SEARCH

SEARCH BY CITATION

Keywords:

  • Indigenous youth;
  • Indigenous languages

Abstract

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

This article discusses emerging research on youth and Indigenous languages. Based on a comparative and international Indigenous education study in Peru and the United States, the intersection between Indigenous community spaces, schools, and languages is examined. Given global trends of Indigenous language loss, comparative research provides the opportunity for exploration of these challenges in distinct settings where youth can help redefine local and national language and education policy as critical stakeholders and actors.


Indigenous Languages and Youth

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Of the world's remaining languages, those spoken by Indigenous peoples are under the heaviest threat of extinction (Romaine 2006). Legacies of colonization are paired with increasing dependency on the mastery of dominant languages, which promise participation in the globalized economic marketplace. For example, in Peru, English is touted as a ticket to academic and financial success. Despite the challenges to Indigenous languages, they are vital indicators of the strength of human global diversity and creativity (Hornberger and McCarty 2012; Skutnabb-Kangas et al. 2006). Joshua Fishman (1996) famously described language loss as the loss of way of life, way of thought, way of valuing, which collectively comprise our “human reality” (1996:81). While we may generally agree that language as an expression of our humanity is worthy of maintenance, preservation and/or revitalization, the site(s) of this work, and who is included or excluded are another matter.

Based on qualitative fieldwork in two Indigenous communities in Peru and the United States—the Andean village of Hatun Shunqo and the New Mexico Pueblo of Cochiti—this article highlights youth and their experiences with language in multiple spaces. First, emerging research on Indigenous youth experiences with language loss is discussed, demonstrating the need for studies that position youth beyond conventional modes of thinking. Second, drawing from comparative and international Indigenous education, the relationship between Indigenous secondary school students, schools, and communities is examined. Comparative and international Indigenous education is interested in multiple definitions and practices of education—formal, nonformal, and informal—and multiple epistemologies linked with educational processes. Comparative and international Indigenous education also locates sites of educational research in diverse contexts where Indigenous nations exemplify issues of universal concern, such as human rights, and provide community-based responses to problems that are locally and globally relevant. This approach to research is collaborative, transparent, participatory, and transnational, and serves the purpose of furthering Indigenous goals for educational development where Indigenous peoples can themselves identify issues and priorities, learn from other Indigenous sites, anticipate problems, predict outcomes, envision desirable futures, and share solutions. Comparative and international Indigenous education also unites Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars, practitioners, and communities in praxis-oriented work that is concerned with the participation of Indigenous peoples in social transformation. So in this article, the benefits of comparative analysis lend themselves to broadening the discussion on the ways in which Indigenous languages are understood, reinforced, and envisioned by Indigenous students.

The need for these explorations is urgent, especially as Indigenous languages, cultural practices, and ecosystems are simultaneously endangered, and as youth encounter opportunities and challenges unlike those faced by generations prior. Those challenges also include how they are characterized by larger society as well as their own community members and peers who question the purpose of language in a modern world and the ability of youth to maintain language and to what end. For almost two decades in Peru and over a decade in New Mexico Pueblos, I have observed youth as subjects of blame for cultural and linguistic loss in their communities. However, through my work in youth program development and research, I have also observed their participation in cultural practices, thoughtful reflections on social conditions in their communities, and the ways in which they return teachings to their younger siblings, friends, teachers, coaches, and others who are part of the environments that they navigate daily. Although popularly labeled “the future,” youth today inherit a world marked by unprecedented shifts that call for us to revisit how we identify, prioritize, research, and strategize for global diversity. This article attempts to unpack what youth are taught about language and how this impacts their view of languages, indicating what the future holds for Indigenous languages and youth, the ancestors of tomorrow.

Emerging Research on Youth and Language

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Language scholars and Indigenous people have argued that Indigenous languages are inextricable from sociocultural knowledge deeply embedded within Indigenous ecologies (Nettle and Romaine 2000; Romaine 2002; Enote 2002; Romero 2003; McCarty et al. 2006; Wyman 2009). This connection expresses interrelatedness conveyed through language practices. Daily language activities associated with Indigenous cultural practices, from greeting one's elders to ceremonial events, are relevant to the identity development of younger community members, which in Mary Eunice Romero's work (2003) were referred to by one young participant as “passwords.” Researchers bridging environmental and social sciences have long advocated for more holistic understandings of ecology and language as interrelated with multiple elements, including education, environment, and health (Romaine 2002). For example, biocultural diversity (Maffi 1996) posits that ecosystems cannot be viewed as separate from the cultural lifeways, knowledge, and languages of people within those ecosystems, which together hold rapidly disappearing local and global benefits. As humanity, consciously and unconsciously, distances itself from the earth's natural processes, we impact each other in often tragic ways, but by strengthening our ecological, cultural, and linguistic foundations, we have a chance to collectively address those hurtful impacts. (Aikman 2002; Maffi and Woodley 2010). This strengthening can occur through what Roger Rumrill (2009) referred to as gaining ecological literacy for students. Focusing on the Peruvian Amazon, he argued that bilingualism and interculturality should not hinge solely on education and language as described by nationally sweeping policy but must include an educational process based on the knowledge, lessons, and reality of the “book” of environment (11). Here, education is redefined as a transformative process that is socially, economically, politically, ecologically, linguistically, and culturally responsible.

In the past decade, scholars have presented other vital sociolinguistic and ethnographic research on Indigenous youth and languages. By highlighting these underrepresented populations, researchers offer Indigenous and educator communities critical and innovative ways of thinking about youth and language loss. “Translanguaging” (Williams 2002; García 2009) recognizes the multilingual world of youth as normative communication, dispelling notions of Indigenous languages as isolated from other language groups and social processes. In translanguaging, the abilities of the individual to transform language practices are central. As such, youth-centered research is critical. Leisy Wyman's work emphasizes long-term research relationships with Indigenous communities that track changes within linguistic ecologies over time and recognize the way in which youth demonstrate “linguistic survivance,” which includes translanguaging in order to “creatively express, adapt, and maintain identities under difficult or hostile circumstances” (2002:2). Such circumstances in Peru would include national stigmatization of Indigenous peoples as poor, rural, and underdeveloped.

In Peru, schools are complex institutions that both create oppressive conditions and try to solve them, which raises the issue of where addressing language loss and reversing language shift can occur (López 2009; Hornberger 2008). Although schools offer the opportunity to bring language into an official space previously beholden to the dominant language, thereby altering the “functional allocation” of language, there remain important prerequisites for reversing language shift, including creating “increased roles and domains for Quechua language use” and the consideration of new and “nontraditional” uses of language knowledge (Hornberger and King 1996:438–440). Larger mainstream society, local communities, homes, and schools are involved in synchronous exchange with each other via Indigenous youth. As Indigenous languages move through historically traditional spaces, youth in particular begin to consider new uses, their own agency, and “are positioned as de facto language policy makers whose choices are highly consequential for future generations of language learners” (McCarty et al. 2009, 304), highlighting the role of youth in determining the future of their Indigenous languages. However, support is complex in its conception and delivery to youth, which is exemplified by Tiffany Lee's (2009) study of Pueblo and Navajo young adult language attitudes. She argued that youth receive “mixed messages” from their families and communities, schools, and larger society that convolute perceptions of Indigenous languages in relation to dominant languages seen as essential economic tools.

Along with mixed messages and attitudes and practices of speakers (Fishman 2002; García 2009), Indigenous spaces and cultural practices require further analysis. Sheilah Nicholas's work, “I Live Hopi, I Just Don't Speak It” (2009), summarized how youth maintain their affiliation with Hopi ways of life, such as planting corn by hand, without fluency in the Hopi language. Acknowledging the relevancy of language to cultural activities like caring for corn plants, her participants demonstrated “language as cultural practice” (Nicholas 2009:331) and that fluency, though desirable, is not the only way to engage with language. Deepening this assertion is Wyman's holistic language research with Yup'ik youth in Alaska, which analyzed youth perceptions and engagement with Indigenous languages over time. Language, local knowledge, place, and practice were cohesive through participation in ecologically oriented activities, such as seal hunting, challenging “the common assumption that youth who speak dominant languages in endangered language communities orient away from local practices, physical spaces and/or marginalized identities” (Wyman 2009:343). This assumption has been detrimental where Indigenous youth are reduced to binaries—either modern or traditional, choosing English or Indigenous language. Her work encourages closer examination of the erosion of local resources for language learning and deconstruction of dominant discourses of youth.

Methodology and the Researcher Self

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

This article is based on a two-year qualitative study conducted in Hatun Shunqo and Cochiti, and highlights focus groups held in the two secondary schools that Hatun Shunqo and Cochiti youth attend: Hatun Shunqo High School and Rio Vista High School, respectively. These focus groups were led by the researcher and recorded via extensive field notes. The bulk of this ethnographic study focused on teaching and learning taking place outside of school and within multiple spaces within the community, including homes and farm fields. In the broader context of the study, it should be noted that participants included secondary school students and other children and youth at the primary through tertiary levels, as well as the following: (1) grandparent generation farmers; (2) parent generation farmers; (3) environmental/agricultural technicians, such as those officially employed by the tribe, municipality, or region; (4) secular community leadership; (5) nonsecular community leadership, such as the cultural leaders who oversee the agricultural calendar. Therefore, these school focus groups presented an opportunity to include Indigenous-serving schools in the study via students ages 11 to 18 in general Hatun Shunqo classes and ages 15 to 18 in Cochiti Keres language classes.

While youth were exposed to a particular type of education in farm fields that emphasized local Indigenous ecological knowledge that was culturally and linguistically based, their experiences within school could not be diminished. The interplay between school and community is an intimate process as students go from farming with their parents and grandparents to mathematics and language arts within the walls of a classroom. Therefore, the focus groups were designed to complement the out-of-school explorations in order to understand youth experiences within Wanka- and Cochiti-serving schools. Students in the schools, some of whom also participated in other portions of the study, were asked to discuss their encounters with Indigenous languages based on questions that the researcher introduced. These questions included the following major themes—for example, comprehension of Indigenous language (do you understand Quechua/Keres?), level of comfort speaking the Indigenous language (are you conversational?), spaces where language is spoken (where is language spoken to you?), language interactions (who speaks language to you and how often?), and perspectives on language loss (experts say that Quechua/Keres is disappearing, what are your thoughts on this?). Caveats include the following: the student population of Hatun Shunqo far exceeded that of Cochiti, Hatun Shunqo did not have Indigenous language classes, and in Cochiti, language loss was overtly discussed, while in Hatun Shunqo it remained unexplored.

Reflexivity as a researcher was central in this study. I am a Wanka and Quechua person raised and trained as an educational researcher in the United States and who maintains family ties in Hatun Shunqo. I hold a strong sense of Quechua cultural and linguistic identity, making me “epistemologically privileged” (Nicholas 2009)—meaning I understand and participate in family and community cultural activities like farming and am a lifelong student of Indigenous community education with great respect for Indigenous knowledge systems (Barnhardt and Kawagley 2005). As a researcher, I have been conducting ethnography in Hatun Shunqo since 1995 with a focus on oral tradition and its intersections with ecology, gender, and modernization. As an Indigenous woman who is an outsider in Cochiti, my research was assisted and observed by members of an ad hoc committee consisting of community leaders appointed by the Tribal Council. During my fieldwork in Cochiti, I worked closely to build on the relationships I have been cultivating with Pueblo peoples since 2000. As a younger scholar who works with Indigenous youth in Canada, the United States, and Peru, my interest in this study was fueled by observing innovative practices constructed and carried out within Pueblo Indian community-based education in New Mexico that have the potential to inform other Indigenous communities like Hatun Shunqo. I also believe that research seeking to connect Indigenous communities in distinct regions around critical issues can help to address the limiting discourse of development and the so-called global North and global South, especially as Indigenous communities transcend these labels. In this manner, the study was informed by Kaupapa Māori Indigenous research (Smith 1999), privileging Indigenous sociolinguistic approaches to methodologies and prioritizing respectful and participatory work that seeks to address Indigenous issues for Indigenous benefit. As a result of this methodological drive, preliminary findings were discussed with participants and community leadership, and at the conclusion of the study, overall findings were returned to both Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo participants, and currently, follow-up activities related to the application of the research are being proposed.

The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

The Pueblo de Cochiti, with less than one thousand tribal members, is one of New Mexico's 19 Pueblo villages. The village is located between the cities of Bernalillo and Santa Fe. Homes are both modern, supported by U.S. Housing and Urban Development funding, and traditionally built, meaning using local materials like adobe and aligned with ancestral architecture and community planning. Cochiti's leaders are appointed annually and are responsible for reinforcing a theocratic government, which merges traditional and secular leadership management over community lands and members (Romero 2003). Secular leadership, including the Pueblo's Governor and Lieutenant Governor deals with external state and national politics. Traditional leadership, such as spiritual leaders, deals with religious and other community issues that are inextricable from the political life of the community. Both work together through the Tribal Council where business is conducted in Cochiti Keres language.

Language loss and shift were identified through community-based research conducted in the 1990s, which was approved by the tribal council and revealed historical trends (Romero 2003). During World War II, Cochiti men enlisted to serve and left the community, resulting in migration that lasted for decades. The assimilative federal Indian policy of relocation in the 1950s saw entire families leave for major U.S. cities. A survey conducted in 1993 revealed that only 1/3 of Cochiti people, ages 35 and older, were fluent speakers, and the remaining population, ages 34 and younger, was nonfluent. At this point, the community realized that language loss was imminent (Romero 2003:12–13). By 1996, Cochiti launched a language revitalization program aimed at children and using immersion, followed by a language nest modeled after Native Hawaiian and Māori models. Today, a volunteer language committee consisting of language teachers and other community members still meets to discuss revitalization. Despite these efforts, language loss continues, evident through the majority of children who speak English as a primary language and who are not bilingual.

Making matters worse is Cochiti's disrupted connection to environment and culture through farming. Starting in the 1950s, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers launched the Cochiti Dam project, which coupled with development of the town of Cochiti Lake transformed the agricultural life of Cochiti people almost overnight (Pecos 2007). Widespread seepage from the dam resulted, destroying Cochiti farmlands, and subsequently, community-wide practices of farming ceased for three decades. The community is currently dependent upon wage labor. After a prolonged court battle and victory against the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, the Pueblo has begun to farm again with the help of underground water drainage systems and with the guidance of grandparent generation farmers who recollect farming life prior to the Dam. These elderly farmers are tasked with reintroducing farming values, techniques, and relevant language to younger generations that include youth.

Hatun Shunqo, translated from Quechua Wanka as “brave heart,” is just 20 minutes outside of Junín department's capital city, Huancayo. Huancayo is located within the Mantaro Valley, a seven-hour bus ride from Peru's capital city of Lima, and is part of the historic homeland of the Wanka Nation. The valley, surrounded by the Andean cordillera, is filled with adobe homes, livestock, and vast farmlands of staple crops like corn, potatoes, and quinoa. Like Cochiti people, the Wanka are historically farmers, but unlike Cochiti, they remain subsistence farmers today. With over five thousand residents and a merge with another local community, a mayor elected regionally every two years represents Hatun Shunqo in local politics. Nonsecular cultural leadership in Hatun Shunqo is composed of nonelected (community-appointed or self-appointed) community members annually responsible for organizing community-wide ceremonial practices based heavily on a pre-Columbian Indigenous agricultural calendar cycle that involves paying homage to natural elements to ensure successful crops. Cochiti also has a similar agricultural calendar, where associated ceremonies were maintained even after farming was lost. Unlike Cochiti, where the shock of agricultural damage occurred almost overnight, Hatun Shunqo has been progressively experiencing environmental problems: mining runoff from multinational mining projects has irreparably contaminated the Mantaro River, also known as Wankamayu, which is profoundly significant in Wanka oral tradition. Post-World War II, extensive DDT use replaced local organic pesticide and plague control, and is now blamed for soil and water contamination. Economic development is linked with farming as industry and the introduction of GMOs. These problems exist amid global warming, and national economic and political instability.

The local variety of Quechua, Wanka waylla (Cerron-Palomino 1989), is spoken in Hatun Shunqo, but has been shifting to Peru's dominant language, Spanish, at least over the past several decades. Unlike Cochiti, there has been no community-based assessment of Quechua in Hatun Shunqo. While there is no language data for Hatun Shunqo, the UNESCO language atlas categorizes Quechua Wanka as severely endangered. General figures also provide some insight on the status of Quechua in South America: Nancy Hornberger and Serafin Coronel-Molina (2004) posit that, although Quechua is spoken by 8 to 12 million speakers in six South American countries, there is no single “Quechua situation” (2004:10), meaning numbers reveal little about varieties spoken and their immediate contexts. In the department of Junín, where Hatun Shunqo is located, they estimate only 13 percent of the population to be Quechua speakers. Based solely on field observations, Quechua appears to be spoken in public spaces in Hatun Shunqo by bilingual community members over the age of 50. However, these observations are insignificant without a community-based approach and intergenerational participation of community members.

Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Hatun Shunqo High School is about a ten-minute walk from the main plaza, which is the central gathering space of the community. The school serves approximately 340 students from Hatun Shunqo and other neighboring Wanka villages. Students from surrounding communities may travel over 45 minutes on foot in order to attend school. The majority of students work with their parents and grandparents to support a subsistence farming lifestyle, which includes not only cultivating fields but also selling surplus crops at local markets. School attendance at the secondary level is high, and parents and school staff alike express the hope that students will graduate and move on to postsecondary opportunities, where the ultimate goal is to become a “professional,” meaning white-collar worker (and not a farmer). With this in mind, Hatun Shunqo parents with some financial means or whose children receive scholarships opt to send their children to schools in Huancayo that are viewed as better quality, primarily because the city offers a larger selection ranging from public to private. Due to Peru's competitive pyramid tertiary educational system, students strive for entrance into universities, making the stakes at Hatun Shunqo High School high as parents and teachers each blame the other for low student achievement. The school also struggles with newer issues, like an increase of single-parent households where young male students must take on jobs, which teachers believe impact academic performance. Often, these jobs are as peones, farm workers in fields other than their own, where a young man will earn up to 14 or 15 Nuevo Soles per day, which equals about $5 USD.

Though community members refer to Hatun Shunqo as autóctona, an autochthonous Indigenous community, there is no indication that either school or community has explored that identity as significant to education. In Peru, the national policy of Educación Bilingüe Intercultural (EBI), Bilingual Intercultural Education, provides some public space for discussion of Indigenous languages and cultures in schools. However, research demonstrates that while the EBI policy aims for Indigenous inclusion, the dominant sociopolitical discourse remains discriminatory against Indigenous populations (Valdiviezo 2010). Additionally, little financial and technical support is provided for teacher training, community engagement, and actual implementation of policy in a way that demonstrates sustained impact. School administrators in Hatun Shunqo, including the director (principal) and his staff, largely viewed Wanka cultural history as being forgotten and the Quechua Wanka language as dying and/or irrelevant to academic achievement. As a result, Indigenous languages, cultural beliefs, and practices found little space within the school, justified by school administrators who believed that parents also rejected the incorporation of Indigenous language and culture into curriculum, despite the lack of in-depth research on this issue. This lack of research has resulted in school and community silence on the value of Indigenous language and cultural practices to formal education.

In Hatun Shunqo, the researcher conducted focus groups on student interaction with Quechua with three separate classrooms. Of 80 total students, in the 16/17 age group, 61 percent of students worked in the farm with their families. Approximately 64 percent of the students understood Quechua, with 46 percent who claimed to speak “a little,” and about .03 percent who claimed to be fluent. In the 14/15 age group, 68 percent worked in the farm fields. Approximately 25 percent of the students understood Quechua, with 25 percent speaking “a little,” and 1.25 percent were fluent. In the 11/12 age group, 90 percent worked in the farm fields. Approximately 90 percent of the students understood Quechua, with 55 percent speaking “a little,” and approximately 1 percent were fluent. Important to note is that the term “fluent” often made community members uncomfortable—even first-language speakers of Quechua resisted this label, which is worth further intergenerational exploration because Indigenous language speakers have been caught in a discourse of shame. Older community members directly asked about this discourse responded that reluctance to admit fluency could be attributed to many things, including humility, whereby community members will not admit to being proficient at anything for fear of being considered arrogant (October 2007 field notes). Even farmers highly regarded for their beautiful crops would attribute their success to being blessed by the awkish (ancestors), Pachamama (Earth Mother), and natural elements like tamya (rain) and Tayta Inti (sun). Proficiency is linked with adherence to values, relationships, and contribution to community, and not solely to individual achievement.

According to the focus group data, the majority of Hatun Shunqo students worked in the farm fields, known as chakra, with grandparents, parents, and extended family members. Because Hatun Shunqo and its surrounding communities are agricultural communities, students and their extended families are regularly engaged in family and community scale farming. The majority of these students also understood Quechua, meaning they were exposed to and comprehended basic Quechua—described by them as greetings, scolding, and commands. Students also claimed to speak the language, although in the 11/12 age group, the numbers of students both farming and interacting with Quechua were much higher than the other two age groups. This is attributed to less rigorous academic in- and out-of-school time than is demanded of older students on the university track. Older students were juggling multiple responsibilities that included caring for younger siblings, studying for university entrance exams, working on fundraisers for class trips, and socializing with friends outside of school.

Data showed that exposure to Quechua, though in a state of shift to Spanish, was a common experience for youth within community spaces, like the chakra—which countered the school director's view that Quechua was dying and that students were incapable of speaking the language and uninterested (2007 field notes). Students also responded to questions about who spoke to them in Quechua Wanka, when the language was spoken, and what the language signified to them. With regard to who spoke to them in Quechua, the students overwhelmingly answered grandparents, “older people,” and mothers. When asked where and when the language was spoken, students responded “in the chakra,” “at home,” “wherever there are grandparents,” and “on the street in the village” (October 8, 2007 field notes).

When asked about Quechua language loss, the majority of students commented: “We need to preserve the language and rescue it!” “We should value lo nuestro [what is ours], lo nuestro comes first!” “The language identifies us—el Quechua nos identifica,” and “Quechua should be like another tool for us” (October 8, 2007 field notes)—which referred to the youth perception that Quechua served as a tool for both communication with family as well as with monolingual Quechua speakers. Students also said, “We need to practice it at home,” and “We should cultivate Quechua because it is a native language, the language of our ancestors”—statements that indicated student awareness of personal responsibility toward maintaining Quechua. When challenged to consider Quechua replaced by Spanish—a process that had inexplicitly occurred in their own school—students overwhelmingly and loudly shouted, “No!” They became agitated, and the majority of hands shot up in the air to provide comments. For example, in the 14/15 age group, students said that Quechua must be cultivated but that the language was disappearing because youth were ashamed to speak the language. When asked to clarify what “being ashamed to speak the language” meant, one male student, a self-identified fluent speaker, said that he believed young people were ashamed because speaking Quechua revealed the speaker's origins as rural. He explained that perhaps those young people were afraid that people who came from the city would look down on them. Other students agreed and added that self-consciousness occurs due to discrimination against Quechua speakers (2007 field notes). Here the emphasis shifts from a discourse of speaker-centered shame to society-centered injustice where youth were observing larger structural inequalities that may include socioeconomic status linked with geography, as well as identity complications resulting from migration.

Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Pueblo Indian influence on formal education, whether public, Bureau of Indian Education (BIE), parochial, or private, is tenuous as schools and federal policy wield power over in-school student development. Exclusion of Indigenous knowledge is commonplace but made more complex by the fact that New Mexico's Pueblos do not believe that culture and language belong in schools where they run the risk of being accessed by non-Pueblo people. Faced with a number of colonizing forces (Mexico, Spain, the United States), Pueblo cultural and spiritual survival can be attributed in part to secrecy. Only in the past few years have some Pueblos, including Cochiti, decided to implement language programs in schools that serve their children, a move supported by data that question the survival of U.S. American Indian languages over the next 25–50 years (McCarty and Romero 2006). With approval from the tribal council and the guidance of Keres language teachers, several schools now offer language exclusively to Cochiti students—one step in school–tribe collaboration.

Rio Vista High School is located approximately 40-minutes driving distance from Cochiti. Unlike Hatun Shunqo High, Rio Vista's Cochiti population does not exceed 30 students at any given time. There is one Cochiti Keres language classroom, taught by two dedicated Cochiti women approved by the Pueblo to teach the language. Seven students ages 15–18 in two different classes participated in the focus group, and due to the small numbers, more intimate conversations were possible. Unlike Hatun Shunqo, Cochiti students and their families were not subsistence farmers. The majority of Cochiti people fed their families by commuting to nearby cities for jobs, working for the tribe in different capacities, and/or through income derived from arts, such as making pottery. At the same time, due to the tribe's encouragement of the revitalization of farming as a cultural practice, many Cochiti students and youth worked in their family farming plots or gardens after school or during weekends and holidays. As a result of a concerted community effort to farm Cochiti lands once again, Cochiti students eagerly discussed their own farming participation—from visiting the fields and helping occasionally to taking on central responsibilities, like planting, irrigating, weeding, and harvesting. Language-wise, youth did not claim fluency in Cochiti Keres, but all comprehended and could speak “a little” (March 17, 2008 field notes).

As in Hatun Shunqo, the Cochiti students were asked where, when, and with whom their Indigenous language was spoken and were invited to offer their perspectives on language. In one class, comprised mainly of young men, the students quickly linked language with the agricultural spaces of the community—speaking enthusiastically about working in the farm fields with their grandparents where they learned the names of plants, the processes of cultivation, and uses for those plants—all in Keres. One female student explained, “Everything we grow, we use for something.” A male student remarked on Keres, “It's more than just pretty words.” Two young men who farmed with their grandfather, a cultural and religious leader in the community, stated that they believed the disappearance of farming for a time in Cochiti had resulted in a distancing of community members away from each other—away from working together and learning together. Planting their fields, they argued, held more value than the act of labor to produce a crop and symbolized key cultural teachings in the community about spiritual connection with all things, human responsibility within the world, and the values of interaction. Keres, they said, was the foundation for these teachings.

In addition to speaking Keres in farm fields, all students ranked their grandparents and Cochiti community elders as their pipeline to the language, which is consistent with Cochiti data on the prevalence of grandparent generation language speakers. However, students also included their language teachers in school as equally important connections to language because they provided consistent exposure to Keres. In fact, one student explained that the only time she heard Keres directed at her regularly was from the teachers at school—meaning no one at home was speaking Keres to her on a daily basis. Other sites of exposure to Keres included “during traditional activities,” like ceremonies or feast days that involve community held spiritual practices. Students also explained that Keres was spoken to them and heard when visiting elders at their homes in Cochiti, which occurred with most frequency during special occasions, like feast days. Mealtimes where grandparents were present were also listed as places and times when Cochiti Keres could be spoken and heard.

Although the students expressed conscientiousness regarding Keres's endangered status, especially given their recognition of the infrequency of their language exposure, they argued passionately for the deeper significance of the language. Students explained that language was the foundation for their traditions, including religious ceremonies, songs, and dances held in the village, and that these and other cultural activities were not isolated activities but a way of life bound to the Pueblo. One male student explained, “Language is key to everything. It revolves around our whole way of life. It defines you as a person and why you live here [in the Pueblo]” (March 17, 2008 field notes). Adding to this statement, another male student linked way of life to the belief that every single person has a role and serves a purpose to contribute to the community—and that both the role and the fulfillment of that role are understood and maintained through Keres. In this sense, the students argued that Keres was a language of relationship.

Although students had a clear understanding of why Keres was so vital to Cochiti's traditions and to their individual lives as Cochiti people—reinforcing what they were taught in the community—they were also keenly aware that they were in danger of losing the language within their lifetimes. Raising this issue themselves, they expressed dissonant feelings—of hope and frustration:

Male student 1: If everybody tries, we can bring it [language] back.

Male student 2: [Upset] They tell us, “You're trying hard, but it's still going to die.” How does that make us feel? Alright, then, it's going to die!

Male student 1: It brings us down. They have no faith in us. [March 17, 2008 field notes]

Though representing a small section of Cochiti youth, the Rio Vista students showed that they had much to say about language. Students reflected on the worldview they had learned through compelling explanation of why land, farming, cultural traditions, and language mattered in Cochiti. They spoke passionately about their hopes that the language would recover and that they were doing their part to gain confidence with the language—with the help of their language teachers and some of their grandparents. From comprehending, to speaking, to composing ceremonial songs, the students, and especially the young men and those exposed to farming, demonstrated that no matter their level of language proficiency, they were listening to the messages given to them by elder community members: to learn the language and to participate in their traditions. However, students also expressed frustration at the messages they were receiving as language learners; on the one hand, language classes and opportunities for language learning exist in both community and school spaces, but on the other hand, fatalistic comments to youth revealed community members’ greatest fears about Keres: that despite youth efforts, Cochiti Keres will die.

Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Through these school focus groups, Hatun Shunqo and Cochiti share the opportunity to examine how Indigenous languages are experienced by students, which reveals underlying tensions and strengths in schools and communities. While there are multiple facets of youth experiences with language, this comparative discussion focuses on the distinct roles of Indigenous-serving schools, farming as a critical cultural practice and site for language usage, the significance of loss and revitalization, and the dissonant messages that we give to our youth. Comparative analysis is particularly valuable in this case as each community demonstrates something distinct about each of these issues. For example, community members in both places unquestionably want their children to succeed academically, but due to unique political status and influence, Cochiti-serving schools are now sites of the community's language revitalization efforts. Moreover, after decades of loss, Cochiti has named farming as a trait inherent to identity as a Cochiti person—re-embracing and elevating the status of a lifestyle that children in Hatun Shunqo schools are taught to leave behind.

In Hatun Shunqo, the school appeared to support a hegemonic national identity and, despite EBI, had not addressed or implemented the policy. Based on perceived lack of parent participation, school administration believed the community to be largely ignorant of formal education, as well as of their own local Indigenous language and culture. Administrators and teachers tended to focus on academic achievement aligned with parental desires for their children to become “professionals,” reflecting a movement away from the subsistence farming lifestyle. Furthermore, teachers and administrators had already attained a higher social status: they were themselves “professionals,” formally educated in universities. One teacher married into the Hatun Shunqo community expressed her frustration with colleagues who she claimed would frequently state that Wanka children had limited opportunities and capacities because they were farmers (2007 field notes). In such a climate, the exploration and valuing of Indigenous knowledge systems and Quechua language is a challenge.

While there is no EBI policy in the United States, New Mexico acknowledges its relationship with the 22 tribal nations in the state through political commitment to formal education for their Indigenous people. On the ground, this translates to a relatively more explicit school–tribe relationship. At the federal level, the 1960s and 1970s saw Indian self-determination policies leading to tribal control of their educational systems, albeit subject to state and federal standards. There is also limited federal financial support for languages, including Administration for Native Americans (ANA) funding for Indigenous language revitalization. Due to a combination of Indian self-determination, favorable state and federal education and language policies that are actually enforced, community-based research, explicit tribal leadership efforts, and financial support—none of which share an equivalent in Peru—the impending disappearance of American Indian languages like Cochiti Keres has been given attention. However, Indigenous-serving schools are still shaped by dominant national ideologies of achievement and progress, resulting in what school has become today. These schools struggle to meet standards, make adequate yearly progress (AYP), and to excel in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) in order to compete internationally, inherently challenging the purpose and place of Indigenous languages in schools.

In contrast to Cochiti and contrary to Hatun Shunqo school administration assertions, the majority of Wanka students had Quechua speaking and comprehension skills. As an agricultural community, students confirmed that the chakra and their homes were the primary sources of their exposure to Quechua. These youth countered the blame projected onto them for language loss where they are viewed by their elders as having agency only in the form of actively rejecting their Indigenous languages and identities. Instead, male and female students overwhelmingly argued that Quechua “identified them” and was important to preserve, despite the school's choice to exclude language and culture in school curricula. These students also spoke openly about discrimination relegating speakers to limiting rural and agrarian stereotypes, underlining the need for research that deconstructs notions of shame, which can mean many different things in many different settings, including being ashamed of not speaking the Indigenous language (Lee 2009).

Student, administrator, and teacher interactions had created a complex of language attitudes and resulting encounters, and as a result, students’ own perception of their peers was that they might understand Quechua but did not converse in the language, especially not at school. In Hatun Shunqo, youth perceptions of Quechua tell us that although language surrounded them at home and in the chakra, Quechua language status informed decisions of where, how, and if language was reinforced. Problematic was the school, located within the village, which had done little to challenge these notions while securing the status quo of Spanish. Perhaps because Hatun Shunqo has not experienced the total loss of a way of life that links cultural practices, language, values, and economy, the cultural capital of Wanka people has remained implicit. At the same time, conversations with youth reveal that they are aware of racial and class undercurrents, rural and urban differences, and the significance of their heritage language. Although there are regional Quechua language arts competitions where Hatun Shunqo students participate, they are seen as ancillary to “real” education. In this case, secular and nonsecular village leadership could learn from Cochiti's efforts and work with both community and school to institute policy that promotes conscientious acknowledgment of Quechua in multiple spaces. Such actions would send the message to youth that leaders recognize social injustices that youth and their families navigate. School curricula could also address social inequality through student coursework and community-based research training that explores language status, discrimination, and youth-driven solutions. Collaborative research bridging Indigenous communities through the following frameworks is also needed: (1) analysis of structural inequalities and colonizer/colonized relationships; (2) explorations of communities of color, classrooms, and educators that challenge and transform racial stereotypes (Solorzano 1997:15); (3) tribal critical race theory that presents opportunity for tribal and social transformation (Brayboy 2005); (4) youth-centered counternarratives as a methodological approach to working with youth (McCarty et al. 2006); and (5) challenges to stereotypical notions of rural identity that focus on youth and technology appropriations.

Youth or Indigenous populations alone cannot address student experiences with language that include issues of access and discrimination. Promoting Quechua for and among Indigenous youth requires the dismantling of the structural inequalities maintained through class, race, and urban–rural divides, and the re-creation of spaces where speaking Quechua is safe, comfortable, and encouraged represents a broader call to action. Indigenous teachers are well aware of these issues, as they work from the “bottom up,” deconstructing their own language experiences in order to counter less effective top-down approaches (Hornberger and Swinehart 2012). Decades of Māori language revitalization and research provide inspiration to movements to reclaim and assert the value of the Indigenous language to both Indigenous peoples and wider society (Hōngongoi 2006). At the same time, even if schools and mainstream societies become Quechua worldview and language-friendly, how does the language fit into a global marketplace that values above all else production and material gain? Youth inevitably face this challenge on a daily basis and will need to be equipped with strategies to help them make conscientious decisions about their own representation and participation.

Teaching to inform such processes is occurring in Cochiti. Cochiti youth were aware of the significance of language to the cultural and ceremonial functions taking place regularly in their Pueblo. They also recounted philosophical explanations on the purposes that language serves—reflecting cultural teachings engrained in a number of ways, including renewed participation in farming. As in Hatun Shunqo, exposure to activities like farming where language is used by older generations provided youth with the opportunity to not only interact with speakers but also to put worldview into practice. While Cochiti students were all able to explain the significance of language to their cultural practices and spirituality, they also expressed frustration with the dissonant messages they received from the community. These messages and the lack of daily immersion in the language in all spaces made their struggle to reclaim Keres even more challenging.

A goal of this study was to examine a moment in youth experiences with languages in two communities in order to highlight common and distinct challenges and strengths and strategies useful in educational design—whether for formal schooling or out-of-school education. Here, Cochiti exemplifies the trajectory of purposeful revitalization: despite environmental trauma, the community has worked to identify loss of farming and associated values and language as worthy of conscientious engagement to reclaim these things. Loss has fueled the assertion that language and culture matter to who the Cochiti are in this world. However, maintaining daily and consistent connections between cultural practices, language, and the reclaiming of relationships that are value driven—though recognized by Cochiti youth—remains a large and complex task.

There has to be a change in the Peruvian educational system—to revalue the Indigenous language from birth. We can only do a little with the culture here. Do you know what the problem is? The idiosyncrasy of the village—if the village understood that it [language and culture] was important … but the parents react negatively—they don't want their children to do the same thing they do. That's our continuous homework—to change the mindset of the parents. Where I am from … at first teachers did not want to teach Quechua in schools. They believed that teaching in Quechua was to go backwards. Maybe things are changing there. I have relatives who are teachers, and now they are instructing first in Quechua. In Junín, the problem is how to save the native language. We cannot look to teachers to do this. Out of my 20 teachers, I don't think any of them speak this dialect. Like my teachers, we have forgotten our ancestral language, and more importantly have lost the motivation to reclaim it. [Santiago Leon Pérez, October 8, 2007 field notes]

There's no reinforcement at home … You know that you're teaching and that's where it ends … Those of us that are speakers, I do not see a community-wide daily speaking of the language and reinforcement of the language and talking to the kids. We've worked hard here in the classroom, and they've been exposed. If the people in Cochiti would reinforce and not just depend on the language teachers to teach, if they would help by just talking to the kids. Daily reinforcement at home, I don't care who it is—just talk to the kids! [Pablita Espinosa, April 7, 2008 field notes]

Although the dissonant messages we provide to our young people are troubling, they are not arbitrary: Hatun Shunqo's lack of cultural and linguistic inclusion sends the message to youth that language does not belong in the school because the identity of that school is saturated in the dominant discourses of Spanish language, modernization, and progress, which is believed to produce the “professionals” that parents demand. In fact, Hatun Shunqo has begun requiring English classes because English as a world language is viewed as necessary for students to gain economic and social status. However, this does not mean that school leaders and teachers have malicious intent. Clearly, as demonstrated by the school principal, Santiago, there is a belief that the tide is turning because Quechua is in some schools. This means the language could be in other schools, but he questions if parents would even want the language taught, when language should be taught (earlier rather than later), where language is best taught (school or home), and by whom (teachers or parents).

In Cochiti, hard-won language classes provide students with exposure to language that is no longer consistently accessed in the home or community wide. These classroom spaces are transformed into a community space within the school, and their presence alone confirms to youth the warnings circulating in the Pueblo—that language loss is at our door. These trained teachers are determined and well-established Cochiti speakers. Like Pablita, they know that a few hours per week is not enough to produce speakers and that although their teaching is done with all their heart, the language must be reinforced daily and at home. Meanwhile, youth struggle to participate in language revitalization and are perplexed by statements like, “You're trying hard, but it's still going to die.” Perhaps these statements are made because anything less than everyone trying hard everywhere will not be enough. Further complicating the weight of responsibility, blame, and frustration is that Cochiti, like the other Pueblos, has everyday language and ceremonial language. Ceremonial language is complex, gender differentiated, and its survival falls on the ability of young men to carry on leadership roles where mastery of the ceremonial language is required. In Hatun Shunqo, students are aware of a more utilitarian purpose for language, most recently supported by the current national government that has advocated for increased Quechua language instruction for “professionals,” like doctors, lawyers, teachers, and engineers who will work in provincia or areas with large Quechua-speaking populations (2011 field notes). Therefore, language loss and revitalization is multilayered, and there is need to empathize with young people while simultaneously buttressing their efforts in clear and explicit ways through engaged encouragement, exposure to purposeful language learning, youth-centered local policymaking, and supporting and creating innovative language infrastructure both in and out of school.

Conclusion

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography

Fishman reminded us to reconsider how we approach endangered languages in situ (2002:274). What is language intimately linked with on a daily basis in Indigenous communities? Where are the sites of holistic revitalization? Who are the stakeholders, and how do we ensure intergenerational participation? Students encounter subtle and overt messages about languages in many spaces—school, community, home, off-reservation/outside of the village, and in cities—and these spaces occupy unique positions of power in student lives. Unpacking the school space can reveal power dynamics that negatively or positively influence Indigenous language usage, revealing both the limitations and potential of multiple spaces in the lives of Indigenous youth. As education and language stakeholders, our shared responsibility is to not only recognize power dynamics but also the current and potential contributions of youth in language efforts within and beyond these spaces. Reclaiming language is not only speaking but also embracing an imperative that demands advocates of language, builders of language programs, financial managers of those programs, and those who will exercise creativity in order to create and/or preserve sustainable spaces that are conducive to daily language practices. At every checkpoint in this process, we could be mindful of the overt and subtle messages reflecting our own relationships to language that we give to our young people and at what cost those messages are relayed.

Note
  1. Acknowledgments. Sulpay llapan walashkunata wamlakunata taytankunaqtawan mamankunaqtawan. Thank you to the children and youth of these two villages for sharing their experiences and hopes, which remind us why our languages matter as they inspire us to do better.

References

  1. Top of page
  2. Abstract
  3. Indigenous Languages and Youth
  4. Emerging Research on Youth and Language
  5. Methodology and the Researcher Self
  6. The Pueblo de Cochiti and Hatun Shunqo
  7. Hatun Shunqo Youth and Language: “Lo Nuestro” (Ours)
  8. Cochiti Youth and Language: “You're Trying Hard but It's Still Going to Die”
  9. Discussion of Youth Experiences with Language in Hatun Shunko and Cochiti
  10. Conclusion
  11. References
  12. Biography
  • Aikman, Sheila 2002 Women's Oral Knowledge and the Poverty of Formal Education in the SE Peruvian Amazon. Gender and Development 10(3):4150.
  • Barnhardt, Ray, and Oscar Kawagley 2005 Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Alaskan Ways of Knowing. Anthropology & Education Quarterly 36(1):823.
  • Brayboy, Bryan M. J. 2005 Toward a Tribal Critical Race Theory in Education. The Urban Review 37(5):425446.
  • Cerron-Palomino, Rodolfo 1989 Lengua y sociedad en el Valle del Mantaro [Language and society in the Mantaro Valley]. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos.
  • Enote, Jim 2002 Maintaining Our Identity and Language Is the Heart of the Landscape. Paper presented in American Indian Millennium: Renewing Our Ways of Life for Future Generations, Cornell University, November 29–December 2.
  • Fishman, Joshua 1996 What Do You Lose When You Lose Your Language? In Stabilizing Indigenous Languages. Gina Cantoni , ed. Pp. 8091. Flagstaff: Northern Arizona University.
  • Fishman, Joshua 2002 Endangered Minority Languages: Prospects for Sociolinguistic Research. International Journal on Multicultural Societies: Protecting Endangered Minority Languages: Sociolinguistic Perspectives 4(2):270275.
  • García, Ofelia 2009 En/countering Indigenous Bilingualism. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education 8:376380.
  • Hōngongoi 2006 Ngā Waiaro atu ki te Reo Māori: Attitudes toward the Māori Language, Pārongo Factsheet 27, Te Puni Kokiri, New Zealand.
  • Hornberger, Nancy H. , ed.2008 Can School Save Indigenous Languages? Policy and Practice on Four Continents. London: Palgrave.
  • Hornberger, Nancy H., and Serafín Coronel-Molina 2004 Quechua Language Shift, Maintenance, and Revitalization in the Andes: The Case for Language Planning. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 167:967.
  • Hornberger, Nancy H., and Kendall A. King 1996 Language Revitalisation in the Andes: Can Schools Reverse Language Shift? Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 17(6):427441
  • Hornberger, Nancy H., and Teresa L. McCarty 2012 Globalization from the Bottom Up: Indigenous Language Planning and Policy across Time, Space, and Place. International Multilingual Research Journal 6(1):17.
  • Hornberger, Nancy H., and Karl F. Swinehart 2012 Not Just Situaciones de la Vida: Professionalization and Indigenous Language Revitalization in the Andes. International Multilingual Research Journal 6(1):3549.
  • Lee, Tiffany 2009 Language, Identity, and Power: Navajo and Pueblo Young Adults’ Perspectives and Experiences with Competing Language Ideologies. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education 8(5):307320.
  • López, Luis E. 2009 Reaching the Unreached: Indigenous Intercultural Bilingual Education in Latin America. Background paper prepared for the Education for All Global Monitoring Report. UNESCO.
  • Maffi, Luisa 1996 Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: Threats to the World's Biocultural Diversity. Conference report for an interdisciplinary working conference, Endangered Languages, Endangered Knowledge, Endangered Environments, University of California at Berkeley, October 25–27.
  • Maffi, Luisa, and Ellen Woodley 2010 Biocultural Diversity Conservation: A Global Sourcebook. London: Earthscan.
  • McCarty, Teresa L., and Mary Eunice Romero-Little 2006 Language Planning Challenges and Prospects in Native American Communities and Schools. Educational Policy Studies Laboratory: Language Policy Research Unit. Tempe: Arizona State University.
  • McCarty, Teresa L., Mary Eunice Romero-Little, and Larisa Warhol with Ofelia Zepeda 2009 Indigenous Youth as Language Policy Makers. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education 8(5):291306.
  • McCarty, Teresa L., Mary Eunice Romero-Little, and Ofelia Zepeda 2006 Reclaiming the Gift: Indigenous Youth Counter-Narratives on Native Language Loss and Revitalization. American Indian Quarterly 30(1&2):2848.
  • Nettle, Daniel, and Suzanne Romaine 2000 Vanishing Voices: The Extinction of the World's Languages. New York: Oxford University Press.
  • Nicholas, Sheilah 2009 “I Live Hopi, I Just Don't Speak It”—The Critical Intersection of Language, Culture, and Identity in the Lives of Contemporary Hopi Youth. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education 8(5):321344.
  • Pecos, Regis 2007 The History of Cochiti Lake from the Pueblo Perspective. Theme issue, “Symposium on New Mexico's Rio Grande Reservoirs Co-sponsored by the Natural Resources Journal and The Utton Transboundary Resources Center,” Natural Resources Journal 47(3):639652.
  • Romaine, Suzanne 2002 The Impact of Language Policy on Endangered Languages. International Journal on Multicultural Societies: Protecting Minority Languages Sociolinguistic Perspectives 4(2):194212.
  • Romaine, Suzanne 2006 Planning for the Survival of Linguistic Diversity. Language Policy 5(2):443475.
  • Romero, Mary Eunice 2003 Perpetuating the Cochiti Way of Life: A Study of Child Socialization and Language Shift in a Pueblo Community. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Education, University of California, Berkeley.
  • Rumrill, Roger 2009 Aprender a leer el libro de la naturaleza [Learning to read the book of nature]. In Educación y Ecologia [Education and Ecology]. Nueva Cultura Serie [New Culture Series]. Pp. 914. Lima: Educap.
  • Skutnabb-Kangas, Tove, Ofelia García, and María Torres-Guzmán 2006 Imagining Multilingual Schools: Languages in Education and Glocalization. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.
  • Smith, Linda 1999 Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. New York: Zed Books.
  • Solorzano, Daniel 1997 Images and Words that Wound: Critical Race Theory, Racial Stereotyping, and Teacher Education. Teacher Education Quarterly Summer: 519.
  • Valdiviezo, Laura 2010 Indigenous Worldviews in Intercultural Education: Teachers’ Construction of Interculturalism in a Bilingual Quechua-Spanish Program. Intercultural Education 21(1):2739.
  • Williams, Cen 2002 A Language Gained: A Study of Language Immersion at 11–16 Years of Age. Education Transactions, Series B: General. Bangor: University of Wales.
  • Wyman, Leisy 2009 Youth, Linguistic Ecology, and Language Endangerment: A Yup'ik Example. Journal of Language, Identity, and Education 8(5):335349.
  • Wyman, Leisy 2012 Youth Culture, Language Endangerment and Linguistic Survivance. Bristol: Multilingual Matters.