This particular Anthropology class was one I had been looking forward to. Growing up in the US, I was taught very little about the precolonial history of North America. What we learned about the history of the area after the Europeans arrived was primarily focused on the founders of a new nation, not the complete change to the way of life to all the nations already existing here. I was very intrigued. I had always been curious and so I had done a little research on my own and everything I learned just opened up so many more avenues of exploration... I was also a little skeptical about the class. I hoped that the high number of Americans of European descent (by the way, I am an American of European descent) involved in the running the school would not perpetuate the rather sugar-coated view of European/Indigenous relations taught in pre-college schools. I was pleasantly surprised by the matter of fact, seemingly true information we were given.
We were introduced to the various "culture areas" in North America: Arctic, Subarctic, Northeast Woodlands, Southeast, Plains, Southwest, Great Basin, Plateau, California, and Northwest Coast and given descriptions of each environment. We learned how each different nation adapted to their differing environments, and the culture that grew out of that... I was instantly all-in. This class was taught by a man who had spent the majority of his long career studying precolonial North America, colonial America, and who worked with modern indigenous peoples. His passion for the people he introduced us to was evident in every word and gesture. I could sit and listen to him forever, but it was not to be. Unfortunately he had a few health problems and had to give the class to another professor, one I knew pretty well. My former Intro to Archaeology professor was now my Indigenous Peoples professor. She was as brilliant as I expected...
I regularly cried in that class, but not from frustration. The first time was as we watched a documentary about the people of the Upper Skagit (Northwest Coast). It focused mostly on a woman who many indigenous peoples now refer to as "Grandma Vi." We were made privy to the struggle this woman was involved in, trying to preserve what was left of her peoples' culture. At one point, she was discouraged at the small numbers of people showing up for cultural events, the documentary cut to a circle if people from the Upper Skagit drumming and singing. That was when the tears began. The beauty of what I was seeing and hearing was truly awe-inspiring, and the tragedy that it was slipping away was heartbreaking. Over the course of the class, I was routinely reduced to tears over the painful history of the Indigenous People of North America, then filled with love for and a desire to help each and every one. One of my professors works with the local nations on repatriation (restoration of previously removed remains and artifacts to the people they actually belong to. Much was taken and put into museums and the like without permission from the nations they belonged to.), and I was fired up to join her... Don't get me wrong, this was not the first time that my heart had sparked. Every Anthropology class I had taken up to that point had a moment of "Ah-ha!" It was what inspired me to pursue Anthropology in the first place. Each culture I have been introduced to through my studies so far, had unique and beautiful facets that my heart loved. But there was something about the indigenous people of North America that I was drawn to. Especially those near my own home, such as those of the Upper Skagit...
Aside from the emotional roller coaster that was Anthropology class, I was taking a couple of other classes. One of them was Ceramics 2. I loved it so much! I got to learn how to use the potter's wheel, mix glazes, load/unload kilns, and was given the freedom to decide what I wanted to make and which techniques I wanted to learn. Some of the things I made weren't even ugly! I had a blast... You might (but probably won't) be wondering what my third class was. Truthfully, I do not remember. There have been so many classes at different times, that it has become very difficult to keep them all straight. Clearly though, it was not as amazing as that Anthropology class, or as fun as that Ceramics class.
One day during the quarter, I was in the student center doing homework between classes. As I worked I realized something. I would be graduating in a few months, and I did not have ANY memorabilia from my first college! I remedied that right away.
Fall Quarter 2016 ended and I prepared myself for my final quarter at WCC. I was accepted to Western Washington University for Spring and had one class I still needed to graduate.
The story will be continued...
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