Martie Simmons: Every Native parent dreads this time of year

It is that time of the year again, one every Native parent dreads. It is the season of fables, of rewritten history, of colored feathers bought in bulk from a craft store, of paper bag clothing, of teepees, and your versions of pow wows. You call this Thanksgiving; we call this the National Day of Mourning.

I have spent almost five years instilling, in my children, the pride of their people and their family. We struggle each day to relearn words and phrases of an almost dying language. This is our reality, a reality that my father was scared to teach me. He feared that we would not assimilate properly into white society. He feared we would be backwards in school, that they would beat us -as they did him- if we spoke our given language. Today though, I swell with pride as I hear my children use the phrases we are learning together, in the proper context. They are learning the culture of their people, what their ancestors should have been able to teach them without fear of retribution. I trust that you will make every attempt to understand this, that you will continue to instill values in my children, that you will unlock the wonders of the world, pique their curiosity, spark their imaginations, and give them a never-ending hunger for knowledge. I do not have the means to home school them (if I could I would) therefore, I am entrusting that you will give my children a proper education.