The Intersection of Karuk Storytelling and Education

And Strong Arm yields, yes, yes!
It must be right.
Now golden sunbeams pierce the gloom,
A way appears in light;
A radiance steals into my heart.
Clearing the darkness from my sight;
I only turn me back to say,
Farewell, O night! (Adams 240-243)
Separate schools for Indians had never been a long-term goal: they were meant to
assimilate Indian children into mainstream American life, whereupon they could be
integrated into the public school system. (319) This process began slowly and early, in
1890, and by 1920 the number of Indian children in public schools was higher than that
in Indian schools. This was coupled by a move towards a pluralistic mindset with the
Indian New Deal in the 1930s. Shoshone teacher Essie Horne, employed by the Indian
Service, enthused, “Those days were so exciting! Finally, we no longer had to hide the
fact that we were incorporating our cultural values into the curriculum and student life.”
(Cahill 2011, 257) But while this was a step in a healthier direction for Indian students,
the dominant narrative continued to white-wash American history, relegating Indians to a
place in the past. Tony Platt, in his new book Grave Matters, does a brief survey of
popular California history books and finds that they tell the story of Manifest destiny, that
“Violence against peaceable Indians was to be deplored – so went the emerging
California Story – but as an inferior civilization stuck in the past they were destined to
extinction anyway.” (57) This story, and ones like it, continued to be told through the
duration of last century, rationalizing the supposed disappearance of Indians, and hence
denying living Indians a place in the present. Pluralistic approaches like those advocated
by Arnold and Reed or Horne only began to gain traction in the last 50 or so years, a
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