Volume 4 Number 3
May 1965

Lee H. Salisbury

ONE EIGHTH of our entering freshman class at the University of Alaska this year are Alaskan native students. They come to us from all parts of our state: some are Indians from our southeastern panhandle of Tsimpsian, Thlingit, and Haida derivation; some are Aleuts, a racial group now quite dilute, who are primarily commercial fishermen and live along the Aleutian chain; others are of Athapaskan Indian stock from the interior. The largest group of all, the Eskimo, come from all parts of the Bering and Arctic sea coast river communities inland.

Naturally, these students are not all pure blooded natives. In order to receive Bureau of Indian Affairs grant-in-aid support, a student must declare himself to be one-fourth or more of Eskimo, Indian or Aleut extraction. There are undoubtedly other students in attendance at the University of Alaska who are, in varying degrees, of native blood but have not declared themselves to be native because they do not need financial assistance.

The educational, social and cultural backgrounds of these native students we can identify differ widely. Those coming to us from segregated boarding schools, such as Mount Edgecumbe in Sitka, Convent High School in Unalakleet, and Friends High School in Kotzebue, are likely to be bilingual and tribally oriented. Others who come from integrated high schools in the larger cities such as Fairbanks and Anchorage are less likely to speak their native language and may be more racially dilute.

But percentage of white blood is no index of acculturation: one of our freshman boys, a graduate of Anchorage High School, plays flamenco guitar and recites Ferlinghetti with no trace of an accent, yet is a pure blooded Eskimo. He stands in striking contrast to a blonde, blue-eyed, fair skinned part-Aleut girl from King Cove who speaks with the characteristic native inflection and who mixes only with the other native students.

Although it might seem that with a group of this kind it would be difficult to make generalizations, we can make certain predictions: Over 50 per cent of them are likely to drop out at the end of their freshman year. Less than 2 per cent of them are likely to receive a college degree at the end of the four years. If we use our 50 new native freshmen as an example—and our drop-out statistics prevail--25 of them will not come back to school next fall and only one of them is likely to complete the baccalaureate degree at the end of four years. When one considers that the natives in Alaska number almost 30 per cent of the stable population and that these students are their potential leaders, it can be seen that we have a minority group drop-out problem of a unique nature and immense proportions. Unlike cultural minorities in other states, the Alaskan native has not been deliberately segregated from the State and comparatively little discrimination exists.

What then makes these students drop out? From a superficial examination of the existing data one might conclude that, after surviving an attrition rate of over 60 per cent in elementary school and 28 per cent in high school, these students might be better prepared for the competition which confronts them in college life than would their non-native peers. But of course this is not so. Indeed, on the college level the native student is twice as likely to fail. An examination of his social behavior in the college situation may provide some clues:

For the native student who comes from a segregated school this period of adjustment can be particularly devastating. Typically he does not come from a city but rather from a small isolated community far removed from major population centers. Until he enters college he has had little contact with non-natives, other than his teachers. He has received a formal Western education, yet has not lived in Western culture. Consequently, though he is far from being fully Westernized, he has become gradually estranged from his original culture. Returning home each summer, he finds only the vestiges of his formerly comfortable family relationship, and encounters increasing frustrations because of the differences between himself and his village. His contact with Western education has taught him to respect (though not necessarily to understand) Western standards and at the same time it has decreased his respect for his native culture. He finds himself, figuratively, with a a foot in each culture, unable fully to identify with either group and accepted by neither as well.

To compound his problems, the value systems of the village and the dominant culture can be confusingly unlike. One may take an a example from the largest group of Alaskan natives, the Eskimo. The value system in which the Eskimo operates bears a striking contrast to that of the West: Whereas in American society strong emphasis is placed upon individual achievement, in the Eskimo world strong negative pressures are exerted upon the assertive individual who strives to excel. Hence, social classes or hierarchically arranged status positions, do not exist. In an environment where survival is marginal at best, the likelihood of individual achievement at the expense of the group is a a pervasive fear. Thus, egalitarianism is equated with survival.

Egalitarianism presents real problems in the Western classroom where academic success is measured by the active participation of the individual student. The Eskimo student desires not to be outstanding lest he arouse the jealousy and ill will of others. Further, the deep-seated value orientation of the Eskimo does not permit him to be motivated by the usual rewards which are so successful with middle class white students; praise or prizes often prove to be a source of embarrassment rather than encouragement. The Western notion of progress emerging from the "healthy clash of ideas" is in direct variance with his culture. Yet, in many areas of life where survival of the group is not involved, the individual is allowed a great deal of latitude in making his own decisions. In these respects the Eskimo places greater value on the integrity of the individual than is true in Western society.

Seymour Parker (see Note 1) found in his interviews with parents of high school drop-outs that over 90 per cent of them had not told their parents of their decision to leave school. The parents felt it was none of their business.

Many teachers and mental health personnel who work with the Eskimo have noted that he has difficulty in verbalizing and communicating his subjective reactions to situations; when something is bothering him, he is unlikely to communicate it even to his peers or to his family. Parker quotes a young Eskimo man who is on the staff of Mt. Edgecumbe High School, the largest U. S. Bureau of Indian Affairs boarding school, who explains this problem in this fashion:

This condition adds yet another dimension to the Eskimo student’s isolation; not only are his people geographically dispersed without the bonds of common dialect or written communication, even within the tight familial and peer group structure in his own village he is isolated with problems he cannot share.

Coupled with this inability to externalize his feelings is the native student’s seemingly easy acceptance of defeat. Although the Eskimo strives mightily with nature in order to survive, he is inclined to regard natural forces to be beyond his control. He does not view his future as being capable of change by dint of his own efforts. Hence, long-range educational or occupational goals are not easily perceived by the Eskimo students, who may regard the workings of the academic world to be as mighty and mysterious and incapable of alteration as those of nature.

These, then, are the problems with which the educator who deals with Alaskan native students must come to terms. When Alaskan teachers are asked what they believe to be the cause of the natives’ academic difficulties, the quick reply is "lack of language skills". If this is indeed the real problem why has it not responded to treatment? Why has exposure to a standard Western curriculum not equipped these students to deal with the English language by the 12^th grade?

Perhaps we have been treating the symptoms and not the underlying problem, which is simply that one cannot fully understand a language at the dictionary level. Language is a code intelligible only to those who live within a given culture. If one agrees that in the Eskimo culture—one in which survival depends upon hunting ability and group cooperation—a language has developed which embodies their philosophy and attitudes and reflects their values, then it can be seen that our language also reflects these elements of our culture and cannot be separated from them.

To the white man, the Eskimo language seems terse and telegraphic. To the Eskimo, English seems rambling and prolix. When one realizes that in Eskimo there are no words for hello and goodbye, is it any wonder that our concepts of introduction, body and conclusion which we unconsciously employ in our writing, our music and in our conversation are difficult for the Eskimo student to comprehend?

I submit that we can give the native student quick courses in speed reading vocabulary building by rote learning and language laboratory exercises in accent removal and intonation improvement and will not have improved his ability to communicate in the slightest. These are problems to be sure but they are peripheral to the Alaskan native’s central problem and cannot be dealt with until he has developed a conceptual knowledge of English.

How can this be achieved unless one transplants the native to a teeming Western metropolis somewhere and allows him to enter into the pace of Western living? Perhaps we should consider first just what we wish to accomplish with this acculturation process. Do we wish to convert the native to our Western ways and divorce him completely from his native background? Or do we wish to acquaint him with the best our society has to offer and allow him to choose those elements from it and from his original culture that he wishes to accept? The answer is obvious. If we speed his acculturation at the expense of his native cultural background we have cut him off at the roots and destroyed his identity.

If we agree that the native’s central problem of language stems from his limited background, then his background of direct experience within the Western culture must be broadened in some way before we can expect him to become a productive member of our society.

Our summer orientation program for entering Alaskan native freshmen held during the regular six-week summer session approaches this communication problem in some unique ways. Although time does not permit a full description of the program, some features of it may serve to clarify our philosophy:

1. The student lives with a Western family on or near the campus for the period of the program. In this way he can observe the day to day operation of a Western family unit. He can also actively participate in the family activities to the extent that he wishes.

3. The students attend daily Language and Communication sessions taught jointly by an English teacher and a speech specialist in which concepts taught in Anthropology class are expanded and discussed. Writing is taught as an outgrowth of speaking. Provocative films and books are used which deal with other peoples in transition. These, we find, provide materials for lively discussions. Visits and field trips reinforce the concepts which are introduced.

4. The students meet with the program psychologist for discussion sessions in which certain psychological concepts are explored: How do we learn? How do we employ psychological insights in our day to day living? Attitudinal tests (Osgood’s Semantic Differential) and intelligence tests are administered to all students before and after the program.

Wherever possible we tried to integrate all the material presented in the program. For example, when the anthropologist was presenting a unit on justice, the students had just finished reading and discussing Mr. Johnson, Joyce Carey’s fictional work dealing with cross-cultural problems in the court system in British colonial Africa. In the seminar with the anthropologist they discussed conflicting concepts of justice within their own village. In the Language and Communication sessions they saw and discussed the film, Twelve Angry Men, an excellent treatment of our American judicial system.

When, at the end of the week they were invited to visit the chambers of a Superior Court judge and to witness the final day of a local murder trial they had no difficulty in understanding what they saw. The concepts of "reasonable doubt" and "burden of proof" and "innocent until proven guilty" now have meaning and significance which they did not have before. Using the language of semantics, we could say that we are giving each word a concrete meaning by providing a referent for it.

We evaluated the program in several ways. Naturally we are watching the academic and social performance of our program students although we have no real control group with which to compare them. Certain changes in attitude were noted over the period of the program:

1. The reported feeling of stress or discomfort about entering college dropped significantly after the six-week session. The "before" median word chosen from the checklist was timid; afterwards, on representation of the same checklist the median word chosen to describe one’s feeling about entering college was comfortable. The possible words ranged from wonderful to scared stiff.

2. The anxiety level of our students as measured by a standard academic instrument was the same as that of non-program students enrolled in the same anthropology course, which in turn equalled nationwide norms for college students. (This test is the Taylor Manifest Anxiety Scale, based upon items from M.M.P.I.).

3. The results with the semantic differential are a mixed bag. On the one hand, snow and your village have moved in the direction of less involvement, but fishing and your village are evaluated as better afterward. Yourself, native and caucasians showed no change, which is a disappointment. The reduced value of money and the increased value of love can be considered, perhaps, as benefits of the program. Significant gains in intelligence test scores were noted regardless of the order in which they were given.

At the conclusion of the program the students were given a thirty-page evaluation form, to be submitted anonymously, in which they were asked to rate the worth and the interest value of each aspect of the program. These are some of their responses about the program in general:

Their reactions to the home-living aspect of the program were generally positive:

We recognize that acculturation cannot be effected in a six-week, a six-month or even a six-year program. It must begin with the earliest school experiences of the native child and develop through a curriculum designed specifically to meet his needs. Parents must see the need for such an education and be included in its planning and implementation. The dramatic modification in methodology and materials which the problem demands can be hastened only by educational experiments with demonstrably beneficial results. We think that our College Orientation Program for Alaskan Native (see Note 3) is a significant step in this direction.

1. Chas. K. Ray, Joan Ryan and Seymour Parker, Alaskan Native Secondary School Dropouts: A Research Report (College, Alaska: University of Alaska, 1962).

2. Ray, Ryan, Parker op cit. p. 135

3. Project d-157, supported by the Cooperative Research Bureau of the U. S. Office of Education will terminate in Fiscal 1968.