,’ that outlines how these schools successfully turned around from persistently low achieving to high achieving.
