“I am an Indigenous Educator because I want children to have the opportunity to realize their whole selves inclusive of language, culture, and knowledge of our responsibility to co-exist with the land and all its beautiful beings.”
I was born to a mother from the villages of Cochiti and Kewa Pueblos and to a father from Ohkay Ohwingeh. I love our children and I love our Keres language. I attribute these loves to my phenomenally loving grandparents. Unlike my brothers (my first cousins), I did not grow up fluent in Keres, our Indigenous language. Though I felt shame for not knowing Keres, I was drawn to the power of our language. My grandfather (Kewa) and my grandmother (Cochiti) stepped in to help my mother and aunts and uncles raise me after my beloved father passed. They impressed upon me in this time, how tremendously important our language is to practicing and upholding our lifeways. As an eight year old, I vowed to learn Keres no matter what.
At that same age, I also loved to dance and tumble. Going into my early teenage years, I spent any waking hours I could, creating dance routines and cartwheeling around our kitchen in our family home in Cochiti. When we left our home, music and movement came with me. My mother and I went on countless road trips with my grandparents and family to Winterhaven, CA and Durango, CO. Sitting next to my mother as she drove, I would dance away the entire long drive, listening to artists like Michael Jackson, Prince, Bob Marley, The Police, Fleetwood Mac, and The Pointer Sisters. As I prepared for high school, it was clear to me that the best way I could pursue my love of dance and tumbling was to try out for Bernalillo High School’s award-winning cheerleading squad. I was scared at first, but by the end of my freshmen year, I tried out and made the squad! Cheering for, being happy for, and rooting for others was an innate part of who I was.
I cheered throughout high school and college. When my mom and grandparents dropped me off at Stanford University at the beginning of my freshmen year, my grandfather said to me, “Don’t ever forget that you still have an education at home to continue -- to learn our language and our lifeways.” My loving grandparents provided constant encouragement to try new things and do well in school, but to also learn our own way of life and language. As I went out to cheer in front of thousands of people at Stanford Stadium, I felt grounded in knowing that my own cheer squad, my grandparents and family, were rooting for me.
I never forgot my grandfather’s words to me. I wanted to honor our language and lifeways, and my conviction grew in new ways when I pursued the opportunity to become an educator. Though I was accepted to Columbia Teachers College’s high school social studies teacher program, I was called to instead work at the Cochiti Summer Youth Language Program. With my grandfather’s advice in mind, I returned home – this time as a teacher, but still with the hunger of a student to learn from our language and lifeways. In the summer language program, I was assigned to teach 4 and 5 year olds. There, I discovered how much I enjoyed working with young children. I witnessed firsthand how children, when given the opportunity, absorb so easily, our teachings and language at such a young age.
Two years later, I began teaching in a Kindergarten/1st/2nd grade combo at our local school. The students I taught — many of whom did not know our language but were so eager to learn it — reminded me of the drive I had as a young girl who so badly wanted to know our language. The experience of becoming a mother sealed the deal for me. I wanted my daughter to become fluent in our language. It became abundantly clear to me that the best way I could cheer for her, and for the children I taught, and the tribes I am from was to support an education in Keres. However, there were no Early Childhood education settings that would support her emerging fluency in Keres. So, in 2006, I left the local public school system to help found Keres Children’s Learning Center (KCLC), a Keres language immersion school in Cochiti Pueblo, NM.
Starting KCLC has been my life’s work, but it is work carried by many before me and alongside me. Our ancestors, the teachings they passed down in the face of tremendous adversity, my grandparents’ guidance, my family’s continued support, and the present day work of our school community and tribal leadership are all part of the foundation of the school. As a collective – a squad that spans generations and time — we are working together to root for the education of our children and the continuation of our language and lifeways through them. In the words of one of KCLC’s founding board members, Dr. Joseph Suina, we are working tirelessly towards “reclaiming the education of our children”.
To that end, Indigenous Educators is an extension of my life long work as an educator committed to our children, language and life ways. Rarely do I see Indigenous Educators, the very people who work with and support our next generation of Indigenous peoples, amplified and uplifted. It was important for me to help create a platform that unifies Indigenous educators who are committed to doing education differently and not replicating harmful pedagogies. I am inspired by my fellow Indigenous Educator team members. The community we’ve built uplifts good work happening in Indigenous Education: curriculum, books by Indigenous people, websites, and Indigenous-led schools. And, I look forward to co-creating other necessary work as our community grows. My hope is that this platform supports our team to continue to work in solidarity with one another and with co-conspirators from other racial backgrounds. Together, we will continue to disrupt the dominant narrative of education across the continuum, and support our Indigenous children and communities towards a more holistic education grounded in our Indigenous languages and cultures.
