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Logan
Logan
The field trip in which my classmates and I had recently partaken was a tremendous realization to common false stereotypical thoughts about Indians and their ways of life. Words cannot describe the new world I was living in that day, it was the world of a Menominee Indian, and it was not what I was expecting.
When I thought of an Indian before visiting the reservation, I thought of a stocky person with leather-like, worn down skin, and a complete headdress and deer hide outfit. I imagined them smelling like campfire smoke, and being very soft-spoken. I also thought that they were very judgmental and sensitive to everything you’d say, even if you didn’t imply it. That is probably why my pants were wet when we arrived at the reservation, because of me being scared half to death, thinking that if I said something wrong, I’d have a hatchet thrown at me or something. But never in my life had I imagined how wrong I really was. When first encountering a person of the Indian race, it pretty much fit my expectations. The man was older, probably fifties to sixties, with a long black ponytail and weathered skin. He spoke somewhat softly, that is. Compared to the way I’m used to teachers talking. Which is loudly and clear. His voice would mumble at times and he’d usually say things again and again, repeating himself maybe unknowingly, maybe not, unlike people would in our society. But one thing that didn’t match my thoughts about him was his personality. While riding with us, he talked about lighter things than I thought he would, he didn’t talk in anger, or hatred. He talked as if he had no hard feelings about what the government did, even though if it was I, I know I would. He also respected the kids more than I thought he would. When I read THE LIGHT IN THE FOREST, in my English class, it seemed like the whole Indian way of life was based off of respecting elders, and always behaving, doing what you’re told. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t bashing him, or talking down to him in anyway, we would just ask questions, and have fun, and he kind of joined in with it and didn’t see it as a problem. This was pretty cool to most of our class.
As the bus ride went on, through twisting, winding trails into the woods, our guide went on to talk about the land on the reservation, what was theirs, what is theirs, what was bought, sold, ect. Until we came to a certain spot that seemed to be a dead end. We filed out of the bus in wonder of what this place was exactly, the information our guide gave to s wasn’t very clear, all we knew was that we were headed to “Wolf River Dells” from the name I figured it was some kind of tourist attraction with waterslides and restaurants. But then I started thinking sensibly and realized that that was probably not the case. To tell you the truth, my first sights of Indian lifer weren’t that pleasant. Can you guess what I saw? Beer bottles. Lots and lots of beer bottles. There were some on the ground, about 300 in a trash can sitting outside, and more of them in the woods. While seeing this I thought to myself, I’ve never heard of Indians drinking, or getting drunk, or polluting for that matter. I thought that they loved nature and didn’t like to hurt it. Excuse my youthful ignorance, but in my opinion this obviously isn’t exactly a “wise environmental decision”. After passing the littered trail, we found ourselves in a large cleared area of rock and grass, and some things spray painted to the ground, that I still don’t know the meaning of. Beside the clearing was a river; hissing loudly as the water rushed over its rocks. Our guide gave us a moment to get out our notebooks and pencils, and then started to explain why we were, here, and what importance it had to his tribe. It turns out; that this was the area that an age-old story took place that exists in there tribe. The story goes that one-day a serpent; ad a great thunderbird had a battle. They fought for many days on end, until one day the Thunderbird was able to chase the serpent into the waters of the river, that’s why it is said to make a hissing noise as it runs through. You can also see scratches in to rock where the Thunderbird clawed it with its enormous feet while in battle. This is a story for all ages of Menominee to pass down their families. This startled me that Indians would pollute the land that they felt was sacred, with beer bottles and other forms of trash. To make a connection, this would be like littering on the Lincoln Memorial, you just don’t do it. Yet for whatever reason they did…this seemed strange to me. Once again, after what seemed like hours of bus ride we finally made it to our destination, the Menominee school we were to conduct our interviews at. This is when I got nervous. All of the stereotypes I said from before were racing in my mind. I contemplated what I was going to do as we waited outside the hallway for further direction from our teacher. At last I came to do as we waited outside the hallway for further direction from our teacher. At last I came to conclusion, I’d just keep my mouth shut unless I absolutely had to talk, and if I were to talk I would say only enough to not sound like an idiot. Besides, there were 11 other kids with me; the chances were on my side that I wouldn’t e the one to be embarrassed, or for the matter, in trouble.
For what seemed like the longest time, the bell finally rang and it was time for us to move into our given room the objective was to meet some Menominee students, find out what they’re like, and tell them a little about yourself as well. Simple enough, right? I men, we’re a talkative class; it’d be no problem. Wrong. It was one of the most awkward moments of my life, no one wanted to say anything, all of us were shy, both us and the Indian kids. We were not really sure how to act around each other. After about 30 seconds of pure silence, which doesn’t seem like that long of time, but actually is, I finally broke it with a friendly hello. “Hi, I’m Logan, what’s your name?” Yes, I do realize that that sounds both childish and nerdy, but it was the only thing I could think of. To my surprise they boy answered me, he told me that his name was Dylan, and that he liked to play sports, especially basketball, and hang out with friends. In return, I told him that I also like to play sports, but mostly wrestling and baseball. From that moment on, things went swimmingly with all the new people I met. To my surprise they didn’t dress how I expected them to. Instead they dressed more like they were in some sort of MTV music video than an Indian tribe. They were also very niece, and easy to get along with, but they did use a lot more profanity than I’m used to, much more than at the Junior High at least. All the swearing didn’t bother the teacher too much either because he was clearly within earshot of all the kids, but didn’t really care, Wow, a school without rules, how crazy is that? It turns out, that even thought some things are different; a lot of it is still the same too. Lunch for them was almost identical to ours, besides the selections of course. While talking to them I learned that they get the same stuff almost every day, and there isn’t much variety. They’re recess is the same as ors too. They all get a good chunk of time to relax, go outside, and burn some steam by playing basketball or any other sport for that matter, One thing was different though. On the sides of the school and buildings next to it was vandalism, a lot of it not appropriate for young kids of 5 and 6 to see. At least not in our society anyway. Along with day I figured out that rule s aren’t enforced on these reservations like they are in our society. People can do almost anything they want. This seemed very strange to me.
After all was done and I got my fill of food and basketball, it was time to do what we came there for, the interviews. Luckily, I mean VERY luckily, I was able to interview the kids I was hanging out with all day. Their names were Dylan, Abby, and Mathew. Of course these were their American names, one had a Menominee name, but I never got the actual spelling. Anyways, while we interviewed these kids, we had to skip most of them because they were meant for older people who had experienced events and things as they grew up. But the interview we conducted, I found also held a lot of interesting, good information, I hadn’t know n of before hand. Te real shock to me was then they started talking about the laws of their reservation. I thought it would be a paradise but having any rules like they do, but it turns out it isn’t. I learned that having all this free will has put many negative impacts on their society as Indians. Alcohol as I saw earlier in the woods was a bid problem, along with sex drugs, and violence. All three agreed that it wasn’t good for them and all the other to have to grow up with influences like that, pressure on them to do things that are immorally right.
From this trip I have learned to look past the generalizations and stereotypical beliefs about the Menominee and all Indians in general. I learned hat they have man inter3sting stories to tell, kindness beyond belief and morally solid when it comes to bad things that they have been put through, and are put tough on a day to day basis. I think that I, and everyone else can learn a thing or two from their culture and ways of life.