Indigenous STEM Education: Perspectives from the Pacific Islands, the Americas and Asia, Volume 1 (Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education, 29) 3031304500, 9783031304507

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Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29

Pauline W. U. Chinn Sharon Nelson-Barber   Editors

Indigenous STEM Education Perspectives from the Pacific Islands, the Americas and Asia, Volume 1

Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education Volume 29

Series Editors Catherine Milne, Steinhardt School of Education, New York University, New York, NY, USA Christina Siry, University of Luxembourg, Ossining, NY, USA

The series is unique in focusing on the publication of scholarly works that employ social and cultural perspectives as foundations for research and other scholarly activities in the three fields implied in its title: science education, education, and social studies of science. The aim of the series is to promote transdisciplinary approaches to scholarship in science education that address important topics in the science education including the teaching and learning of science, social studies of science, public understanding of science, science/technology and human values, science and literacy, ecojustice and science, indigenous studies and science and the role of materiality in science and science education. Cultural Studies of Science Education, the book series explicitly aims at establishing such bridges and at building new communities at the interface of currently distinct discourses. In this way, the current almost exclusive focus on science education on school learning would be expanded becoming instead a focus on science education as a cultural, cross-age, cross-class, and cross-­ disciplinary phenomenon. The book series is conceived as a parallel to the journal Cultural Studies of Science Education, opening up avenues for publishing works that do not fit into the limited amount of space and topics that can be covered within the same text. Book proposals for this series may be submitted to the Publishing Editor: Claudia Acuna E-mail: [email protected]

Pauline W. U. Chinn  •  Sharon Nelson-Barber Editors

Indigenous STEM Education Perspectives from the Pacific Islands, the Americas and Asia, Volume 1

Editors Pauline W. U. Chinn Curriculum Studies University of Hawaiʻi – Mānoa Honolulu, HI, USA

Sharon Nelson-Barber WestEd San Francisco, CA, USA

ISSN 2731-0248     ISSN 2731-0256 (electronic) Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education ISBN 978-3-031-30450-7    ISBN 978-3-031-30451-4 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Sharon Nelson-Barber and Pauline W.U. Chinn, co-editors, dedicate these two volumes to the wisdom of ancestors and elders, known and unknown who passed down guidelines for living in a sustainable, resilient world. Hawaiian proverbs, ʻōlelo no‘eau, convey the importance of nānā i ke kumu, looking to the source, the wisdom of the past to inform how we, ʻimi ʻike, seek knowledge and interpret current phenomena to make decisions and, mālama i ka ʻāina, care for the lands that sustain us. The ethic of care is bound together with aloha, love, and kuleana, responsibility to maintain sustainable, resilient social ecosystems in which humans are a part of, not apart from the world. Mālama i ka ‘āina, “respect and care for the land,” the third ʻōlelo no‘eau was a Hawaiʻi Department of Education science content standard until it was removed on the advice of external reviewers because it was too cultural (Chinn 2011). Ironically, it and other ʻōlelo no‘eau among the nearly 3000 collected by M. Kawena Pukui (1983) are

now a rich resource for Hawaiʻi’s science educators as recognition grows that all teaching and learning is cultural. We further recognize the wisdom in sayings that relay dynamic processes of complex systems coupled with the values and behaviors needed to maintain sustainable, resilient communities and ecosystems. The next two ʻōlelo no‘eau (ibid) specifically address this relationship. He aliʻi ka ʻāina; he kauwā ke kanaka; The land is chief; man is its servant. Land has no need for man, but man needs the land and works it for a livelihood. Ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono, The life of the land is preserved in righteousness. Since its appearance in 1845 on the coat of arms of the Kingdom of Hawaii (1810–1894) to the present, this has been Hawaiʻi’s motto. Given the special circumstances of today’s world, we also reflect on particularly salient messages delivered by two prominent Native knowledge keepers—one contemporary and one from the past—who remind us to

collectively amass strength from the past and to bring it forward to impact the future. Remember that you are all people and that all people are you—Joy Harjo It is memory that provides the heart with impetus, fuels the brain, and propels the corn plant from seed to fruit.—Joy Harjo I see a time of Seven Generations when all the colors of mankind will gather under the Sacred Tree of Life and the whole Earth will become one circle again.—CrazyHorse References Cited: Chinn, P. W. U. (2011). Malama I Ka ‘Aina, Sustainability: Learning from Hawai‘i’s Displaced Place and Culture-Based Science Standard. Cultural Studies of Science Education, 6(1), 223–233. Harjo, J. (2004). How we became human: New and selected poems 1975–2002. WW Norton & Company. Harjo, J. (2008). She had some horses: Poems. WW Norton & Company.

Pukui, M. K., & Varez, D. (1983). ‘Olelo No’eau: Hawaiian proverbs & poetical sayings. Bishop Museum Press.

Foreword: Indigenous Peoples, Culture, and Place-Based Science Curricula

An Indigenous Sense of Place In the face of the rapid transformation of the Earth by science and technology and the challenges of ecological crisis and climate change that have begun to unfold, leading thinkers are exploring alternative cosmologies, paradigms, and philosophies in search of models that sustain Nature rather than destroy it. Many of these thinkers have found that Indigenous epistemologies offer profound insights for cultivating sustainable relationships to one’s place and one’s spiritually integrated perceptions of Nature to address what has now become a global crisis of ecological relationships. Indigenous Peoples’ inherent identification with their Place presents elegant alternative paradigms for practicing the “art” of relationship with the natural world. Indigenous Peoples have consistently attempted to maintain a harmonious association with their lands in the face of tremendous pressures to assimilate. Traditionally, Indigenous Peoples have demonstrated in multiple ways that their lands and the maintenance of ecological integrity are key to their physical and cultural survival. The importance that Indigenous Peoples attribute to “connecting” with their Place is not a romantic notion that is out of step with the times. It is rather the quintessential ecological mandate of our time! Wherefore, certain time-honored philosophies have guided my thinking for some time. Indigenous Peoples express a relationship to the natural world that can only be called “ensoulment.” The ensoulment of nature is one of the most ancient foundations of human psychology. This projection of the human sense of soul and the various archetypes contained within have been termed “participation mystique” (Abt, 1989). For Indigenous Peoples participation mystique represents the deepest level of psychological involvement with one’s land and, in a sense, also reflects a “soul map,” so to speak. The psychology and spiritual quality of Indigenous behavior, with its reflections in symbolism, are thoroughly “informed” by the depth and power of their participation mystique and their perception of the Earth as a living soul. It ix

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is from this orientation that Indian people believe that they have “responsibilities” to the land and all living things and to each other. In the Indian mind, spirit, and matter are not separate, they were one and the same. Indigenous Peoples project the archetypes which they perceive in themselves into the entities, phenomena, and places that are a part of the natural environment which they encounter. Indigenous Peoples traditionally understood the human psyche and the roots of human meaning as grounded in the same order which they perceived in Nature. They experienced Nature as a part of themselves and they as a part of it. They understood themselves literally as born of the Earth of their Place. That children are bestowed to a mother and her community through direct participation of “earth spirits” and that children come from springs, lakes, mountains, or caves embedded in the Earth where they existed as spirits before birth were widespread Indigenous perception. This is the ultimate identification of being “Indigenous” to a place and forms the basis for a fully internalized bonding with that place. It is also a perception that is found in one variation or another among the traditions of Indigenous people throughout the world, including the archaic rural folk traditions of Europe. The archetypes of being born from the earth of a place and the participation of “earth spirits” in human conception are universal among Indigenous people. Indeed, this perception is reflected throughout the myth, ritual, art, and spiritual traditions of Indigenous people because in it is a biological reality that our whole human development is predicated on our interaction with the soil, the air, the climate, the plants, the animals of the “places’ in which we live. It is this perception and projection of inner archetypes into a Place that forms the spiritually based ecological mindset that establishes and maintains a correct and sustainable relationship with place. This orientation is, in turn, reinforced by a kind of physical “mimicry” and a reflection of a kind of “geo-psyche” that often takes place when a group of people live in a particular place for a long period of time. There is an interaction between the inner and outer realities of people that come into play living in a place for this extended period of time. Our physical makeup and the nature of our psyche are formed to some extent by the distinct climate, soil, geography, and living things of a place. Over a few generations of humans adapting to place, certain physical and psychological traits begin to self-select and the development of mountain people as distinct from desert people as distinct from plains people begins to unfold. Though it is not as apparent now as it was in the past, Indigenous Peoples of the world reflect physical and psychological characteristics that directly result from generations of interaction with the geographies and ecologies of their respective regions. But people make a place as much as a place makes them. Indigenous people indeed interacted with the places in which they lived for such a long time that “their landscape became a reflection of their very soul.” So phrases such as “Land of the Hopi,” or Land of the Hawaiians,” or “Land of the Māori,” etc. have a literal dimension of meaning because there was a co-creative relationship between the Indigenous people and their lands. Through long-term experience with the ecology of their lands and the practical knowledge that such experience brings, they interceded in the creation of habitat and the perpetuation of plant and animal life toward optimum

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levels of bio-diversity and biological vitality. Indigenous groups literally managed their territories in ecologically sustainable ways. In the USA, the relationship between Indigenous Peoples and their environments became so deep that separation from their home territories by forced relocation constituted, literally, a loss of soul for the whole generation. Indigenous people were “joined” with their land with such intensity that many who were forced to live on reservations suffered a form of “soul death.” The major consequence was the loss of a sense of home leading to profound “homesickness” with all its accompanying psychological and physical maladies. As one elder put it, “they withered like mountain flowers pulled from their mother soil.” Traditionally, the affinity of Indigenous peoples with their lands symbolized their connection to the spirit of life itself. The loss of this foundation led to a tremendous loss of meaning and identity, which only now is being revitalized by recent generations. The loss of homelands took such a toll because inner kinship with the world is an ancient and natural extension of the human psyche. The disconnection of that kinship can lead to a deep rift between the inner and outer consciousness of each individual as well as the group. It also brings with it a range of social and psychological problems, which ultimately can only be healed by reestablishing the meaningful ties that have been lost. Reconnecting with nature and its inherent meaning is an essential healing and transformational process for Indigenous people. The Indigenous sense of place and the importance of being in harmony are embodied in our cultural traditions. Our collective experience with the land, integrated by our myth and ritual, expressed through our social structures and arts, and combined with a practiced system of environmental ethics and spiritual ecology, gave rise to a deep connection with our Places and a full expression of ecological consciousness. We have an important legacy of traditional environmental education for sustainability, which we must again revitalize for ourselves and for the generations yet to come. We have been entrusted with an important package of memory, feeling, and relationship to the land that forms a kind of “sacred covenant.” Our sacred covenant with the land bids us to strive to educate ourselves about our traditional forms of sustainability- oriented, environmentally based education. Our covenant bids us to reclaim our heritage of living in a harmonious and sustainable relationship with the land, thereby fulfilling a sacred trust to the land that is an ancient part of this covenant. Today, because of immersion in modern education and society, fewer and fewer Indigenous people have the opportunity to engage the land, its plants and animals, in the ways that our ancestors once did. The Peoples’ experience with the land was the cornerstone of traditional Indigenous education. Sustaining a people, a culture, a way of life through generations of living in a Place truly was both the medium and the message of Indigenous education. Place-based environmental education created from the perspective of Indigenous people themselves must once again become one of the collective priorities of modern Indigenous education. Indigenous people must take a leading role in place-based environmental science education, as Western society begins to finally realize that it must forge a new ecologically based cosmology, complete with new stories and new expressions and applications of science and

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technology. Western society and education must once again become Nature-centered if they are to make the kind of life-serving, ecologically sustainable transformations required in the next decades. The ecologically sustainable models historically developed by Indigenous Peoples could form the basis for creation of needed educational models. However, we as Indigenous Peoples must reassert our sacred covenant with the land. As I have stated elsewhere, the places we inhabit are an extension of our collective Indigenous minds. It is this place that holds our collective memory. It is this place with its unique natural spirit that provides us with meaning and defines us as distinct Peoples of Place (Cajete, 1994: 23).

Indigenous Place-Based Science Curricula Research in planned cultural approaches to teaching and learning science has been moving from its formative stages to new and more creative expressions. The real strength of current research lies in the fact that synchronistic lines of thought and similar conclusions are beginning to appear throughout the literature. This has in turn stimulated the formation of networks of researchers and other interested groups at the local, regional, national, and international levels. Place-based education in science reflects an evolution of thought related to self-determination, community education, and a renaissance of Indigenous identity. These volumes, edited by Pauline Chinn and Sharon Nelson Barber, present the research and stories of various scholars, teachers, and community members who are researching or participating in the development of place-based science education in Indigenous communities. The synopses of a cross-section of chapters below offer glimpses into the nature of the material. For example, in “Integrating Place, Indigenous and Western Science: Implications for Teacher Agency, Expertise, and Identity,” Pauline Chinn describes how Hawaiian language newspaper articles can be used for Earth Science curriculum development as a way of integrating Indigenous and Western science while simultaneously enhancing teacher agency and reinforcing Hawaiian identity and sense of place. In this way, Chinn advocates for national and local recognition of Indigenous science, technology, and values that can support resilient social ecosystems and provide support for place-based teacher education, teacher agency, and curriculum that reveals polyvocal perspectives. In the chapter, “Utilizing Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Western Science in Science Education,” Daniel Lipe discusses the need to include Indigenous Knowledge systems as their own science-based worldview. He advocates that as a matter of sustainable necessity Indigenous Peoples have developed their own science-­based understandings over generations and in their places. By relating this history and through the telling of his own story of becoming a teacher-researcher, he shows how connecting home cultures with those found in school settings can help to engage under-represented diverse populations. Linda Furuto examines “Mathematics Education on a Worldwide Voyage: Engaging Values and Placed-Based Curriculum to Support College, Career, and

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Community Readiness.” She describes the ways in which students participating in the voyage of the Hokuleʻa learn mathematics grounded in the experiential place-­ based orientation of Hawaiian voyaging and wayfinding. The voyage provides opportunities to learn as well as hands-on experience from both ancient and modern science, technology, and mathematics in ways that bridge these forms of scientific knowledge and ways of knowing the natural world. In her chapter, “Implementing Place-Based Practices for Biodiversity Conservation and Sustainable Use in a Regional School in Thailand,” Thai educator Nantana Tapamat, describes ways in which students in a rural Thai village who engage with place-based education show increased sense of place, scientific and social skills, and a deeper sense of self-efficacy through working with villagers on water quality projects, botanical gardening, and environmental networking. Chuukese educator, Margarita Bernard Cholymay, LJ Rayphand, and James Skouge outline the importance of place- and culture-based education for Chuukese people in “Way finding: Túúttúnnapen Chuuk – Indigenizing Chuukese Education.” They describe how this educational intervention addresses the urgent need for cultural maintenance and also how it functions as a counter to the historical colonial educational model that has failed to serve the immediate and future needs of Chuukese students. Place-based education processes promise to better serve the cultural, social, and scientific needs of the Chuukese people. Megan Bang, Jasmine Alfonso, Lori Faber, Ananda Marin, Michael Marin, Douglas Medin, Sandra Wasman, and Jennifer Woodring report findings of their research regarding “Perspective Taking and Psychological Distance in Children’s Picture Books: Differences Between Native and Non-native Authored Books.” They discuss ways in which the orientations and illustrations of nature conveyed in these books connect with students’ understandings and perceptions of intimacy with the environment. This work shows that the range of devices employed by Native illustrations support actions such as taking multiple perspectives and systems level thinking strategies that are important for scientific reasoning. In their respective chapters, “Researching Māori and Māori-Medium Science Education” and “Forum Kaupapa Māori Science: A Science Fiction?” Georgina Stewart and Elizabeth McKinley explore why the number of Maori students taught through the Kau Papa Maori model has not increased the number of Maori students successfully completing courses of science studies and therefore should be taught science in both Maori and English to enhance their viability for success in Science fields of study. They point out that since teachers of science are never provided with a paradigm of science teaching other than the Western paradigm, they are fated to repeat a similar outcome of student success whether they teach in Māori or English. Should teachers receive firm grounding in both Western and Maori paradigms, they could more likely compare and contrast both ways of knowing and better bridge these knowledge bases for better teaching and student learning of science. In her chapter, “‘Imi I ke ‘Alanui, To Find the Way,” Native Hawaiian science teacher, Napua Barrows, offers an auto-ethnography that recounts her journey to become a science teacher and advocate for place-based science education through processes of community organization. Keys to her success include teaching

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Hawaiian values and knowledge as a Hawaiian resource teacher and leading a community-­ based organization focusing on teaching children through cultural experiences, stories, and real-world applications that utilized tools in both Hawaiian and Western science traditions. The stories and research that comprise these volumes of Indigenous People, Culture and Place-Based Science Curricula make an outstanding contribution to the literature in culturally responsive science education. They weave stories, research, experiences, and curricular initiatives together with notions of sustainability of people, culture, and place, and are infused with Indigenous-inspired thought and reflection. As such, they both challenge and refresh more traditional approaches and thoughts regarding science teaching and curricular design. As we collectively face the environmental, social, and cultural challenges of the twenty-first century, these volumes are a pleasure to read, and exciting to contemplate in terms of the potential of place-based science for Indigenous and non-Indigenous students, teachers, and communities. Emeritus, University of New Mexico Rio Rancho, NM, USA

Gregory A. Cajete

References Abt, T. (1989). Progress without loss of soul. Chiron Publications. Cajete, G. (1994). Look to the mountain: An ecology of Indigenous education. Kivaki Press.

Dr. Gregory Cajete  (Tewa, Santa Clara Pueblo) is currently Professor Emeritus in the Division of Language, Literacy and Socio-cultural Studies at the University of New Mexico, College of Education. Previously, he worked at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe for 21 years where he served as Dean of the Center for Research and Cultural Exchange, Chair of Native American Studies, and Professor of Ethnoscience. Dr. Cajete has authored 10 books, numerous chapters, and journal articles and has delivered over 300 national and international conference presentations. Emeritus University of New Mexico, Rio Rancho, NM, USA

Preface

From their first contact with European explorers and settlers, many Indigenous peoples have experienced changes that have impacted their health and well-being, cultural practices, and access to resources supporting sustainable lifestyles. In North America and Hawaiʻi, Indigenous languages and traditions were the targets of colonial education systems that sought to assimilate Indigenous children into the dominant culture. Today, as science educators seek to address the legacy of academic discrimination, a lack of knowledge about Indigenous ways of knowing and doing increases the complexities of designing and implementing externally conceptualized programs for Indigenous students. The need for science educators to deepen their knowledge of Indigenous ways is particularly urgent when climate change is being felt on local through global scales. The sixth IPCC Assessment report (2022) delineates the vulnerabilities and impacts of climate effects on humans and ecosystems. The report includes Mirian Jerez’s (2021) policy brief that conveys both the perils of climate change to Indigenous peoples who make up about 5% of the world’s population and their promising role as “stewards of global biodiversity who effectively manage an estimated 20–25% of … areas that hold 80% of the planet’s biodiversity and about 40% of all terrestrial protected areas and ecologically intact landscapes” (p.  1). This builds upon the International Labour Office’s (2017) statement that Indigenous peoples are “fundamental partners and crucial agents of change for achieving effective climate action, sustainable development and green growth …[due to] their unique knowledge” (p. 23). Current thinking in sociocultural theory and the learning sciences argues for an ecological approach that locates educational accountability in “the real world” of students’ knowledge and experience. This ecological approach finds central importance in aspects of learning that have gone unrecognized, such as relationships, contexts, languages, tools, and practices based on community knowledge (Nelson-­ Barber & Johnson, 2016). Carol Lee (2008) would say that these elements demand innovative approaches and offer great potential for creating more equitable, empowering, and sustainable change for communities and individuals.

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Now that more Indigenous teachers are joining the work force, there will be more cultural role models whose instructional approaches in learning and systems of problem solving are directly linked to their Indigenous students’ cultural experiences. However, generations of colonization, displacement, and language suppression mean even Indigenous teachers need strategies to reconnect to their ancestral knowledge, places, and practices (Chinn, 2012). Research demonstrates that when content areas are taught or learned in defined cultural contexts, students have increased opportunities to relate to them and find them meaningful (Castagno & Brayboy, 2008). This is engaging and empowered education for both teachers and students. Mainstream education offers categories of strategies, but does not offer specifics for how to provide “equitable learning opportunities” for Indigenous and nondominant student groups. It recognizes important points of entry but offers little insight as to how these function in practice: What’s missing: • • • • • • •

Culturally relevant pedagogy Ancestral knowledge Cultural connections to place Language revitalization Community involvement and social activism Multiple representations of knowledge and multimodal experiences School support systems including role models and mentors of similar racial or ethnic backgrounds

Contributors to the volume masterfully illustrate many ways to prepare educators to intentionally shape the experiences of their students as lifelong learners and global participants, who are grounded in and enriched by their places and cultures. San Francisco, CA, USA Honolulu, HI, USA

Sharon Nelson-Barber Pauline Chinn

References Castagno, A.  E., & Brayboy, B.  M. J. (2008). Culturally responsive schooling for Indigenous youth: A review of the literature. Review of Educational Research, 78(4), 941–993. Chinn, P. W. U. (2012). Developing teachers’ place-based and culture-based pedagogical content knowledge and agency. In B. J. Fraser, K. Tobin, & C. J. McRobbie (Eds.), Second international handbook of science education (Vol. 24, pp. 323–334). Springer. International Labor Office. (2017). Indigenous peoples and climate change. International Labor Organization. Retrieved from, https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/%2D%2D-­ dgreports/%2D%2D-­gender/documents/publication/wcms_551189.pdf

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IPCC. (2022). Climate change 2022: Impacts, adaptation, and vulnerability. Contribution of Working Group II to the Sixth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change [H.-O.  Pörtner, D.  C. Roberts, M.  Tignor, E.  S. Poloczanska, K.  Mintenbeck, A.  Alegría, M.  Craig, S.  Langsdorf, S.  Löschke, V.  Möller, A.  Okem, B.  Rama (Eds.)]. Cambridge University Press. 10.1017/9781009325844 Jerez, M.  M. (2021, April). Policy Brief No. 101 Challenges and opportunities for Indigenous Peoples’ sustainability. United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs. Retrieved from, https://www.un.org/development/desa/dpad/wp-­content/uploads/sites/45/publication/ PB_101.pdf Lee, C. D. (2008). The centrality of culture to the scientific study of learning and development: How an ecological framework in education research facilitates civic responsibility. Educational Researcher, 37(5), 267–279. Nelson-Barber, S., & Johnson, Z. (2016). Acknowledging the perils of “best practices” in an Indigenous community. Contemporary Educational Psychology, Special Issue on Indigenous Issues in Education and Research: Looking forward, 47, 44–50.

Acknowledgments

These two volumes would not be possible without the contributions of 66 authors, the majority Indigenous, who shared their perspectives on Indigenous STEM education and research that respects the places, knowledges, practices, and language of the first peoples of the land. Our deepest gratitude goes to them for trusting us to convey their voices and work. The co-editors, Pauline W. U. Chinn and Sharon Nelson-Barber, would also like to recognize the elders, mentors, and life experiences that led to this collaborative endeavor. The seminal work of our colleagues Dr. Glen Aikenhead, Dr. Ray Barnhardt, Dr. Greg Cajete, Dr. Oscar Kawagley, and Dr. Jerry Lipka has been particularly impactful to the field as well as our trajectories, and we greatly appreciate their contributions to these volumes. Pauline acknowledges Dr. Isabella Kauakea Aiona Abbott for helping her weave together the strands of ōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language), STEM, and inquiry from Native Hawaiian perspectives. The first Native Hawaiian to earn a PhD in natural sciences, member of the National Academy of Sciences, born in 1920 in Hana, a sugar plantation town in rural Maui to a Hawaiian-Chinese mother and Chinese immigrant father, Dr. Abbott’s Hawaiian upbringing established deep cultural roots that informed her work at Stanford and the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. When asked her thoughts on Hawaiian inquiry for a project with teachers (Chinn et al., 2011), Dr. Abbott replied with an ōlelo noʻeau “Ua lele ka manu, The bird has flown” (Pukui, 1983). She heard her mother saying it when she looked for something that “could right under our noses but overlooked.” Pauline credits her father, Edwin Y.H. Chinn, a science educator as introducing the land as a mentor through fishing, hiking, gardening, and foraging. Sharon also stands on the shoulders of generations past. She extends special recognition to her forebears: Wilbur Bailey Nelson, Harvey Arthur Nelson, Lila Tibbs Nelson, Andrew Thad Harris, Callie Nelson Harris, and Gladys Harris Nelson who modeled their land-based pedagogies and provided the strong, sustaining spiritual and ethical foundation that continues to guide her way.

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Acknowledgments

When constantly and thoughtfully observed, the land is a generous teacher. The guidance from mentors to seek what is overlooked but can be found has nourished both Pauline and Sharon through the considerable time and effort required to compile these insightful contributions into two volumes. Glen Aikenhead

References Chinn, P., Abbott, I. A., Kapana-Baird, M., Ross, M., Lelepai, L., Walk, K., Kauka, S., Barrows, N., Lee, M., & Kanahele-Mossman, H. (2011). Ua lele ka manu (The bird has flown): Research from Hawaiian indigenous/ethnic/local perspectives. In G. Dei (Ed.), International handbook/ reader on indigenous philosophies and critical education (pp. 262–279). Peter Lang. Pukui, M. K., & Varez, D. (1983). ‘Olelo No’eau: Hawaiian proverbs & poetical sayings. Bishop Museum Press.

Glen Aikenhead  is Professor Emeritus, University of Saskatchewan, Canada, where he worked between 1971 and 2006. He earned an Honours BSc (University of Calgary, 1965), Masters of Arts in Teaching (Harvard University, 1966), and a Doctorate in Science Education (Harvard University, 1972). Glen has always embraced a humanistic perspective on science, even as a young research chemist. His educational research studies over the past 25 years in cross-cultural Indigenous science education have emphasized the recognition of Indigenous knowledge in school science for all students. This has led to communitybased collaborative projects in: renewing the provincial curriculum, developing teaching materials, editing textbooks enhanced with Indigenous knowledge, producing teacher professional development programs, leading teacher workshops, and consulting/mentoring/supporting Indigenous scholars and their allies, locally and internationally. His homepage lists publications in various fields of interest: https://education.usask.ca/profiles/ aikenhead.php#top

Contents

Part I Introduction: Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning 1

 Native Science and the Cosmos��������������������������������������������������������������    5 Gregory A. Cajete

2

Listening to the People: Reforming Science Education by Incorporating Chuukese Traditional Knowledge����������������������������   23 Margarita Bernard Cholymay

3

E ‘Imi I ke ‘Alanui, To Find the Way: A Native Hawaiian Educator’s Journey������������������������������������������������   33 Alyson Nāpua Barrows and Pauline W. U. Chinn

4

Kahua Aʻo: Science Education Through Hawaiian-Language Newspapers ����������������������������������������������������������   51 Jason K. Ellinwood and Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone

5

‘O ke kumu ke ka‘ao, the Story Is the Source: Questioning Nature Through Ancestral Stories������������������������������������   63 Huihui Kanahele-Mossman

6

Developing a Framework for Integrating Systems of Local Indigenous Knowledge with Climate Education in the Mariana Islands����������������������������������������������������������������������������   79 Sharon Nelson-Barber, Elizabeth Diaz Rechebei, Jose Tilipao Limes, and Zanette Johnson

7

Culturally Responsive Science Education for Rural Students: Connecting School Science with Local Heritages in Thailand������������   93 Nantana Taptamat

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Contents

Part II Introduction: Research That Tells Our Stories and Informs Policy and Practice 8

Perspective Taking and Psychological Distance in Children’s Picture Books: Differences Between Native and Non-­Native Authored Books������������������������������������������������  123 Megan Bang, Jasmine Gurneau, Lori Faber, Ananda Marin, Michael Marin, Douglas Medin, Sandra Waxman, and Jennifer Woodring

9

Integrating Place, Indigenous and Western Science: Implications for Teacher Agency, Expertise, and Identity ������������������  141 Pauline W. U. Chinn

10 Keystone  Characteristics that Support Cultural Resilience in Karen Refugee Parents������������������������������������������������������������������������  159 Susan G. Harper 11 Yupiaq  and Caroline Islands Knowledge Systems: Similarities Across Concepts of Spatial Relations, Center, Symmetry, and Measuring��������������������������������������������������������  195 Jerry Lipka, Dora Andrew-Ihrke, Miuty Nokar, David Koester, Donald H. Rubinstein, Walkie Charles, Evelyn Yanez, Cal Hachibmai, and Raphael Jimmy 12 U  nderstanding the Geology of the Colombian Amazon Through Indigenous Eyes: Useful Metaphors and Approaches for Teaching Earth Sciences in the Colombian Amazon����������������������  223 Sandra Carolina Londoño, Steven Semken, Elizabeth Brandt, Cristina Garzón, and Vicente Makuritofe 13 I ndigenous Rural Students’ Attitudes and Perceptions About Ethnoscience in STEM Instruction��������������������������������������������  239 Sharon Nelson-Barber, Elise Trumbull, Ursula Sexton, and Zanette Johnson 14 Researching Māori and Māori-Medium Science Education����������������  263 Georgina Tuari Stewart 15 F  orum: Response to Georgina Stewart: Kaupapa Māori Science: A Science Fiction?����������������������������������������  277 Elizabeth A. McKinley Final Thoughts��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  283

Editors and Contributors

About the Editors Pauline  W.  U.  Chinn’s great-grandparents arrived in Hawai‘i when it was the Kingdom of Hawai‘i and Hawaiian was the official language. Following annexation by the United States, Hawaiian language was forbidden as a language of education and government. As a secondary science teacher in Hawaii’s public schools, she used science textbooks from the continental U.S. except for Plants and Animals of Hawai‘i, a class for non-college bound students. Creating place-based curriculum intersected her experiences of fishing, hiking, and gardening with western biology frameworks. Seeing students in this “terminal” class become engaged as their lives and places entered the curriculum led to doctoral research exploring the roles of culture, gender, language, and power in underrepresentation of kanaka ma‘oli, Native Hawaiians in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). At the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, her teacher education and professional development projects in Hawai‘i and American Samoa funded by the U.S. Department of Education and the National Science Foundation support research and education to develop teacher leaders who develop, place-based, culturally sustaining, inquiryoriented curricula inclusive of diverse and underrepresented students. This work led to developing an Interdisciplinary M.Ed., Sustainability and a Graduate Certificate in Sustainability and Resilience Education.  

Sharon Nelson-Barber, a sociolinguist and Senior Program Director at WestEd, has lifelong personal and professional experience in Indigenous communities. Her interests in STEM began early on as she accompanied her father and grandfather while subsistence hunting and fishing. Much of her research, funded by the National Science Foundation, centers on understanding ways in which students’ cultural backgrounds influence how they make sense of mathematics and science education. She also conducts studies aimed at developing more equitable assessment and testing methods that account for cultural influences. She closely collaborates with other Indigenous researchers and community partners across the US, the Northern Pacific islands of  

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Editors and Contributors

Micronesia, and parts of Polynesia. She is co-founder of POLARIS (Pivotal Opportunities to Learn, Advance and Research Indigenous Systems), a research and development network that promotes healthier communities by integrating Indigenous perspectives for thriving education futures. An ongoing project convenes Indigenous elders and scientists to document technical solutions to climate change from both Indigenous and western academic perspectives, and heighten international attention to the need to preserve cultures and societies amidst rising waters.

Contributors Dora Andrew-Ihrke  University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, AK, USA Megan  Bang  School of Education and Social Policy, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA Alyson Nāpua Barrows  Waihee Limu Restoration, LLC, Maui, HI, USA Ray Barnhardt  Emeritus, University of Alaska-Fairbanks, Ester, AK, USA Elizabeth Brandt  School of Human Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA Gregory A. Cajete  Emeritus, University of New Mexico, Rio Rancho, NM, USA Walkie Charles  University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, AK, USA Pauline  W.  U.  Chinn  Curriculum Studies, University of Hawaiʻi - Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA Margarita Bernard Cholymay  Chuuk Department of Education, Weno, Chuuk, Federated States of Micronesia Jason K. Ellinwood  Kawaihuelani Center for Hawaiian Language, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA Lori Faber  Indian Community School, Franklin, WI, USA Cristina  Garzon  Geoscience Department, Universidad Nacional de, Bogotá, Colombia Jasmine  Gurneau  Office Evanston, IL, USA

of

the

Provost,

Northwestern

University,

Cal Hachibmai  Yap Department of Education, Colonia, Yap, Micronesia Susan G. Harper  Palmetto Scholars Academy, North Charleston, SC, USA Raphael Jimmy (Deceased), Anchorage, AK, USA  

Zanette Johnson  Intrinsic Impact Consulting, LLC, Lake Oswego, OR, USA Huihui Kanahele-Mossman  Edith Kanakaʻole Foundation, Hilo, HI, USA David Koester  Anthropology, University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, AK, USA

Editors and Contributors

xxv

Jose  Tilipao  Limes  (Deceased), Curriculum Studies, University of Hawaii at Manoa, Honolulu, HI, USA Former Executive Director, Carolinian Affairs, Saipan, MP, USA Jerry  Lipka  School Fairbanks, AK, USA

of

Education,

University

of

Alaska

Fairbanks,

Sandra Carolina Londoño  School of Earth and Space Exploration, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA Ananda Marin  Graduate School of Education and Information Studies, University of California, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, CA, USA Vicente Makuritofe  El Guacamayo, Araracuara, Colombia Michael Marin  Real Talk Junkies Films, Oakland, CA, USA Elizabeth A. McKinley  University of Melbourne, Carlton, VIC, Australia Douglas  Medin  Department Evanston, IL, USA

of

Psychology,

Northwestern

University,

Sharon Nelson-Barber  WestEd, San Francisco, CA, USA Miuty Nokar  College of Micronesia, Palikir, Pohnpei, Micronesia Elizabeth  Diaz  Saipan, MP, USA

Rechebei  Traditional

Medicine/Culture

Association,

Donald  H.  Rubinstein  Professor of Anthropology and Micronesian Studies, Micronesian Area Research Center, University of Guam, Mangilao, GU, USA Steven Semken  School of Earth and Space Exploration, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA Ursula Sexton San Ramon, CA, USA  

Georgina  Tuari  Stewart  Te Ara Poutama - School of Māori Studies, Auckland University of Technology, Auckland, New Zealand Johanna  Kapōmaikaʻi  Stone  Kawaihuelani Center for Hawaiian Language, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA Nantana  Taptamat  School of Education, University of Queensland, Brisbane, QLD, Australia Elise Trumbull San Rafael, CA, USA  

Sandra Waxman  Department Evanston, IL, USA

of

Psychology,

Northwestern

University,

Jennifer  Woodring  Department of Psychology, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA Evelyn Yanez  University of Alaska Fairbanks, Fairbanks, AK, USA

Part I

Introduction: Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning Ray Barnhardt

The seven articles contained in the first section of Indigenous STEM Education: Perspectives from the Pacific Islands, the Americas, and Asia, focus on “Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning.” While these articles highlight current science, technology, engineering and mathematics initiatives drawn from the Pacific Islands, Americas, and Asia, their relevance is applicable to Indigenous settings throughout the world. The intersect of Indigenous knowledge and western science has emerged as a powerful focal point for educational reform over the past three decades, reshaping many realms in our understanding of the world around us. Inherent in the research reported here are the constructs of culture, language, knowledge and place as they form a foundation for Indigenous educational advancement. A refrain commonly heard in conversations among Indigenous people is in reference to the challenges associated with “living in two worlds,” one being the locally-­ derived Indigenous world with which they are intimately associated, and the other being the externally-defined world that has enveloped their existence. The tensions between these two worlds have been at the root of many of the problems that Indigenous people’s have endured throughout the world for several centuries as the explorers, armies, traders, missionaries and teachers have imposed their world view and ways of living onto the peoples they have encountered in their quest for colonial domination. In recent years, Indigenous people have begun to reintegrate their own knowledge systems into local educational policies and practices as a foundation for connecting what students learn in school with life out of school. This process has sought to restore a traditional sense of place while at the same time broadening and deepening the educational experience for all students. Some of the strategies employed in

R. Barnhardt Emeritus, University of Alaska-Fairbanks, Ester, AK, USA e-mail: [email protected]

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I  Introduction: Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning

this educational restoration effort include the role of local elders, traditional values, cultural camps, experiential learning, language immersion and cultural standards. The research topics described in the following articles serve as the basis for a pedagogy of place that shifts the emphasis from teaching about local culture to teaching through the culture to derive insights about the immediate places they inhabit and their connection to the larger world within which they are making a life for themselves. As Indigenous scholars reassert their world views, knowledge systems and ways of knowing in search of a proper balance between the “two worlds,” they offer insights into ways by which we can extend the scope of our educational systems to prepare all students to not only make a living, but to make a fulfilling and sustainable life for themselves. The articles presented here offer some rich examples of how the Indigenous peoples of the South Pacific and SE Asia have established a rich research agenda of their own to begin to reconcile these tensions and accommodate the differences between their ways of life and those of their western neighbors. In so doing they are able to strengthen their voices and contribute to their own diverse cultural histories and traditions. At the same time they offer strategies for overcoming the tendencies toward replication of uniformity that are so deeply ingrained in the bureaucratic structures associated with colonization, and in the process institute a more locally-grounded, place-based approach that has the potential to integrate “the best of both worlds.” One of the primary vehicles for promoting a pedagogy of place has been the development of Indigenous research methodologies and political documents such as the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples that guide scholars into the use of the local environment and cultural resources as a foundation for all learning. A key incentive for such practices has been the sponsorship of science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) initiatives in which researchers work with resident elders to identify topics of local interest and develop projects illustrating the use of “science” in everyday life in the surrounding community and environment. The STEM themes contained in the enclosed articles have been drawn from accumulated knowledge derived from living on the landscape over many generations. Many of the research topics described in the articles provide intriguing opportunities for scholars to test the scientific principles imbedded in the local Indigenous knowledge compendium. The research topics described in the enclosed articles are a reflection of the Indigenous view of the world as well as that of the collaborating scientists, incorporating both culturally accurate and scientifically valid principles and practices. This is a learning process in which the researchers and elders are all eager and willing participants, and we now have results that provide numerous examples of integrated science/culture themes that clearly illustrate the ways in which an extended period of experiential inquiry in a traditional environment can serve as the stepping stone and foundation that moves us toward in-depth understanding of the world around us.

I  Introduction: Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning

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One of the beneficial outcomes of the research described in these articles is the generation of locally-based STEM resources suitable for use in Indigenous settings that can be made available throughout the world via technology. Access to these resources can be expanded to include materials in various thematic areas relevant to communities in the Pacific Islands and beyond. In documenting and sharing culturally relevant publications and educational materials such as those reflected in the enclosed articles we can reach beyond the surface features of Indigenous cultural practices and illustrate the potential for comparative study of deep knowledge drawn from both the Indigenous and western worlds. The knowledge and skills derived from thousands of years of careful observation, scrutiny and survival in a complex ecosystem readily lends itself to the in-­ depth study of basic principles of biology, chemistry, physics and mathematics, particularly as they relate to areas such as botany, geology, hydrology, meteorology, astronomy, physiology, anatomy, pharmacology, technology, engineering, ecology, topography, ornithology, fisheries and other applied fields. Such interdisciplinary research topics provide an instant relevance and can be used extensively in schools and community settings. It is the ready availability of these resources that provides educators the impetus to revamp their curricula and integrate the place-based approaches to education that have been championed through STEM initiatives. Another area in which culturally grounded STEM initiatives can impact school/ curriculum interactions is in the use of technology to extend and deepen learning opportunities for Indigenous students. As illustrated in the range of research topics described in the enclosed articles, collaborative research provides opportunities for scholars to focus on any aspect of their local culture/community/region and assemble the information in a multimedia format to be shared with the community through the use of technology. Culture- and place-based research topics engage students in information gathering and compilation processes that simultaneously enhance learning of subject matter, technology applications and cultural knowledge, with the results often of direct interest and service to their communities. The articles describing on-going research in the Pacific region illustrate how culturally relevant research has been developed by scholars from various Indigenous contexts around the region. The results include life histories, genealogies, place names, language documentation, uses of local flora and fauna, subsistence practices, community histories, traditional arts and crafts, mapping projects and weather knowledge. The primary thrust of the research described in these articles is to create a place for integrating Indigenous knowledge in STEM education. The outcome of this research can best be summarized by the following statement taken from the introduction to the Alaska Standards for Culturally Responsive Schools, published by the Alaska Native Knowledge Network: By shifting the focus in the curriculum from teaching/learning about cultural heritage as another subject to teaching/learning through the local culture as a foundation for all education, it is intended that all forms of knowledge, ways of knowing and world views be recognized as equally valid, adaptable and complementary to one another in mutually beneficial ways (ANKN, 1998, p. 3).

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I  Introduction: Culture, Language, Knowledge and Place as Foundation for Learning

While much remains to be done to fully achieve the intent of Indigenous people in seeking a place for their knowledge and ways in the education of their children, they have succeeded in demonstrating the efficacy of an educational system that is grounded in the deep knowledge associated with a particular place, upon which a broader knowledge of the rest of the world can be built. This is a lesson about “living in two worlds” from which we can all learn.

Reference Assembly of Alaska Native Educators. (1998). Alaska standards for culturally responsive schools. Alaska Native Knowledge Network/University of Alaska Fairbanks. www.ankn.uaf.edu/ standards/ Ray Barnhardt is professor emeritus of cross-cultural studies and rural development at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, involved in Indigenous education teaching and research since 1970. At UAF, he served as director of the Cross-Cultural Education Development Program (X-CED), the Small High Schools Project, and the Center for Cross-Cultural Studies. He co-directed the Alaska Rural Systemic Initiative with Frank Hill and Oscar Kawagley. His research interests include Indigenous education and knowledge systems, institutional adaptations and alternative approaches to management and organization, and include research in Canada, New Zealand and Iceland.  

Chapter 1

Native Science and the Cosmos Gregory A. Cajete

Abstract  This essay presents perspectives of the history and traditions as it relates to the collective visioning of the night sky by Native Peoples of the Americas. Perspectives of cosmology, relational philosophy, and the cosmic journey as viewed through “Native Eyes” are presented. These perspectives have been drawn from numerous sources to create an overview of the nature of Native Astronomy. Each example presents a window into the world of Native Astronomy and is intended to give the reader an interpretive overview of the rich and extensive heritage of this area of Native Science. Keywords  Native science · Ancient astronomies · Relational philosophy · Natural community · Sense of place

In this chapter I have used only researched examples from previously published works on Native astronomies. There are many examples that are still intimately related with ceremonial life of certain groups of Native American tribes that exist whose need for cultural privacy I have tried my upmost to honor and respect. Portions of this chapter have been adapted from a talk given at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico on January 23, 1989, which formed the basis for a chapter in previously published work: Cajete, Gregory A. (2000). Native Science: Natural Laws of Interdependence. Santa Fe: Clear Light Publishers. The terms Native Science, Native Astronomy, Indigenous Peoples are capitalized to add emphasis and to convey an active and evolving identity. (The term Native or Indigenous is used as the larger inclusive group term while Tribal refers to specific contexts, both terms are capitalized as an honorific designation. The term Native American is used when referring specifically to a Tribe which resides in the United States). G. A. Cajete (*) Emeritus, University of New Mexico, Rio Rancho, NM, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_1

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6

G. A. Cajete

1.1 Introduction Native Science is a metaphor for a wide range of tribal processes of perceiving, thinking, acting and “coming to know” that have evolved over millennia of human experience with the natural world. Native science is born of a lived and storied participation with a natural landscape and reality. To gain a sense of the essence of Native science one must participate with the natural world; to understand the foundations of Native science one must become open to the roles of sensation, perception, imagination, emotion, symbols, and spirit as well as concepts, logic and rational empiricism. Much of the essence of Native Science is beyond words and literal description. Indeed mis-chosen and mis-applied words many times destroy the real and wholistic experience of Nature as a direct participatory act around which Native science has evolved. In terms of biology, Native science may be seen as an exemplification of “Biophilia” or the innate instinct that we and other living things have for affiliation with other life and with the animate world. In anthropological terms, Native science may be viewed as “animism,” “totemism” or the worship of nature. In the conceptual framework of philosophy Native science may be said to be based upon perceptual phenomenology. There can be numerous other definitions but in its core experience Native science is based on natural perceptive insights gained from using our range of senses and direct participation with the natural world. What is Native Science? To address this question, it is first important to define the boundaries of Native Science. In reality, “Native Science” is a broad and inclusive term that can include categories such as metaphysics and philosophy; art and architecture; practical technologies and agriculture; ritual and ceremony practiced by Indigenous peoples both past and present. More specifically, Native Science encompasses such areas as astronomy, farming, plant domestication, plant medicine, animal husbandry, hunting, fishing, metallurgy, geology, and an array of other studies related to plants, animals, and natural phenomena. Yet, Native Science extends beyond even these areas to include spirituality, community, creativity, and appropriate technologies which sustain environments and support essential aspects of human life. In addition, Native Science may also include exploration of basic questions such as the nature of language, thought, and perception; the movement of time-space; the nature of human knowing and feeling; the nature of proper human relationship to the cosmos; and other such questions related to natural reality. Native Science is the collective heritage of human experience with the natural world and in its most essential form, a map of natural reality drawn from the experiences of thousands of human generations which have given rise to a diversity of human technologies and even to the advent of modern mechanistic science. Native science builds on our innate sense of awe of nature’s majesty and mystery, the core experience of spirituality. From this sense of awe flow the Native stories of creation, the philosophy of living, the foundation of community and the “right” relationship with all aspects of nature. Native cosmology and philosophy combined with lived experience provide insights into Native science as a way of life. Native

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7

science, both in its contemporary and historic sense, is contextualized relational knowledge that is modeled in traditional ways of teaching, knowing, and understanding of natural relationships as experienced and perceived by Native Peoples in the natural realities of their place. Native Science is therefore, first and foremost, a place-based body of knowledge. In today’s world the appreciation and understanding of the nature of Native Science is essential to the re-creation of a “participatory” science of life that is so desperately needed to remedy the societal imbalance of science and technology and its continuing social and economic consequences. For Native Peoples themselves, the revitalization of Native Science is an essential component of cultural revitalization and preservation. It is their participation with a communal tribal landscape that directly evolved from their relationship to “a place or places” in history, which defines them as a People (Cajete, 2000).

1.2 Native Astronomies Native astronomies provide an elegant example and perspective into how Native science was practiced by various tribes of the Americas. The skyscape of Native astronomy is as vast and diverse as the cultural traditions that have created them. Some key themes of Native astronomy include creative imagination, relationships, and attempts to establish resonance with the creative process of the universe. Ancient astronomies played a vital role in the ordering of Native life, the timing of? food gathering activities and ceremonies and forming a context for active participation with the Great Mystery of the Universe. Ancient astronomers explored areas such as the creation of the universe, the nature and fabric of time and space, and the relationship of human beings to the cosmos. In the astronomy of Native peoples, movements in the skies were predicted with an orientation that characterized the participatory nature of Native interaction with other aspects of the natural world. That is, people in Native cultures applied a participatory consciousness to their conception of the heavens to establish deep and abiding relationships between what they perceived in the night sky and their activities on Earth. Each Native culture approached the stars with their creative imaginations as well as with skilled observation and astronomical technology. With their star knowledge they established a set of relationships and translated their understanding and cultural attachment to the stars into all aspects of their respective cultures. There was a diversity of cultural expressions and distinct ways each expression of astronomy reflected the mindset and spirit of the culture from which it came. Indeed, each form of astronomy served the social, economic, and spiritual needs of its creators. Everywhere Native astronomers used ingenious and creative ways to preserve and transfer their knowledge of astronomy through stories, ritual, art, symbolic architecture, song, dance, and communal ceremonies. People attempted to establish a deep communion with their “star relatives,” and express this communion through myth, ritual and in the social organization of communities. They also

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G. A. Cajete

expressed their knowledge through formal educational structures such as the “Calmecac” (the Aztec houses of knowledge) which were used in somewhat the same way modern astronomers use the structures of universities, research centers, observatories, and professional meetings today. Their astronomies helped Native peoples to make sense of life and to reaffirm the belief in the inter-relationship and interdependence of all things of an animate and living multiverse. Like the earth and its plants and animals, celestial bodies were and are traditionally viewed by Native cultures as living beings with a creative life force which relates to and affects human beings physically and spiritually. Human and celestial beings interact in many creation stories. Sky beings come to Earth and humans and animals visit the sky realm, participating in each other’s lives. Indeed, the stars are seen in some creation stories as the creators of the earth and humankind. They are involved in the moral development of humans through the examples, values, and behavior they present. The stars provide important ritual symbols, even at times being personifications of the Trickster, the reflection of the cosmic principle of chaos. The Mescalero Apache use the movement of the Big Dipper to time the girls' puberty ceremony. ...trickster and culture heroes may create or arrange the stars. Gluskap names the constellations. Coyote scatters the stars, spoiling the plans of Black God and the creators. Raven walks across the sky in snowshoes, and his tracks become the Milky Way (Miller, 1997, p. 3).

Guidance for proper human behavior toward the natural world and intercession on behalf of humankind are common themes in Native star stories. By watching and trying to understand the order of the cosmos, Native cultures derived lessons, laws, even principles to live by. Star watching and star stories provided valuable insights and inspiration for personal and collective participation in the greater order of the universe. Native astronomers were driven not only by their own awe and curiosity, but also served the innermost needs of their societies--to develop deep and abiding relationships with the cosmos and in so doing become power brokers in their worlds. At a practical level, accurate astronomical observations of the sun, moon, and stars formed the basis for the ceremonial calendars designed to time essential life activities such as hunting, gathering, planting, and fishing. These observations also helped to predict celestial events, set ceremonial schedules, mark the times for festivals, war, even to legitimize political and religious authority. Indeed, Native cultures recognized no clear dividing lines between nature and the cosmos on one hand and human spirituality and affairs on the other (Miller, 1997, pp. 1–5).

1.3 Cosmology: A Navajo Perspective The Navajo vision and knowledge of the heavens is representative of the traditional mythic relationship tribes experience in their connection to the heavens. The Navajo creation myth illustrates the characteristic patterns of creative imagination,

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participation, relationship, and resonance. Cultural as well as practical understanding of the stars is conveyed metaphorically, and in the narration and the performance of associated rituals, knowledge of astronomy is transferred and applied. In the Navajo way, everything has a purpose and meaning. Life is to be lived in harmony with all forces, entities, and beings. Creation stories are the key to defining and unlocking the mysteries of life. The Navajo perceive order in their universe and act deliberately to maintain harmony and balance, hozho. When harmony and balance are interfered with, ceremonies reestablish that order. People are educated in their responsibilities about this cosmic harmony through taboos. Navajo people have long recognized order in the universe: the earth spinning on its axis and revolving around the sun, phases of moon within the earth’s orbit, solar and lunar eclipses, and stars (and constellations) as distant suns. However, they also had special understandings and stories for these phenomena. Just as they perceived a sacredness in all aspects of life, so did they believe that the stars had human qualities with supernatural force or powers. The ancients used their understanding of the celestial bodies to predict dates of astronomical phenomena like eclipses, and to plan accompanying ceremonies or cultural practices. The rhythm of the seasons directed by the sky became the rhythm of the people. Pair and gender orientations for celestial bodies support the idea of balance and an orderly universe that is holistic, rational, or explainable, and spiritual. The value of the constellations is spiritual in their essence. Our stars communicated with each other as well as with people and beings of the earth. The constellations are closely associated with the creation stories; all celestial bodies are associated with ceremonies, life lessons, and meanings of how the world works. The stories appearing below however, are not intended to be representative of all Navajo people, nor are they detailed reproductions of what some Navajos believe, as particular clans and people within clans have somewhat different interpretations (Zolbrod, 1984).

1.4 Creation of the Earth, Solar System, and Universe Navajo people perceive an orderly beginning to the universe. As an expression of honoring the dynamic balance of the Cosmos, they attribute male and female characteristics to all forces in the natural world. The Creator or Supreme Being created First Man, First Woman, Coyote, and all other beings. These first beings, known to the Navajo as the Holy People, had great powers that they used to assist in forming the universe in accordance with the design of the Creator. All elements of the universe were created and arranged in a way to realize balance. Fire, water, air, and earth were sacred, and each possessed male and female qualities (Zolbrod, 1984). Two different ways of bringing about balance were used in the creation of everything that is. The first is known as the Blessing Way, the female role, used to orient the earth and sky. Its qualities are beauty, wonder, happiness, and harmony. Corn or corn pollen symbolizes this quality. The second is the male counterpart, the

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Protection Shield Way, bearer of weapons and protector of life against danger and evil. This way can be symbolized with arrowheads. The Holy People formed the earth and the sky in a meaningful and deliberate way to consecrate the life givers (all substances and elements) on earth. Earth, the Mother and Sky, the Father, were, after great discussion by the Holy People, clad in appropriate symbolism. The materials used to adorn the Mother, were said to have unique feminine qualities. White limestone became her bones, yellow limestone her bone marrow, red stone her blood, and gray stone her intestines. For her fat, crystalline limestone was used, her hair was of black stone, and brown limestone became her skin. White shell beads adorned her from the soles of her feet to the plumes in her hair. Other elements too –turquoise, abalone, and jet– were to decorate, to clothe the Earth, our Mother, she would be given vegetation, other minerals, and sacred elements. To quicken her life, the Holy Ones decided to provide wind. This was accomplished with certain prayers and songs. Both light wind (female) and a strong wind (male) would give life to the Earth Mother. In all, there are four degrees of air, and six colors may depict the wind. The four parts of the day are played out in the different interactions of the wind and are produced in colors of dawn, blue twilight, yellow twilight, and darkness. The Holy Ones oriented, Mother Earth toward the east, and dawn became her plume. Father Sky was next to be prepared. The Holy Ones adorned the Father in turquoise stone, white shell beads, abalone shell, and black jet. Male and female characteristics entered clouds and the patterns of rain. Black clouds, jagged lightning, and loud thunder with heavy rain are male; misty fog that produces light rain and gentle lightning that does not touch the earth are female. Rainbows result when male and female rain combine. Water was created to keep the mind and body of the earth and the sky moist. Atmosphere would bond Sky and Earth. The Holy Ones then realized the universe needed light and an order, a direction with a sense of time and measurement. The Holy Ones collaborated to address these needs (Zolbrod, 1984).

1.5 The Sun and the Moon First Man and First Woman brought the energy of the sun, moon, and a crystal star from the first world. In the second world, Coyote, First Boy, and First Girl were created and together they brought the knowledge of heat and light from the clear crystal to the fourth world (the world as we know it). Eventually this was used to produce the sun. The Holy Ones decided that Sun with its male characteristics would provide order to the days and seasons. The seasons would be recognized by the location of the rising of the sun (Scott & Mitchell, 1992). Sun, the Day Traveler, determines time in a general sense and the cardinal directions. The equinoxes and solstices, sacred times of the year, are the end of the sun’s journey, marking the passage of time and seasons. Blessing Way ceremonies ensure

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that the actions of the people and the earth are in harmony. It is said that for thousands of years, the sun, moon, planets, air, water, and electrical forces have shared energy at these times. The moon provides a source of light at night and a tool. Referred to as the Night Traveler, the moon provides thirteen months because of the twenty-eight-to-thirtyday range of moon phases–shorter cycles than those of the sun. Because of the gentle character of the moon and its direct correlation with women’s menstrual cycles, it is considered female (Scott & Mitchell, 1992). The moon provides guidance and knowledge which complements that of the sun. Day, night, months, and seasons are signaled by her phases. The Holy People agreed that the moon would be the grandmother and grandfather, dominate old age, and act as the precursor of the unborn child. The names of the months occurred in accordance with nature and the activities of humankind on earth; the Navajo name each day related to the phase of the moon. Offerings, colors, and stones were assigned by the Holy Ones to the four directions, times of day, and the seasons. For the East, adorned with white shell, associated with dawn and springtime, the offering is white cornmeal. The South became the yellow and turquoise blue of mid-day and the summer, its offering, corn pollen. The West would be offered yellow cornmeal; her colors abalone and yellow; her times sunset and autumn. The night, the color jet, and the cold winter would all be in the North, whose offering would be corn pollen. The Holy People gave the people taboos to help them understand the need to respect the sun and moon. For example, as an expression of reverence to the light, all activities are to cease during an eclipse The sun’s eclipse is monitored and observed, and ceremonies are held to renew the sun. Pregnant women and their mates are not to watch or look at the sun during this time because doing so could potentially cause harm to the fetus. Like other cultures, this taboo forbids looking directly at the sun for fear of harm to the eyes (Bulow, 1982). It is also not appropriate to sleep while the sun is rising or setting. The sun is too busy to wake the people; therefore, the people should wake before the sun. While the sun is setting people who are asleep will be cranky, irritable, emotionally upset, and mean when awakened because being asleep at this time takes them temporarily out of harmony. Similar reverence is practiced during a lunar eclipse, which is viewed as a change in energy, heat, and strength of light. All activities should stop until the moon reverts to its normal shape. If a ceremony is going on, it will be stopped, and specific prayers and songs will be said or sung. The parents of an unborn child also must not watch a moon eclipse, and ceremonies are performed to correct potential dangers if these parents should see the eclipse (Scott & Mitchell, 1992).

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1.6 Stories of Relationship In many ways, the communion the Navajo developed with the cosmos–the constellations, the sun, moon, and planets in the night sky–embody the belief many Indigenous peoples express in their relational philosophies, i.e., a belief that the stars are our relatives. Indigenous versions of astronomy reflect on Indigenous cosmology–the creation of the earth and the evolution of human beings. After myths about animals and human relationships with animals, the second largest group of Native myths comprise myths about the stars. In these stories, there is the deeply felt sense that humans have a direct and ancient relationship with the stars and that they benefit in moral understanding and ethical behavior through their interaction with the heavens. The Blackfoot story of Scar Face, which will be related later in the chapter, typifies ideas that Native people incorporated into their stories about these relationships. Stories often involved a journey to the stars; a meeting with star beings, and a compact made with star beings resulting in a gift of new knowledge the hero or heroine shares with the tribe. After Scar Face journeys to the land of the Star people, he finds a sense of his identity and makes a compact with the star beings he encounters. Scar Face helps them, and in turn, they help him, and he returns to earth with new knowledge that he shares with his people. Among the Plains peoples, a social and political leader was given the task of depicting the key events from one solstice to the next, using pictographs, the winter count, prepared by a star priest who was both tribal historian and astronomer. In many instances, the star priests were healers, or a particular kind of shaman. Other devices developed by Native people to kept track of key events include drawings and pictographs on animal hides and the markings on canes used to represent events in the night sky and arrange ceremonies. These markings might show the time between one full moon and another full moon, one position of a star or of the sun itself in relation to different positions, and so on. The canes were also emblems of authority given to political leaders used by tribes such as the Creek and Tohono O’odham (Hadingham, 1984, pp. 100–101). Star knowledge and relationships were represented in Native American mythology, art, ceremonials, songs, social organization, and architecture. Indigenous peoples’ practical knowledge and their awareness of the movement of the earth in contrast to the sun, moon, and key planets such as Venus was far beyond that of most people today. Celestial phenomena affected social organization and building. The Navajo people’s octagonal hogan is a traditional structure incorporating alignments with the sky. The hogan, like the Mound Builder structures, and the Skidi Pawnee earth lodge, was built to face the rising sun. Inside the structure, narrow windows were cut so that one could see the Pleiades and the movement of the sun or the moon during certain times of year (Hadingham, 1984, pp.106–109). Like the Navajo hogan, the Lakota tipi was built in relation to the sun. A first step in building a tipi was to make a star with the first three poles as Lakota peoples

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believe that the true inner shape of the world resembles a three-pointed star. Once the star is centered, the next seven poles are added, representing the seven directions (the four cardinal directions, and above, below, and within). The total number of poles at this point is ten, representing respect for the universe. Two more poles are added, which serve as “ears” controlling the air flow throughout the tipi. Proper positioning of these poles allows the people to communicate with the spirit world. (Goodman, 1990). The twelve poles of the tipi represent the twelve months of the year. Once a year the people participate in the Sun Dance, and their prayers are offered to the Holy Tree of Life. There are also twelve stars: the morning star, the evening star, seven stars of the Big Dipper, and the three stars on Orion’s Belt. Wherever they were, the Lakota observed the sun’s relationships to the constellations, and performed the appropriate ceremonies. As the sun moved counterclockwise through the constellations, the Lakota people moved counterclockwise through the Black Hills from one ceremonial site to the other, and each site was correlated to a different constellation. In this way, the Lakota people mirrored the sun’s path (Goodman, 1990, pp. 12–14). The stories of Native peoples also suggest that the stars are their ancestors or carry the spirit of their ancestors, and that when people pass away, they become the stars or go among the stars. For instance, the Milky Way is described by the Lakota as the land of the ancestors, the land of people who have gone on. Stories relate that people come to the earth for a period and then return to the heavens to become a star being. The following Lakota star story presents an example of human interaction with the stars. One night a long time ago two Lakota girls were watching the stars. One said she wished she could marry a particular beautiful star. The other girl wished to be with another beautiful star. Suddenly they were in the star world, and the stars became their husbands. Later both girls became pregnant. All of the star world was theirs, but they were warned not to dig wild turnips. When one of the girls pulled up a turnip, a hole opened in the star world, and she could look down to see her village. She became so homesick she wanted to return to the earth, so she braided turnips into a rope. But her rope failed to reach land and she fell to her death. Her son, however, was born safely, and was named Fallen Star by the meadowlarks who raised him, as they too spoke Lakota. Fallen Star grew up in days instead of years. He was very tall and was always surrounded in light. When the meadowlark grew old, she took him to join the Lakota where he traveled from band to band. Everywhere he was recognized as a protector and the bringer of light. Near Harney Peak in the Black Hills of the Dakotas, where a Lakota band was camped, a red eagle dropped from the sky and stole a little girl every day. The warriors tried to kill the red eagle, but they failed. Lakota people prayed for help. Fallen Star arrived after seven days of death. He killed the red eagle and placed the seven girls' spirits into a constellation. This constellation is known as Pleiades in the Western world, and in Lakota, Wicincala sakowin, the Seven Little Girls (Goodman, 1990).

Those who would argue that such stories are wholly unscientific miss the metaphoric implications that are common in Native stories that intimate the very real phenomena of probabilities and possibilities that may have played out in creation and in the development of life on earth. Scientists have hypothesized that the

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chemical conditions for life on earth might have been catalyzed by various kinds of cosmic activity, and the conditions necessary in terms of electromagnetic fields and the bombardment of various planets and bodies do occur during supernova activity. Thus, the notion that we are star people—stardust—is quite reasonable from a metaphoric point of view. Western scientists speculate that all life on earth may be comprised of the same elements as stars–stardust. Some of the necessary elements that made life possible on earth could not have come from anywhere else except from bombardment by asteroids. A Chumash story asserts that stars control everything on Earth. Earth is part of a great celestial community in the sky, star coyote is on one side, old man sun is on the other, and a cosmic battle between creation and destruction is continuous. This is also maintained in modern astrophysics which teaches that the universe cannot expand forever; there must be an opposing force (Hadingham, 1984, pp. 110–111). Ancient Native Peoples had a sophisticated understanding of how things work, how things move, and how things happen in the universe. They used metaphor, symbol, and coded forms of mythology to convey their understandings and insights. This may be because in some ways these understandings are beyond words. This is also why physics is heavily dependent on mathematics. Certain things cannot be explained in words, and associated relationships may not be transparent unless quantified in some symbolic form. Native people still code their knowledge by symbolically representing their understanding and insights through the rituals that they perform, the mythologies that they create, and the stories passed down.

1.7 Community: Earth and Sky Ecological communities revolved around practiced relationships at multiple levels of personal, family, and community life. The child born into this web of relationships first experienced the ecology of tribal community with the mother, father, and extended family; later, this learning extended to include clan and tribe. In the natural environment that formed the backdrop for all relational possibilities, the child learned the multiple roles of family, clan, plants and animals, and the special place in which he lived. These were not haphazard; they mattered to the survival of the community and to continuation of the special relationships the community had established with its part of the natural world and the Cosmos. The community was the common focus of intention and attention in the social psychology of every Native person, young and old. The natural principles observed in the working of relationships with the natural world were incorporated into the physical and social structure of a village. This might be metaphorically pictured as people huddled around something with rapt attention, or as people holding hands in a circle. Native science was an attempt to create closer relationship with those aspects of the natural world that individuals and tribes felt to be important. This relationship was partially grounded in and inspired by people’s feelings for the night sky and the cosmos.

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In the Native sense of place, the community and its structures link a People to the Earth and Cosmos that they inhabit. Ultimately, science is storytelling, for understanding of the natural world. Native science is also storytelling and a process of understanding, a way of coming to know rightful relationships to the natural world that yields life. For example, peyote is regarded as a sacramental plant among the Huichol Indians of Mexico, and used in pilgrimages, or for seeking understanding. The Huichol use for peyote is, as they would say, “to find our lives,” and this finding of their lives entails a journey back through time, through their mythic landscape and relationships. The pilgrims take on the role of their ancestors, so as to become players in their own mythological history. They recount the journey of their first shamans, the first people to go to the land of many colors of flowers called Wirikuta, a place of ultimate harmony and balance. The metaphor of the land where the Huichol originated is recounted in rituals and the oldest tales of human existence when humans, plants, animals, natural phenomena, and star beings could communicate. Peyote becomes the facilitator for the reenactment and reestablishment of conventions in this primal relationship. The Huichol believe that they can achieve this experience if the peyote is properly taken under the guidance of a shaman. Likewise, the Chumash Indians of California used datura to facilitate their communion with the star world. The painted caves that dot the landscape of traditional Chumash territory and the symbols which they contained are postulated to have been used for initiation and instruction of young males by the alchuklash (Chumash political/ceremonial elite) through the imbibing of datura for visioning. The fantastic colorful rock painting depicted symbols the initiates’ envisioned and their representation of sky mythology. The datura-mediated vision quests together with other astronomically related ritual tools, such as feathered poles set against the horizon to site solstice rising and setting points, star maps of shells placed on cedar planks covered with tar, notched moon counting sticks, a corresponding star mythology, a star inspired socio-political system and extensive practical knowledge of heavenly movements defined Chumash astronomy as one of the most sophisticated in pre-­ Columbian Native America (Hadingham, 1984, pp. 110–123). Through these practices, Indigenous people reestablished primal connections and orientations that must be learned generation after generation. This is the purpose of ritual, myth, and story, to tell of important aspects of the continuity and flow of life, a particular People’s life and history.

1.8 Astronomical Structures and Techniques In recent years, Western scientists have identified and explored ancient astronomical observatory sites and techniques used by Indigenous cultures. The late 1970s exploration by Anna Schofer in the southwestern part of the United States of the ingenious twelfth century Anasazi tool called the Sun Dagger revolutionized the discipline of archeoastronomy. On the third tier of Fajada Butte in Chaco Canyon,

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New Mexico, three inconspicuously placed slabs of sandstone may have been so precisely situated that the contrast of sunlight and shadow would create a dagger form for a two-hour period around the summer solstice. At the very center of the dagger, a spiral petroglyph was carved in an indentation behind the stones. The dagger of sun appears at noon on June 21, the summer solstice. Archaeologists also speculate that it marks the nineteen-year cycle of the moon. During the spring and fall equinoxes, the dagger falls either to the right or the left of the center; during mid-summer it lies in the center; and in mid-winter two daggers of light bracket the spiral. The Anasazi, careful and creative pre-Columbian builders, constructed other observatories at Hovenweep in Utah, Mesa Verde and Chimney Rock in southern Colorado, and in other places in the Southwest. The Anasazi culture likely used natural site alignments to determine the date of the winter solstice. Alignments of windows, doorways, and niches in the walls of the circular ceremonial structures, Casa Rinconada and the Great Kiva at Pueblo Bonito, in Chaco Canyon, suggest such use (Cajete, 2000, pp. 246–249). Until Schofer’s work became known, archeoastronomical studies had been focused on structures of the Mesoamerican cultures of Mexico and Central America, the best known of which is the ninth century Toltec-Mayan structure at Chichén Itzá in the Yucatán called the Caracol. Western scientists believe the windows in the upper story enabled the Mayan astronomers to make precise observations of the settings and risings of the planet Venus, the celestial embodiment of the god Quetzalcoatl. This data shaped the Mayan calendars, the basis of the predictions that guided the life of their culture (Cajete, 2000, p. 248). In Mesoamerican literary sources that survived the Conquest, there are illustrations of an astronomical instrument, the so-called “crossed sticks,” that may have been used to determine ascensions of stars and planets above the local horizons from fixed locations in temple observatories. Astronomical tables appear in the Dresden Codex that predict the precise moments of the disappearance and reappearance of this cultural hero were developed at Chichen Itzá. Anthony Aveni, a leading American archeoastronomer, believes that observations from the Caracol and other towers probably helped the Toltec and Mayan astronomers refine their predictive tables. Among the Incas in Peru, Ecuador, and Chile, particular shrines (huacas) called sucanas were used as observational points in astronomy. Archeoastronomers suspect also that the sighting tube chamber in “Structure P” at the ancient center of Zapotec culture in Mexico, Monte Albán, was used as a solar observatory. Archeologists note that groupings of buildings, plazas, stelae, and natural objects on the horizon suggest their deliberate alignment to enable astronomical observations. The “Group E” buildings at Uaxactún in the upland Petén region of the Yucatán peninsula were arranged to enable observers to note the solstices and equinoxes, and apparently were reproduced in about a dozen towns within about one hundred miles of Uaxactún. “Building J” at Monte Albán also appears to be aligned with key points on nearby structures that point to the place the star Capella rises the morning of the equinoxes. In Colombia, contemporary Kogi build pole-and-thatch temples of a rounded conical form, the height of which is equal to the diameter of the base of the

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structure. The hole in the roof of each temple is ordinarily covered by a piece of pottery. Inside are four ceremonial hearths arranged along nearly semi-cardinal lines (northwest to southeast, and northeast to southwest). Two of the hearths are located at the points where the first light of the sun strikes the floor on the morning of the solstices, (the southwest corner in the summer, the northwest corner in the winter), while the other two are located at the spots to the northeast and southeast where the light of summer and winter solstices, respectively, falls through the hole. This temple pattern of light and hearths, “weaving the sun,” has ritual significance in this South American culture where weaving is a metaphor for the structures of life and the cosmos (Cajete, 2000, pp. 248–249; Krupp, 1983, pp. 238–241). Existing for thousands of years, circles and similar formations of stones, called medicine wheels, were constructed in Ireland, England, other locations in Europe, in Peru, and in the U.S. and in Canada in the northwestern corner of the Great Plains. Over fifty such circles have been discovered in the Canadian provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan and the states of Colorado, Montana, North Dakota, and Wyoming, and many more were undoubtedly destroyed when settlers gathered the stones because they were readily and easily available to make foundations for their sod homes (Krupp, 1983, pp. 141–147). Medicine wheels are generally features of cooler climates. The construction of some date back only two hundred years. But one of the oldest known, near Majorville in Alberta, dates to 2500 B.C. or about the time of the early Egyptian pyramids and the beginnings of Stonehenge in England. The 28 spokes of these constructions are usually made of loaf-sized stones which meet in the middle at a central cairn, but some have no spokes, only cairns. The diameter may be as large as 60 yards with a central cairn three to four feet high and 10 yards wide (Williamson, 1984, p. 200–201). The Big Horn Medicine Wheel near Sheridan, Wyoming, (believed to be about 3000 years old,) the similar, but much larger Moose Mountain Medicine Wheel, the Fort Smith Medicine Wheel on the Crow reservation in Montana, and Moose Mountain Medicine Wheel in Saskatchewan appear to offer the clearest evidence of early Plains Indian observatory use. Cairns of stone on some of their radial lines and at the center of the circle mark key points which, when used as points on a sight line, give an accurate determination even today of the summer solstice. (Landon, 1993, pp. 27–34).

1.9 The Cosmic Journey: The Search for “That Place Indian People Talk About” The Blackfoot legend of Scar Face presents an archetypal hero’s journey of spirit, a teaching story which reflects not only the courage of an individual in overcoming obstacles of cosmic proportions, but also the nature of the way Indigenous people viewed relationships with all things, people, animals, the earth, and the sky. The

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story is about “face,” that is, the spiritual nature of character and our true selves. The story is also about journeying to the center, to “that place that Indian people talk about,” the place both within ourselves and in the world as a whole where knowledge and gifts of spirit can be obtained. It is a place of spiritual vision, a place that one must learn how to seek, a place whose inherent message is to be found in the landscape of our souls and in that of the wondrous “multiverse” in which we live. The story begins. Scar Face lived with his grandmother for his mother and father had died shortly after his birth. His face bore a birthmark which set him aside from all others. Because he looked different, he was taunted by the other children and “whispered” about by others in the tribe. As he grew older, he withdrew within himself and spent much of his time alone in the forest befriending the animals he encountered. It is said that he learned “to speak with them.” And through them he learned how to be related with all things (Grinnell, 1962, pp. 93–103) (Wood, 1982, pp. 85–89). As Scar Face grew older, he experienced all life with humility and great reverence. He even fell in love, as young boys do, when they come of that age and express that facet of “face.” The focus of Scar Face’s affection was a young woman, Singing Rain, the chief’s daughter. Singing Rain was also “a special person,” particularly kind and gifted with insight. Although all the other young men competed for her affection, she came to respect and love Scar Face because of his honesty and “good heart.” However, when Scar Face asked her to marry him, she revealed her sacred vow to the Sun to never marry as a pledge of spiritual piety in the way of the Blackfoot. The only way she could marry was if the Sun were to release her from her pledge. Hearing this, Scar Face was determined to undertake a journey to the “place where the Sun dwells” to ask the Sun to release Singing Rain from her pledge. And so, it is said that Scar Face began his visionary journey to the land of the Star People. Scar Face did not know where the Star People lived, only that they must live in the direction of where the Sun set every evening, beyond the Great Water in the West. So he prepared himself with help from his grandmother and set forth on his journey, a journey to the land of spirit. He first traveled familiar territory, but he soon entered lands that he or other members of his tribe had never seen. As the snow of winter began to fall, a hundred tracks became open to him, and he did not know which way to go. He met a wolf on one path and with great humility asked for help and direction. Knowing the goodness of his heart, the wolf spoke to him and guided him to the right path. He traveled that path until again he became confused. He stopped, set his camp, and prayed. When a mother bear appeared with her cubs in front of him, he asked for guidance and the bear, instead of being threatened, pointed out the right path to him. Scar Face followed the bear’s path for many days until its end. Now there were no longer paths in front of him to follow, only the vast expanse of the great forest. As he stood and pondered, two white snow owls approached. He called them and they landed in a pine tree. Knowing his heart and the nobility of his quest, they answered him with great kindness. They guided him through the forest to the edge of the Great Water, where, exhausted, he made camp. He thanked each of the

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animals who had helped him by offering them a gift of song and tobacco. Across the Great Water he could see a twinkling of lights, and he knew that that was the land of the Star People. Scar Face did not know how to cross the water to that place that his people talked about. He fasted and prayed for three days and nights. On the fourth day, a path of sunlight appeared leading him. The path took him high into the sky. He reached a beautiful forest with a very wide path, as if made by thousands of people traveling on it for a long, long time. He found a richly decorated quiver of arrows leaning against a tree, and wondered who they belonged to, so he waited to see. When a warrior dressed in richly decorated white buckskin approached and asked him if he had seen a quiver of arrows, Scar Face introduced himself and showed him where the arrows were. The stranger answered, “I am Morning Star. Come with me, Sun is my father and I live with my mother Moon in his lodge.” When Scar Face arrived at the Sun’s lodge, the walls were painted with the history of all people. As his father the Sun, the greatest chief, entered the lodge a great light entered with him. Sun and Moon greeted Scar Face warmly and asked him to stay as long as he wished. Over the next few days, Morning Star showed Scar Face the many paths in the beautiful land of the Star People. At the summit of one mountain lived the flock of seven giant birds the Star People greatly feared. One morning, Scar Face woke to find Morning Star gone. Scar Face arose and left the lodge to think about how he might ask the Sun to release Singing Rain from her vow. As he walked, he began to feel that something was wrong, and the nearer he came to the mountain where the Giant Birds lived the greater this feeling became. Morning Star had climbed the forbidden mountain. Scar Face found Morning Star engaged in a ferocious battle. These birds were very large and savage. Scar Face joined the battle and fought valiantly, and the tide of battle turned. One by one, Scar Face and Morning Star killed all seven Giant Birds and took their tail feathers. Scar Face and Morning Star descended the Mountain and returned to the Sun Lodge to show Sun and Moon the tail feathers belonging to the Star People’s most feared enemies. Sun and Moon were grateful to Scar Face for saving Morning Star’s life. In his courage, Sun offered to fulfill any desire he might request. Yet Scar Face, awed, could not speak his greatest desire, and remained silent until Moon, knowing his heart, spoke of Singing Rain and her vow to the Sun, which prevented them from being together. Sun released her from her vow. He touched the young warrior’s cheek, and the scar which he had borne all his life vanished. Morning Star in turn gave him special personal gifts and revealed to him that he was his “spirit” father. Sun and Moon gave Scar Face many gifts, rich clothes, and a special shirt. Sun renamed Scar Face “Mistaken Morning Star” because without the scar on his face he looked like Morning Star. Sun taught “Mistaken Morning Star” his own special dance, the Sun Dance. If Earth People wished to honor him and bring health and well-being to their tribe, they should dance the Sun Dance each year when he had reached the highest place in the sky. Then Morning Star led his Earth son to the path called the Wolf’s Trail (the Milky Way) and placed a wreath of juniper on his head.

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In an instant, Mistaken Morning Star was back on Earth and on a path leading to his own village. Singing Rain was the first to meet Mistaken Morning Star. He told her that Sun had released her from her vow, and she knew in her heart that now they could be together always. Mistaken Morning Star taught the people the rituals of the Sun Dance. He showed the women how to build the Sun Dance Lodge, and he taught the men how to conduct the sweat lodge ceremony and raise the Sun Dance visioning. He taught them about the sanctity of their spirit and the sacred sky from “that place that Indian people talk about.” There are profound lessons to be learned from stories like Scar Face/ Mistaken Morning Star who became a great chief, a teacher of his people, the Blackfoot. As the story evolves, it encompasses every aspect of life. Mistaken Morning Star’s relationships extend not only to the plants and animals with whom he related, but also to the sun, the moon, and the stars. Traditional versions of the tale told in the Native language have a richness and depth of meaning which is difficult to express, true also of similar tales among Indigenous people around the world. Like the mythical “spirit” deer, they leave tracks for us beckoning, if we would but follow (Cajete, 2000, pp. 250–255).

1.10 Final Thoughts The cosmological concepts that ground Native science’s astronomical practices are both sophisticated and spiritual. Ancient peoples searched for meaning and order for their lives in the heavens. In many cases, their survival depended upon their observations. Native astronomy, with its extraordinary focus on participation with all the aspects of nature and the cosmos, presents a guiding metaphor for ethical conduct and a contemporary expression of life lived in sustainable and pious inter-­relationship with Nature. The historic attempts of Native cultures to resonate with the heavens also naturally represent their attempts to relate in an “ideal” ecological relationship with our Earth. Today it is important that this knowledge be seriously studied by both Native and non-Native people the world over, because of the models, insights, and lessons that it can provide as we search for an environmentally sustainable future. Today, a new generation of scientists, scholars, historians, philosophers, and artists have become deeply engaged with their own quests for reconnection with the heavens. Scholars are attempting to reconstruct the philosophical and historical record of Native astronomy, while contemporary Native people have begun to innovate creatively on the legacy of this grand tradition and bring its spirit to life once again in their art, music, dance, and story. This is particularly notable since until relatively recently Western science scoffed at the notion that Native cultures could have any form of sophisticated astronomical ideas or associated technologies. With the discovery of sites such as the Sun Dagger on Fajada Butte in Chaco Canyon, and

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the alignment of portals in Anasazi structures, archeoastronomers have begun to alter their perceptions of Native astronomy. Characteristics of the cosmos, which modern science now describes through theories of quantum physics, and deep space observation made possible by the new computer-enhanced technologies and the Hubble Telescope, exhibit striking similar metaphoric parallels with the stories and descriptions of Native astronomies. This is because Native astronomies are expressions of the universal process of human inquiry into aspects of Nature that make human life both possible and meaningful. By attempting to see the cosmos through the eyes of Native sky watchers, we can allow ourselves to consider a perspective that may better equip us to search for a more sustainable future. We must address the quintessential question of relationships and interdependence of our time: How will we once again relate to Nature and to each other in ecological and life sustaining ways?

References Bulow, E. L. (1982). Navajo taboos. Southwesterner Books. Cajete, G. A. (2000). Native science: Natural Laws of interdependence. Clear Light Publishers. Goodman, R. (1990). Lakota Star Knowledge. Sinte Gleska College. Grinnell, G.  B. (1962). Scar face. In Blackfoot lodge Tales: The story of a prairie people (pp. 93–103). University of Nebraska Press. Hadingham, E. (1984). Early man and the cosmos. University of Oklahoma Press. Krupp, E. C. (1983). Echoes of the ancient skies. Harper and Row Publishers. Landon, C. (1993). American Indian contributions to science and technology, American Indian baseline essays. In O. R. Portland (Ed.), Portland public schools (pp. 25–34). Miller, D.  S. (1997). Stars of the first people: Native American star myths and constellations. Pruett Publishing Company. Scott, P. F., & Mitchell, M. (1992). Diné astronomy. Navajo Nation: (Chinle Curriculum Center Booklet. Williamson, R. A. (1984). Living the sky: The cosmos of the American Indian. Houghton Mifflin. Wood, M. (1982). Spirits, heroes and hunters from North America Indian mythology. Schocken Books. Zolbrod, P. (1984). Diné bahane’: The Navajo creation story. University of New Mexico Press. Dr. Gregory A. Cajete  (Tewa, Santa Clara Pueblo) is currently professor emeritus in the Division of Language, Literacy and Socio-cultural Studies at the University of New Mexico, College of Education. Previously, he worked at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe for 21 years where he served as Dean of the Center for Research and Cultural Exchange, Chair of Native American Studies, and Professor of Ethnoscience. Dr. Cajete has authored 10 books, numerous chapters, and journal articles, and has delivered over 300 national and international conference presentations.

Chapter 2

Listening to the People: Reforming Science Education by Incorporating Chuukese Traditional Knowledge Margarita Bernard Cholymay

Abstract  This paper summarizes and applies key concepts generated by Chuukese stakeholders relative to the revitalization of public education in Chuuk State, Federated States of Micronesia. The failed legacy of colonial education is contrasted with a consensus among Indigenous informants that the public education system in Chuuk needs to be transformed by Indigenous values and practices. Through interviews and focus groups representing a broad representation of Chuukese stakeholders, a consensus emerged that the Chuukese educational system is in crisis and that an alternative stance must be taken  — one that values core Chuukese socio-­ geographical-­cultural principles of respect, perseverance, service, collaboration, environmental stewardship and sanctity of farming, fishing and place. Keywords  Way-finding · Culturally congruent science · Storytelling · Indigenizing education

2.1 Background Chuuk is one of the four states in the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM), along with Pohnpei, Kosrae and Yap. Chuuk state includes nearly 300 low and high islands scattered across 750,000 square miles of Pacific Ocean. As measured by land mass, Chuuk is the smallest of the 4 states with 128 square kilometers. As measured by population, however, it is the most populated with 54,000 people (as measured by the FSM census in 2000). The islands of Chuuk are divided into 5 political regions including 40 municipalities.

M. B. Cholymay (*) Chuuk Department of Education, Weno, Chuuk, Federated States of Micronesia e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_2

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Map of Chuuk: Northern & Southern Namoneas, Faichuk, Mortlocks & North West

After a range of foreign administrations occupied the region (Spain, Germany and Japan), after World War II the FSM became a Trust Territory of the United States along with other entities in the northwest Pacific region. After 50 years of Trust Territory administration, several island entities began to organize their own governments– the Republic of Belau, the Republic of the Marshall Islands and the Northern Mariana Islands organized as a Commonwealth. FSM (Yap, Chuuk, Pohnpei and Kosrae) maintains a relationship with the US via a Compact of Free Association through which the US provides economic, defense, education, health, and other kinds of assistance as FSM moves toward independence. Although previous foreign administrations introduced formal, classroom-based education to the islands, the US made the greatest attempt to construct schools, expand teacher training and supply American contract teachers. However, as the US relinquishes control the quality of health and education services is deteriorating. Highlighted by its geographical diversity and isolation, the 94 schools in Chuuk are languishing. Many teachers are poorly trained; curriculum materials are American-centric and scarce; absenteeism and truancy are widespread.

2.2 The Present Situation in Chuuk As noted above, the Chuukese people have been exposed to four foreign educational models: Spanish, German, Japanese and now American, which has resulted in a legacy of confusion. In recent years the Chuukese population has been hit by a

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Table 2.1  FSM National standardized test in language arts NST Language Arts (1995–1997) (Average Score by Percentage) Grade Yap 6th 50 8th 53 10th 63

Pohnpei 53 60 64

Kosrae 58 63 74

Chuuk 34* – 53*

Note. Average score by percentage. (* indicates results based on 1995 test only) Table 2.2  FSM National standardized test in mathematics NST Mathematics (1995–1997) (Average Score by Percentage) Grade Yap 6th 35 8th 46 10th 38

Pohnpei 41 55 44

Kosrae 39 54 45

Chuuk 31* – 29*

Note. Average score by percentage. (* indicates results based on 1995 test only) Table 2.3  FSM Public high school: pass rate on COM-FSM entrance test FSM Public High School Pass Rate on COM-FSM Entrance Test (1994–2000) (Percentage of Students Passing) School 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 PICS/BOHS- PNI 38 27 37 44 65 65 Kosrae HS 35 40 22 38 40 75 Yap HS 29 44 25 24 47 59 Yap Outer Island 35 26 11 19 27 39 Chuuk HS 8 3 1 2 5 8

2000 72 73 60 39 11

Ave. 50 46 41 28 5

“perfect storm” of destructive change, including over-population, environmental decay, widespread unemployment, and epidemic levels of diabetes, cancer, and heart disease associated with changes in diet and lifestyle. The exodus of people from the islands is staggering, heightening immigration impacts on Guam and Hawai‘i. Not surprisingly Chuukese children pay a high price for this upheaval. As measured by the FSM National Standardized Test (see Table 2.1) and corroborated by entrance test scores at the College of Micronesia-FSM, language arts scores for Chuukese students rank at the bottom of those listed for the four sister states. “It is no secret that the Chuuk State School System is in dire need of substantial change” (Leger, 2009, p.1). Similar findings are evidenced for mathematics, as evidenced in Table  2.2. Chuukese students scored the lowest in mathematics at both elementary and secondary levels. The pass rate on the College of Micronesia entrance examination is particularly telling with a pass rate of 5 percent among Chuukese students throughout the 1990s

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(see Table 2.3). Although more recent statistics were unavailable to this author, the situation has likely worsened in recent years. In October 2009 the Governor of Chuuk, Wesley Simina, formally requested federal assistance from the FSM to “fundamentally review” the Chuukese educational system: I am happy to formally request the FSM National government’s assistance in the request for and fielding of technical assistance from the Asian Development Bank or any other relevant international or foreign donor regarding a fundamental review and assessment of the education system in Chuuk State School System.

In response to the above request an in-depth study was conducted in 2010 which concluded: It is widely acknowledged that the quality of education in Chuuk is unacceptably poor and that this carries enormous costs to both Chuuk State and to the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). Despite over a decade of efforts to improve the system (including three major strategic plans in 2001, 2005, and 2007, a series of audits, creation of the Compact Funds Control Commission (CFFC), various ad hoc reviews, substantial investment in training and capacity-building, and a proposal for a new organization structure for the Chuuk State Department of Education (CDOE), there is little or no evidence of substantive progress as well as a general consensus that standards have continued to decline (A.D.B. Technical Assistance Consultant’s Report, p.7).

2.3 Way Finding: Envisioning a Culturally Responsive Educational System for Chuuk State In response to the above, in 2012 I completed my doctoral dissertation at the University of Hawai‘i-Mānoa. I employed the phrase “Way finding” to describe a culturally congruent process to bring Chuukese stakeholders together to envision a culturally responsive educational system for Chuuk. My dissertation generated both a framework for educational reform in Chuuk state and a process for collective reflection and problem-solving that would enable Chuukese voices to reframe and revision education for Chuuk state. The purpose of my study was (a) to identify Chuukese cultural values, traditional knowledge and practices appropriate to frame a national dialogue on educational restructuring and transformation for Chuuk State and (b) to illustrate ways that research findings can inform pedagogical practice. My intention was to identify core cultural “themes” that might serve to undergird an educational reform movement for Chuuk State. I asked three research questions to guide my investigation: 1. How do Chuukese educational stakeholders evaluate their own experiences with Chuukese education? 2. What do Chuukese educational stakeholders consider to be central Chuukese values, practices and knowledge that function to guide education in Chuuk?

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3. How might the incorporation of Chuukese values, practices, and knowledge inform educational practice in Chuuk? I employed “purposeful sampling” (Patton, 1999) to select my eleven participants, including five females and six males representing the five geopolitical regions of Chuuk (Northern Nomoneas, Southern Nomoneas, Faichuk, Mortlocks and the Northwest Region). The research participants were selected for having various areas of expertise, experience, and interest including traditional, governmental, and religious leaders, educators, parents, men, women and youth. All participants were fluent Chuukese language speakers, had grown up in Chuuk, and now reside in Hawai‘i for various reasons including health, education, and employment. My methodology included individual interviews and follow-up focus groups. The findings revealed the significance of traditional Chuukese “education” occurring in homes, churches and village communities  — all outside of the walls of “western” schools and curriculum.

2.4 Family, Church and Village Growing up, I remember the special places where my learning occurred. Home was the first one. In my dialect the “home” is “uut” but in other Mortlockese dialects the word is “fal.” At this “uut” (the men’s house) is where I learned lessons from the elders, as they shared stories, knowledge and skills. Focus group informant

“Chuukese education” was (and should be) anchored in home and religious community — the “first teachers.” Family includes grandparents and parents, extended clan (uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws), siblings and “adoptees.” Families are expected to instill values, knowledge and skills and to reinforce the values of the church. Bible stories are shared and read aloud daily. A Chuukese translation of the Bible is in the home and a part of family worship. Children are expected to learn to read from the Bible and participate in prayer sessions. Families are “place-based” with extended families living together in one or adjacent houses situated on family land. Stories are shared in the evenings before bedtime – including Bible stories, legends, tales, and family histories. It is a commonly held belief that stories are to be told in the evening. A storyteller who violates the tradition might age quickly and die young. Chuukese extend the concept of “homeplace” to include plantations, beaches and reefs where important stories and lessons are shared. In young adolescence, boys move to the uut – a traditional meeting place for men. It is in the uut that boys gain their independence — learning from village elders who become their new teachers. Girls spend significant time in the falang, which is a cooking house separated from sleeping places. The falang derives from afana or afala, which means to teach, to explain, to demonstrate and to interact for clear understanding. It is around the preparation and serving of food that many core values and practices are transmitted.

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It is important to note that all of these values and practices represent living memories for my informants — representing ways of life that remain vibrant on many islands to this day. I employed storytelling as my principal vehicle for research, as I wanted to use a communication form familiar and comfortable to my informants. Through our shared stories, we identified seven core themes which may serve to anchor educational reform in Chuuk: respect, perseverance, community service, collaboration, environmental stewardship, sanctity of farming and fishing, and sanctity of place. The concept of “place” is considered to be sacred in the hearts of Chuukese people. “Place” can be defined as neni (territory) or fonu (land or island) in the Chuukese language. It refers to the land and all that is on it for time immemorial– past, present and future. “Place” is location; thus, the Chuukese proverb “Fonu chok aramas me aramas chok fonu; Land is people and people are land.” Young people are encouraged to work the land. It is believed that the only way to love and attach to the land is to have your sweat drip upon it. All the participants mentioned the significant of place in their lived experiences.

2.5 Research Connections In his book IGNITING THE SPARKLE, AN INDIGENOUS SCIENCE EDUCATION MODEL Cajete (1999) pointed to a report from the American Council on Education (ACE) that the North American educational system is not structured to be compatible with Native Americans’ cultural heritage. From this concern, Cajete developed a culturally responsive science curriculum that integrates Native American traditional values, teaching principles and concepts of nature with those of modern Western science. Cajete postulated that “Science is a cultural, as well as an individual, process of thought and has been utilized in some form by every human cultural group” (pg. 54). According to Cajete every indigenous culture has an orientation to learning and that orientation is metaphorically represented in its art forms, its way of community, its language, and its way of understanding itself in relationship to the natural environment which contextualizes or cradles it. Every culture has its own wealth of indigenous knowledge. It is a matter of how the knowledge is used and appreciated that makes the difference. Kovalik described eight identifiable human “intelligences.” She argued that these intelligences are best supported within “enriched environments” which include many forms of stimulation and engagement, including bridges to the real life contexts of the learning community. Like educational icons such as John Dewey and Lev Vygotsky, Kovalik stressed that information that is decontextualized from social and physical realities is generally forgotten within a short period of time. Gardner (1983) stressed the importance of valuing multiple intelligences, including “cultural” intelligence. Teachers must accept the idea that students use their

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prior knowledge in order to make sense of the unknown. Students’ prior knowledge is rooted in what they learn at home and in community. Significantly, these research-based observations were fully supported by the Chuukese informants in my own research. For Chuukese education to be effective, it must respect Chuukese core socio-geographical-cultural principles of respect, perseverance, service, collaboration, environmental stewardship and sanctity of farming, fishing and place.

2.6 Cultural Practice and Curriculum Development: Breadfruit Chuukese people are recognized throughout Micronesia for many ancient cultural practices, especially regarding the integration of “sustenance” into the warp and weft of the culture and cultural practices including gathering, gardening, fishing, harvesting, preserving, preparing, distributing and consuming food across the community. The example that follows illustrates a very significant practice, i.e., the preservation of breadfruit. Other entities in Micronesia have similar practices, but nowhere is it more firmly rooted than in Chuuk. I describe this practice in order to illustrate the integration of “village wisdom” into the school curriculum.

2.6.1 Science and Technology of Food Sustainability Botanists consider the many varieties of breadfruit trees to be among the most significant of tropical plants on our planet. The tree produces an abundance of nutritious food while requiring minimal human care. In fact, a single breadfruit tree can feed a family of 4 for 50 years! The breadfruit tree is now promoted as a key resource for global food security in a rapidly populating world. Because breadfruit is seasonal and usually produces an abundant crop, the only way to save the surplus for future use is by preserving it. Over millenia, the Chuukese have developed and refined preservation techniques that permit food security in the event of natural disasters. The preservation process follows certain steps. The tools that are required include a long harvesting pole (jas); a climbing rope (saan); and a carrying basket (apimar). Young men or boys climb and pick the unripened green fruit. The stems are trimmed to allow the sap to be released. The breadfruit are covered in leaves to permit further ripening. A pit is dug and prepared. Its size depends upon the size of the harvest and the preference of the preparers. Large pits accommodate more breadfruit but may be more difficult to manage. Four or five smaller pits may be preferred over one large one, as each pit should be an arm’s length across, permitting the caretaker to reach inside to arrange the leaves and fruit. Once the pits are dug, grass is used to cover

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the bottom and sides. The breadfruit are peeled with coconut shells or the lids of tins and then arrayed in rows, with the most ripe layered on the bottom. The layering continues until the pit is 3/4 full. Leaves are then added to fill the pit. Woven coconut leaves are laid on the ground surrounding the pit to prevent dirt from falling in. Then, all is covered with heavy rocks — creating an air tight and water tight cavity. In 3 to 4 months, the breadfruit becomes fermented and is ready to be processed as apwet. This preserved breadfruit can last for 2 or 3 years if the leaves in the pit are periodically replaced with new ones. Each year this preservation process is repeated, which means that families prepare and harvest apwet every year with a surplus available in case of famine.

2.7 School-Based Connections: From Village Wisdom to Pedagogy and Curriculum The Chuuk State School System Science Curriculum mandates that every grade level include lessons in Human Science, Life Science, Earth Science, Space Science, Technology, Environmental Science and Physical Science. Teachers are expected to identify specific standards with cultural connections. The following illustrates how lesson plans focusing on breadfruit and breadfruit trees would satisfy requirements for Life Science, Technology, Environmental Science and Physical Science. First Grade Life Science – Living Things Around Home and Schools 1. Introduce the concept of ‘living things’ by introducing such concepts as move, grow, reproduce, eat, drink, feel and breath. Take the children outside to name the living things they find, including identification of plants, trees, animals, and people as living things. Direct the children to the breadfruit tree for closer examination  — identifying and drawing its parts (leaves, trunk, roots, fruit). Technology — Making direct use of the things we find around us 1. Identify the direct uses of the breadfruit tree to families, referencing home and community experiences: shade, shelter, firewood, food, construction, transportation (canoes and sailing boats), crafts. 2. Identify and experience the various foods prepared from breadfruit, including tasting and preparing one or several recipes, e.g., kon/nuupen/mwatun)tipen/ aponou/sukusuk/mwean/aarung/apwpwech/suosu/emesefich/ cheeuch/ammach. 3. Engage in the process of preserving breadfruit by harvesting, preparing and burying the fruit. Invite community volunteers to assist. Label the tools and the steps, including the names of leaves and grasses employed in the process. Note: this instruction is primarily conducted out-of-doors employing community volunteers as appropriate. The lessons draw upon children’s prior knowledge and direct experience.

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Environmental Science — Effects of clearing land 1. Visit a plantation to see a well-managed farm. Identify purposes for clearing land, including reasons for leaving trees in good standing. 2. Visit “cleared” land that is poorly managed and neglected. Identify erosion and understand its causes. What happens when breadfruit trees are uprooted? (Parched and barren soil, negative impacts on surrounding plants and animals.) 3. “Adopt” a plot of land to care for including a breadfruit tree. Enjoy the tree with the children for its shade and inviting place for lessons. Physical Science — Measuring things

1. Measure the breadfruit tree in terms of height and width. Compare its dimensions with other trees. 2. Measure the leaves and fruit to compare trees of differing maturity.

Fifth Grade Life Science – Classification of living things 1. Classify types of breadfruit trees by shape of leaves and types of fruit e.g., etei, meichen, onomwmwur, oneas, eniken, achapar, neesooso, mei-on, nenuku, pwuchan, faine, meikoch, kisengei, meinipis, unupwuna, faiton, meichopwut. 2. Interview elders to learn stories of different breadfruit including their place in the culture. Eighth Grade Life Science — Balance of Nature 1. Identify the life cycle of the breadfruit tree, including the food web/chain. 2. Propagate breadfruit from root cuttings, producing new trees with the same genetic material. 3. Extend the lessons to include NUTRITION, including creation of food charts comparing nutritional values among various carbohydrate sources, e.g., breadfruit compared with rice, ramen, noodles, macaroni, potatoes and yams.

2.8 Community-Referenced Instruction Essential to all of the above is the recognition that effective teaching and learning must occur both inside and outside of the classroom walls. The Chuukese islands include many knowledgeable elders and other cultural practitioners who heretofore have been excluded from the “western” school curricula. To make the world “salient” for our students, we must anchor our instruction in community life and practice — prioritizing the importance of observing, listening, inquiring and applying village wisdom in the teaching of science and other subjects. These values

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cannot be overstated nor the urgency with which they should be adopted. Many of our elders are moving away and passing away. As they disappear, much of our cultural heritage disappears with them.

2.9 Conclusion The socio-economic infrastructure of Chuuk is at a cross-roads. The “western” educational system that is our colonial legacy has failed us. Our people are leaving the islands, perhaps never to return. If we are to maintain the vibrancy of our language and culture we must look to our own indigenous community to navigate our course. This may serve to lessen our dependence upon western “resources” while paving the way for a Chuukese renaissance. It is my vision that what emerges is a seed for change in which indigenous values inform a pedagogy of education– raising and preparing Chuukese children to be respectful, loyal and rooted in their culture, while preparing them to become responsible 21st century citizens of the world.

References Cajete, G. A. (1999). Igniting the Sparkle: An indigenous science education Model. Kivaki Pr. Gardner, H. (1983). Frames of mind: The theory of multiple intelligences. BasicBooks. Leger, A, S. J. (2009). CPR for Chuuk Public Schools. Micronesian Counselor, 75. Patton, M.Q. (1999). Enhancing the quality and credibility of qualitative analysis. HSR: Health Services Research 34:5 Part II. Margarita Bernard Cholymay is from Chuuk in the Federated States of Micronesia. She and husband Eliot have 4 children and 5 grandchildren. A longtime teacher in Chuuk at primary, secondary and tertiary levels, she was one of the first Chuukese to go to college and the first to earn a PhD in Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. Dr. Cholymay currently teaches at the Caroline College and Pastoral Institute in Chuuk and is active in church and civic activities, including Chuukese women’s groups. I am now the Director of Education, Chuuk State FSM 96942.  

Chapter 3

E ‘Imi I ke ‘Alanui, To Find the Way: A Native Hawaiian Educator’s Journey Alyson Nāpua Barrows and Pauline W. U. Chinn

Abstract  E ‘Imi I ke ‘Alanui, to find the way, relates how growing up in a Hawaiian family, studying the family’s genealogy, participating in, then leading culturally responsive professional development enabled Alyson Napua (Laimana) Barrows to find her own way as a Hawaiian science educator. Her path led to establishment of Waiheʻe Limu Restoration, a community organization focused on restoring natural resources and conveying Hawaiian culture through moʻolelo, stories, practices, and values that are essential to teaching Hawaiian children. She relates how Waiheʻe Limu Restoration aligns with her work as a Hawaiian cultural resource teacher teaching through stories, real world applications, science tools and educational technology. Reflecting on the needs of her Hawaiian community, she creates community-­based lessons to teach and inspire her school children, their parents and grandparents, extended families and friends to understand and care for the world in which they live. Keywords  Autoethnography · Indigenizing science education · ‘ike · kūpuna · kuleana Autoethnography enables an author to reflect upon and write about her life from her own personal experiences and sociocultural lens. When a personal story is contextualized by referencing historical, cultural, and social contexts, an autoethnography can provide sociocultural insights from insider-outsider perspectives. Ellis et  al. (2010) describe nine approaches to autoethnography that emphasize different aspects of a researcher-author’s concerns. Napua’s autoethnography applies an Indigenous/native approach to address colonization and cultural subordination and to reclaim power, agency, and authority. She is recognized for creating school and A. N. Barrows (*) Waihee Limu Restoration, LLC, Maui, HI, USA; http://waiheelimur.org P. W. U. Chinn Curriculum Studies, University of Hawaiʻi - Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_3

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community based educational programs that intersect Hawaiian cultural/science practices and knowledge with western science knowledge and practices (Sewell Jr., 1992). It is also reflexive as Napua narrates how her views of herself as a learner, teacher, member of the educational and Hawaiian community changed as she integrated western science terminology and technology into her teaching and emerged as a community leader in culturally responsive environmental science. Her autoethnography is conveyed in an informal, conversational manner called “talk story” in Hawaiʻi,the sharing of everyday, personal, and cultural stories across generations and among friends and family. I was born to John K. Laimana, Sr. and Jane L. Ah Nee Laimana, the second daughter and fourth of eight children and given the name Alyson Napua Laimana. My Hawaiian father from Kekaha, Kaua‘i served in Germany during World War II and worked as an electrician at Pearl Harbor Naval Base. My mother, part Hawaiian and Chinese from Kaimukī, worked as a cook in a downtown Honolulu bank. We lived in the Kaimukī house of my maternal grandparents, John Y.S.  Ah Nee, a Hawaiian-Chinese retired carpenter, mason, and fisherman and Ruth Ualani Kaina of Waiʻehu, Maui, a retired Hawaiian school teacher. Despite my parents and maternal grandparents’ western occupations, Hawaiian culture played a significant role in my family in all aspects of life. In the 1960s Kaimukī was a quiet suburb of Honolulu on the island of O‘ahu, but just down the road in Wai‘alae Kahala the farms along Farmers Road were being replaced with new upscale residences, a golf course and shopping center. Despite rapid development after statehood in 1959, Hawaiian culture was still found within family activities. Kaimukī was close to other places that supported Hawaiian cultural activities. Surfing is featured in many Hawaiian oli, chants, and mo‘olelo, stories. Duke Kahanamoku, an Olympic Gold Medal winner who grew up in Waikīkī popularized surfing where “beach boys” like my Uncle P. Laimana taught tourists to surf. He rode the wa‘a, canoe, for the last time before I lowered his ashes to flow upon the waters off Waikīkī. Queen’s Surf was the family’s favorite place to spend Saturdays, ‘aukai swimming, he‘e nalu surfing, e ‘ai eating, kanikapila singing and dancing hula —our own Merry Monarch with the ‘ohana, extended family. The family gathered edible limu seaweeds, ‘ōhiki crabs, enjoyed the beaches along Maunalua Bay and visited family plots of lo‘i kalo (taro pondfields) in Kāne‘ohe, on the windward side of the island. Hawaiian culture came from the daily activities of life and living cultural values in a multigenerational household. Religion played an important part in family activities as it was very much a part of our ancestors’ lives then and ours today. I first heard Hawaiian spoken by grandma Ruth sitting around the quilting sticks in the spacious living room with her lady friends and families. I began to read grandma’s Hawaiian Bible, comparing it with the English version to teach myself Hawaiian. Observing this, my grandma organized a Hawaiian language class at her home with her families. Perhaps this set the foundation of my path in life to learn my Hawaiian culture. Yet, as an adult, re-immersion into my Hawaiian culture required a great deal of effort. In 1978 changes to the State Constitution opened the way to Hawaiian language immersion schools and the State Department of Education’s Hawaiian Studies

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Program. The new emphasis on Hawaiian culture and language and rediscovery of Hawaiian language newspapers published from 1834–1948 led to a quest for understanding the deeper hidden meanings, kauna, in our language. Eleven members from my family enrolled at Windward Community College and five more attended other University of Hawai‘i campuses. With a smile, I recall my mother saying, “Ah, the light has turned on.” And, so it did with each passing year with different members of the family. As the family genealogist, I visited all the major Hawaiian Islands in researching my family’s origin and ties. Along the way, I was impressed with stories of events that impacted members of my family and their families. I recall my father’s stories of moving from Kaua‘i to O‘ahu where the life style was different and difficult for a family headed by a single mother with young children. At a very young age, the oldest sons dove for coins tossed by passengers on the Matson cruise liners as the ships pulled away from the dock. It was entertainment for the passengers but extremely important income for the boys. My father also shined shoes, telling customers who couldn’t pay to pay him later. At a young age he understood credit and even better, he learned to believe and trust in people, and they became his regular customers. This is one of the many stories he told his children. I was asked, “How did you learn Hawaiian values?” Unlike today when children learn about respect by defining the word followed by giving examples, since the Hawaiian language was banned the only way my parents and grandparents taught us was through our daily activities, not by defining the words or using the words. As you will see in the storytelling of various activities eventually, we would learn on our own and we did. Children’s storybooks were replaced by stories of real people and the lives of a family member dear to them. The stories taught kuleana responsibility; ‘ohana family; aloha love; hō’ihi respect; ‘ike to observe, experience; no’ono’o hana to be creative; and ho’omanawanui to persevere. Eventually, my fatherʻs mother moved the family to Ka‘u to live with her family. He told us, “My mother wanted to take her family out of the city and off the streets peddling and possibly getting into trouble. She wanted her children to be safe, secure, protected, loved and especially not have to work at a young age to support their family. This, she knew, could only come from the ‘ohana, family.” My father’s fondest childhood memories were of living in Ka‘u with his grandfather. He learned how to fish using techniques known only to those from the area. He recalled the first time he took my mother to Ka‘u. Taking nothing but their clothes for swimming, dad and his brothers went down to the beach and returned with fishes for lunch. Mom, surprised to see the fishes inquired how he caught them. He took her to the shoreline, picked up a rock and tossed it into the white water where the ocean was rough. Dad jumped in and brought up a fish with his bare hands. Amazed and stunned, mom couldn’t believe her eyes. Dad repeated the process, again with the same results. “Tossing the rock into the waves,” he told her, “scatters the fishes into the holes of the rocks.” He then reached into a hole and retrieved the fish. He first hesitated when he learned this new technique, thinking to himself “there are puhi, eel in the hole.” But he followed his grandfather’s instructions. It worked every time. This knowledge was passed down from generation to generation.

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Today, I use both methods of intergenerational knowledge and personal experiences. The difference is I’m not fishing. Instead, I’m observing and monitoring the fish population and experimenting with new methods to Mālama i ke kai, caring for the sea near the shoreline—hoping to increase the fish population by improving the conditions of the environment for marine life and human use. I want to perpetuate Hawaiian cultural practices—keeping intergenerational knowledge and personal experiences alive in the place where I live today. ‘Ike Observation. My father allowed me to be inquisitive, during our “talk story time” which is not a common or cultural practice. Eventually, the discussion would end with his message, “Do your homework.” “Do your homework” echoed in my mind repeatedly— okay, I get it! Learning came by listening, observing, following, and applying by examples more than from asking questions. I realized there was more to learn. My research opened the way for me to understand the history of Hawaʻii’s indigenous people and perceive their perspective in how they explain the world they live in. “What is Hawaiian?” was the probing question that emerged from this research. My moʻokuʻauhau, genealogical research encouraged me to talk informally with people. The idea of “talking story” is a cultural way of getting to know someone informally. Stating your moʻokuʻauhau, is both an ancient and modern practice when you meet someone new.

3.1 Story-Telling as Theoretical Framework and Methodology Let’s begin from a Hawaiian cultural perspective to learn from storytelling, for it is in the story that lessons are learned and wisdom is gained. The re-telling of the story takes root in one’s being. This is also how knowledge is passed down from generation to generation as it has been from ancient times. Why is genealogical knowledge important? Science bases its research on collecting and analyzing data. Genealogical knowledge is that collection of data passed down from generation to generation that has been tried out, used, and continues to produce the same results. This is how to know that genealogial knowledge works. and is the greatest data base of information. Lokahi One of our family activities was to drive over to Kaneʻohe to work our loʻi kalo, taro pond fields. I was too young to work but I remember sliding down the muddy hillside with my siblings into the auwai where the cool mountain water flowed downstream into the loʻi kalo. My grandparents, grand-uncle, and parents all worked well together, not a harsh word uttered among them or an excuse given to avoid work. At a young age, I could see they lived lokahi by working in harmony. Afterwards everyone enjoyed swimming in the streams as they cleaned off the mud. After working in the taro patch your clothes took on a new, permanent look. 

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Fig. 3.1 Mangos. (Source Barrows)

Mālama In Kaimukī we had two mango trees (Fig.  3.1) that always bore abundant fruits. People would stop by and ask my grandma Ruth for permission to pick some mangos. Grandma always let anyone pick mangos when they asked—and sometimes she even provided them with a brown paper bag. She said, “The tree will always bear fruit when you share.” After the person picked a bag or two of mangos for themselves they would pick one bag to give to my grandma. This was their way of saying mahalo, thank you. Grandma was always appreciative when people left a bag of mangos, even though she never expected them to do it. This gesture told her they were taught well. Grandma taught then to mālama, take care of one another, too. Laulima Then there was preparation of the green mango seed. Mom would organize us and assign the jobs—well, not quite assign—everyone knew their jobs because it was very much based on our age and capabilities. There was a sort of understanding, an unspoken job assignment. Some would say we were on the same “wave length” or “in tune” with one another. I smile as I remember laulima; many hands most definitely made the job easier. The boys up in the tree picking the green common mangoes and the girls below catching them, everyone helping to catch mangos until the assembly line started. Then they were passed to mom and grandma to wash and peel then passed to grandpa, grand-uncle, and dad who chopped the mangos right through the seeds. Everything moved like “clock work,” like an “assembly line.” The chopped fruit was salted and dried in the sun for a couple of days in a screen box placed on the roof of our home. The finale was when the aroma filled the air from the pot of boiling dark-red molasses and brown sugar. When the rich sauce started to cool, the dried mangoes were placed in the pot to absorb the flavor. After cooling down they were placed in sterilized quart-sized mayonnaise jars to be stored on the shelf. Picking mangoes to make mango seed and pickled mango, even eating the ripe fruit straight from the tree provided opportunities to learn my Hawaiian culture.

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These activities were enriched with the Hawaiian values that are so essential in our life. I look back and see the values of ‘ohana family, lokahi working in harmony, mālama i ka ‘āina taking care of the land and one another, laulima many hands working together, aloha love for one another, kokua helping each other without being asked, and hoʻike respect for one another as my parents showed respect to my grandparents and grand-uncle who returned the respect. Each value has a role in teaching us how we should live. The most important part is to understand our relationship to our land, natural resources, and people. Mālama i ka ‘āina, when we take care of our land the land will take care of us.

3.2 Connecting Personal and Professional Stories Mālama i ka ‘āina, Sustainability, a professional development program funded by a Native Hawaiian Education Act, US Department of Education award sponsored a teacher education course to bring teachers from the various Hawaiian Islands to learn Hawaiian culture and to integrate it into their lessons. That was the description from the brochure. I was a Resource Teacher in a Hawaiian Study Program— Kupuna Component (HSP—KC), teaching in the public elementary schools and interested in learning more about my Hawaiian culture to support my position as a HSP—KC. The brochure was given to me by an office staffer who said, “Here is a workshop you might want to attend.” I jumped at the opportunity to participate in EDCS 433 Interdisciplinary Science Curriculum, Mālama i ka ‘āina, Sustainability, a class focused on integrating Hawaiian culture and science for teachers. I exclaimed, “Perfect!” I also got my sister who was teaching with me at the time to enroll. Too. We enrolled and were accepted into the program. Then we were off to Honolulu for the first class. That is when we were faced with a bit of trouble that we now look back on with humor. We didn’t know who to look for and they didn’t know who to pick-up. Neither side clarified this crucial part of our travel arrangements. My sister Johanna and I waited for transportation that never came. At that time, we didn’t have a cell phone or a number to call—we were left with a dilemma. People would refer to this situation as a sign of “faith” or “destiny.” My sister and I looked at it this way, “If it is meant to be, we will be there.” Eventually a car pulled up and a dear family friend waved us down and told us she was there to pick-up her niece. We talked story for a bit and then asked her for a ride to Kaneʻohe where she lived and where we planned to visit with families before flying back to Maui. We learned that she needed to go in the direction of our destination, Campbell High School. We were surprised. We explained our situation--we needed to go to Campbell High School, too. An obstacle that stood in our way disappeared as we pulled up to the school, thanks to our friend. In class we noticed a young man—the same young man we saw at the airport waiting for his ride. Why did he catch my attention? I thought he was a college student exhausted from school and heading home, for his eyes were shut until a car pulled up and someone called out to him. Now here he was in class giving a

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presentation. We realized that the moment we saw him was the moment we should have stopped to “talk story.” We would have found out that we were attending the same class. Hoʻahonui To our disappointment my sister and I found it was all science and wondered if this was the right class. As we listened we realizef that everyone was a science teacher. The question now was “Where is the Hawaiian culture that was described in the brochure?” We were exposed to various programs on Oʻahu that tickled our interest. But whenever I heard the word “science” I wanted to avoid the group. We realized EDCS 433 Interdisciplinary Science Curriculum was designed to integrate science with Hawaiian culture and designed for classroom teachers in the field of science—this was not stated in the brochure or the word science emphasized. That would have been an immediate turn off for me to think of enrolling in a science class. However, I reminded myself to be hoʻahonui, to be patient. I think the difference between the Hawaiian culture and Western Science is the emphasis on how things are taught and learned. Western Science learning is led by inquiring--through questions dependent wholly upon human knowledge and curiosity. In Hawaiian culture, science learning is led by ‘ike, a holistic view. The term ‘ike means to see, understand, experience, in other words, to comprehend the whole as a cosmology. This is a far deeper view of learning than the words “to observe.” This is a difficult concept for someone, especially those in the field of science to understand a Hawaiian perspective. I suggest that to begin to understand one should use the Hawaiian words with their meanings in place of the English words. When a person associates the term with the English definition the perspective is still within that cultural frame of that language. A religious or spiritual understanding of the world is the difference between English and Hawaiian perspectives, too. The next class was held on the island of Hawai‘i. While we were down in Waipiʻo Valley a window opened (faith or destiny?) for us (Hawaiian Resource Teachers) to share what we knew about the activities that were planned for the group. The person who would be leading us while we were in Waipiʻo had not arrived. In talking story with the coordinators in Waipiʻo, we heard the plans were to learn about loʻi kalo and traditional cultivation of taro. We shifted gears from participants into Hawaiian Culture Resource Teachers. Our knowledge as teachers of Hawaiian culture and experiences gained in our family took charge and information flowed like the waterfall of Hiʻilawe flowing naturally to the ocean. I believed that the wall that separated science from culture was now made pliable or workable. Everyone recognized and respected one another for their skills and expertise. We found the common ground among us: (1) we were all teachers; (2) we all had the skills to teach our expertise; and (3) we enjoyed teaching our students what we knew. The tides had changed. This became a turning point for everyone. I was now open to learning how I could use Western science with Hawaiian science. Now, I saw more deeply what my ancestors saw. Science helped to clarify the knowledge of my ancestors. My interest increased. Not only did my inquiring mind take on a new life but a cohesive relationship grew between teachers of science and culture.  I was once told by my

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physical science instructor, “Science is everywhere and in everything that we do in our daily lives.” I now wanted to see that science through eyes of my ancestors for they were scientist and ahead of their times. Science is another way that we learn to explain the world we live in. Every group of people has their science woven into their culture like a tapestry. We can learn from everyone by learning their language and culture.  ‘Ike In 2004, an award for the Pīkoi Ke Kaula Kualena project took a big step beyond Mālama I Ka ‘Āina. Realizing the knowledge that teachers held, Dr. Pauline Chinn, principal investigator, proposed setting up Learning Centers led by teachers. The recognition of our Hawaiian cultural skills and knowledge in Waipi‘o Valley led to my sister and me being asked to lead a Maui Learning Center under this new program. Though we were associated with elementary schools, I began to focus on issues faced by our Hawaiian community. A few fishermen, including my husband, had been concerned with the increase of larger predators like barracuda and a decreasing amount of fish. I also noticed there was less native limu, seaweed, found along the water’s edge. For a while, I had been wondering, “What can I do to increase the amount of fishes and limu and thereby perhaps reduce the sighting of larger predators on my reef? At one of the EDCS 433 classes held on Coconut Island, the Hawaiʻi Institute of Marine Biology run by the University of Hawaiʻi, I was reminded that fishes need limu for food and habitat. I was reminded of the food chain and disruption of the habitat of our fishes. Correcting these issues may resolve the problem, but first you needed to identify the problem. The decrease of native limu was part of the disruption of marine food chains, which led my efforts to replant native limu as one of the issues that could be worked on immediately. This first step drew me to wonder about other issues having an impact on the decline of fishes. I then decided I wanted to learn more. Coconut Island is where I found my niche. The workshop introduced the knowledge and skills to identify and remove alien and invasive algae. We removed the invasive algae and wondered if we should then replant native algae. The scientists said “No,” they wanted to study what would grow back in the cleared area. Instantly, I modified the information — I didn’t remove Alien and invasive algae were a problem in my area, the food chain was already disrupted, I’m not going to add to it. I decided to replant native Hawaiian algae called limu. To replant limu I needed to know the plants, the  habitat and  environment it thrive in.  I recalled hearing my grandparents say, “If you remove something you must replace it with something.” I acted upon this cultural imperative. You could say I developed a hypothesis, but at the time it was a simple question: “Will replanting native limu lead to an increase of fish? ‘Ike, to know, to feel, to understand, I perceived then that this was my life’s work. I knew it. As a Cultural Personnel Resource teacher, I incorporated the experiences and knowledge gained from the Mālama I Ka ‘Āina, Pīkoi ke Kaula Kualena, and Kūlia I Ka Nu‘u projects into my school instruction and community program. Knowing

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and applying western science enhanced my lessons and gave me another perspective as I taught Hawaiian culture. My focus and goal in teaching Hawaiian culture was to reach all the children of Hawai‘i. For example, activities such as making an ‘opihi pendant are enjoyed by all the students. ‘Opihi (black-foot limpet, ʻopihi makaiauli, Cellana exarata or yellow-foot limpet, ʻopihi ʻālinalina, Cellana sandwicensis) are edible shellfish that live in conical shells on rocky, wave-pounded coasts. They are a well-loved Hawaiian delicacy but dangerous to collect, leading to a Hawaiian saying, “He i‘a make ka ‘opihi, the opihi is the fish of death” (No. 610, Pukui, 1983). If an opihi-picker doesn’t pry them off the rock on the first try they clamp down so tightly it’s impossible to remove them. The strength to hang on leads to a very stubborn person or clinging child being nicknamed an ‘opihi, (Thompson, 2011). Children learn the value of work, persistence, focusing on a task, evaluating their own work, and expressing themselves. As teachers and children “talk story” with each other, students of all cultural backgrounds learn to appreciate Hawaiian culture.

3.2.1 Community-Based Sustainability Science I started the Waihe‘e Limu Restoration (WLR) program after I began receiving invitations to do displays or prepare informational booths on my limu restoration work at community events. These were good opportunities to assess what a person knew about limu. These outreach events later became the focus of the WLR program. To differentiate between my community-based vs. school-based activities I use the following italicized terms. I use youth instead of students when referring to events involving elementary grade children. The term family members refers to adults, parents, grandparents, and siblings. A classroom without walls refers to the beach, a garage, the river, and activities carried out during visits outside of traditional school and classroom settings. I invite my youths and their family members to participate in the WLR information booth at community events. They are given first-hand experience to share what they know about limu and what they learn when participating in classes and weekend trips to the beach and or river. I began by working with community and family members: nine youths, eight parents, five grandparents, seven siblings, and ten friends who participated in the WLR programs classes and community events. The goal for the program was to incorporate cultural practices where families played an essential role in teaching, as in the past. The missionaries recorded how quickly the Hawaiian people excelled in learning the English language. I thought my program could do the same, help children excel in learning and become teachers. The community events provide opportunities for youths and their family members to demonstrate their knowledge. Through managing the activities at various stations, both youth and family members learn to speak clearly, to speak to anyone, develop confidence, and in the process, develop a deeper understanding of the subject. This is essential as they begin to understand the importance of the work WLR

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is doing. Family members also learned to support their child or children by allowing them to manage the display or activity that they had chosen. At classes held at my home before a community outreach session, I review the session with youths and family members. They all help in preparing the activities for active outreach. By preparing and teaching the activities they also become familiar with the work involved and develop a complete understanding of the process of gathering, cleaning, and preparing the items for the activities. The youths and their family members also learn to prepare the “Make it, Take it” activities. This helps them to develop a full understanding of the activity and how to teach others, especially their peers and classmates who attend Waiheʻe School. In other classes, youths learn to identify fishes, limu, and benthic life on local reefs; monitor water quality; prepare PowerPoint presentations; use a video camera; make a limu press; and keep records and journals. On Saturday, they make their trip to the beach to collect water samples and perform their water quality tests. Family members are welcomed to attend classes but are required to attend a monthly Saturday class usually held at the beaches, streams and other sites. All water activities must have an adult family member. Youths are required to keep a journal and to write what they learn at each of our classes. They also write reflections on their activities. They work on PowerPoint presentations and learn to download photographs they have taken to include in their PowerPoint. The PowerPoint will be used at community events to give visitors a glimpse of the work the youth have been doing. Photographs also serve as cue cards as they explain their activities and manage the display. Family members are asked to write their reflections of the activities and to help their child or children to fulfill their assignments. These activities encourage stronger family relationships and encourage families to teach one another. This includes children teaching their parents and parents teaching their children, creating a warm and loving atmosphere. WLR was designed to impact our Nā Wai  ʻEha, the four waterways of Waikapū, Wailuku, Wai’ehu, and Waihe’e communities, to work with the families in these  communities and in their respective shoreline areas, to take care of their natural  resources, and to realize how it was managed anciently and enjoyed by all. All activities encourage ho‘ike, respect; laulima, working in harmony; mālama, caring; ‘ike, to see, understand, feel; aloha, to love; and mahalo, to be thankful.

3.2.2 Community Recognition Kamehameha School, a private school with the mission of educating Native Hawaiian children recognized the value of the WLR program when it sponsored the ʻIke Pono program with the theme Ka Uluwehe o ke kai, Partners of the sea. WLR provided four stations for the program held at Waiheʻe School for 4th graders and their families. The stations addressed the purposes of Waihee Limu Restoration program.

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• Station #1 Limu identification: Participants learned to recognize native limu and alien and invasive algae as they sorted and removed the alien species from native species. • Station #2 Water Quality: Participants learned what is in their water as they learned about nitrate, phosphate, dissolved oxygen and why checking their water is important. Participants performed a few of the tests and recorded their readings. • Station #3 Fish anatomy: Participants learned the parts of fish as they colored their fish. They learned what different fishes eat and what they need to live on the reef. • Station #4 Limu lei: Participants learned how to make limu lei as they learned that the lei will be replanted on the reef. Replanting limu is a Hawaiian practice, but raffia is used for convenience instead of traditional hau bark (Hibiscus tiliaceus). The evaluations of each station are summaries of comments made by participants and youths with their family members. Station #1 participants were amazed to learn how limu is replanted on the reef. Families enjoyed sorting through the limu and finding the alien species. Some families signed up to participate to learn more. Station #2 participants, especially the children, enjoyed learning how to test their samples of water and the reasons for the tests. They learned where nitrate and phosphate come from and learned how to check for turbidity. Parents and grandparents were interested, too, as they observed their children being engaged in the science activities. They most enjoyed performing the tests and checking the results. Station #3 participants enjoyed coloring their fish as they pointed out the parts of the fish. This activity was suitable for younger children but older children enjoyed it, too, as they were challenged to identify Hawai‘i’s reef fishes. Station #4 participants enjoyed twisting the raffia into double stranded lei and weaving the limu between the strands. They thought it was amazing to replant limu on the reef. My focus now is incorporating and integrating Western Science with Hawaiian culture. Actually, I’m acknowledging my ancestors knowledge by walking in their footsteps, then identifying Western science to explain what they knew that all may understand using a universal language what my ancestors knew. This type of collaboration is what it’s all about – respecting one another’s knowledge and skills. The Waiheʻe Limu Restoration organization gives me the tools to work with my own community as well as communities throughout Hawaii nei. Beginning with colleagues in Mālama I Ka ʻĀina I now network with other leaders who restore coastal resources: on Oʻahu, Michelle Kapana-Baird, a Kaiser High School teacher, colleague in Mālama I Ka ‘Āina, and community leader in east Maunalua Bay; the late Henry Chang-Wo of Ewa Beach; Wally Ito who propagates native limu on Sand Island; and Hiʻilei who works with limu at a Kane‘ohe fish pond. Allen Kaiaokamalie founded Keomoku’s limu restoration program on Lanaʻi; on the island of Hawaiʻi, Damien manages shoreline resources in his Kona community; Claudia sponsors the Limu Festival held annually in in Hana, Maui. With the knowledge and networks of scientists and community colleagues gained as a learning center coordinator with Pīkoi Ke Kaula Kualena and Kūlia I Ka Nuʻu

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I was able to fulfill the promise I made many years ago to my grandmother to mālama i ka ‘āina, care for the lands. In choosing me to continue the family knowledge, she kept her promise she made to her grandfather. Today I pass the skills on to my children and grandchildren as they accompany me to the beach and participate in community events. Yet, I remain humble as I feel I’m still a student with more learning to accomplish. My involvement with the Hawaiʻi Stewardship Communities Network provides additional opportunities for my hui, group. I prepare the families to participate in community programs held at various sites. One summer we attended Waipa’s program on the island of Kauaʻi. A father and daughter participated and met other communities working with the same concept of mālama i ka ‘āina, caring for their land and natural resources and caring for the knowledge of their kūpuna, elders, to sustain their community and culture. I have taken three youths with their mother and grandmothers and a staff member to a Hawaiʻi Stewardship Communities Network immersion. I’ve taken my small hui to these immersions to help them see what others are doing in their community and to inspire them to visualize what they can do in their community in whatever capacity they choose. The point is that they are using their skills, knowledge, and resources to help take care of their community’s lands, natural resources, perpetuate their Hawaiian culture, and truly appreciate their knowledge of their kūpuna. This group continues to participate with WLR programs, managing the community events. The WLR program has expanded from its initial coastal work. We are now working up streams and involving the families living along the streams to use a water quality kit to collect data where they live. Four families have accepted the invitation to participate in collecting and performing the water quality test for Waiʻehu Stream. On Waiheʻe Stream one family monitors the upper portion and another monitor the lower part where it meets the seashore. I hope to acquired and set up a sea water tank in my garage where my hui meets to be used as a holding tank for native limu that will be tied to rocks. The idea is to show how the limu develops its holdfast and then to replant it along with the rock on the reef. The tank provides a visual learning tool and opportunity for youths and their family members to ask questions about limu restoration. I have begun collaborating with Hokulani Holt, a kumu hula, Hawaiian dance instructor, Hawaiian Cultural Specialist at Maui’s Arts and Cultural Center, instructor at Maui College, and a leader in her community to bring groups down to Kanaha, Waiʻehu and Waiheʻe Streams to learn about the WLR program. A community event cleaned Waiʻehu Stream by the river mouth. This site for water testing had become over-grown with foliage, and river rocks piled up by the seasonal high surf blocked water from flowing freely to the sea. A monthly community service day focused on various sites within the community now invites people to participate in taking care of these areas. Another community event involves harvesting hau bark for cordage as this traditional resource is locally available and replaces store-­ bought raffia in the lei used to tie limu to the rocks. In June 2014 the Office of Hawaiian Affairs sponsored an event I held at Kanaha Beach Park, “Mālama i ke kai, Mālama i ka ʻāina, Mālama i ka poʻe, Care for the

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sea, care for the land, care for the people.” Wailuku Hongwanji Summer program brought 100 children and 10 leaders. We had six stations similar to Michelle Kapana-Baird’s and Dori Nishijo-Kim’s 4th grade limu-themed field trip at Kawaikui Beach Park in Honolulu. Skippy Hau, Maui aquatic biologist with the State’s Department of Land and Natural Resources, was our key guest for one station and I invited four Hawaiian Studies Kupuna Resource Teachers to manage four stations with me on the sixth station. This provided professional development for the four Hawaiian Studies teachers who work with me on Maui. This event introduced them to Skippy Hau, and now they have a resource contact they can call on. These are a few of the projects and activities developed from my participation in the first “Malama I Ka ‘Āina” program nearly two decades ago. Reflecting on that day and seeing what had been accomplished and how the program continues to grow and involve others brings a smile to my face and I am humbled and thankful. Now, when I imagine my grandmother asking me “Did you take care of the family’s ‘āina?” I can say, “Yes.″ I can also say that it will continue to be taken care of even after I am gone. For I know that I will be able to pass the kuleana, responsibility, on to my moʻopuna, grandchild or grandchildren, as well to my students, youth and families in WLR as my grandmother did to me, and her grandfather did to her. To think this all started from taking a class that exposed me to viewing the world with one eye on western science. Although I didn’t venture into all the areas that I have been exposed to, still I’m slowly incorporating the knowledge and extending my professional and community contacts as I make my way from the shorelines of Wailuku, Waiʻehu and Waiheʻe to the inland regions called Wao kanaka, the place where man dwells and eventually to Wao akua, the high mountains where the gods dwell. In-spite, of challenges that faced the kūpuna in the Hawaiian Study Program— Kupuna Component (HSP—KC) we have remained resilient and persevered. When the program began with manaleo, native speakers with the mission to teach the Hawaiian culture, language, history to all Hawaii’s children we were to involve the whole school: administrators, teachers, and staff in working collectively together as an ‘Ohana, extended family or a team. We had genealogical knowledge, life experiences, culturally recognized as experts specializing in: mea ‘imi’na’auao, scientists; mea pa’a mo’okū’auhau, genealogists; hale kāpili, contractors; lawai’a, fishermen; mahi’ai, farmers; Ha’i mo’olelo, storytellers; kumu hula, dance instructors; mea oli, chanters; mele, music. But as years passed and Native speakers with authentic, lived cultural knowledge passed on, so did authentic instruction and assessment of students’ knowledge. Whole school support for the Hawaiian Study Program—Kupuna Component (HSP-KC) decreased, meaning losing our Kūpuna positions, which as part-time teacher positions were never secure. We Kūpuna faced those obstacles by living our culture the only way we knew how—the process of hoʻoponopono to correct a situation or problem. The HSP-KC program prepared for change by updating, restructuring, and modifying the program by (1) increasing the age of those in the program to at least that of a makua, or parent. (2) encouraging kūpuna to pursue higher education; (3) providing free Hawaiian language classes to classroom teachers and kūpuna for college or

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professional development credits, and (4) since 2015 under the Office of Hawaiiain Education, providing free Nā Hopena A’o and Aloha ʻĀina workshops for educators and community members. These workshops allow kūpuna, since 2003 called “Cultural Personnel Resources” to attend and to receive insight and training including integrating Western and Hawaiian Science. The programs teach Hawaiian across all disciplines and subjects as they once did in 1840, when the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi’s first schools were established and taught by manaleo native speakers (HIDOE, n.d.). In observing and participating in the changes, I encourage colleagues to continue to build good relationships with their administrators, teachers, and staff and to participate in Nā Hopena A’o and Aloha ‘Āina workshops. I learned from my ancestors and the KC/CPR program to make changes when necessary and beneficial to the whole. In the 1970s, Mau Piailug, a Micronesian master navigator, made a drastic change when he decided to teach his skills to someone outside his culture and community. He knew he had to pass on his skills and knowledge on to someone who was ready and willing to keep it alive. Nainoa Thompson of the Polynesian Voyaging Society also had to be ready and willing to make the changes in order to receive Mau’s knowledge. He recognized the cultural challenge Mau faced and accepted his role as a navigator to carry knowledge forward. Kumu Hula dance instructor John Kaʻimikaua was trained by Kawahinekapu. She, too, sought to teach her skills and knowledge to keep them alive to someone who was ready and willing to receive it. John, was ready and willing, too, and spent 2 years studying under her. My tūtūwahine, grandmother did the same with me. Over the years when the moment was right she taught me the things she knew. It started with the language. I see educators now making a full circle of bringing the language back into a school setting. Not just in an immersion school setting but also in the regular classroom to be included with the curriculum. Then you will know the impact it will have on students. We seek for “end results” as do the classroom teachers. My observations of 200+ Kūpuna over 29 years in the KC/CPR program have indeed been an amazing journey of learning. I have been blessed to visit sites across Hawaii nei, learning about the wahi pan,a sacred sites, the moʻolelo, stories that accompany those sites, and mele, songs created all for the purpose of retaining the knowledge and stories of her ancestors, her people whom she has come to know dearly. My purpose then, naive as an opio, young person among the elite Kūpuna was to ensure the program and schools Mālama i ke Kūpuna take care of the Kūpuna. Kūpuna is a word that carries a certain hoʻihi, respect in the Hawaiian Culture. Fortunately, the Kūpuna initiated a program that now has a wider impact not only on our students or keiki but the families of the children and the communities they live in through community organizations that are the eyes, ears, and hands working to “mālama i ka ‘āina” take care of the land. They, like Waihe’e Limu Restoration are making learning relevant, fun, exciting, and familiar, supporting what people may already know or want to know. Waihe’e Limu Restoration like the KC/CPR program is now being passed on to the next generation by incorporating the skills, talents, and ideas of the next generation to grow the organization and continue to give it life. I use my skills, knowledge, and experiences to support WLR while the group continue its work with the

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communities, schools, and interested groups. A child’s book on limu, seaweed, both in Hawaiian and English has been published. The purpose is to start with our younger children to appreciate our native limu. Learning starts young.

3.2.3 The Final Chapter A few years ago I stepped out of my school setting to follow another adventure that still incorporates my love for the Hawaiian culture, history, language, land, and the people. I began to work with malihini, visitors to our islands. The skills, knowledge and experiences acquired over the years of work with Hawaii’s keiki and Waihe’e Limu Restoration with the families of students, community, and extended hui throughout Hawaiʻi nei that mālamai i ka ‘āina, take care of the land now has an impact on our visitors. The idea is that visitors leave with a better insight of Hawaiʻi, of its people, and this place. They often ask “Why are the people here (Hawaii) connected?” I tell them: We are an island people, with limited resources. To flourish and live on an island we have learned to live with the natural resources we depend on—we live with our environment not just within. With that understanding we need to depend on everyone doing their part, too, in order to flourish and live. We must learn to live together with our environment. Together we both shall thrive and live.

I greet visitors in my mother tongue followed by translating inro English. Then I add a bit of history, a few Hawaiian key words they will hear during their stay that will help when they hear them again. I enjoy teaching them to appreciate the beauty of Hawaiʻi and its people. Teaching the Hawaiian culture to visitors has only expanded my repository of teaching methods. The joy in teaching is seeing the change in your students/visitors. The best assessment comes when they express in words and emotions that go beyond any assessments a teacher can give. You know then that change has occurred. Like planting the seed and once it take root and begins to grow on its own, respect and appreciation for its existence from us is all it needs. Keahi J, who started with me at the age of nine along with her family returned to WLR after graduating from high school to help two students complete their senior project during the summer. She is attending college to further her interest in environmental management. Her family continues to work with their extended families to “mālama i ka ‘āina” care for their property along the shoreline of Wai’ehu. This family started because of Keahi and are now integrating Hawaiian and Western Science in managing the natural resources on the family property. This was the ultimate goal of WLR to enlighten youth, their family and others to not only take care of their ‘āina but to be an example to others in their community and beyond. The steps in building a Kahua, foundation involve training future generations to follow in the footstep of their ancestors—with today’s technology integrating generational knowledge of the past that continues to with stand the test of time. Truth

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never changes in any language. “Lā,” the sun rises and sets everyday just as “mahina,” the moon rises and sets every dawn and evening. The “wai” water cycle continues to function. The mo’olelo, story, of Papa and Wakea Mother Earth and Father sky tells how their life giving waters brings life to the land and people. This is how Hawai’i tells its water cycle. The COVID-19 pandemic impacted everyone in many ways. It brought awareness of how our environment responded to the March 2020 to July 2021 shut down in Hawai’i. Fishermen noticed the increase of the fish population. The waters were clearer and cleaner. Marine life on the reef showed signs of thriving. A particular species of limu that I had not seen in years was making a come back. Alien and invasive species were down-not extinct, but not thriving, or dominating the reef and native limu species were returning. This had a positive impact on other marine life, too. This is a sign that having less human impact led to positive changes to the environment and to our resources. Questions arise: do we need to limit the amount of human impact or do we shut down for a time, a month or two as our ancestors did? In the Caribbean, resorts shut down but workers maintained the  resorts and road ways and also had time-off to spend with their ʻohana. I’m now involved with Ke Kula of Pi’ilani, an immersion school that focuses on teaching the way our ancestors taught. The school invited WLR to do a presentation on limu then asked if I could be an instructor/practitioner. We developed a collaboration led by Leimana Pu’u and me to create limu  lessons  and curriculum for their school and WLR. Opportunities are stepping stones on our pathway we are destined to travel. Ke Kula o Pi’ilani is located in ‘Īao Valley, a very significant location rich in Hawaiian history. Īao is also where my ʻohana originated and still live today. My work continues, recently expanding to two areas on Maui with amazing potential and possibilities for growth with people who have the passion to do this work. E kanu i ka hua e mālama i ka ulu. Plant the seed and care for it as it grows.

References Ellis, C., Adams, T.  E., & Bochner, A.  P. (2010). Autoethnography: An overview. Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 12(1), Art. 10. Retrieved from http://nbn-­resolving.de/ urn:nbn:de:0114-­fqs1101108 Hawaiʻi Department of Education. (n.d.). History of Hawaiian Education. Retrieved from https:// www.hawaiipublicschools.org/TeachingAndLearning/StudentLearning/HawaiianEducation/ Pages/History-­of-­the-­Hawaiian-­Education-­program.aspx Pukui, M. K. (1983). ʻOlelo Noʻeau: Hawaiian proverbs & poetical sayings. Bishop Museum Press. Sewell, W. H., Jr. (1992). A theory of structure: Duality, agency, and transformation. American Journal of Sociology, 98(1), 1–29. Thompson, D. (2011). The Opihi Shellfish Story: What’s going on underneath those shells? From gastronomy to conservation to evolutionary biology, we pry the secrets out of these little limpets. Retrieved from http://www.honolulumagazine.com/Honolulu-­Magazine/November-­2011/ The-­Opihi-­Shellfish-­Story/?cparticle=7&siarticle=6#artanc

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Alyson Nāpua Barrows first heard Hawaiian spoken by her grandmother, Ruth Ualani Kaina of Waiʻehu, Maui, a retired Hawaiian school teacher as she and her lady friends sat around the quilting sticks at home with family. Noticing her mo‘opuna was trying to read her Hawaiian Bible to teach herself Hawaiian, she organized a Hawaiian language class at her home and later, in UH Manoa’s first Hawaiian language classes shared her knowledge as students interviewed kupuna who knew Queen Liliuokalani. Grandmother, a young girl at the time of the Queen’s passing shared her experience of that historical moment. Although I’m not fluent in Hawaiian my love for the Hawaiian culture grew because of these ho’ailona opportunities or moments that steered my course to where I am today.  

Pauline W.  U. Chinn’s great-grandparents arrived in Hawai‘i when it was the Kingdom of Hawai‘i and Hawaiian was the official language. Following annexation by the United States, Hawaiian language was forbidden as a language of education and government. As a secondary science teacher in Hawaii’s public schools, she used science textbooks from the continental U.S. except for Plants and Animals of Hawai‘i, a class for noncollege bound students. Creating place-based curriculum intersected her experiences of fishing, hiking, and gardening with western biology frameworks.  Seeing students in this “terminal” class become engaged as their lives and places entered the curriculum led to doctoral research exploring the roles of culture, gender, language, and power in underrepresentation of kanaka ma‘oli, Native Hawaiians in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM).  At the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, her teacher education and professional development projects in Hawai‘i and American Samoa funded by the U.S. Department of Education and the National Science Foundation support research and education to develop teacher leaders who develop, place-based, culturally sustaining, inquiryoriented curricula inclusive of diverse and underrepresented students. This work led to developing an Interdisciplinary M.Ed., Sustainability and a Graduate Certificate in Sustainability and Resilience Education.  

Chapter 4

Kahua Aʻo: Science Education Through Hawaiian-Language Newspapers Jason K. Ellinwood and Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone

Abstract  Kahua Aʻo: A Learning Foundation is a project that integrates Hawaiian-­ language resources into earth science curricula to produce lessons with a cultural grounding. The authors describe their involvement with the project, explaining the history of Hawaiian-language newspapers, the translation process, and how connections are built between traditional knowledge and contemporary science. Besides serving the specific needs of the Hawaiʻi community for place-based and culturally-­ relevant science curricula, Kahua Aʻo hopes to serve as a model for future projects in other communities around the world. Executive Summary He papahana ʻo Kahua Aʻo e mālama ʻia ma ke Kulanui o Hawaiʻi no ke kākau ʻana i nā haʻawina akeakamai e kūpono no nā haumāna kula waena. Pili ua mau haʻawina nei i ka huli lani a i ka huli honua paha. ʻO ke kuleana o nā mea kākau, unuhi lāua i nā moʻolelo nūpepa e pili ana i ke kumuhana o kēlā me kēia haʻawina mai ka ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi a i ka ʻōlelo Pelekane, a laila, hana pū me ka hui holoʻokoʻa ma ke kākau ʻana i ka haʻawina a me ka hoʻokomo ʻana i nā moʻolelo i unuhi ʻia. Hoʻopuka ʻia nā nūpepa ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi mai ka makahiki 1834 a hiki i ka makahiki 1948, a ma laila i loaʻa ai nā moʻolelo nūhou, nā moʻolelo kahiko, nā mele, nā oli, a me nā leka e hōʻike ʻana i ka ʻike kahiko i kākau ʻole ʻia ma mua. Hiki ke nānā ʻia nā ʻaoʻao nūpepa he 75,000 ma ka pūnaewele ma www.nupepa.org a me www.papakilodatabase.com. Hoʻopuka ʻia ka nūpepa mua o Hawaiʻi ma Lahainaluna i Maui e ka hale paʻi o nā mikanele ʻAmelika. Hoʻopuka ʻia nā nūpepa e nā mikanele a me ke aupuni a hiki i ka hoʻopuka ʻia ʻana o nā nūpepa kūʻokoʻa mua i ka makahiki 1861. Ua hele a nui ka pilina o nā nūpepa me nā hana kālaiʻāina. Eia naʻe, ma hope o ka hoʻokahuli ʻia ʻana o ke Aupuni Mōʻī, pāpā ʻia ke aʻo ʻana ma o ka ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi ma nā kula, a no laila, emi iho ka nui o ka poʻe i maopopo ai ka ʻōlelo. Akā, i loko o nā makahiki 1970 i ulu J. K. Ellinwood (*) · J. K. Stone Kawaihuelani Center for Hawaiian Language, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_4

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hou ai ka hoi no nā mea Hawaiʻi like ʻole, a piʻi hou aʻe ka nui o ke anaina i maʻa a mākaukau i ka ʻōlelo o ka ʻāina. Nānā hou ʻia hoʻi nā nūpepa a me nā moʻolelo kahiko i loaʻa ma loko, a pēlā i hoʻokumu ʻia ai nā papahana e laʻa me Kahua Aʻo. ʻO ka pahuhopu nui, e hoʻowili ʻia ka ʻike akeakamai hou me ka ʻike akeakamai kahiko, i mea e hōʻike ʻia ai nā pilina, a i mea hoʻi e maopopo ai ka waiwai nui o ka ʻike kuʻuna no ka mālama ʻana a me ke aloha ʻana i ka honua. ʻO ka wā e hiki mai ana, aia nō i ka wā i hala. Keywords  Hawaiian language · Newspapers · Earth science curricula · Place-­ based · Culturally-relevant

4.1 Kahua Aʻo: A Learning Foundation Kahua Aʻo is a project funded by the National Science Foundation that brings together a team of faculty and students from four units within the University of Hawaiʻi: the College of Education, the School of Ocean and Earth Science and Technology, Hawaiʻinuiākea School of Hawaiian Knowledge, and Windward Community College. The aim of this collaboration is to produce middle school science lessons focused on geology and atmospheric sciences that have a foundation in Hawaiian culture through the incorporation of translated Hawaiian-language resources. The role of the authors in this project was to work with Dr. M. Puakea Nogelmeier in providing translation and other support from the Hawaiian-language side. More information about the project, as well as all of the lessons, can be found at manoa.hawaii.edu/kahuaao.

4.2 The History of Literacy and Printing in Hawaiʻi The most frequently used source for the Hawaiian-language resources that are incorporated into Kahua Aʻo curricula is the Hawaiian-language newspaper archive, an online collection containing approximately 75,000 pages. This archive, which is available at www.nupepa.org and www.papakilodatabase.com, represents only a portion of the estimated 125,000 pages published by the various Hawaiian-language newspapers between 1834 and 1948, a rate of production far greater than any other indigenous Pacific language at that time (Nogelmeier, 2010, p. 59). The roots of this explosion of Hawaiian-language printing date back to 1820, when American missionaries arrived in Hawaiʻi.

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4.2.1 The Missionary Press When the first company of Protestant missionaries arrived from Boston, they brought with them a printing press, with the goal of printing a Hawaiian-language Bible. However, because there was no written Hawaiian language, the first effort of the missionaries was to teach written literacy to the native Hawaiians so that they would be able to read the Bible once it was produced. Because King Liholiho Kamehameha II and the other aliʻi (chiefs, royalty) were wary of the effect this foreign influence might have on their subjects, the missionaries’ teaching was initially limited to the aliʻi and other members of the royal courts. Soon, though, the aliʻi saw the benefits of written literacy beyond the Christianizing goals of the missionaries and began sending out members of their court to teach classes to the general population (Nogelmeier, 2010, p.  68). To aid this effort of mass education, in 1822 the mission set up their press in Honolulu and produced a spelling primer, the first printing in Hawaiian (Shütz, 1994, pp. 108–109). The initial printing of 500 copies was quickly depleted due to the massive demand from the growing population of students. Demand for printed materials would continue to rise as literacy spread throughout the Hawaiian Islands. Although Kamehameha II died in London in 1824, the government’s support for literacy and printing was continued by his younger brother and successor, Kauikeaouli Kamehameha III. In 1825, the new King declared, “O Ko’u Aupuni, he Aupuni Palapala Ko’u [Mine is a Kingdom of Literacy]” (Kamakau, 1868). (While contemporary Hawaiian spelling utilizes the ʻokina [glottal stop] and kahakō [macron], many historical publications did not, and so all quotes and titles retain the orthography of the source.) With this endorsement from the highest authority of the land, the missionaries’ efforts at education and literacy continued to expand. Lahainaluna Seminary, which still exists today as a high school in Lahaina on Maui, was founded by the mission in 1831 as an institution for training Hawaiians who would become leaders in education and other fields. One project the students undertook was to publish a monthly newspaper, called Ka Lama Hawaii, beginning in 1834. This first newspaper in Hawaiʻi mostly contained educational content, such as a series on foreign animals, along with religious messages and some current events. After about a year of Ka Lama being published at Lahainaluna, printing shifted back to Honolulu, where a newspaper called Ke Kumu Hawaii was put out by the mission press. After Ke Kumu ceased publication in 1839, it was succeeded by first Ka Nonanona (1840–1845) and then Ka Elele (1845–1855), both of which were edited by the missionary Richard Armstrong (Chapin, 2000). However, in 1848 Armstrong left the mission to become the Minister of Public Instruction for the Kingdom, marking the shift towards direct government involvement in the newspapers (Shütz, 1994, p. 345). Ka Hae Hawaii, the successor to Ka Elele, was entirely a government enterprise, and ran from 1856 until 1861, the year when the first commercial Hawaiian-language newspapers were established.

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4.2.2 The Commercial Press The commercial press began with two newspapers, Ka Nupepa Kuokoa and Ka Hoku o ka Pakipika. The Kuokoa is notable as the longest-running Hawaiian-­language newspaper, in print from 1861 until 1927. This rise of multiple independent voices in the media allowed for debate and differing editorial stances, a trend that continued to increase until the 1890s, when as many as ten different Hawaiian-­language newspapers were being published simultaneously (Chapin, 2000). One reason for the creation of so many different newspapers was the growing recognition of the political power afforded by having a voice in the media. An early use of this power occurred in 1872. When King Lot Kapuāiwa Kamehameha V died without naming an heir, the responsibility of choosing a new monarch passed to the Legislative Assembly. Ka Nupepa Kuokoa quickly issued an endorsement for William Lunalilo, who went on to become king with a unanimous victory (No ka Moi. (1872, December 21). Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 2). Although Lunalilo’s widespread popularity made this an uncontroversial position to take, the Kuokoa endorsement helped open the door to newspapers being involved in the more hotly contested political issues that would follow. One of these embattled contests would come soon after Lunalilo’s election, when the new King passed away in 1874 and also did not leave an heir. The Legislative Assembly was faced with choosing between two strong contenders, Queen Emma Kaleleonālani and David Kalākaua. Queen Emma had been the wife of King Alexander Liholiho Kamehameha IV and enjoyed a substantial amount of popular support, due in part to her accomplishments during her late husband’s reign, such as the founding of the Queen’s Hospital in Honolulu. Kalākaua, however, was given an edge by receiving endorsements from each of the newspapers. In particular, the newspaper Ka Nuhou made a strong effort of campaigning for Kalākaua, even endorsing him while reporting the death of the late King (“Ua make” 1874). Following Kalākaua’s victory, he appointed the editor of Ka Nuhou, Walter Murray Gibson, to his Cabinet. Although Kalākaua benefited from the newspapers in his election, his detractors soon began using the papers to voice their opposition to the new King. This fierce factionalism continued as King Kalākaua was succeeded by his sister, Queen Liliʻuokalani, and then escalated when the Queen was overthrown in 1893. While Ka Nupepa Kuokoa supported the overthrow and advocated for annexation by the United States, Ka Leo o ka Lahui and others pushed for the restoration of the monarchy and sharply criticized the Kuokoa (“Ka nupepa” 1893). This debate continued until the annexation of Hawaiʻi by the United States in 1898, and even beyond.

4.2.3 The Decline of the Hawaiian Language Although education in the Hawaiian Kingdom had been steadily shifting from Hawaiian to English as the medium of instruction for decades, the decisive blow against Hawaiian-language education occurred in 1896, when the Republic of

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Hawaiʻi (the government set up by the perpetrators of the overthrow) enacted a law mandating English as the language of the schools (Shütz, 1994 p. 353). Annexation and the resultant push for Americanization served to further discourage the perpetuation of the Hawaiian language and culture. However, the Hawaiian-language newspapers were not outlawed, and continued to be published well into the twentieth century, providing a voice for the Hawaiian-­ speaking community during many significant events in Territorial history. Even the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and the implications of the resultant martial law for Hawaiians, was covered by the Hilo-based paper Ka Hoku o Hawaii (No ka pono o na Hawaii. (1941, December 10). Ka Hoku o Hawaii, p. 2). Ka Hoku, though, was the last Hawaiian-language newspaper, and ceased publication in 1948.

4.2.4 Language Revitalization The push towards Americanization and English continued to cause a decline in the number of Hawaiian-language speakers until the 1970s, the years of the Hawaiian Renaissance (sometimes referred to as the Second Hawaiian Renaissance in acknowledgement of the earlier cultural revitalization that occurred during Kalākaua’s reign). Renewed interest in the Hawaiian language was one part of the movement to restore pride in Hawaiian identity and culture, leading to the founding of the first Hawaiian-language immersion preschools, known as Pūnana Leo, in 1984. This movement also led to renewed interest in the Hawaiian-language newspapers, with efforts being made to preserve the newspapers on microfilm and, eventually, online. Thanks to these programs, the dawn of the twenty-first century saw a positive growth in the number of Hawaiian-language speakers, as well as a surge of groundbreaking research drawing from the Hawaiian-language newspaper archive.

4.3 Integration Into Lessons Kahua Aʻo is one of the many projects to benefit from the increased accessibility of the Hawaiian-language newspaper archive, which is the primary source of the Hawaiian-language material that is translated and incorporated into earth science curricula.

4.3.1 The Contents of the Archive While contemporary American newspapers are focused on current events, the Hawaiian-language newspapers also included a great variety of other content, much of which would be judged as appropriate for a book or academic journal by today’s

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standards. Rather than books, however, the majority of Hawaiian-language writers, scholars and composers had their work published in the newspapers, with longer works such as literary epics and historical accounts appearing in serial installments. One well-known example is the history of Hawaiʻi written by Samuel Mānaiakalani Kamakau. While English-language readers are more familiar with the abridged translation of his work published with the title Ruling Chiefs of Hawaiʻi, Kamakau’s original writings appeared as a serial column in several newspapers from 1865 to 1871 (Kamakau, 1992). Aside from these longer works, there was also a great deal of reader-submitted material, including songs, opinions, news from other islands, and a wide range of cultural knowledge that had been perpetuated for generations through oral tradition, often in the form of chant. Facing catastrophic population loss and growing Western influence, Hawaiians recognized that the continuity of these oral traditions was breaking, leading to the possible disappearance of traditional knowledge. Submitting such knowledge to be printed in the newspapers was an active effort at preserving cultural traditions, with an awareness of future implications. Referring to the content of the newspapers, one far-sighted Hawaiian scholar wrote in 1862, “E makemake ana ka hanauna Hawaiʻi o na la A. D. 1870, a me A. D. 1880, a me A. D. 1890, a me A.  D. 1990 [The Hawaiian generations of 1870, 1880, 1890, and 1990 are going to want this]” (Kanepuu, 1862). True to this prediction, the repository of traditional knowledge stored in the newspaper archive endures as one of the main resources for research concerning Hawaiian language, culture and history, as well as many other topics.

4.3.2 JIMAR Database In utilizing this resource, Kahua Aʻo is greatly aided by the fruits of earlier labor. A collaboration between the Joint Institute for Marine and Atmospheric Research (JIMAR) and Kawaihuelani Center for Hawaiian Language, both based at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, produced a database identifying over 4000 articles in the Hawaiian-language newspapers that describe geoscience events, ranging from wind and rain to earthquakes and volcanic activity. Kahua Aʻo owes an enormous debt to the creators of the JIMAR database for creating a guide to help navigate the massive 75,000-page archive.

4.3.3 Challenges of Translation Once an article relevant to the content of a lesson has been located using the JIMAR database, the main task is then translating it into English. During this process, the translator is faced with many choices, especially given the tendency of Hawaiian

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words to have multiple meanings, sometimes evoked simultaneously. Overall, the translator is also making a choice between what Eugene Nida refers to as “formal” and “dynamic” translation (Nida, 1964). When creating a formal translation, the translator attempts to retain as much of the structure and style of the original language, which often necessitates the use of notes to explain idioms or phrasing that is alien to the language being translated into. A dynamic translation, however, emphasizes readability in the language of the translation, perhaps even going so far as to replace the idioms of the original language with similar idioms familiar to readers of the translation. Because translations for Kahua Aʻo are integrated into earth science lessons aimed at the middle school level, a heavily-footnoted translation would seem out of place, and so translations in the lessons tend to be dynamic rather than formal, although an effort is made to retain the poetry of the original Hawaiian as much as possible. To give an example of the process and challenges, here is an excerpt from a letter written by G. K. Kupa that appeared in Ka Nupepa Kuokoa on March 3, 1894: Ma ka hora 6 a oi a. m. ua hoomaka ia ka wehe ia ana o na pani o kulanihakoi a oia ka manawa i haule mai ai o na paka ua me ke koikoi loa no kekahi mau hora i panai pu ia iho e na hua hekili e hiolo makawalu mai ana (Kupa, 1894).

Of particular interest in this sentence is the reference to “na pani o kulanihakoi [the gates of Kūlanihākoʻi].” Kūlanihākoʻi is a legendary pond in the sky, often used as a poetic explanation for rain. In a more formal translation this would be explained in a note, but given the context of the earth science lessons the translators chose a more dynamic approach: “At 6 a.m. or later, the gates of Kūlanihākoʻi, the mythical pond in the sky, began to open, and raindrops began to fall heavily for several hours, interspersed with hailstones falling from all sides.” The poetic reference was retained, but explained in a way that does not interrupt the flow of the reader. This example is typical of the style employed by the Kahua Aʻo translators.

4.3.4 Collaboration Once a satisfactory translation has been created through a process involving multiple translators and editors, the next task is to find a place for the article within the lesson. At this point, the key process is collaboration between the translators and the experts in education and whichever earth science is the focus of the lesson. As a team, all members of the project engage in the writing process together, finding connections between the content of the Hawaiian-language newspaper articles and the scientific concepts being taught by the curriculum. The ultimate goal is to create a cohesive whole, rather than simply juxtaposing current science and traditional knowledge as isolated pieces; the translated material should serve as an access point for learning the science. Once the articles have been integrated in this way, the process has been a success.

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4.3.5 Bridging the Gap Through a Cultural Lens: Evolving the Paradigm One of the goals of the Kahua Aʻo team is to affirm, honor and integrate pathways so that education and culture can strengthen and enhance each other. We must remember that this is a natural pairing; culture is the original way for humans to pass on knowledge and educate the community so that everyone can participate efficiently and harmoniously. While Kahua Aʻo specifically integrates Hawaiian culture into curricula as a vessel of inspiration, this project is a model that can be used with any indigenous culture as a way to view the earth sciences, or indeed any subject. Any underserved or underrepresented community can take advantage of the wisdom of the traditions of their particular locale and translate it to a modern, integrated and more holistic classroom experience that will reach out and be relevant to more students, and may even spark interest to pursue degrees and careers in the earth and life sciences. If you look up the word “science” in the Hawaiian Dictionary by Pukui and Elbert, you will find the word “akeakamai.” The word is broken down to “ake” (to desire or want) and “akamai” (to be smart, clever, skilled, wisdom, expert). Thus, “akeakamai” can be translated as “one who desires wisdom and skill.” Following this philosophy of akeakamai, we can recognize that all of us have the potential to be a “scientist,” as long as we have a curiosity and desire to obtain skill and knowledge. This all-encompassing philosophy is one of the foundations upon which Kahua Aʻo is built. One of the goals of our project to reawaken and remind students of the scientist that is always within themselves. We remind students and teachers of their akeakamai through the practices and knowledge of their ancestors. For example, in order to sail across oceans the voyagers of the Pacific had to understand the meteorology of the mysterious heavens. They had to recognize the wind patterns and the clouds that brought the rain for fresh water. They had to be well-versed in the swells of the ocean and the sea birds that marked land. They had to understand botany of the plants to maintain food, fiber, cordage and other supplies on the canoe. With projects such as Kahua Aʻo, we are reminded that we must return to the source of our knowledge: the traditions, histories, poetry and art of our cultures. It is in constructing a drill, a fishpond, an irrigated taro patch, or a house that we find architecture, engineering and trigonometry. It is in weaving and the bead loom that we find arithmetic and algebra. It is in the arts of cordage and making clothes and medicines from plants that we see botany. It is in the stories and poetries that geological, meteorological, political and social phenomena are documented, retained and explained with captivating language and metaphor.

4.3.6 Scientific Connections in Traditional Stories Kaiakahinaliʻi is one of several stories that tell of a great flood that submerged the land. People fled to the mountains and climbed atop trees, but they were nevertheless washed away. There are varying traditions that describe Kaiakahinaliʻi as a man

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(or sometimes woman) of the ocean looking for a daughter who was wooed by a chief and went to live on land. The tale of Kaiakahinaliʻi has been integrated into our field trip to the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center in ʻEwa on Oʻahu (part of our geology lesson “Earthquakes and Tsunami in Hawaiʻi”) to give added perspective to the phenomenon of tsunami. Pualani Kanahele enhances our perspective of Kaiakahinaliʻi in her book Ka Honua Ola, explaining that in her tradition, Kaiakahinaliʻi is the mother of Pele, and Kānehoalani is her father (Kanahele, 2011). (Pele is the volcano goddess who resides in Halemaʻumaʻu Crater at Kīlauea. Before her, Kīlauea was inhabited by the deity ʻAilāʻau.) When Pele arrived in Hawaiʻi, there was no water. So Pele first went to Kanaloa (another name for the island of Kahoʻolawe, and also the main deity of the ocean) and poured water from her head. When the water broke onto land, Pele’s shark brothers composed a chant entitled “He kai ē, he kai [A sea, oh a sea].” Kanahele interprets this tradition as documenting the relationship between volcanic eruptions and tsunami. She says, “This catastrophic eruption is remembered and recorded in narrative, eventually in chant form. The chant begins with the name of Kaikahinaliʻi, the mother of tsunami. The father, Kānehoalani, is Pele’s connection to the sun. He is the sun [...] Recorded later in the story is a description of the extent of the flood, where the tops of Maunakea, Maunaloa, and Haleakalā are all that are seen. Everything else is submerged.” We see here that within our poetries, songs and stories are our histories. This is an especially important vessel of information for oral cultures. We have also used the Pele traditions to explain volcanic processes in Hawaiʻi. Specifically, the geology lesson “Hawaiian Volcanoes and Rejuvenation Stage Volcanism” uses the history of Pele fighting with her sister and arch nemesis of the ocean, Nāmakaokahaʻi, to explain hydromagmatic eruptions, which are the explosive interactions of magma (Pele) and seawater (Nāmakaokahaʻi) that occur when a slightly submerged volcano erupts. As Pele flees from Nāmakaokahaʻi, she moves from island to island searching for a home to sustain her fires. At each new location she digs into the ground, only to encounter water and do battle with Nāmakaokahaʻi once again. This tradition is also used to explain rejuvenation stage volcanism, because many of the places where Pele digs have been identified as sites for rejuvenation activity. Finally, Pele reaches Kīlauea, where she can still be seen today, destroying and creating in the same stroke with her lava flows and eruptions. We have drawn similar parallels between atmospheric processes and the legend of the Wind Gourd of Laʻamaomao. Kūapākaʻa is in possession of a gourd containing the bones of his grandmother, Laʻamaomao. With this gourd and the knowledge that his father Pākaʻa has bestowed upon him, Kūapākaʻa is able to call and control the winds at will. He is also able to recite the many winds of each district by name. The vocabulary used in these names hold valuable information about the winds. The names describe the nature of these winds, such as ka makani ʻĀhiu (“the wild wind”) of Kahana, Oʻahu, or ka makani Kuehukai (“the wind that churns up the sea”) of Miloliʻi, Kauaʻi, or even ka makani Haupeʻepeʻe (“the wind that plays hide and seek”) of Kalihi, Oʻahu. We must remember, especially now that the planet is undergoing much change and turmoil, that the keen observation of the environment practiced by the ancestors is once again critical for us today. We must recognize patterns

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to know when and what to plant, and when, what and where to fish. This is a next step in our evolution: balancing current technologies in a harmonious way while being firmly rooted and engaged in the traditions of the past. We integrated the story of the Wind Gourd of Laʻamaomao in our atmospheric sciences lesson “Local Winds and Rains,” and found that it garnered much interest from students and teachers. Culture is a captivating way to teach science.

4.3.7 Articles Discussing Geoscience Events While the traditional Hawaiian stories integrated into our lessons might be a bit abstract in terms of connections and parallels, oftentimes we use Hawaiian-language newspaper articles that are quite direct and to the point in explaining scientific processes. Here are a few examples of such articles. This first article is simply entitled “Ka Ua [The Rain].” This is an article expressing that without our forests, we are doomed to have barren land. This author even uses Egypt as an example of a once fertile place that has gone barren because of human mismanagement. Last Monday night until Tuesday morning, some large showers fell upon this island of Oʻahu. The land was soaked; and it was as if the profane thoughts of those fighting for water on the banks of our taro patches were also dampened; and the dispirited thoughts of the farmers revived. We have not forgotten the great, rainy winters of seasons passed. The rains were great in those years. The springs and pools were filled, as well as the rivers of the uplands. The land was filled with water at that time. It was the great showers of winter that supplied the water for the rainless months of summer. Within these past years, that amount of rain has not been the same as before. Why has there been a lack of water? The wise ones have said, it is the great forests that attract the rain clouds upon the land. It has been seen in ancient lands, like Egypt, and several other places, when the land was barren with no forests, the rain decreases and the rivers dry up. However, in the places where they reforested, the rain returns to those places. (“Ka Ua” 1877).

The author then continues by offering the hopeful solution of planting trees that require little water in dry places. This is an example of lessons of the past that need to be adopted and applied today. We used this article in our atmospheric sciences lesson “Atmospheric Pollution and Global Warming.” This next article, “Na Makani [The Winds],” is from an atmospheric sciences lesson about wind processes entitled “Hadley Cell and the Trade Winds of Hawaiʻi,” and explains what makes the wind blow. The heat of the sun is what causes the wind to blow. Once the wind is heated by the sun, it becomes light and rises, and then winds blow from other places, cold places, to fill the empty space at this place. On lands encircled by the sea, in the hot places of the earth, there are two winds called the shore wind and the sea wind. At night, when the land cools, the shore wind blows, because the sea wind has become light. When the land is heated by the sun, the sea wind blows, because the shore wind has become light. The places right below the sun are the warmest; and because the earth rotates from west to east, wind blows the

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other way, so that the wind follows the sun. Therefore, the regular wind comes from the east, and are called trade winds. (Aloikeanu, 1866).

These types of articles are quite easy to integrate into science curricula, as they are very similar to curricula we see in classrooms today, and so they are quite a natural fit. The final article is found in our atmospheric sciences lesson “Weather Maps and Hazardous Storms.” This article is entitled “Na Hoailona e pili ana i na wa Ino a me na wa Malie [Signs of Stormy times and Calm times].” We are reminded in traditions, stories, and articles such as this one of the keen observational skills required in times past. Not only do these types of articles encourage students to go out into their environment and make observations, they can also serve as an example for all of us of how to apply the patterns we observe and live more harmoniously with our Earth. We are showing these reports below that were clearly remembered by someone wise from the eras past. 1. If a wind comes from the north, then the northwest, the east, and then soon changes to the northeast, it will continue for 2 or 3 days, without rain; then it shifts again to the south, without rain; and if from there it soon changes, with perhaps a little rain, and it goes to the northeast and continues in that way, then there will be a time of nice calm continuing for 2 months. 2. If it is calm, dry and sunny for the whole week with a southerly wind for 6 or 7 days, and the wind is blowing strongly in this way, a long time will pass that is calm, dry and sunny, until the quarter is done. 3. If the Spiders are beginning to weave webs, then it is known that things will be calm, dry and sunny for 10 or 12 days. 4. If shooting stars are not seen passing the horizon at the Makali‘i [Pleiades] in the evening, you will soon see a period of persistent calm. 5. If the blowing of the storm changes and becomes clear, dry and sunny when the moon is full, or for a short time a little before or after, and continues in that way until the second day of the full moon, there will be calm until the end of the quarter. 6. If the time of the full moon is drawing nearer, and there is a mist with a little rain before the sun comes up, or white clouds are floating in the northeast, there will be calm for a long period of several days. 7. When the sun appears and clouds are seen at the southern point that soon vanish, then there will be a short period of calm. 8. If before the sun comes up there is a mist with a little rain everywhere in sight, then there will be calm for a short period. 9. If the clouds at sunrise are floating to the west, there will be a short calm. (“Na Hoailona” 1891)

Overall, we see the Kahua Aʻo project as a model not only for spurring interest in science in students and teachers, but also for much greater challenges and paradigm shifts in the world at large. We must start living harmoniously with the Earth. We must remember our great reverence for her. Our traditions of the past are what can propel us upward into our new stage of evolution. We only have one planet to live on with finite sources that we must start sharing justly. If we walk in the steps of those who have walked before us, we can ensure thriving environments, ecosystems and biodiversity for generations to come.

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References Aloikeanu, D. A. K. (1866, May 7). Na makani. Ke Au Okoa, p. 1. Chapin, H. G. (2000). Guide to newspapers of Hawaiʻi, 1834–2000. Hawaiian Historical Society. Ka nupepa puka la “La Kuokoa.” (1893, January 25). Ka Leo o ka Lahui, p. 3. Ka ua. (1877, March 1). Ka Lahui Hawaii, p. 2. Kamakau, S. M. (1868, April 25). Ka moolelo o na Kamehameha. Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 1. Kamakau, S. M. (1992). Ruling chiefs of Hawaii. Kamehameha School Press. Kanahele, P. (2011). Ka honua ola. Kamehameha School Press. Kanepuu, J. H. (1862, October 30). Ka poe kakau moolelo, a kaao paha. Ka Hoku o ka Pakipika, p. 1. Kupa, G. K. (1894, March 3). Auwe ka waikahe e kahe ana, ka hua hekili e hiolo ana ka makani e kulakulai ana. Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 4. Na hoailona e pili ana i na wa ino a me na wa malie. (1891, April 4). Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 4. Nida, E. A. (1964). Toward a science of translating. E. J. Brill. No ka Moi. (1872, December 21). Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 2. No ka pono o na Hawaii. (1941, December 10). Ka Hoku o Hawaii, p. 2. Nogelmeier, M. P. (2010). Mai paʻa i ka leo: Historical voice in Hawaiian primary materials, looking forward and listening back. Bishop Museum Press. Shütz, A. J. (1994). The voices of Eden: A history of Hawaiian language studies. University of Hawaiʻi Press. Ua make ke Alii, e ola ke Alii. (1874, February 1). Ka Nuhou Hawaii, p. 1. Jason K. Ellinwood  received his BA and MA in Hawaiian from the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. He currently works as an actor, educator and translator in Honolulu. Some of his most recent translation work can be found in John Clark’s Kalaupapa Place Names, published by University of Hawaiʻi Press in 2018.

Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone  received her MA in Hawaiian in 2014 from the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa where she now teaches Hawaiian at the Kawaihuelani Center for Hawaiian Language in the Hawaiʻinuiākea School of Hawaiian Knowledge. She is excited to be an ʻōlelo curriculum associate at Windward Community College where she works in the māla (garden) and writes ʻāina-based curriculum to engage students in traditional agricultural practices.

Chapter 5

‘O ke kumu ke ka‘ao, the Story Is the Source: Questioning Nature Through Ancestral Stories Huihui Kanahele-Mossman

Abstract  When participating in science research the question is crucial. Whether the research method is inquiry based, problem based, or scientific, the first step is the creation and structure of that essential question. For most students, especially Native Hawaiian students, the formulation of that question is difficult if not impossible due to the lack of experience and background knowledge. However there is an ancient ocean of experience and data on natural phenomena, and this ocean exists in ancestral stories. This writing will define ancestral stories and unwrap the observational data contained within. A comparison of the two methods of studying nature, western traditional science and ancestral environmental observation and data transmission is the subject of discussion in this writing. This narrative will also describe the successful assimilation of western science methods within the discipline of ancestral record interpretation. Lastly, this piece will provide student reactions observed by the researching teachers and recommendations for teachers moving forward that will be key in developing a school of study of ancestral stories for the purpose of inquiry and asking the key questions. Keywords  Ancestral stories · Native science · Inquiry · Western science · Natural environment

5.1 Ancestral Stories Ancestral stories are texts that link us back to the beginning. They describe our source (Beckwith, 1981), explain our progression, and foretell the future. The chapter begins with an illustration of the importance of Indigenous stories as a form of instruction for Native people. It then focuses on Native Hawaiian ancestral stories

H. Kanahele-Mossman (*) Edith Kanakaʻole Foundation, Hilo, HI, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_5

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and the foundation that they provide for structuring a framework of scientific inquiry.

5.1.1 Indigenous Scholars on Ancestral Stories It has been a privilege to be able to build upon the knowledge base of great Indigenous scholars in science education. These scholars share gratitude with this researcher to their ancestors for the stories, verses, and oratories they have graciously handed down. As mentioned above, myths (stories) are the Native’s tool for teaching (Kawagley, 2006). Stories display the magnitude of ancestral knowledge. In a story written in Kawagley’s (2006) book A Yupiaq Worldview: A Pathway to Ecology and Spirit, the human characters transform into animals, which, according to Kawagley, is a reflection of the intimate knowledge the Indigenous people have of other inhabitants of their place. He goes on to describe ways in which practitioners derive knowledge by observing their natural environment – “their learned behaviors, their likes and dislikes, and how they were to be treated…. there was communication between humans and animals” (p.28). The ancestors’ experiences with their environments were so unified that their stories relayed the characteristics of animals and plants and humanized these characteristics in order to place them in a narrative context. Stories are necessary for the transmission of appropriate attitudes and values (ibid). Kawagley states; “Nature would give them (the elders) indicators, as long as they were willing to observe, learn, and apply knowledge to ensure continuation of the people” (p. 29). Native stories relate the interdependence of plants and animals to human behaviors of survival (Cajete, 2000). The survival of many of the Indigenous people today is due in part to ancestral observations related in stories and verse. In his book Native Science: Natural Laws of Interdependence, Cajete states that “discoveries like the use of fire, coming to know ecological relationships and responsibilities to the natural world, a sense of how things began, understanding orders and cycles of nature are among the first elements of science”(p. 13). These discoveries or “first elements of science” are described in stories composed by the ancestors of this land as illustrated in the stories displayed in the introduction of this proposal. All basic components of scientific thought and application are metaphorically represented in most Native stories of creation and origin (ibid). Native Hawaiian stories provide readers with a pathway into resources such as the forest, ocean reefs, deep-sea caves, volcanoes, and the human body. Dennis Kawaharada (2003) confirmed that we learn about the features of nature through the naming of characters. A group of 5 sisters who become protectors of Lāʻiekawai have plant names such as Kahalaomapuana—the fragrant hala who is the youngest sister. The long, thick-growing leaves of the hala provide shelter from rain and sun, the strong fibrous leaves, and the thorns along the edges and spine of the leaves symbolize her toughness (p. 35).

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Kawaharada stressed the importance of stories when he maintained that “this kind of fundamental vision planted and nurtured in our minds from childhood through story and experience makes a difference in our adult behavior and actions” (p. 68).

5.1.2 Ancestral Stories, Science, Western Science This section will focus on the native skill of observation and analysis of the natural world. It establishes the uniqueness of ancestral stories and why ancestral literature is considered a conduit to the natural world. A discussion of the differences between western academic scientific processes and ancestral scientific processes is necessary and will occur on four different fronts. The first will address the means used by ancestral stories to develop ideas about the physical and biological world. Next a process of science practicum will be described that will address the question of successful assimilation of western scientific processes, procedures, and theories into the world of Native science through ancestral stories. The distinguishing factors of Native science through ancestral stories can be described through concepts such as static science versus fluid Native science, inanimate versus Native animated objects, and detached observing versus being a part of the system observed. The next section will discuss the assimilation of western research methods into Native Hawaiian observational records of nature communicated in ancestral stories.

5.1.3 Development of Ideas of the Physical and Biological World Here it is best to reference the stories directly. When one draws directly from the stories with simple interpretations, ideas about the physical and biological worlds come into focus. For example, consider the story of Kamiki, (Wise et al., 1914–1917). There is a battle between the hero Kamiki and the evil guardian of Mahiki and Pokahi forest. This evil guardian is known as Lu-anuu-anuu-poele-kapo. In this battle, Kamiki captures the ʻawa gourd named Ka-papai-aoa who was said to have the eyes of the 40,000 and 4000 gods of Lu-anuu-anuu-poele-kapo. This enraged the evil guardian, and she set out to capture Kamiki with a net named Nananana-­ nui-­hoomakua. After awakening the 40,000 and 4000 gods to block the exits out of Mahiki forest, Lu-anuu-anuu-poele-kapo sent Muki, a runner, to block Kamiki at the pass. To watch for this runner, Kamiki climbed the branchless Kawau tree. Kamiki’s grandmother covered the tree and forest with mist to hide Kamiki. He caught up with Muki and smeared him with overripe breadfruit, resulting in a slippery, slightly blackened, stench-covered runner. Muki was very perturbed to say the least and was sent back to his master in this state. Kamiki’s grandmother assisted in his escape by covering the forest with a heavy dew-laden mist. He escaped and went

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to Ka-ulu-henui-hihikolo-i-uka and Lanimamao, his grandparents’ doorway. His grandmother saw him and called out,” Is that you?” this verse is the greeting that she gave her grandson Kamiki. 1. Nanaikekihiokamalama 2. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka lā 3. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka ua 4. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka makani 5. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka ‘ino 6. E Nana, hoʻonanana ke kai 7. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka mālie 8. E Nana, hoʻonanana ka manu e lele

a name Kamiki sometimes calls himself Nana, the sun flutters Nana, the rain flutters Nana, the wind flutters Nana, the storm flutters Nana, the sea flutters Nana, the calm flutters Nana, the bird flutters its wings to fly

The purpose of the recitation of this section of the story is to expound upon the development of ideas of the physical and biological world of ancestral stories. There are several academics who use this story to explain the basic “storytelling” methods of Native Hawaiians from certain areas (Maly, 2003). Their historical, archeological, and anthropological perspectives on this story of Kamiki explore literary devices such as place names, plot, antagonists, settings, and so forth. This tool provides several pieces of information of natural phenomenon. As we study the text we can see that this battle and the natural activity of the forest occurred during a certain time of year: Nana, or March and April. A rainy time, the end of the cold season, and a coupling time of year for our native birds. Also, the forests of Mahiki and Pokahi located above Waipiʻo Valley into Waimea (place names) are noted at the beginning of this section. We can infer the type of forest and the characteristic canopy that occurs in this forest. A more in-depth study of this text allows us to see botanical and biological specificities. The story describes the forest above Waipiʻo in detail. In Kamiki’s attempts to escape with Kapapaiaoa, he hears the din of the 40,000 gods (ka pihe of ke akua) and the 400,000 rustling (nehe mau) and the 4000 gods behind him (o ke kini akua, o ka lehu o ke akua). The “gods” refered to in this piece are actual organisms and elements that make that forest home. We can infer the type of organisms being discussed here by the sound they are making. Forty thousand gods provide a din, 400,000 gods cause a rustling sound, and 4000 elements or organisms provide a whistling that can either be birds or branches. Another observation at this magnification is the verse that reads, 1. Kaua make loa oe ia‘u e na 2. Mu kanaka 3. Mu hauna 4. Mu honoa 5. Mu naanaa 6. Mu hookïkii

a human germ a stink germ a germ of excrement a leaning germ a protruding germ

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Germ that steals the eye of my god. (Kamiki, 1911, p. 13)

The translation refers to the action of Muki, the runner of the evil guardian chasing Kamiki and insulting him. This verse refers to the forest decomposers, specifically earthworms, larvae, caterpillars, borer weevils, and so forth. It describes the different types of decomposers found in this forest. Such decomposers are the “gods being discussed. The American Association for the Advancement of Science’s, 1990 publication Science for All Americans Project 2061 states that the means used to develop ideas about the physical and biological world are particular ways of observing, thinking, experimenting, and validating. Kamiki and the plethora of ancestral stories also develop ideas in particular ways. As we have seen in this short section of a longer dynamic text, the story of Kamiki develops ideas about the physical and biological world through observation, interpretation, validation, identification, thinking, and documentation. For example, the story describes a kupua or a changeling that could exchange souls with sharks. This kupua had violated Peleʻs rules. Kamikiʻs responsibility was to bring this criminal to justice and therefore had to bring evidence to the decision-making body. He patiently observed changes in the currents, tides and ocean breezes to detect the sharks’ emergence from the caves. He finally gathered his information and composed a chant that tells of his observations. The man was condemned to death. This is an example of how ancestral understanding of environment developed. The concept of experimentation is not included in this list, as it is in comments by the AAAS (1990). However, an experiment in the true definition of the word (MSN Encarta World English Dictionary, 2009) is a test, especially a scientific one, carried out in order to discover the results of a particular course of action—to see what will happen. Experimentation in this case would be a part of the observation process in Hawaiian stories. For example, in a conversation, Marie Macdonald, a renowned Native Hawaiian artist and lei maker described the experimentation process as done with kapa making. “Well we just started, we found some wauke, and we had to find out the hard way and try new things.” She also stated that in terms of the planting that: [T]he artist is responsible for growing the plant, for taking care of it, training it, then he’s responsible for harvesting and he learns like we had to learn that in some cases you can only harvest at certain times of the year and you can’t do it all year long.

Through planting trials and recordings of weather and plant growth, she became knowledgeable of the harvest season of wauke. In a parallel way, the well-known story of Maui and the Alae, Maui tries to obtain the knowledge of fire from the mud hen known as Alae. Of course, in the story, his failure was due to bad information, but his efforts were a form of experimentation. He attempted this activity several times until he found the correct fire-starting material. Experimentation is an important task in the recording of environmental transformation. Experimentation is subject to utility. In certain circumstances experimental design amongst the ancestors

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could parallel the widely accepted definition of the word. However, as stated, utility and experience are part of the process and negate the need for formal experimentation. As stated above, the tapa maker, Marie Macdonald and her team needed to complete the job of creating lengths of textile with whatever knowledge and materials available. After many repeated trials with the bark cloth, that natural dyes, and the tools, they were finally successful. Ancestrally, following successful outcomes, practitioners recorded chants, and students revised these chants as needed in follow up production of such textiles. We see that fundamentally the difference between active experimentation in western science and that of Native Hawaiian practice is slight, however the need and purpose for experimentation will possibly fit in different frames.

5.1.4 Static Versus Fluid Native Science At first glance, the historical perspective of ancestral stories might likely to be described by readers as archaic. These stories were authored centuries ago prior to development of written texts; they originate from chants that were applicable generations before early technological advances, and many of the religious beliefs they express are obsolete. Suffice it to say that ancestral stories would be thought of as static, unchanging mythology used to animate an idea. However, ancestral stories are artifacts of native science and observation documentation and serve as guides for observations. In that view, ancestral texts such as stories and sayings are fluid and changing as times, locations, and composers change. They were never meant to be hard, cemented scientific laws that, if broken, would cause one to be jeered and slighted by one’s peers. An example of this fluidity is the multiple versions of a single story epic. There exist at least four known versions of the story of Pele and Hiʻiaka (Emerson, 1997; Poepoe, 1999). Many different observations have been documented and also the Hawaiian language is vibrant. Ultimately, Native Hawaiians are not bound by one theory of Ka Huakaʻi o Hiʻiaka, Hiʻiakaʻs journey, which suggests the re-vegetation and reforestation of our islands. Another example of the concept of fluid science is the structure or artistry of the Hawaiian language. The beauty of the Native language is in its interpretation. For example, the word kea translates into “wide or vast,” as it is used in the name of the originating deity Wākea. Another translation of kea is “white or white”ish, as in one kea or “white sand”. The chants, ʻōlelo noeʻau, and stories that describe observable phenomena and inform us of our natural surroundings are fluid and transformable. This concept is repeated again and again, namely in the many versions of one story and in the living language, and within this concept of fluidity we find truth. Cajete (2000) states that “truth is not a fixed point, but rather an ever-evolving point of balance, perpetually created and perpetually new” (p. 19).

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In Kuhn’s book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, the dynamics of western science and experimentation are called paradigms. These paradigms are accepted as valid and practiced science (1970). These include law, theory, and application, which stem from coherent traditions of scientific research. Western science involves conducting experiments and tests based on established scientific traditions associated with such names as Newton, Lavoisier, Copernicus, and Einstein (Kuhn, 1970). Rather than being a thought, theory, or concept from an individual, our ancestral stories represent a collection of observations from different traditions from a place over a long period of time. Certainly, Newton, Lavoisier, Coulomb, and even Einstein spent a great deal of time observing and analyzing data, which led them to the theories in operation today. Ancestral stories such as Pele and Hi‘iaka and the story of Maui, however, are collections of observations conducted over several generations. This knowledge accumulated as time went on and melded into one continuous story, and different versions. The premise is the same, but the fundamentals of the text may be different, with some aspects of the story more crucial in one version than in another. Due to lost skills such as language, poetry writing, observations, and survival, this art of story composition that perpetuates data has discontinued. Yet, “this is important to continue, it speaks of the journey, and if this art dies then the journey stops moving forward”.

5.1.5 Inanimate Versus Animated Objects Cajete (2000) states that “science becomes a story, an explanation of the how and why of the things of nature and the nature of things.” (p. 13). This statement is the basis for ancestral stories. Composers use characters and storylines as voices for non-human organisms and elements. For example, in the story of Kamiki, the forest of Mahiki is a living entity named Lu-anuu-anuu-poele-kapo. The forest lies at the top of Waimanu and Waipiʻo Valleys on the island of Hawaiʻi. This is a large ʻōhiʻa (Metrosideros polymorpha) dominant forest that houses both abundant and rare native vegetation. The extraordinary characteristic of this forest is the relationship it has with the wind. Due to its location, structure, and vegetation, this forest and the wind work together to create interesting sounds and shapes. The story’s composer uses this characteristic to teach readers about the wind, the canopy, the calendar, and the forest floor. For example, as mentioned earlier, the call of 4000 and 40,000 gods cause a din and a rustling sound. Depending on the direction and strength of the wind, the canopy will cause a forest explorer to hear a roar. If a wind blows up the wall of the valley, then the covering of the forest floor will begin to swirl, causing a rustling noise. The chant recited by Kamiki’s grandmother gives us the time of year, which is Nana or mid-March into April. There are many more examples of the animation of natural elements and the lessons each organism and element have to teach us. In ancestral stories, the aspects of

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nature and the elemental activities “speak” and reveal their secrets via the observations made by the ancestors. “Listen to what the forest has to say”. The inheritance, transmission, and interpretation of these stories would not be possible if the authors and those who inspired these stories were not skilled observers. O Panaewa nui, moku lehua Ohiʻa kupu haoʻeoʻe i ka ua Lehuaula i ka wi ʻia e ka manu A ua po, e po Puna po Hilo I ka uahi o kuʻu aina

O Panaewa (large lizard) with your spots of Lehua Your scraggly growth, bald on top Your red lehua scavaged by birds Blind as a bat you are From my volcano (Emerson, 1993, p. 32)

For the purpose of turning an ʻōhiʻa forest into a large dragon-like lizard in the story of Hiʻiaka, one had to sit and observe and “listen” to the forest. By contrast, as Kawagely (2006) reflected upon his own science education experience as an Indigenous student in a western school,s he remembered textbooks, the scientific method, and science experiments. My own undergraduate science education consisted of textbooks, lab manuals, study guides, and the scientific method. I am sure that this description is a very familiar one to Native science students. Science and nature are far from animated in this setting. Natural phenomena are discussed, measured, tested, observed, and noted but not animated. “You have to regard the forest, talk to them, then listen – this is ceremony”.

5.1.6 Detached Observing Versus Being a Part of the System There was no excuse for our ancestors to live detached from nature. This behavior was the difference between life and death. Becoming a part of the forest, the reef, or the river was the way of life and means of survival. The stories are a record of life. The stories are a documentation of the ancestors “living” in nature. Beckwith states “much that seems to us wildest fancy in Hawaiian story is to him a sober statement of fact as he interprets it through the interrelations of gods with nature and man.” Therefore, man had to “accommodate” himself as another individual in the physical world. This places him amongst and within nature rather than outside it. Hence, observations of one’s surroundings are done as “one-­of” rather than above-all. An example of “one-of” can be found in the story of Kamapuaʻa. The base form of this hero is a pig that could transform into a man if need be, but the environment described in the story is more suitable for a pig. The pig can also transform into a kukui tree, a triggerfish, and a type of fern. This text displays the placement of man as one of the many natural forms rather than the supreme-­being. Furthermore, there

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exist families who bear the name Pua’a and Kama, a flag of recognition that these are descendants of this hero and his kin. This also leads to the fact that generations of humans have a familial relationship to nature. In this light, observations documented by ancestors are likened to western-type diaries. Animism of trees, ferns, mountains, and fish is a result of this belief. Kawagley (2006) explained that “western science tends to emphasize compartmentalized knowledge (by disciplines), which is often de-contextualized and taught in the detachment of a laboratory setting “(p. 75). In comparison, he continued, “Native people…have traditionally acquired their knowledge of the world around them through direct experience in the natural environment” (p. 75). Kawagley displayed the noticeable difference between ancestral stories and western science. In ancestral stories and Native science, laws and theories change in the context of everyday survival, in the context of environmental changes, and in the context of land transference as a result of war or marriage. There is a kinship when a tree, a bird, or a form of lightning is named and claimed. This activity allows the researcher access to the natural phenomena as a part of the family rather than just a separate part of nature.

5.1.7 The Intersection of Pedagogies; the Questions The purpose of this section is to demonstrate the disparity between indigenous observational science as seen through ancestral stories and western science. More importantly, the offerings of ancestral stories and science together with the tools and equipment of western science can result in a beneficial collaboration toward a more thorough and complete picture of nature and land kinship. The quote below is taken from an interview conducted with a science teacher at a Hawaiian-based charter school. When a student formulates the right question, boom, it just goes right from there. We start to organize their study, we get right on the ball, but the problem is the question… if they don’t structure the question correctly, then we struggle, that’s where I lose a lot of them when project time comes.

The National Institute of Health published a section on scientific inquiry. This publication gives some background on the type of questions that can be answered through the scientific inquiry process. According to this document, “not all questions can be answered using scientific investigations. Testable questions are answered through observations or experiments that provide evidence. Students need guidance and practice to be able to distinguish questions that are testable from those that are not” (p. 54). The NIH listed the following criteria for testable questions: 1. The question centers on objects, organisms, and events in the natural world.

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2. The question connects to scientific concepts rather than to opinions, feelings, or beliefs. 3. The question can be investigated through experiments or observations. 4. The question leads to gathering evidence and using data to explain how the natural world works. Foundations, a publication dedicated to scientific inquiry, made the statement that questioning is at the heart of the inquiry process (National Science Foundation, 2000). A questioning environment is a classroom environment that allows learners to explore new territory. Any questions regarding the science content being taught in the classroom are welcomed comfortably and attended to by the teacher. A process skill of inquiry (NSF, 2000), the cycle of asking questions that lead to an action which in turn leads to more questions is crucial in finding personal, meaningful connections. So where do these questions come from? On the quest for meaningful connections this quote by A. Bettencourt in an unpublished paper on understanding science: Understanding starts with a question; not any question, but a real question. Said another way, a real question expresses a desire to understand. This desire is what moves the questioner to pursue the question until an answer has been made.

This statement is related then to students’ connections and attitudes toward the question by explaining that the question only motivates inquiry when it is taken over and “owned” by the student (p. 65). In order to make meaningful connections through questions, one must experience these connections. Each student brings a set of experiences to the science classroom that informs his or her body of scientific knowledge (Henrichsen & Jarrett, 1999). Questions that arise from a gap in experience deepen the quest for the answer and thereby the quality of the investigation. This study looks to ancestral stories for this experience.

5.1.8 What Does Data Look like: Teacher Pedagogical Experiences and Cultural Knowledge In a recent observation session with prospective research participants, a portion of the Pele and Hiiaka story (Emerson, 1993) was analyzed by the students and the teacher. The fate of Panaewa himself was most tragical. He no sooner had taken the form of a kukui tree than he found himself over laid and entangled with meshes of parasitic growth he cound neither fight nor fly. The spot on which he stood sank and became a swamp, a lake, a sink; the foundations on which its bottom rested were broden up and fell away. Panaewa, swallowed up in the gulf, was swept out to sea and perished in the waves. Kane-lu-honua, Peleʻs uncle, had broken up the underlying strata and made of the place a bottomless sink Hiiaka did her best to cheer her two companions with assurances of coming deliverance

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and, gathering her little brood about her, after the manner of a mother-hen, figuratively, bade them cling to her, nestle under her wings, lest they should be sept away in the flood of waters that soon began to surge about them-a flood which carried fare out to sea the debris of battle – as already described.

At the conclusion of this activity, the teacher divided the students into groups and instructed them to read through their notes, review the notes on the board and the story, and come up with three science concepts from the story. After 15 minutes of discussion, the groups were asked to present their science concepts. That afternoon, I discussed the class activities with the teacher and learned that the students read the story, not the text. Teachers must ask, “What does data look like in an ancestral story. The questions could not be duplicated within any other context, and only the author could answer them. Teachers must remember that western stories revolve around resolving human need (Johnson, 2008). Native ancestral stories, on the other hand, “correspond with the Hawaiian view of the relation between nature and man”. Teachers must understand that ancestral stories are told in terms of natural phenomena and organic dynamics. During the next class session, the teacher communicated a basic truth about Hawaiian ancestral stories. She explained to the class that the ancestors documented their observations of their surroundings (i.e., the sky, weather, ocean, plants, volcanoes, etc.) in the form of chants and poetry. These chants and poetry were developed into stories. Therefore, the students need to think of these stories and the characters in terms of natural phenomena, thinking of the characters not as people but as plants, clouds, winds, waves, and so on. Beckwith stated, “The Hawaiian worshipped nature gods and these gods entered to a greater or lesser extent into all the affairs of daily life, played a dominant part in legendary history” (p. 2). An ancestral story could be read to simply support a scientific inquiry because the story itself describes aspects of western scientific concepts. If one were to read this passage as a story only, it is doubtful that observable data would be the outcome. This study regards the ancestral story as the data, as the natural occurrence. If teachers and students do not regard the text of the story as observed data, then the narrative of the myth rather than the description of natural phenomenon will become the focal point. Besides guiding the interpretation process, the skilled teacher must create an ideal environment for discussion and articulation. See the sample memo below that was written regarding a transcript on a science concept on light in the ocean: The teacher states “so what does this say” (points to current science concept) if we were to go out and observe light in the ocean what would we see.” This tactic was based on the concept of place, touching upon prior knowledge. Students are from the ocean community and are familiar with light in the ocean. Again, the teacher asks the students if they have a visual of the sunlight into the ocean and then asks how can we translate the visual into some sort of science concept. The students see it, but they just need to articulate that visual. They need to change the visual into words, which is what the ancestral stories do.

In a transcript of the data pertaining to this study, the teacher reminds her students, “if we were to go out and observe light in the ocean, what would we see?” After several seconds of conversation, the teacher asks, “OK, so you guys have a visual of

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the ocean now?” The students respond, “yes.” Then she continues, “How can we translate that visual picture you have into some sort of science concept that’s a little bit more specific than this, ʻcause you guys have it, just gotta articulate it.” Teachers must also have the ability to elicit the necessary language of science. Gee (2005) brings in the idea of intertextuality or the action of “gelling”(p. 33) the vocabulary of one domain with the context of another domain. Vocabulary integration or utilization of the new vocabulary in science concept identification focuses the discussion. According to Gee, this is the first step into the science inquiry semiotic domain. First, in the beginning of the discussion, the students make the attempt to use the new vocabulary, even if used inappropriately. As the discussion moved along, the new vocabulary was contextualized and used more appropriately. The following is a sample transcript taken from the inquiry class regarding the adoption of new vocabulary: clarify terminology for students T: OK Female student 2: (light) and dark T: So, if there’s try, wait, let me write that down. (Writes on table) Water preventing light from coming in. What word can we use to describe what the sunlight is trying to do? Female student 1: Shining Male student 3: Get through the ocean T: Huh? Male student 3: repeats his comment T: Yeah, how can we use a better word than that? Female student1: Oh, oh, oh Male student 1: Penetrate T: Penetrate. Good word. T: Penetrating where? Female student 1: Through the water. Male student 1: The sunlight cannot penetrate into the deep part. As one can observe, the word was expressed to them by a student after which the remainder of the students started to incorporate the word into their attempts at science concepts. The development of questions, the process of answers. The sum of the pedagogical factors in this method of science concept discovery can be expressed in three simple actions: 1. The teacher(s) need to experience our Hawaiʻi natural world— thereby gaining the skill of separating the story from the textual content of natural phenomenon. Dewey (1916) states that “Experience as trying involves change…when the return is loaded with signficance we learn something” (p 70). In this case the natural phenomena of Ancestral stories are the signficance. Teachers need to experience these significant factors in order to facilitate the separation of story and observation.

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2. The teacher needs to be a forceful guide, find the point of student onboarding and then let go of the conversation. Discussion leads to articulation. Articulation leads to an innovative and dynamic discourse. Teacher facilitation of this discussion is a key pedagogical skill for the purpose of unwrapping ancestral stories. 3. The teacher needs the pedagogical skill of pulling out and transferring the vocabulary from one semiotic domain to another (Gee, 2003). As mentioned above, intertextuality (Gee, 2005) in one domain is a successful precurser for more comfortable bridge crossing. As illustrated in the transcription of a student-­ teacher interaction, the student could express a known, appropriate vocabulary due to the teacher’s skill in supporting the lead. These are three basic pedagogical “feathers” a teacher will need in their hat when working through ancestral stories and science inquiry. The questions, the onramp point of information internalization, and the how natural phenomenon becomes “ahuwale” or exposed as the questions students will begin to ask when searching for answers.

5.2 Implications for Practice This chapter reveals the theory of pure, real world environmental data hidden within the ancestral story, which leads to ways of interpreting and understanding ancestral stories as sources of inquiry. Native Hawaiian students can develop questions based on the real source of the narrative – the actual elements elaborated on in the story. After questions comes conversation and discourse surrounding the element in question. One goal for professional development is for teachers to become participants in the building of these discussions. Teachers need to know how to uncover the source of the narrative, guide the development of answers and lead valuable discussion. Teachers must engage students so that they become part of a culturally grounded system, part of the dynamic world that is observed. The ultimate goal is to enable students to become a participant in the environment and perhaps a composer of the next generation of narratives. Such highly knowledgeable teachers could turn Native Hawaiian students into problem solvers and think tank participants.

References Aikenhead, G.  S., & Ogawa, M. (2007). Indigenous knowledge and science revisited. Cultural Studies of Science Education, 2. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11400-­007-­9067-­8 American Association for the Advancement of Science. (1990). Science for all Americans project 2061. Oxford University Press. Anderson, R. D. (2002). Reforming science teaching: What research says about inquiry. Journal of Science Teacher Education, 13(1), 1–12.

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Keys, C. W., & Bryan, L. A. (2001). Co-constructing inquiry-based science with teachers: Essential research for lasting reform. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 38, 631–645. Kuhn, T. (1970). The structure of scientific revolutions. University of Chicago Press. Ladewski, B.  G., Krajcik, J.  S., & Harvey, C.  L. (1994). A middle grade science teacher’s emerging understanding of project-based instruction. The Elementary School Journal, 94, 499–515. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. University of Cambridge Press. Maly, K. M. (2003). He wahi moolelo no na lawaia ma kapalilua kona hema [(A collection of historical accounts and oral history interviews with elder kamaʻāina fisher-people from the Kapalilua region of South Kona, island of Hawaiʻi) Retrieved date January 2009, http://www. ulukau.org/elib/collect/maly5/index/assoc/D0.dir/doc12.pdf MSN Encarta world English dictionary. (2009). Experiment. Retrieved January 16, 2009, from http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/features/dictionary/DictionaryResults.aspx?lextype=3&search =experiment Nagel, J. (1994). Constructing ethnicity: Creating and recreating ethnic identity and culture. Society of the Study of Social Problems, 41, 152–176. National Institute of Health. (2005). Doing Science the process of Scientific Inquiry. Retrieved January 2009, from http://science.education.nih.gov/supplements/nih6/Inquiry/guide/ info_process National Research Council. (1994). National science education standards. National Academy of Sciences. National Science Education Standards. (1994). Content standards in science K–5. Retrieved January 28, 2008, from http://ww.nap.edu/readingroom/books/nses.html National Science Foundation. (Ed.). (2000). Foundations: Thoughts and views and strategies for the K–5 classroom. Retrieved January 23, 2008, from National Science Foundation Web site: http://www.nsta.org.pdfs/PostionStatement_ScientificInquiry.pdf National Science Teachers Association. (Ed.). (2004). National Science Teachers Association position statement, scientific inquiry. Retrieved January 23, 2008, from http://www.nsta.org/pdfs/ PositionStatement_ScientificInquiry.pdf Poepoe, J.  M. (1999). Ka Moolelo Kaao o Hiiakaikapoliopele (K.  Kanahele, Trans.). Edith Kanakaole Foundation. (Original work published 1908). Pukui, M. K. (2002). Nana i ke Kumu, look to the source (Vol. 2). Hui hanai. (Original work published 1972). Sadler, T. D. (2009). Situated learning in science education: Socio-scientific issues as contexts for practice. Studies in Science Education, 45, 1–42. Saldana, J. (2009). The coding manual for qualitative researchers. Sage. Sfard, A., & Prusak, A. (2005). Telling identities: In search of an analytic tool for investigating learning as a culturally shaped activity. Educational Researcher, 34(4), 14–22. Retrieved February 4, 2009, from http://er.aera.net Snively, G., & Corsiglia, J. (2000). Discovering indigenous science: Implications for science education. Science Education, 85, 6–34. The Kumulipo. (1897). Retrieved June 30, 2009, from http://www.sacred-­texts.com/pac/lku/ index.htm Van Der Stuyf, R.  R. (2002, Fall). Scaffolding as a teaching strategy. Retrieved from condor. admin.ccny.cuny.edu Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press. Waiti, P., & Hipkins, R. (2002, November). Cultural issues that challenge traditional science teaching. Paper presented at the Third Annual New Zealand Science Education Symposium. Retrieved December 15, 2008, from http://www.nzcer.org.nz/pdfs/12618.pdf

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Welch, W., Klopfer, L., Aikenhead, G. S., & Robinson, J. (1981). The role of inquiry in science education: Analysis and recommendations. Science Education, 65(1), 33–50. Wells, G. (2000). Dialogic inquiry in education: Building on the legacy of Vygotsky; Vygotskian perspectives on literacy research, constructing meaning through collaborative inquiry. Cambridge University Press. Wise, J., Kihe, J.W.H.I, Ka ‘ao Ho ‘oniua Pu‘uwai No Ka-Miki , The Heart Stirring Story of Kamiki, Ka Hōkū Hawaiʻi, 1914–1917. Huihui Kanahele-Mossman is a Native Speaker, a legacy of Hula in the style of ʻaihaʻa, and an academic. Her undergraduate in Natural Science and Physics, her M.Ed. in Educational Leadership, and PhD in Curriculum and Instruction from the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa qualify her to be a high school administrator, Hawaiian immersion school adminstrator, science teacher, college instructor, and Associate Director of Kipuka- a Native Hawaiian Student affairs office at University of Hawaii at Hilo. Huihui trains teachers in Native science and curriculum and works with community experts to better her craft in hula, language and science.  

Chapter 6

Developing a Framework for Integrating Systems of Local Indigenous Knowledge with Climate Education in the Mariana Islands Sharon Nelson-Barber, Elizabeth Diaz Rechebei, Jose Tilipao Limes, and Zanette Johnson Abstract  Indigenous peoples, who have populated the vast Pacific region for thousands of years, have adapted to a changing environment across generations. Extreme variations in the earth’s climate have radically changed the ecosystems, economics, cultural practices, language, and lifeways of the Indigenous groups in the Western North Pacific, including the Chamorro and Carolinian peoples who live in the Commonwealth of Northern Mariana Islands. More recently, including Typhoon Soudelor in 2015, the Indigenous peoples of the Northern Marianas have endured weather patterns that destroyed homes, devastated food crops, altered fishing practices, and ultimately continued to impact the organization of community structures and relationships along with the transmission of knowledge and skills. This essay introduces the early work of Chamorro and Carolinian elder knowledge keepers who are working to develop a framework for organizing their own Indigenous knowledges related to climate change in ways that can buoy existing culturally-­ aligned education programs. For the upcoming generation to actively respond to these changes, it is essential that today’s learners gain science understandings that incorporate Indigenous knowledge and applied problem solving, so that they can help address the adverse impacts of climate change. Indigenous knowledge pro-

S. Nelson-Barber (*) WestEd, San Francisco, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] E. D. Rechebei Traditional Medicine/Culture Association, Saipan, MP, USA J. T. Limes (deceased) Curriculum Studies, University of Hawaii at Manoa, Honolulu, HI, USA Former Executive Director, Carolinian Affairs, Saipan, MP, USA Z. Johnson Intrinsic Impact Consulting, LLC, Lake Oswego, OR, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_6

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vides context-embedded perspectives to inform and inspire creative solution designs for the region; young learners urgently need to be prepared to meet these challenges. Chamorro summary translated by Elizabeth Diaz Rechebei, PhD, Traditional Medicine/Culture Association I taotåo tånu’ giya Pasifiku, siha fine’na man sensåga mås ki tres mit åñus, man menhalum gi båndan kinalamtin månglu’, tåsi yan i airi gi uriyan niha distiki mañaga gi esti i sen anchu yan gåtbu na tåsi yan isla giya Pasifiku. I tinilaikan tempu put i tanu’ giya isla yan i tasi muna’ matulalaika lokkui’ i kustumbri, lina’la’ yan kinalamtin tåotåo gi familia yan gi hinasu put sinisedi siha yan put taimanu para u lamåolik i man mamaila na hinerasion siha. Giya Notti Marianas, man gaigi på’gu i tåotåo Pasifiku ni mås matungu’ kumu Chamorro yan Carolinians. Gi dos mit disisetti, un sen dångkulu na ira, i påkyu ni mafana’an Soudelor, ha diskuattisa i gima’, tronku yan maseha håfa na guinahan taotåo giya Saipan. Nina’ fan hassu i taotåo tånu put håfa mafåfåna gi lina’la niha sa put i tinilaika ginin Soudelor giya Marianas, put asuntun familia, komunidåt, tiningngu’ yan hinengin kuttura yan lingguahi, i na’ manman na tinilaikan tempu, i nengkanu’ ginin i tanu’ yan i tåsi, i hinenggi put i man mofo’na siha na man åmku’-ñiha, yan put i man nuebu na tiningngu’ ñiha put håfa man ma sotda’ gi meggai na istudiu put i tanu’, i tasi, i tinilaikan tempu yan put i naturåt na ira gi todu i tanu’ fuera di i Pasifiku ni masagågåyi mas ki mit åñus na tempu. Put esti na sinisedi yan mås, man mana’ fanñåonåo i man menhalum na taotåo Chamorro yan Carolinian para u mafotma i tiningu’-niha put i tinilaikan tempu put para u inayuda i prugraman iskuela ni chumilung yan i kutturan Chamorro yan Carolinian. Para u mana’ tatkilu’ esti na tiningngu’ put i tinilaikan tempu yan i tiningngu’ ginin i man nuebu siha na man masotda’ na istudiu put i tinilaikan tempu giya Marianas, Pasifiku, yan i pumalu siha na lugat gi tanu’. Ginin esti na kinimprendi yan tiningngu’ siha na siempri man inayuda i man mamaila’ na hinerasion para u fan listu fumåna’ i ira siha ginin i tinilaikan tempu. I tiningngu’ i man menhalum put antis na kinimprendi put i tanu’, i tasi yan i kuttura, ha fanunu’i chalan para u sånu mo’na i lina’la’ tåotåo gi man mamaila na tempu. Carolinian summary translated by Jose T. Limes, Carolinian Elder. Me lóómw kkewe, nge aramasal tél falúw me lóll Pasifiko nge re reepiya re bwe fiteer yaar lollo me malaw reel igha eghal gholaar malamal me bwuulongol sáát, mówulul akkabwut, me bwal lélléschúl bwutkónol falúwer. Aramasal peighiwow me afáng me lóll Pasifiko iye re ghal aita bwe Marianas, nge falúweer Refalúwasch me Remaralis igha re lollo wóól ighila. E ghi ssogh tappal aweewel mwóghutughut sángi wóól falúw kkaal ngáre e gholaar malamal bwe e ghal fereeyil ló yaar lollo ngare imweer, waar serágh, yaar fóót kka re bwe ilitiir, yaar kko me awówó, yaar mwálilil kepas, me yaar mwómwóghutul re bwe malaw. Malamal we lóll 2015 iwe e ghi ferey wóól Seipél ital Typhoon Soudelor, nge aramasal Marianas ra repiya schagh bwe mamaawal me ngúúl nge e bwe liweli ló yaar mwóghutughut wóól falúw. Meeta fereyal yááng yel nge imweer, yaar fóót me lemaat, schóól ló sussbubwul iigh me leeset. Aramas ra soong me bwaibwai fengal reel esóór lo alillis me faiyéé fengal schóól lóll iimw. Ówtol aweewe yel nge e bwe afata ló repiir Remaralis me Refalúwasch yaar lollo me lóómw reel yaar malaw me mwóghut sángi climate change nge e bwe abwáriló féfféérir ngare e ghal gholaar ngáwal fféirul falúw. Atel

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ighila nge re bwele akkabwung me reepiya meeta liwel kkal a kke fééri ngáli falúwer, malawer, kkóór, me yar lollo ighila sángi climate change. Re bwal reepiya ghatchúw re bwe faisúl yar malaw ngare e ghal ghola ngawal fféirúl. Keywords  Indigenous knowledge · Heritage language · Culture-focused science education

6.1 Introduction Indigenous peoples, who have populated islands in the vast Pacific region for thousands of years, have adapted to a changing environment across generations. Over time, extreme variations in the earth’s climate have changed the ecosystems, economics, cultural practices, language, and lifeways of the peoples who live in the vulnerable islands of the Western North Pacific (WNP). Although responsible for a very small percentage of the total per capita greenhouse gases, this locale is already experiencing some of the most profound negative impacts—considerably sooner than other regions (Parker et  al., 2006; USGCRP, 2009). Predictions from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC, 2014a, b) worsen with every assessment report. Outer islands of the Republics of Palau, Kiribati and the Marshall Islands and those of the Federated States of Micronesia, for example, are already being deluged by rising waters, often with their populations urgently displaced to other locations. In the Northern Mariana Islands, increasingly extreme weather events are having significant impacts on local practices of farming and fishing, especially in the northern isolated islands frequently used for fish camps. (Greene, 2014). More recent weather patterns in the Marianas have destroyed homes, devastated food crops, altered fishing practices, impacting the organization of community structures and relationships, along with the transmission of knowledge and skills (Parker et  al., 2006; Greene, 2014). According to Greene (2014), over the past 20 years, virtually all residents of the Northern Marianas have experienced adverse weather effects including increased precipitation, flooding in low-lying areas, an increase in sea surface temperatures, damage to reef flats due to extremely low tides, typhoon-related destruction of roads and reefs, coral bleaching due to thermal stress and pH changes directly related to high CO2 in the ocean, along with erosion in watersheds and beaches. In August 2015, Typhoon Soudelor, the worst storm to strike the WNP in nearly 30 years, landed on Saipan, the capital and most populated island of the Marianas. Homes were destroyed; gasoline remained at a premium for some time; and, months later, the power was not fully restored. The menacing Tropical Storm Champi followed soon after, deepening the devastation. Although the people of the Northern Marianas have experienced numerous typhoons in the past, many are now associating powerful typhoon activity with climate change. In impacted areas like the Marianas, elders have noted this significantly increased weather variability over the course of many years; they have adapted to these new

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conditions on the basis of their observations, in concert with the Indigenous ecological knowledge they carry, as developed and transmitted over generations. Although little of this knowledge has been formally documented (Rabauliman, 2013; Seman, 2013), it is possible that these elder understandings could have immediate and substantial bearing on the strategies and responses to these weather events that local communities choose to adopt. This essay presents work that is part of the National Science Foundation-funded Pacific Islands Climate Change Education Partnership,1 a larger effort intended to enhance Pacific regional capacity to provide climate change education in schools and communities. As constituencies in the participating region are primarily Indigenous, one strand of the partnership seeks to better understand the local funds of knowledge that are operating, specifically the Indigenous environmental knowledge that residents are using to address the urgency of climate change impacts and active mitigation/adaptation strategies. This essay introduces the initial effort of Chamorro and Carolinian elders2 from the Mariana Islands to develop a framework for organizing their own Indigenous knowledge related to climate change, in ways that can buoy existing culturally-aligned education programs. Such a set of understandings could help Carolinian and Chamorro educators interpret and make use of specialized concepts and cultural heritage practices around climate that exist within their communities, in order to align local ecological knowledge with climate science instruction in schools. It is crucial for educators to collaborate around shared principles as they engage local Indigenous knowledge, which can be of potential benefit to adapting and helping reduce local/regional adverse impacts of climate and weather events. For the upcoming generation to actively respond to these changes, it is essential that young learners in today’s Northern Marianas gain science understandings that incorporate Indigenous knowledge and applied problem solving, to better prepare them to make appropriate decisions as they address climate change in their roles as the next generation of leaders.

6.2 Place-Based Education as a Tool Given rapid cultural diversification in the United States and its associated entities (the Mariana Islands entered into a unique political relationship with the United States in 1976), it is essential that those who study the effectiveness of educational programs fully understand the importance of contextual, situated practice that is  The preparation of this paper was supported in part by a grant from the National Science Foundation to Pacific Resources for Education and Learning (DUE-1239733). The findings and opinions expressed here are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the funding agency. 2  The following elders graciously shared their understandings and experiences: Manuel F. Borja, Jesus M.  Castro, Pedro P.  Castro, Alejandra S.  Cruz, Diego L.  Kaipat, Jose T.  Limes, Lino M. Olopai, Rosa T. Palacios, Malua T. Peter Jackie A. Quitugua, and Lucia N. Schilling. 1

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responsive (Ladson-Billings, 1995; LaFrance et al., 2015) and culturally-sustaining (McCarty & Lee, 2014; Paris, 2012). The need to connect school subject matter with children’s own experiences and intuitive knowledge has been an important theme in efforts to improve education in formal mathematics and science education—the foundational requirements for careers in climate science (Lee & Luykx, 2004; Oakes, 1990). Indigenous learners are taught outside of school in ways that promote “adaptive expertise,” (Schwartz et al., 2005; Crawford et al., 2005b), yet their learning trajectory is rarely optimal in school settings, meaning that important context-based concepts are not being understood, even though they are well within the range of competence for a particular student. These types of innovative problem solving skills take time to develop; yet they are already growing among students who have the opportunity to address real-world problems in the course of life. Place-based and culturally-based learning methods are recognized across the Pacific as a viable strategy for enhancing student achievement in both locally-valued and globally-­ valued criteria (Kanaʻiaupuni et al., 2010). In the Mariana Islands, existing alignment with the US educational system, Common Core and the Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS) provides an effective foundation for creating educational solutions with broader impact. Indigenous knowledge and adaptive expertise can be drawn upon to solve real-­ world problems like those identified in the WNP described early in this essay (loss of potable water, coastal erosion, diminished fishing resources)—issues that threaten food security, and come at significant sociocultural and economic cost. Application of Indigenous knowledge to solve these problems could make a substantial difference, yet most youth are not engaged beyond the level of routine knowledge. The adaptive expertise that elders practice is very much a hallmark within Indigenous knowledge systems globally; it prioritizes direct engagement with phenomena in the world over adherence to prior patterns that may or may not be relevant for the current context. The field of learning science has studied this type of adaptive expertise in formal and informal learning contexts, describing it as “…reasoning and problem-solving processes that enable [people] to continue to learn and adapt to new situations. Adaptive expertise in problem solving is often characterized by “theory-building, explanation-testing, self-questioning, and self-explanation,” (Crawford & Brophy, 2006, p. 4) as well as the ability to look at familiar problems in new ways, and to transfer past learning to new experiences (Schwartz & Martin, 2004; Crawford et al., 2005a). Learners in the Marianas are well-prepared to embark on just such an adaptive trajectory of learning from- and for- innovation, by the very Indigenous knowledge systems that are passed on through their language and cultural practices. These unique island environments optimize opportunities for youth, who are closely in tune with their surroundings on land and water, to capitalize on their first hand experiences and natural learning. Incorporating this foundational capacity into formal education is to make use of a profound resource that bootstraps local problem-­ solving potential for the entire community.

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With shared experiences of these adverse climate events which serve as touchstones for conversations, local knowledge keepers and others from the Mariana Islands can document these understandings to interpret their significance for education and to present them to the community for consideration.

6.3 Elders Generate an Initial Framework Six elder knowledge keepers of Chamorro and/or Carolinian descent agreed to begin this process by sharing their experiences with climate variability and its impacts; their discussions included some of the ways that the growing pattern of adverse events connect with culture and community. Since each elder has served as an educator in some capacity, all are eager to increase awareness and understanding of their Chamorro and Carolinian cultural traditions as a means for bringing culturally-­responsive climate learning to both communities and classrooms. They identified recurrent elements that they use in their solution strategies as they navigate climate issues. They discussed their views on the ways that cultural practices related to changing environmental conditions are consistently informed by local ways of knowing that come through lived experiences; they recounted this process while describing their own observations and informal experimentation. Key themes the elders emphasized in their discussion are summarized in Table 6.1 below. Elders noted connections to the land, spirituality, and traditions as primary lenses of expression that relate to three “ethics” or principles of action: For example, the cell at the intersection of “Land” and “Interdependence Ethic,” represents the elders’ discussion of the ways that ecological relations and human relations are mutually cultivated and preserved. According to Manuel F. Borja,“We are concerned about climate change and our survival, so it should start within us individually, [each] person, to be healthy…we can handle change if we are healthy.” Table 6.1  Using indigenous knowledge to design environmental solutions Within any potential solution… Land

Spirit

Culture

Interdependence Ethic (relational)

Biocultural Diversity Ethic

Sustainability Ethic

Ecological relations are Traditional, land-based Local materials, resources preserved and cultivated practices are preserved and labor are primarily used; and perpetuated minimal introduction of outside resources, etc. Spiritual relations are Spiritual and religious Local conceptions of preserved and cultivated (often land-based) spiritual kinship and practices are preserved relationships to elements & and perpetuated resources are respected Community and familial Language, contexts for Local knowledge, relations are preserved use and traditions are observations and lifeways and cultivated preserved and are taught, understood and perpetuated made valued priorities.

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They see that the cultivation of a system of healthy traditional relationships effectively guides factors ranging from self-esteem to resource use and distribution, furthering both the well-being of the land and the people. At the intersection of “Spirit” and “Sustainability Ethic,” the elders offered discussion of the ways that attending to the spiritual dimensions of community life that their traditions call for has a positive influence on outcomes. Manuel F.  Borja commented, “We lost our spiritual connection with nature… Western world brought us electricity. That is good, but we need to keep a healthy mind and soul; we accept what science can give us and balance it with the spiritual world. We can have the best of both worlds.” Building respectful and harmonious relationships with all dimensions of life is part of the code of life that allows life to continue—even more so in times of upheaval such as those in the present. At the intersection of the “Culture” theme and the “Biocultural Diversity Ethic,” elders discussed how it is essential for the daily contexts of life to actively incorporate language and traditional patterns of familial relationships—because continued participation in the authentic contexts of life both sustains, and is reflected within the language and worldview. Without certain traditional and land-based contexts for activity, the need for related cultural terms and practices vanishes; thus continued biocultural diversity is related to preservation of contexts for cultural practice. The elders we interviewed stressed that these recurrent elements are mostly learned, preserved, and passed on through cultural practices, including stories, songs, rituals, ceremonies, etc., that regularly take place in their communities and involve consensus about collective behaviors. Historically, this type of collective response was associated with sustainability and species survival. However, today, the elders note that many have moved away from older, traditional practices, a truth that is compounded by the diminished use of heritage language. Still, the dynamics of the framework suggested above reflect ongoing efforts toward sustaining proven traditional knowledge and practices. In the aftermath of Typhoon Soudelor, communities are needing to rely more on their adaptive expertise for survival; language vitality and the continuation of existing biocultural diversity are critical to the success of climate change adaptation and mitigation efforts. Because of the deeply interwoven connections between embedded thought forms, place and knowledge, these Chamorro and Carolinian elders believe it is crucial to document their Indigenous interpretations in their own languages. In the words of one of the Chamorro elders who participated, “We do need to know how to explain in our own language our way of thinking about climate change.” But language is more than just words; it holds and transmits ways of knowing, solving and connecting. Few of the Chamorro and Carolinian elders who are willing to share their lifetime of rich Indigenous knowledge have first-language English proficiency; one Carolinian elder found it challenging to express his views in English: “Culturally we should sustain how we can be protected as islander of these islands, and avoid [needing to say] ‘I don’t know how to explain.’” For Indigenous knowledge about climate solutions to emerge, scholars and scientists must recognize what these elders already know: working at the intersection of

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language and climate is critical. The fact that Chamorro and Carolinian languages have become endangered presents significant challenges to this much-desired effort (Lewis et al., 2009). Since the seventeenth century, different colonial forces from Spain, Germany, Japan, and the US have sought to displace Indigenous language and culture in the Mariana Islands. The remnants of archaic colonial mindsets all continue to contribute to the steady erosion of the Chamorro and Carolinian languages today. As elders pass on, communities become more and more westernized, because they have an ever-shrinking body of experiences seen through the lenses of their land- and marine-based worldviews. Once these languages are no longer spoken in their homelands (and generations flee from the homeland itself due to climate), the languages will likely disappear forever, along with the portion of collective human heritage wisdom that they carry. While elders fluent in the language are alive, it is important to future generations that their knowledge is documented; it can contribute to both cultural and scientific climate solutions for the present and perhaps in the future as well. English translations of such Indigenous perspectives, if contextualized and disseminated more broadly, will help all of us rethink ways to address issues of survival, cultural sustainability and even the plight of climate refugees.

6.4 Educational Implications The elders make it clear that the future of their culture lies at the nexus of language, climate and community activity; strategic changes to reflect this priority will find their greatest impact through the education of Indigenous youth. As noted earlier, the Northern Mariana Islands, is a Pacific Island jurisdiction in political relationship with the United States as a Commonwealth; as such, there is a relationship with the US school system. The Public School System of the Marianas has formally adopted the US’s Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS). Among other skills, these standards contain a strong emphasis on written and oral communication when developing models and engineering solutions, and in obtaining and evaluating scientific evidence. In the Marianas, this kind of reform needs to be implemented in ways that take into consideration the values of the elders and the broader social contexts within which schooling takes place. It must allow for adaptation of NGSS-­ based curriculum, instruction, and assessment that is specific to the cultural contexts of the Marianas— adaptation that enhances the valued nexus of language and cultural activity as a priority. Integrating NGSS and local culture-based standards, teaching concepts through place-based content, drawing on culturally familiar interaction and communication patterns in instruction, and conducting assessment in culturally harmonious ways are all essential to the success of NGSS with Indigenous students (Barnhardt, 2014; Nelson-Barber & Trumbull, 2015). Climate science is a vital focal point for learners in the Marianas, around which the upcoming generation can develop powerful knowledge complexes that include real science experience with significant weather events in their home communities,

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as well as links to the elder generation and their Indigenous knowledge base of language and cultural conceptions. Continued study in this area will contribute to the broader enterprise of passing on authentic, time-honored Chamorro and Carolinian knowledge systems to youth—an approach influences collective behavior and institutional traditions in ways that continue to be responsive and aligned with sustainability targets for group and species survival.

6.5 Vision for the Future In order to incorporate elders’ views and leverage perspectives on climate effects that are representative of Indigenous understandings, collaborating scientists and scholars must account for and learn from the connections they point toward. To bring these elders’ Indigenous understandings to the forefront in formal education settings, context-appropriate curriculum and pedagogical principles should make active use of specialized contextual concepts and cultural heritage practices. Educators will need to consider the scientific knowledge that arises in the Indigenous sociocultural settings of community elders, as contrasted with the discipline-based Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) knowledge that is predominant in Western formal education settings. Identifying the ways that STEM knowledge exists within and outside of sociocultural settings is essential to accurately assess culturally-responsive and -unresponsive approaches as they occur in communities. In fact, moving toward contextual, situated practice means less focus on prescribed methods, and more of an emphasis on understanding stakeholder valuing of outcomes, practices, and/or performances that are valued – many of which are not typically captured or considered in “Western” measures and methods. In other words, if we understand that all cultures generate mathematical and scientific knowledge, we also understand that that knowledge may be demonstrated very differently across groups.3 The history and practice of human ingenuity is a vital resource in addressing the challenge of climate change; the present moment impels us to bring these concepts and ways to the foreground. Elders’ time is limited due to their advancing age; climate change risks are imminent; there are research expertise and technological tools to “translate” and communicate the essential knowledge, as well as to share guiding values and principles that can inspire novel strategies to address the climate predicament. This makes it crucial for local Indigenous researchers to lead studies that inform local and regional responses to adverse impacts of climate change. There is a great potential for the knowledge identified in this beginning effort to be used to develop a flexible repertoire of educative approaches that respect and incorporate the epistemological and pedagogical foundations of different cultural  The ways in which any culture conceptualizes and applies mathematical or scientific ideas will be dictated by local needs, such as the need to organize social and kinship systems or devise effective approaches to navigation. 3

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traditions, side by side, as part of the learning process. Further exploration of elder knowledge and experience offers great potential to inform the preparation and ongoing professional growth of educators in this arena. The framework identified here can form a springboard for implementation as well as for future studies to test the applicability and adaptation of guiding principles to other populations. Indigenous perspectives coupled with knowledge about modern science can help us to recalibrate and reexamine ways of interpreting changing climate phenomena, and to support behaviors that are in more sustained and flexible alignment with the natural world. Cultivating Carolinian and Chamorro knowledge systems locally can (1) help communities collaborate to reduce and/or respond to local and regional adverse impacts of climate change; (2) support enactment of place-based learning, and (3) transform schools’ science education programing so that youth become knowledgeable and engaged with the facts of environmental change, and prepared to adapt to the intensifying variability of environmental circumstances in coming years. These design principles will also inform the understandings of the broader scientific community and policymakers who can learn from the different angles of approach identified by deeply-rooted knowledge traditions that are fine-tuned for survival. Additionally, respecting the leadership of Indigenous members of the community to interpret and analyze how Indigenous knowledge systems and modern science can work together and share with others may be a more sustainable method for exchanging understandings among different peoples. Climate science is a critical focal point for learners in the Mariana Islands, around which the next generation can develop powerful knowledge complexes that include real science experience with significant weather events in their home communities, language and cultural conceptions, with links to the elder generation and their indigenous knowledge base. New learning from this project will contribute to the broader enterprise of passing on authentic, time-honored information to youth— an approach that can change collective behavior and institutional traditions in ways that also are in alignment with sustainability and species survival. Locally, revitalizing the Chamorro and Carolinian languages (together with the unique cultural knowledge, values and significance interwoven with them) also will contribute in positive ways to the resilience of Marianas regional communities as they understand and respond to the impacts of climate change on their environments. Documenting and rebuilding local knowledge and time-honored wisdom about local lands, waters, and other components of the natural environment will enhance language use and local ways of knowing— ways that can contribute to re-­ interpretation of western science traditions, providing valuable, novel ways of looking at complex problems like mitigation and adaptation to climate change. Globally, Indigenous knowledge systems can be understood as diverse vehicles for investigating local climate change impacts and adaptation strategies. Mobilizing language-based Indigenous education initiatives, which already strive to produce community members who are immersed and fully-oriented in Indigenous ways of thinking, can provide experiences that empower Indigenous minded youth to engage in community-based science activity and participate in global scientific

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conversation. Creating knowledge complexes early in life is important for diversifying the kinds of solution strategies that future scientists will generate. The sooner we engage youth in hands-on, community-oriented scientific training experiences that incorporate Indigenous language and ways of thinking locally-refined over generations, the more likely those young people will persist in scientific fields (Olopai, Personal communication, November 15, 2015). Climate science is a critical focal point for Mariana Island learners, around which the next generation can develop powerful knowledge complexes that include real science experience with significant weather events in their home communities, language and cultural conceptions, with links to the elder generation and their Indigenous knowledge base. By engaging in dialogue that incorporates the diversity of Indigenous knowledge systems and scientific traditions, a broader spectrum of approaches and solutions can be generated to actively address issues of climate change in ways that will far outweigh the consequences of inaction, and which go beyond the limited range of solutions that any single tradition can provide.

References Barnhardt, R. (2014). Creating a place for indigenous knowledge in education: The Alaska native knowledge network. In G. Smith & D. Gruenewald (Eds.), Place-based education in the global age: Local diversity (pp. 137–158). Routledge. Crawford, V. M., & Brophy, S. (2006). Adaptive expertise: Theory, methods, findings, and emerging issues. SRI International. Crawford, V.  M., Schlager, M., Riel, M., Toyama, Y., Vahey, P., & Stanford, T. (2005a, April). Developing expertise in teaching: The role of adaptiveness in learning through everyday practice. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association annual conference, Montreal. Crawford, V. M., Schlager, M., Toyama, Y., Riel, M., & Vahey, P. (2005b, April). Characterizing adaptive expertise in science teaching. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Montreal. Greene, R. (Ed.). (2014). Climate change vulnerability assessment for the Island of Saipan. Bureau of environmental and coastal quality  – Division of coastal resources management, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands, . IPCC, Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. (2014a). Impacts, adaptation, and vulnerability Part A: Global and sectoral aspects. Cambridge University Press. IPCC, Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. (2014b). Impacts, adaptation, and vulnerability Part B: Regional aspects. Cambridge University Press. Kanaʻiaupuni, S. M., Ledward, B., & Jensen, U. (2010). Culture-based education and its relationship to student outcomes. Kamehameha Schools, Research & Evaluation Division. Ladson-Billings, G. (1995). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491. LaFrance, J., Nelson-Barber, S., Rechebei, E., & Gordon, J. (2015). Partnering with Pacific communities to ground evaluation in local culture and context: Promises and challenges. In S. Hood, R. Hopson, K. Obeidat, & H. Frierson (Eds.), Journey to reposition culture and cultural context in evaluation theory and practice (pp. 361–378). Information Age Publishing. Lee, O., & Luykx, A. (2004). Science education and student diversity: Synthesis and research agenda. A monograph is supported by the Center for Research on Education, Diversity, and

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Excellent (CREDE) and the National Center for Improving Student Learning and Achievement (NCISLA) in Mathematics and Science. Lewis, M. P., Simons, G. F., & Fennig, C. D. (2009). Ethnologue: Languages of the world (Vol. 9). SIL International. Martin, L., & Schwartz, D. L. (2009). Prospective adaptation in the use of representational tools. Cognition and Instruction, 27(04), 1–31. McCarty, T., & Lee, T. (2014). Critical culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy and indigenous education sovereignty. Harvard Educational Review, 84(1), 101–124. Nelson-Barber, S., & Trumbull, E. (2015). Educational reforms and American Indian and Alaska native learner success. WestEd, Center on Standards and Assessment Implementation. Oakes, J. (1990). Multiplying inequalities: The effects of race, social class, and tracking on opportunities to learn mathematics and science. The Rand Corporation. Olopai, L. (2015, November). Personal communication, Carolinian knowledge keeper. Paris, D. (2012). Culturally sustaining pedagogy: A needed change in stance, terminology, and practice. Educational Researcher, 41(3), 93–97. Parker, A., Grossman, Z., Whitesell, E., Stephenson, B., Williams, T., Hardison, P., Ballew, L., Burnham, B., Bushnell, J., & Klosterman, R. (2006, October). Climate change and Pacific rim indigenous nations. Northwest Indian Applied Research Institute, Evergreen State College. Rabauliman, F. (2013, February). Personal communication. Bureau of Environmental and Coastal Quality. Schwartz, D. L., & Martin, T. (2004). Inventing to prepare for future learning: The hidden efficiency of encouraging original student production in statistics instruction. Cognition and Instruction, 22(2), 129–184. Schwartz, D. L., Martin, T., & Nasir, N. S. (2005). Designs for knowledge evolution: Methods and measures for a prescriptive learning theory. In P. Gardenfors & P. Johansson (Eds.), Cognition, education, and communication technology (pp. 21–54). Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Seman, R. (2013, February). Personal communication. Department of Lands and Natural Resources. USGCRP, United Stated Global Change Research Program. (2009). In T. R. Karl, J. M. Melillo, & T.  C. Peterson (Eds.), Global climate change impacts in the United States. Cambridge University Press. Sharon Nelson-Barber, a sociolinguist and Senior Program Director at WestEd, has lifelong personal and professional experience in Indigenous communities. Her interests in STEM began early on as she accompanied her father and grandfather while subsistence hunting and fishing. Much of her research, funded by the National Science Foundation, centers on understanding ways in which students’ cultural backgrounds influence how they make sense of mathematics and science education. She also conducts studies aimed at developing more equitable assessment and testing methods that account for cultural influences. She closely collaborates with other Indigenous researchers and community partners across the US, the Northern Pacific islands of Micronesia, and parts of Polynesia. She is co-founder of POLARIS (Pivotal Opportunities to Learn, Advance and Research Indigenous Systems), a research and development network that promotes healthier communities by integrating Indigenous perspectives for thriving education futures. An ongoing project convenes Indigenous elders and scientists to document technical solutions to climate change from both Indigenous and western academic perspectives, and heighten international attention to the need to preserve cultures and societies amidst rising waters.  

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Elizabeth Diaz Rechebei,  EdD Dr. Rechebei is a Chamorro/ Japanese Pacific Islander from the Northern Marianas working to document and revitalize knowledge systems of Indigenous peoples to benefit communities. Her activities span the Traditional Medicine Association, the Commission on Education in Micronesia, and community review boards to protect Indigenous knowledge and language. Her expertise includes education, assessment/evaluation, research, and policy analysis. She works with community groups in Yap, Chuuk, Kosrae and Pohnpei, Palau and the Marshall Islands, and helps to revise a Chamorro-­ English dictionary. She is a principal investigator to produce units on climate change, and advises the NSF-­funded Pacific Islands Climate Education Partnership. Jose Tilipao Limes  As a Carolinian native of the Marianas, a teacher and an administrator, Mr. Limes brings Indigenous understandings about culture, language, science, and the environment to classrooms and community cultural events. He is passionate about revitalizing Carolinian climate knowledge, providing insights to youth and older generations about their fragile island environment. He contributes to community and educational efforts that ensure an enduring integration of local knowledge, skills and abilities built from rich Carolinian and Chamorro traditions.

Zanette Johnson,  PhD Dr. Johnson is a researcher and teacher whose transdisciplinary expertise spans the fields of neuroscience, cultural epistemology, and education. As cofounder of an Indigenous community-based K-12 school in Hawaiʻi, and former director of a Native Hawaiian Education Act-supported Indigenous teacher education program, Dr. Johnson gained deep experiential knowledge of the cultural and policy factors influencing learners and teachers in Indigenous educational contexts. Her ethnographic research has focused on context-adaptivity and place-based learning as innovations in teacher education that can serve as leverage points for cultural knowledge revitalization, as well as for broader change in school systems.

Chapter 7

Culturally Responsive Science Education for Rural Students: Connecting School Science with Local Heritages in Thailand Nantana Taptamat

Abstract  This paper discusses the implementation of Place-based education (PBE) in a rural high school in Thailand. This case study applied a socio-cultural perspective to examine the effects of PBE on science communication and understanding of local heritage in 67 high school students. Data were collected through videotapes, interviews, field observations, student artifacts, and researcher’s journal. Analysis of students’ artifacts such as e-books and magazines and students’ journals showed high appreciation for and emotional engagement with the culture, history and resources of their community. It was evident that these socio-environmental practices provided the teacher and students with a dialogic space to communicate in less hieragical ways where students developed competencies, personal initiatives and agency. Finally, this paper addresses concerns regarding enacting a PBE framework to learn science. Keywords  Place-based education · Context-based science · Project-based approach · Socio- environmental based learning · STEM Many educators propose bringing the atmosphere and practices of a scientific community into school science. They believe that duplicating what scientists do may enable novice learners to understand the world (Minner et al., 2010). According to the view of scientific knowledge-building as a social construct, learning science includes learning to communicate the language of science to demonstrate how an individual interprets the universe. Hence, learning science embraces learning to talk, read, and write science (Lemke, 1990). Additionally, some theorists in science education include scientific language comprehension as a part of science literacy (Hicks, 1995). The author of this study believed that her students’ native ways of knowing, talking and behaving were fundamental for developing scientific concepts. Therefore, N. Taptamat (*) School of Education, University of Queensland, Brisbane, QLD, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_7

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this research applied socio-cultural perspectives to engage directly with the cultural contexts of science learning. The design of the study provided students with opportunities to communicate science through the activities that acknowledged their daily experiences and incorporated community resources. To engage students in a coherent learning environment and make learning meaningful to their lives, the school enacted a range of curricular and extracurricular activities based on place-based education, language-based learning, and STEM education, hereafter called, “PBE.” This paper discusses explicitly only one extracurricular project, the Botany Media Club. In examining the effects of the Botany Media Club on student learning in science in culturally responsive ways, this study asked two questions: 1. To what extent did students’ verbal communication demonstrate their inquiry ability during their learning process? 2. To what extent did students’ written artifacts demonstrate students’ emotional attachment to their community?

7.1 Place-Based Education Connecting school more firmly to its community is one of the common characteristics of Place-based education (PBE) that shares with other pedagogies, i.e., community-­based education, civic education, contextual education, service education, environmental education, and workplace education (Smith & Sobel, 2010). Additionally, David Sobel (2004) defined place-based education as the process of learning by using resources in the local community to study many subjects across the curriculum. Emphasizing real-world problem solving and active participation in community-related issues, this approach helps students develop knowledge, skills, and values, which necessarily benefit the sustainable growth of the community. According to Sobel’s perspectives, PBE emphasises the advantages of learning through activities based on three elements: the subject matter, the learners, and society of the particular contexts of specific places. Additionally, Smith, G. (Smith, 2002a) identified five themes of place-based learning in educational research and practices: (1) exploration of local culture (2) exploration of local natural phenomena (3) investigation of community issues and problem- solving (4) opportunities of internships and entrepreneurs in the community and (5) induction into community decision making. He argued that in this way PBE supported the development of connections among children and the people and places where they live and recognised benefits from the commitment and contributions of members. Many scholars believe that PBE can raise student academic performance and skills as well as the ecological and social vitality of communities they live in (Sobel, 2004). Gregory Smith (2002b) argued that place-based education activate students’ desire to learn “by locating learning in the lives and concerns of the students and their communities” (p. 31). Similarly, Peter McInerney et al. (2011) pointed out two

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prominent advantages of PBE, which were revitalising the commons and connecting schools and communities. Bartosh (2004) reported that the schools with systematic environmental education (EE) programs tended to score higher in math, reading, writing, and listening. Similarly, Libermann and Hoody (1998) also mentioned that Integrating Context for Learning (EIC) schools scored higher in reading, writing, math, science, social studies on standardised tests. They noted that EIC seemed to lessen the problems in the classrooms, enhanced engagement in learning and supported positive self-­ attitudes of the students.

7.2 STEM Education STEM which stands for the interdisciplinary integration of Science(S), Technology (T), Engineering (E), and Mathematics (M), is a cohesive learning paradigm based on real-world applications. Research has shown that STEM promotes student higher order thinking skills, such as creative thinking, problem-solving, and critical thinking (King & Wiseman, 2001). Furthermore, “research indicates that using an interdisciplinary or integrated curriculum provides opportunities for more relevant, less fragmented, and more stimulating experiences for learners” (Furner & Kumar, 2007, p.186). Integrating all subjects and learning both in the classroom and real life makes learning meaningful to students. It may also develop students’ communication, social skills and improves their self-confidence (Gutherie et al., 2000). As a result, students enjoyed learning more and would apply these lessons to daily life situations and their continuing study. Janice S. Morrison (2006) noted students in STEM education programs showed evidence of being problem-solvers, creative innovators, inventors, self-reliant, logical thinkers and technologically literate. Based on the evidence from the literature, this study designed learning activities to incorporate STEM into PBE. Students would interact directly with local resources and use knowledge from various school disciplines, e.g. STEM as well as daily experience to construct and develop interdisciplinary knowledge and skills situated in the sociohistorical, cultural interests and needs of the students and community.

7.3 Theoretical Perspectives: Language-Based Learning We use language in almost every aspect of our lives to achieve the goals of social living. At school, we use language both verbal and non-verbal as a medium of delivering learning and teaching almost in every instruction. Language has been commonly referred to as a resource of meaning creation and interpretation and is a central interest in the studies of human cognition as well as a critical tool to study how individuals think (Kim, 2002). M.A.K. Halliday (1993) emphasises language as the foundation of learning and meaning-making (p. 93):

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N. Taptamat When children learn the language, they are not simply engaging in one type of learning among many; rather, they are learning the foundations of learning itself. The distinctive characteristic of human learning is that it is a process of making meaning – a semiotic process, and the prototypical form of human semiotic is language. Hence the ontogenesis of language is at the same time the ontogenesis of learning.

Additionally, language plays a crucial role in instruction: almost all of what is claimed as knowledge is communicated as language, whether it is symbolic logic, mathematical notations, or everyday plain-speak (Lemke, 1990). Lave and Wenger (1991) view language is a tool for knowledge acquisition as it assists individuals in developing their “identity, by learning to speak, act and improvise in ways that make sense in the community” (p. 49). They view learning as culturally situated activities occurring through socialisation and imitation. The novice learner enters a community of practice and transforms from apprentice to experienced member and eventually a master through interacting with and replicating activities of experts. Discourse among group members plays a crucial role in scaffolding learners to become active, full participants. In this regard, teachers are responsible for providing students discursive practices of sharing ideas, debating, exchanging opinions, engaging in joint activities, and building upon existing relationships to master their learning and become accepted in classroom communities. This study acknowledged the importance of language on students’ learning of science. Hence, it provided students with learning experiences in which they had an opportunity to use their voices to seek and develop an understanding as well as appreciate and transform others’ voices. It explored the relationship of their verbal communication and inquiry ability during their learning and evidence of understanding science and emotional commitment to their local heritages through written artifacts. Recently, learning has emphasised the process of knowledge construction that grows out of an emergent and contingent nature of the individual’s active participation and contribution in situated social practices (Kumpulainen & Wray, 2002). This process of learning involves both cognitive and social engagements (Mercer, 2004). Hence, this study viewed learning as a situated action in a dynamic context shaped by the environment and human interactions (Greenberg, 2001). In another words, the process of learning science is socially and culturally situated, mediated by language and other symbols and can be understood through investigation of their historical change (John-Steiner & Mahn, 1996). When considering how to explore learning of science underlying students’ communication, the study focused on two core areas in designing the research. First, it is essential to study how socio-cultural contexts affect communication behaviours. Second, it is essential to explore how participant communication influences the discursive practices. From these two main foci, a research methodology was selected. The subsequent sections discuss how these two concerns have shaped the methodology of the study guided by the theoretical and analytical frameworks of the research design. The following sections of this paper include the aims and questions of this study followed by research design, research contexts, data gathering techniques, and data analysis. The next sections discuss the results and challenges regarding

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implementing PB education. The last sections address limitations of the study and recommendations for future studies.

7.4 Methodology This case study was guided by Erickson’s (2012) statement, “Human social action and opinion are locally distinct and situationally contingent” (p. 1451). Because the nature of student communication in particular social settings is highly depended on contextual factors, this investigation entailed a local, temporal, and situational interpretation. It required a research method that integrated communicative language and sociocultural factors necessary to facilitate relevant and trustworthy research outcomes (Mercer, 2004). As it would not be possible to understand and interpret the situated communication without understanding the contexts within which they took place, a qualitative methodology was adopted. A case study approach allows a researcher to interpret the meaning of communications which students produced in their natural settings through multiple sources of data (Patton, 2002). It is appropriate to this research as it allows in-depth exploration and understanding of student learning through the lens of communication in Thai contexts as students develop their scientific understandings and emotional engagment with their community while participating in a 3-year PBE project.

7.5 Research Aims and Questions The primary objective of this inquiry was to explore an interplay between social, cultural and historical components and their contributions to students’ development of scientific understanding and emotional commitment to their local heritages underlying their verbal and written communication while participating the Botany Media Project for 3 years. It asked two questions as follows: RS 1: To what extent did students’ verbal communication demonstrate their inquiry ability during their learning process? RS 2: To what extent did students’ written artifacts demonstrate their students’ emotional attachment to their community?

7.6 Location of the Study The study took place at a public high school located in a rural area of northeastern Thailand. This school had served the educational needs of the local communities since 1977. In recent years, this school educated about 1800 students taught by 60

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teachers. This area was well-known for food products from its rare ecosystem, unique textiles, and Buddhism. Further, the languages in this area were quite diverse, including northeastern Thai or Lao, Phutai, Yo, So, Kareng, Yoi, Vietnamese, and Khmer. Prior to the project reported in this paper, the researcher had developed the Place-­ based lessons using the local resources. For example, fishes, insects, and plants from the Songkhram River Basin—a unique ecosystem found near the school were brought to class to teach ecosystem concepts. In addition to natural resources, the history, culture, and ethnically diverse people were also integrated into the learning. At home and with friends at school, students spoke their dialects while they used central Thai in formal settings and with teachers.

7.7 The Botany Media Club Project The school had adopted the “School Botanical Garden Project (SBG), using a whole school approach since 1997. According to school curricula, SBG project had been integrated by using local plants as teaching and learning resources in all school subjects. Botany Media Club (BMC) was a complementary work of the SBG project. To allow more in-depth investigation about local resources (in addition to plants), the researcher proposed the Botany Media Club project in 2012. While the SBG was embedded in the school curriculum, the BMC mainly involved extracurricular activities, especially for the field visits. The BMC project was designed based on the researcher’s previous projects, such as the Collaborative School Network and her master’s degree Place-Based Project. It sought to primarily survey the local resources and examine how to make use of those local resources in education. Modelled after a media company, Botany Media Club students produced magazines, newsletters, e-books, videos and other multimedia. Sixty-seven students voluntarily worked in different positions, such as marketing director, editors, advertisers, accountants, field workers and writers. These students did not get any credit for participating in this project. They worked in their free time and on the weekends visiting villages in their Province to study resources and people. They presented and shared their experiences through magazines, newsletter, e-book, video production and other multimedia. Most data, pictures, and figures were created by students if not, they needed to cite their sources. The two sections below describe two participant roles in this project— as information seekers and writers and as teammates in the publication.

7.8 The Field Worker and Field Writer Group Students in this group were responsible for choosing topics of interest, and then going to the field to collect data. Some were also the writers. Through these practices, students learned from first-hand experiences of choosing and researching all

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aspects of the topic, including people, natural and constructed resources. They studied in great detail each entity, small or large, in the ecosystem, then studied the relationships among those entities. They perceived by themselves how vital each element was in the ecosystem and what might happen if it became extinct. Students also compared the properties and potentials of each element to people as well as relations among them to human communities. For example, they studied a local plant from birth to death and compared its changes to those of humans. Then they studied its habitat and animals that interacted with it and interviewed locals about its benefits and usages.

7.9 The Production Group This group of students was responsible for deciding types of publication, i.e., magazine, newsletter, video clips, and other forms. This group of students selected the articles to include in their magazines and newsletters in which they wrote the editorial introductions. Articles were written by the field writer group, other students, teachers and local experts. Before deciding on participating, students were well-informed about job descriptions, qualifications, and responsibilities. They brainstormed the types of production and skills needed. After that they developed their skills according to their proposed positions through a range of workshops, including Adobe Indesign, Adobe Photoshop, video productions, and writing workshops. Each student had personal files to keep their journals, comments and work. The school provided one laptop for collecting students’ artifacts, and these students had access to any computer in the school’s technology centre. Table 7.1 summarises activities and students’ work produced from 2012–2014.

7.10 Data Sources The research questions dealt with examing learning science and sense of place of participating students. Methods used for collecting data included videotapes, interviews, field observations, researcher journals, and student artifacts. The field visit and one video clip were analysed to examine discourse of inquiry in students’ verbal manners. To evaluate students’ emotional engagement to their local community in students’ written work such as magazines and storybook. Thematic analysis of written artifacts provided evidence of emotional engagement to their local community. The researcher reviewed three project-related reports and two external school evaluations to examine students’ science concepts. Field notes and the researcher’s journal were analysed to give additional insights into the research questions. Table 7.2 shows how selected data were employed to answer the research questions for this study.

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Table 7.1  Student productions during the 3-year project (2012–2014) Types of production Magazines

Newsletters Video productions

Other

Types of stories Field visits Interviews with local people at school and in community Independent studies regarding the school botanical garden project Policy, enactment, and results regarding the school botanical garden project Field visits Interview local people at school and in community Independent studies regarding the school botanical garden project School activities Independent studies based on students’ interests

Students’ products 2 issues of the botany update

5 issues of school botanical garden newsletter 14 documentary films

23 interactive e-books One bilingual illustrated storybook

Table 7.2  Relationship between the research questions, methods, evidence sought and analysis Research questions (1) To what extent did students’ verbal communication demonstrate their inquiry ability during their learning process?

(2) To what extent did students’ written artifacts demonstrate their understanding science and emotional engagement to their local community?

Source of data Video data from a field visit One video clip produced by students Field observation notes Researcher’s journal Project-related reports External school evaluation reports The first magazine A storybook

Analysis Socio-­ cultural discourse analysis

Socio-­ cultural discourse Written student artifacts analysis Field observation notes Researcher’s journal Project-related reports External school evaluation reports

Expected evidence Functional analysis of verbal interaction Analysis of cognitive processing Analysis of social processing

Interpretation of students’ scientific comprehension Interpretation of students’ perceptions regarding their responsibility towards the environment

7.11 Findings and Discussion RS 1: to what extent did students’ verbal communication demonstrate their inquiry ability during their learning process?

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In typical Thai classrooms, most questions are posed by teachers to evaluate students’ understandings. Usually, teachers expect only one correct answer. When students provide correct answers, teachers move on to the next topic or activity. If students give the wrong answers, teachers usually explain more then ask the question again until students gave the right answers. Sometimes, teachers answer the questions themselves. In contrast, there was less difference in expertise between the teachers and students in the project interventions. The real-world topics to be investigated were often new to both teachers and students. Though teachers might have more experience and knowledge about the topics, their confidence in their competency differed from familiar classroom topics. Additionally, teachers intended to allow students to explore and construct knowledge by themselves as much as possible. Their teacher roles shifted from being authoritative to being co-learners and facilitators in the students’ learning journey. In this scenario, students constructed and defined questions and problems, designed investigations to gather data, collected and organised data, drew conclusions and then communicated their understandings through various platforms. These activities demanded a multitude of verbal communications among their peers, teachers, and community experts. Students entered into different discourses and interacted with different people in different social and cultural settings. These experiences shaped the ways students conversed over the 3-year intervention with peers, villagers and teachers.

7.12 Talking with Friends and Talking with the Teachers In the beginning, students mostly talked with the teachers in standard Thai while teachers used dialects more with them. Students did not ask questions for information but for directions to complete tasks. They rarely disagreed or provided ideas. After an extended period of interaction, students used dialects more, provided their opinions, and sometimes disagreed. Excerpt 7.1 presents a conversation between a teacher and students discussing an article about a natural cosmetic made from a banana: Excerpt 7.1  Students discussed their proposal of using pictures in the article Ying

Teacher, I would like to add some pictures. It is not beautiful and not interesting without pictures. Teacher Which picture? Ying Our product (cosmetic), ingredient and maybe someone using it, like a presenter. Teacher Hmm, good idea. Maybe you can ask your friends. Rat However, I think the teachers would be better because teachers have money to buy cosmetics. However, they choose to use it. When a teacher uses it, it means it is good. When we see students use it, we think they do not have money to buy cosmetic, so they use our product (banana, yogurt and honey) as a facial mask.

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The Botany Media Club students were widely recognized in school. They were called Dek suan or Dek kob, Botanist kids and were very proud to be named and included in the group. When referring to them, teachers and students usually used that name. Many teachers asked them to run other projects such as School Bank, School Shop, and Student Committee. This group of students played key roles in the school that might have made them feel confident to talk more openly to their teachers. However, a few teachers were not happy when students challenged their ideas. For instance, one teacher commented that she was not happy seeing one student asked teachers too many questions; she said such behaviour should not be conducted in school. From her perspective, students should always do whatever teachers tell them to do because teachers had more experiences and knew what was useful for students’ futures. Asking too many questions indicated their lack of respect for teachers. However, responses from questionnaires indicated most teachers believed students could talk openly but should also have some limits. When this issue was raised in discussion with the students, one student said, Oi!! [Disappointed tone] it does not mean I do not respect him, in fact, he is my homeroom teacher whom I feel very comfortable to discuss things with. It does not change the way I respect him, but I just changed the way I react to the problems. Before I kept all questions with me but now I just ask about what I want to know. Even I disagree with him; it has nothing to do with my respect. He is still my father [Thai students called their favourite teachers, “mother” or “father”]. He understands me. Only teacher A does not.

Other students showed their agreement. One student added, “It does not matter. Even if she is unhappy, she needs us. And we do not do any wrong; we are critical but respectful; we give reasons.” This excerpt showed this student’s confidence in her belief regarding questioning for information and clarification. One student commented, “maybe next time, you might soften your tone and don’t talk too fast, too loud. You may sound like you are arguing.” Then everyone laughed. It is worth noting that Thai people laugh when they would like to ease situations and other people’s feelings.

7.13 Talking with Experts in the Villages Students prepared some questions before each visit to the villages. They used local dialects with local experts unless teachers jumped into the conversations. However, towards the end of the project students used local dialects more consistently even when the teachers joined the conversation. While talking, some students took notes. Their notes were mostly written in standard Thai with some dialects in some conversation. Central Thai is the preferred language used in all formal settings including in all levels of public education (Diller, 2002). Proficiency in Standard Thai is perceived as well educated, as such schooling strongly emphasized the use of standard Thai as stated by the Prime Minister’s Office letter of order (cited in Diller, 2002):

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Excerpt 7.2  Students interview Yard, the villager Mo (Lao) Yard (Phu-thai) Yai (Phu-thai) Mo (Lao)

Mom. Mom. Why are the colours of these clothes different? แม๊ๆ สีผ้าเป็นหยัง จั่งบ่คือกัน I put the ash [from the local tree] into this and leaves [of different tree] into this. อันนี้แม๊เส่อขี้เฒ่า อันนี้แม๊เส่อใบไม้ Mo, I think it is related to acid and base. กูว่ามันเกียวกับกรดด่างวะโม Yeah, ash must be carbonate, base? Leaves give the greenish colour, must be acid, yes? เออๆๆ ขี้เฒ่านี่คาร์บอเนต ด่างเด้เนาะ ใบไม้ให้สีออกไปทางเขียวๆ มันคือสิเป็นกรด ติหึ

Government officials must be careful in their pronunciation and their use of Thai which is the national language… Superiors at all levels should advise and warn their subordinates in this matter.

However, when talking with the villagers, local dialects seemed to be more appreciated. Mo, a student who spoke Lao and Yai who spoke Phu-thai interviewed Yard, a villager who spoke Phu-thai about the steps she took in making clothes from growing the indigo trees to the dyeing process, the design and hand weaving process, and marketing. Excerpt 7.2 shows the short dialogue in which three different language speakers talk. Students usually showed respect by calling the villagers “mom” and “dad” if they were in the similar ages to their parents while the villagers called themselves “mom” and “dad” and called students “son” or “daughter” (Luk: ลูก). Yai linked the local knowledge to school science by assuming that the colour difference of clothes may be related to the acidity of the solution in the dyeing process. Mo agreed on that and tried to use the scientific term, i.e. carbonate to link with acidity. Later, they discussed which colours would be obtained when specific local materials, i.e. different parts of plants and animals were added to the solution during the dyeing process. The students were intense and focused as they needed useful information for their writing. They voluntarily participated in this project therefore might have a higher self-efficacy from the start than other students. The more students asked questions, the more they appeared to ask more relevant follow­up questions in their interviews and took less time to prepare the questions beforehand. The depth of information could be observed in their notes and written publications and video data. RS 2: To what extent did students’ written artifacts demonstrate students’ emotional attachment to their community? According to the project reports, the innovation was successful in term of raising community interest in and awareness about local resources including natural resources, human-made resources, culture and beliefs, people, and history. It allowed students to communicate knowledge about these aspects of their lives through their voices and the voices of others. While participating in first-hand direct learning, students interacted with both living and non-living things in the community. First, they studied the properties of each element, then learned the interplay among those elements and their attachment

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Fig. 7.1  Student artifacts related to their studies of Caladium X hortulanum

to the ecosystems. They also compared the elements’ properties and relations to their lives. They saw for themselves how essential each element was to the lives of others in the community. They also imagined what was going to happen if one species became extinct. They appreciated things and recognised their significance through active learning. They did not want to harm any species as they comprehended the importance of all elements. In summary, their learning was connected to exploration and experience through active participation in relevant local ecological issues resulting in attitudes supporting environmental conservation. The students’ written artifacts showed students’ voices regarding scientific knowledge and environmental behaviour and other voices such as the villagers, teachers, friends and even the trees that they studied. To demonstrate students’ scientific understanding and environmental understanding, this section discusses student work produced while they studied Caladium X hortulanum. Caladiums are well-known for their colourful foliage. The heart-shaped leaves are coloured and patterned beautifully and variously. Several varieties of Caladiums were commonly found in the school throughout the year. Some students studied the leaves of Caladiums and wrote scientific reports about their study. Figure 7.1 shows the variety of this plant (left) being studied and the scientific report of the study (right). According to the 31-page student report, information was categorised into two sections: Section 1: The Nature of the Caladium and Section 2: My Emotions while Studying Caladium. The first section consisted of the background of the study, aims of the study, material and equipment, procedure, results, discussion, conclusion, reference, abstract, pictures. The content analysis of this document found that students were capable of using scientific terms to report their science experiment. For example, students described the second part of their procedure in the following excerpt (literal translation):

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Section 2: Comparing the features of Caladium leaves that have different patterns Bring Caladium leaves that have different patterns, 3 leaves of each pattern (from different trees). Must pick from trees with similar ages, choose the leaves located nearest to the flower. Do experiment as follows: 1. [Observe] Colour the first, middle and third sections of leaves [students divided the leaves into three sections] 2. Measure the first, middle and third sections of the leaves’ stalks 3. Measure the width and length of each leaf

…

ตอนที่ 2 เปรียบเทียบลักษณะของใบบอนสีที่มีลวดลายใบแบบต่างๆ นำ�ใบบอนสีที่มีใบลวดลายบนใบต่างๆ มาลวดลายละ 3 ใบ(มาจากคนละต้น) โดยเลือกเก็บตัวอย่างจากต้นที่มีอายุใกล้เคียงกัน เลือกใบ ที่อยู่ใกล้ปลีมากที่สุด มาทำ�การทดลองดังนี้ 1 สีของก้านใบส่วนต้น ส่วนกลางและส่วนปลาย 2 วัดเส้นรอบวงของก้านใบส่วนต้น ส่วนกลางและส่วนปลาย 3 วัดขนาดความกว้าง และความยาวของแต่ละใบ

From the above translation, students described experimental procedures using the Standard Writing Style appropriately. The language used was concise, accurate, and clear. Though there were some missing words, e.g. [Observe] Colour the first… students forgot to include the verb “observe,” but the message was still understandable. Students wrote the results, discussion and conclusion sections well and referred to the “Procedures” section where appropriate. It was worth noting that the students put an abstract at the end of the report as it was a format required by the Botanical Garden Project. Additionally, this report was evaluated by botanists who worked for the Plant Genetic Conservation Project under the Royal Initiative of Her Royal Highness Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn. The evaluators confirmed it was scientifically well-written and appropriate for this level of study. In summary, the report on the Study of Caladium of the students was well written consistently with the scientific report format. As a result of intensively studying a variety of Caladium scientifically and then comparing it to the lives of humans, a 17-year-old student, Niparat created the fictional story “Uniheart Town.” This story described a heart-shaped imaginary town whose residents were once identical. Then something changed their appearance. Furthermore, when an afflicted person touched other people, their skin was changed forever with no exception nor explanation. Soon, people of changed colour were discriminated against and were forced to live at the border of the town. The changes created tensions among residents which turned into wars as a result of fear of being different. Later in the year, other students extended this fictional short-story by relating this conflict to the Thai political crisis in 2008. According to Office the Basic Education Commission (OBEC, 2008), a fundamental goal of education is the attainment of national unity. Therefore, the learning standards and goals have been established to ensure that students would obtain knowledge, skills, attitudes and morality appropriately to a basis of Thai-ness and universal values. The image of ‘Thai-ness’ (khawm pen thai) is constructed mainly based on the fundamental national goals: loyalty to one’s nation, religion and king

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(chat, sasana, phra mahakaset) (Nilsen, 2012). The next section describes how the “Uniheart Town” story reflected the core curriculum aim, particularly the impression of Thai-ness. Niparat first described the residence of Uniheart Town as: The Uniheart’s residents were all identical. They had shiny green skin, with small, slender hands, and heart-shaped faces. They were neither male nor female, for they were asexual and therefore they did not propagate. ผู้คนที่อาศัยอยู่ในเมืองนี้มีลักษณะทางกายภาพเหมือนกันหมด คือ มีแขนเรียวเล็ก ลำ�ตัวมีสีเขียวใส เรืองแสงได้ในที่มืด ใบหน้าเป็นรูป หัวใจ ทุกคนมีหน้าตาเหมือนกันหมด ไม่มีเพศหญิงและเพศชาย ดังนั้นจึงไม่มีการผสมพันธุ์

Her description of the characters applied to both the features of the object (i.e., Caladium) and the impression of ‘Thai-ness’ (khawm pen thai) directly and indirectly. The shiny green colour represented the colour of the most commonly found variety of Caladium; residents’ slender hands represented the Caladium leaf’s stalk; neutral gender of residents represented the Caladium as an asexual plant. According to the characters’ identity, the same appearance of people may represent the major national goal of Thailand, attainment of national unity. The religious aspect of the story was metaphorically represented throughout the story. Figure 7.2 shows one of the examples of Buddhist belief in student’s voice. Niparat described that the Uniheart people had no negative emotions, e.g., anger or jealousy, which is consistent with the Buddhist belief. According to Buddhism, peace of mind is the state that the mind free from emotions, e.g., anger, jealousy, lust, ego, sensual pleasures. Uniheart residents speaking the same language might represent either sharing universal values or reflect the fact that Thailand makes Central Thai a national language (Diller, 2002). The importance of the monarchy is directly portrayed at the end of the story as one of the Uniheart residents named “HOPE” managed to escape from the curse to tell the story of Uniheart Town to Nui, an imaginary girl who was studying at the participants school. He said to Nui, Nui, my lovely friend. You are luckier than me. As we were born identical, we had no anchor when we faced calamity. But you were born in diversity society where your ancestors learned to live happily with diversity. You all will be able to make it too. Importantly, you have an anchor. Nui, who do all of you, in this town love the most? Who do you, or other people love and respect the most?

“Our King,” automatically replied Nui. Unarguably, Monarchy significantly affected every aspect of Thai lives, particularly in educational settings. HOPE, a character compared a tragedy of his hometown to the 2008 political crisis in Thailand. In that crisis, many Thai were bitterly divided into two camps  – the red-shirts and the yellow-­shirts, which had never happened before. The red shirts were the supporters of former Thai leader Thaksin Shinawatra and his allies while the yellow shirts are those opposed to Thaksin and his policies. According to HOPE, the King was the solution to this crisis. A student might arrive at this idea with the embedded knowledge being taught through the educational systems and parenteral upbringing. The students provided the motto of the story as:

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Fig. 7.2  Uniheart town We should accept the individual differences. Additionally, people who look different or even those who have different opinions from us should be respected and treated nicely. We must learn how to live peacefully and develop our society upon our diversity. When looking closely, we will see that differences make the world even more interesting.

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In summary, the analysis of the Uniheart Town story implied that students attained the educational goal emphasised by the OBEC, knowledge, skills, and morality concerning Thai-ness and the unity of Thailand. Students’ productions were well-received and accepted by school and community members, and many visitors to the school including the national evaluators. The student work promoted understanding and collaboration between school and communities very well. The school-community innovation described below was selected by the evaluators from the Office of National Education Standards and Quality Assessment to be the best practice and embody the identity of the school when they examined school performance in 2014. In 3 years, Botany Media Club students made 67 field visits where they interviewed and worked with 157 villagers, recorded folk wisdom and spoke with community leaders about the past, present, and future of human communities and natural systems in Sakon Nakhon Province. Students engaged in learning how to make indigo clothes with people in five villages in four different parts of the province. They went to five villages that grew indigo trees, dyed textile fibres, and wove the fibres to make clothes and a variety of home accessories from indigo-dyed textiles. The textile pattern is highly recognised and serves to identify people from this area. When talking about handmade indigo garments, Thai people think about Sakon Nakhon Province. The human connection to place, which is mentioned as a sense of place or place attachment is the “interplay of place dependence and place identity” (Ormond, 2013, p.  23). Place identity is an emotional attachment developed through many visits to that setting whereas place dependence is a functional attachment in which specific places provide a necessary resource for specific activities. As shown in their diaries, note taking, and articles, students learned and greatly appreciated that each village had its unique indigo techniques. Each village grew different varieties of indigo and the extract and dying processes also differed from village to village. For example, colour could be changed by adding local plants, soil, animal, and other ingredients. They dyed different textiles, applied specific weaving techniques to create unique patterns. Finally, they made various products. Five students said that they wanted to do a science project about how to grow the indigo that gave the highest yield and best colour whereas another group wanted to experiment with how to make the best dying process. They mentioned that the clothes lost their colour quickly and that made them look old. Another student group wanted to design clothes for teenagers to counteract the prevailing thought that most indigo clothing styles made the wearers look old and out of date.

7.14 Implications for Cultural Continuity and Sense of Place This hidden craft knowledge is mostly held and practised by the older generations and might disappear if the younger generation never has a chance to study it. Most parents send their children to school to learn modern science hoping for the better

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jobs in industrial provinces, while the folk knowledge within communities tends to be underrated and neglected. Similarly, we appreciate people when we know them well. Students appreciate their ancestors’ knowledge if they engage in practices and learn through first-hand experience participation. “If you don’t know where you are,” says Wendell Berry, “you don’t know who you are” (Stegner, 1986, p.1). Indeed, an ultimate goal of this project was to provide students with learning experiences in which they used the resources in their community and their lifeworld experiences to practice learning inquiry. This process of co-construction of knowledge suggested the advantages of using the familiar discourse of students to aid them in entering academic discourse as they bridge everyday discourse with academic discourse to construct knowledge. Additionally, integration of folk wisdom and science knowledge might enable students and citizens to accomplish economic, ecological and cultural literacy as well as develop their sense of responsibility of community stewardship and civic life. The diaries of 67 students repeated technical words and sentences indicating that they gained Information Communications  Technology (ICT) skills that might be useful in their future jobs. They identified an increase in their working skills, critical thinking, and creative thinking skills. Their communicating skills, as well as collaborating skills, showed much improvement. In their responses to open-ended questionnaires, 65 out of 67 students mentioned that they learned much better when they studied outside the classroom; 43 students said school should reduce unnecessary activities and promote good quality activities so that they can learn better; 11 students said school should reduce some subjects as they thought they spent too much time in class but did not gain knowledge; all 67 students said school should support the project. Lastly, analysis of student learning experience through the PBE curriculum suggested the most valuable aspect might be the experiences that made students believe they could be valued members of their community. As Smith (2002b, p. 33) wrote: How can we encourage students to care about learning? Demonstrate to them that they live in the communities that care for and value them, communities willing to acknowledge a long-term dependence on students’ talents and interests, communities willing to make their assets and issues an honoured part of every school’s curriculum.

After an author left the school, other teachers had worked on some part of this project. For example, Kaewta Pusuwan had included some information and resources drawn from indigo projects in her crafting curriculum. The products from her class were sold and students could earn some money. Some students used knowledge and skills gained from this project for their careers and further their studies such as a journalist and computer designer.

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7.15 Challenges of PBE Implementation Four challenges emerged regarding implementation PBE activities with educational stakeholders: First, development of PBE curriculum and activities was time-consuming, expensive and required the collaboration of people with different expertise. Integrating many subjects requires a wide range of expertise. It also requires collaboration among teachers from different subjects as well as necessitates great effort and time. For example, the teachers of different subjects and administrators had several meetings to discuss and co-construct curricula. In designing the activities, the teachers may need to survey the area and initiate the contacts with the local resources before bringing students to the field. Second, to successfully enact PBE in the long run required collaboration with and support of school administrators. From the author’s experience, apart from the commitment of the teachers, the support from the school administrators was one of the most crucial factors contributing to long-term and success of curriculum. Two of the useful strategies were showing them the results achieved by the students and informing them of the expectations from their specific roles. It was imperative to make the administrators believe the project depended on not just their authority but also their knowledge, skills and initiative. Third, this approach embraced the belief that students were not only a consumer but also a creator of knowledge. Therefore, it encouraged the teachers and students to change how they interact with each other. Mulder (1997) remarked that “At all levels, it still appears that Thai students are trained to memorise more than to comprehend, at least as far as social studies go” (page 2). Hence, to accommodate student construction knowledge based on PBE views, the teachers may need to be a co-learner with students rather than an information teller. The process of learning was complicated and took time and required patience from the teachers and students. Students might withdraw from doing complex tasks if they do not have high self-efficacy. Fourth, PBE required collaboration from the community. At the beginning of the project, teachers may lack community resources. However, students were successful in approaching the community, especially if the teacher was not a local. Learning within a community setting not only allowed students to learn about topics relevant to their lives but also facilitated shared understandings between the school and its communities. Going to the community, the school had a chance to directly speak about policies and practices as well as hear the feedback and needs of the community. Briefly, it let the voices of school and villagers to be heard resulting in common understandings, including positive impacts on local businesses. For example, when students had several field trips to the small businesses of the communities and wrote about them in their publications, more customers bought their products. However, successful communication relied on excellent communication skills of the teachers, students and communities, which could be challenging.

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7.16 Limitations A case study has certain limitations, in particular, its uniqueness reduces the ability to generalise the case to other situations or samples (Patton, 2002). However, researchers should not be too worried about generalisation. Instead, they should focus on doing the best study they can as their priority. Later, it may be possible to analyse the case study in light of other similar cases or samples. The study involved 67 students who studied their communities and local botanical resources. Therefore, it may not be reasonable to generalise the findings obtained from this study to another group of students, another subject, or another place.

7.17 Suggestions for Future Study Further studies to provide more evidence of the effectiveness of PBE activities in facilitating science learning are encouraged. Applying PBE in more classrooms at different schools may contribute in-depth information to how best one might implement or integrate PBE into the curriculum. Additionally, if many schools are participating in PBE research and developing their own curricula, they might collaborate and learn from their collective experiences. Finally, as gender may play a role in the effectiveness of outdoor learning particularly for females, the study suggests investigating gender in a future study.

7.18 Conclusion Participatory community-based learning experience gave students authentic opportunities not only to develop their scientific knowledge but also to engage them in studying and responsibly addressing social issues in the communities they inhabit. The results showed that PBE activities promote three aspects of the educational goals. First, as the topics were more relevant to their interests and everyday experience, students were more likely to engage more in verbal communication during their scientific inquiry resulting in more in-depth learning. Students developed scientific inquiry skills, gained a deep scientific understanding, and applied knowledge learned to their lifeworld. Second, PBE projects seemed to engage students in connecting to places and people of their community and that promoted a deep understanding of their roots. This learning experience enabled students to perceive the importance and interrelatedness of people, environment, and culture. Third, PBE activities promoted an interchange of knowledge and collaboration between the school and neighbouring communities. Most importantly, as these students would grow up and live in this community what they learned today would tomorrow help them interpret the world and acted in sustainable, responsible ways. Despite many

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challenges regarding enacting PBE into practice, the potential benefits of student learning experiences include promoting a sustainable environment, vitalising social and economic development and fostering greater well-being of citizens. Acknowledgement This project received administrative support from the Khamtakla Rachaprachasongkhroa school and other local organizations in Khamtakla District. It was supervised by the school boards and teams of teachers in different disciplinaries. The administrative team included Panompan Chaiphet, Worawut Taenkaew, Wiparat Suppaso and Jamlong Assawawut. The supervisory teams consisting of teachers from different disciplinaries involved Nantana Taptamat, Rungaroon Ponsaen, Sirilak Rungrueng, Pichaya Kaewka, Sakmongkhon Potagan, Jitaporn Assawawut, Kaewta Pusuwan, Padet Namwongsa, Sirichoke Namsong, Theerapong Rungrueng, Sirilak Tanwiset and Jintana Nalongprom. This project would like to acknowledge the curriculum committee at Khamtakla Rachaprachasongkhroa School for reviewing and providing constructive feedback on the project activities. This work would never be done without the collaboration of participating students and supervising teachers. Their participation is highly appreciated. Finally, I would like to specially thank Dr. Pauline Chinn for constructive feedback on this paper.

References Bartosh, O. (2004). Environmental education: Improving student achievement. Unpublished master’s thesis. The Everygreen State College. Connors, M. (2011). Democracy and national identity in Thailand (Studies in contemporary Asian history). NIAS Press. Diller, A. (2002). What makes Central Thai a national language. Article in Reynolds. In National identity and its defenders: Thailand today (Rev. ed.). Silkworm Books. Erickson, F. (2012). Qualitative research methods for science education. In B. J. Fraser, K. Tobin, & C.  J. McRobbie (Eds.), Second international handbook of science education (Vol. 24, pp. 1451–1469). Springer. Furner, J., & Kumar, D. (2007). The mathematics and science integration argument: A stand for teacher education. Eurasia Journal of Mathematics, Science and Technology Education, 3(3), 185–189. Greenberg, S. (2001). Context as a dynamic construct. Human-Computer Interaction, 16(2), 257–268. Gutherie, J. T., Wigfield, A., & VonSecker, C. (2000). Effects of integrated instruction on motivation and strategy use in reading. Journal of Educational Psychology, 92, 331–341. https://doi. org/10.1037/0022-­0663.92.2.331 Halliday, M. A. (1993). Towards a language-based theory of learning. Linguistics and Education, 5(2), 93–116. Hicks, D. (1995). Discourse, learning, and teaching. Review of Research in Education, 49–95. John-Steiner, V., & Mahn, H. (1996). Sociocultural approaches to learning and development: A Vygotskian framework. Educational Psychologist, 31(3–4), 191–206. Kim, H.  S. (2002). We talk, therefore we think? A cultural analysis of the effect of talking on thinking. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 83(4), 828–842. https://doi. org/10.1037//0022-­3514.83.4.828 King, K., & Wiseman, D. (2001). Comparing science efficacy beliefs of elementary education majors in integrated and non-integrated teacher education coursework. Journal of Science Teacher Education, 12(2), 143–153. Kumpulainen, K., & Wray, D. (Eds.). (2002). Classroom interaction and social learning:from theory to practice. Routledge-Falmer.

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Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge University Press. Lemke, J. L. (1990). Talking science: Language, learning, and values. Ablex. Libermann, J., & Hoody, L. (1998). Closing the achievement gap: Using the environment as an integrating context for learning. State Education and Environment Roundtable. McInerney, P., Smyth, J., & Down, B. (2011). “Coming to a ‘place’ near you?” The politics and possibilities of a critical pedagogy of place-based education. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education, 39(1), 3–16. Mercer, N. (2004). Sociocultural discourse analysis. Journal of applied linguistics, 1(2), 137–168. Minner, D. D., Levy, A. J., & Century, J. (2010). Inquiry-based science instruction-what is it and does it matter? Results from a research synthesis years 1984 to 2002. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 47(4), 474–496. https://doi.org/10.1002/tea.20347 Morrison, J. (2006). Attributes of STEM Education. TIES STEM Education Monograph Series. Retrieved from http://www.tiesteach.org/monographs.aspx Mulder, N. (1997). Thai images: the culture of the public world. Silkworm Books. Nilsen, M. (2012). Negotiating thainess: Religious and national identities in Thailand’s Southern Conflict (Master’s dissertation). Lund University. Office of the Basic Education Commission. (2008). Basic education core curriculum B.E. 2551 (A. D. 2008). Ministry of Education. Ormond, C. G. A. (2013). Place-based education in practice. In D. Zandvliet (Ed.), The ecology of school (pp. 19–28). Sense Publishers. Ornstein, A. C., & Hunkin, F. P. (2004). Foundations, principles and issues. Allyn. Patton, M. Q. (2002). Two decades of developments in qualitative inquiry a personal, experiential perspective. Qualitative social work, 1(3), 261–283. Smith, G. A. (2002a). Place-based education: learning to be where we are. Phi Delta Kappan, 83, 584–594. Smith, G. (2002b). Going local. Educational Leadership, 60(1), 30–33. Smith, G. A., & Sobel, D. (2010). Place-and community-based education in schools. Routledge. Sobel, D. (2004). Place-based education: connecting classrooms & communities. Orion Society. Stegner, W. (1986). The sense of place. Wisconsin Humanities Committee. Nantana Taptamat  has a PhD from The University of Queensland, Australia. Her research focuses on the teaching and learning in science classrooms. She is ­particularly interested in place-based education, classroom discourse, everyday experience and learning science.

Part II

Introduction: Research That Tells Our Stories and Informs Policy and Practice Sharon Nelson-Barber and Pauline W. U. Chinn

STEM-focused work in Hawaiʻi can serve as an excellent proxy for the ways in which regular disciplinary policies and practices can impact Indigenous students’ participation in STEM classrooms and careers. Many residents in the state of Hawai‘i strongly value local ecological understandings due to Indigenous cultural influences. Mindful of the value of local and Indigenous knowledge, the state Department of Land and Natural Resource’s “Adopt a Park” guidelines support community-based management. Knowledge of the diverse topography, soils, rains, fauna and flora of their archipelago are evidence of Native Hawaiians’ deeply-­ cultivated sense of relationship with features of the natural world. These understandings are expressed in Hawaiian proverbs or ‘olelo no‘eau collected by M. Kawena Pukui (1986). ‘A’ohe pau ka ‘ike I ka hālau ho‘okāhi, All knowledge is not taught in the same school alludes to diverse ways of communicating and representing through stories, place names, proverbs, and practices. He aliʻi ka ʻāina; he kauwā ke kanaka. The land is a chief; man is its servant (ibid) recognizes the obligation of humans to maintain sustainable, resilient social ecosystems. Recognition of such Hawaiian STEM knowledge and practices is growing. The 2014–2017 circumnavigation of the Earth by the voyaging canoe Hōkūle‘a built upon the voyage from Hawai‘i to Tahiti that marked Hawaiʻi’s 1976 bicentennial (Finney, 1977), again illustrated the ability to navigate vast distances. Research on sustainable, landscape level taro-fishpond (Kelly, 1983) and rain-fed agroforestry field systems (Meyer et  al., 2007; Meilleur et  al., 2004) reveals that Hawaiians sustainably intensified food production, a process of complex adaptation now incorporated in the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (Petty, 2018).

S. Nelson-Barber WestEd, San Francisco, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] P. W. U. Chinn College of Education, University of Hawaiʻi-Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA e-mail: [email protected]

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But Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islanders, who make up 26% of the population of the state of Hawai‘i, remain under- represented in earth science programs despite Bureau of Labor Statistics (2021) predictions of a 7% increase in hiring of geoscientists from 2020 to 2030 driven by needs for environmental protection, resource management, and alternate energy. US Department of Education data from 2011 and 2012 reveal only 0.1% of undergraduate earth science degrees were awarded to Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders who are 0.4% of the US population. In response, in 2019 Windward Community College, one of 10 campuses of the University of Hawaiʻi, began offering the first Hawaiian language Geology & Geophysics class, Volcanoes in the Sea. Student evaluations show that languageand culture-based motivations strongly impacted their decision to enroll and continue coursework in earth science (Anderson et al., 2021). It makes sense for teachers to engage learners in STEM activities that are interconnected with the contexts of their lives. Research on culturally responsive teaching for Indigenous students (e.g., Castagno & Brayboy, 2008; Nelson-Barber & Johnson, 2016; Trumbull et al., 2002) notes that Indigenous and underrepresented students’ learning and achievement benefit from teachers’ knowledge of and incorporation in instruction of cultural knowledge, values, and practices. However, research also shows that much of the community-based STEM knowledge that Indigenous children bring to science classrooms goes unrecognized as “scientific,” leading teachers to miss opportunities to help students link their own knowledge and experience with classroom science. (Nelson-Barber & Estrin, 1995). Chinn’s (2012) research suggests that professional development to expand STEM teachers’ knowledge of (1) place-based resources for teaching and learning, (2) cultural history and traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) of these places, and (3) the science knowledge relevant to students’ places would provide the high context knowledge Cajete (2000) says is characteristic of Indigenous science as a: ‘multicontextual’ system of thought, action and orientation applied by an Indigenous people through which they interpret how Nature works in ‘their place’(p. 59)…using the same methods as modern Western science including classifying, inferring, questioning, observing, interpreting, predicting, monitoring, problem solving, and adapting. The difference is that Indigenous science perceives from a ‘high context’ view including all relational connections in its considerations. In contrast, Western science perceives from a ‘low-context’ view, reducing context to a minimum (p. 83).

In Hawai‘i, five barriers continue to interfere with the integration of Indigenous science in K-12 science programs and teacher education: 1. Western categories of knowledge: The 1876 Dewey Decimal Classification system (000–999) adopted by over 100 countries categorizes most Indigenous knowledge as a social science (300–399) vs science (500–599). Considered folklore (398.9), Pukui’s (1983) “Ōlelo No‘eau, Hawaiian proverbs and poetical sayings contain proverbs with both science and social commentary as in, “Pua ka wiliwili nanahu ka manō; pua ka wahine uʻi nanahu ke kānāwai; When the wiliwili tree blooms, the sharks bite; when a pretty woman blossoms, the law bites.” The blooming of wiliwili, Erythrina sandwicensis and tiger shark attacks

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during the mating and pupping season is confirmed by decades of shark attack records in Hawai‘i (Bays, 2017). 2. Suppression of Hawaiian language: After the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1893 teachers were prohibited from using Hawaiian in instruction until a 1978 state constitutional amendment overturned this policy. Loss of language and knowledge about an extensive archive of Hawaiian language publications–newspapers and other texts generated by Hawai‘i’s highly literate population–contributes to stereotypes and low expectations of Native Hawaiian students as poor achievers. Currently, half of Hawai‘i’s 36 public charter schools focus on Hawaiian culture, values, and language (www.chartercommission. hawaii.gov/). 3. Tracking: Placing students in courses based on test scores, grades, and prerequisites leads many middleclass students to taking biology, chemistry and physics classes while Indigenous students, many of whom are from working class families, take courses such as “Plants and Animals of Hawai‘i” –classes that are not recognized for their pre-college level content by many four-year colleges. 4. Policies: The 2001–2015 No Child Left Behind Act mandated tests in reading and mathematics. In Hawai‘i schools serving rural students, many are Indigenous, live on the economic margins, and continue to be negatively impacted by narrowly focused assessments. 5. Teacher education: Preservice elementary teachers’ requirements of one class each in biological and physical sciences and secondary science teachers’ content-­ focused courses limit exposure to place-based, Indigenous science. Still, the recognition of diverse cultural contributions to science is growing. According to a YEAR? Hawai’i Conservation Alliance statement, “In order for us to address the myriad of complex and dynamic threats to our natural resources, we must work collaboratively from strong cultural foundations with the best available science.” In 2007, the journal of the US National Academy of Sciences, PNAS, recognized sustainability science as a new field. Kates (2011) defines sustainability science as “a different kind of science that is primarily use-inspired, [italics added] as are agricultural and health sciences, with significant fundamental and applied knowledge components, and commitment to moving such knowledge into societal action” (p. 19450). The integration of social and natural sciences in sustainability science aligns with many of the features of IndigenousTraditional Ecological Knowledge and Indigenous science. Indigenous research methods emerged with Maori researcher L. Tuhiwai Smith’s (1999) Decolonizing Methodologies, which described research projects being undertaken by Indigenous peoples. Six research projects employing storytelling, indigenizing, connecting, writing, representing, and naming are found in Abbott’s (1992) call to Native Hawaiians to seek out, treasure, and write down their families’ stories. More recently, recognition of Native Hawaiian communities’ place-based knowledge as a resource for science research led to kūlana noi‘i, Hawaiian research standards, grounded in respect, reciprocity, self-awareness, and communication that “provide guidance for building and sustaining not just working partnerships but

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long-term relationships between communities and researchers [and intend] to be flexible enough to apply to a range of different communities and to reflect on the perspectives and responsibilities of both communities and researchers” (Kulana Noi‘i, 2018, p. 3). Mehana Vaughn (2016), conveys her ‘āina based research through the metaphor of lei wili, a symbol of the wearer’s experience with particular places created by incorporating flowers and leaves into strong strands of twisted fibers. Vaughn’s lei wili is formed by the three strands of ‘āina as science (p. 46), ‘āina as people (p. 47), and ‘āina as ongoing connection and care (p. 48). Maly (2001) suggests that the ‘Ōlelo no‘eau (Pukui, 1983) “He kalo kanu o ka ‘āina, A taro planted on the land” referring to a native of the land from generations back implies that “Hawaiian culture itself is rooted in the land” (p. 4). Likewise, authors of chapters in this section show how research in Indigenous communities and with Indigenous bodies of knowledge is an ethical, place-based, interpersonal undertaking involving extended personal contact. The Megan Bang, et al chapter explores some of the ways in which children’s science-related book illustrations support early literacy and learning for Native students. Using books authored by both Native Americans and non-Native Americans, these researchers identify cultural differences among the pictorial representations of the authors/illustrators. The chapter discusses ways in which the Native and non-­ Native authored books vary in their use of perspective-taking, psychological distance and use of context—orientations that affect learner cognition, language and social development. Pauline Chinn’s research examines the structure-agency dynamics of the intersections of place, Hawaiian knowledge and practices (‘ike), and western science. Her chapter suggests that these intersections provide a framework for a professional development model that expands teachers’ place-based expertise, cultural knowledge, and agency as curriculum developers able to incorporate their students’ resources of place and culture into culturally sustaining, place-based pedagogy. Georgina Stewart’s research explores the philosophical and sociocultural aspects of science and science education that underly issues of equity, language, and identity, and that arise when teaching science (in English?) in Māori medium schools is compared to teaching science in English in English medium schools. Stewart, who speaks Maori and holds a science degree, proposes a solution to teaching science completely in Māori. Elizabeth McKinley, who speaks Māori and also holds a science degree, considers both approaches radical and worth trying for the sake of students’ success in science. Susan Harper studies the Karen language before starting emancipatory participatory action research with several families of Karen refugees. She works with a Karen translator and encourages participants to share their visions of cultural resilience and science education through photovoice and semi-structured interviews. In New Zealand and Hawai‘i, where students may attend Indigenous language immersion schools beginning in preschool through graduate school, and Indigenous language has the same legal status as English, issues of power, knowledge and respect influence science education.

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Jerry Lipka et al recount the journey of Micronesian and Alaska Native cultural insiders, researchers and educators as they collaborate to study and analyze the mathematical foundations of practical activities in their communities. These activities lead to the development of mathematics curricula based on their respective systems of Indigenous knowledge. The authors conclude that the same mathematical principles that underlie cultural activity can be used in teaching the foundations of mathematical thinking in Indigenous communities and beyond. Sharon Nelson-Barber et al report on learnings from their interviews with Native middle school students in Alaska, Arizona, and New Mexico. Students discuss their attitudes toward science, their perspectives on STEM instruction in their own classrooms, and their perceptions of links between STEM instruction and the knowledge and practices of their cultural communities. Understanding better how students conceptualize the relationships between ethnoscience and “school science” points the way to the kind of preparation teachers need to design and implement STEM instruction in these settings. All of these studies suggest that, at minimum, willingness to listen, learn, and develop trusting relationships is needed. If researchers better understand cultural practices and also speak and read the language, deeper levels of trust and understanding are more likely attained.

References Abbott, I. A. (1992). La‘au Hawai‘i: Traditional Hawaiian uses of plants. Bishop Museum Press. American Geosciences Institute. (2020). Data brief diversity in the geosciences. Retrieved from h t t p s : / / w w w. a m e r i c a n g e o s c i e n c e s . o r g / s i t e s / d e f a u l t / f i l e s / D B _ 2 0 2 0 -­0 2 3 -­ DiversityInTheGeosciences.pdf Anderson, A., Chinn, P. W. U., & Akioka, W. (2021, December 13–17). Teaching a place- and culture-based geoscience class in the Hawaiian language. AGU Fall Meeting, New Orleans. Bays, B. (2017, October 12). Public warned of spike in shark attacks in October. Retrieved from https://www.soest.hawaii.edu/soestwp/announce/news/public-­warned-­of-­spike-­in-­shark-­ attacks-­in-­october Bureau of Labor Statistics. (2021). Occupational outlook handbook. Geoscientists, U.S. Department of Labor retrieved from https://www.bls.gov/ooh/life-­physical-­and-­social-­science/geoscientists.htm Cajete, G. A. (2000). Native science: Natural laws of interdependence. Clear Light Publishers. Castagno, A., & Brayboy, B. (2008). Culturally responsive schooling for Indigenous youth: A review of the literature. Review of Educational Research, 78(4), 941–993. Chinn, P. W. U. (2012). Developing teachers’ place and culture-based pedagogical content knowledge and agency. In B. Fraser, K. Tobin, & C. McRobbie, (Eds.), Second international handbook of science education (pp. 323–334). Springer. Chinn, P., Abbott, I. A., Kapana-Baird, M., Ross, M., Lelepai, L., Walk, K. Kauka, S., Barrows, N., Lee, M., & Kanahele-Mossman, H. (2011). Ua lele ka manu (The bird has flown): Research from Hawaiian Indigenous/ethnic/local perspectives. In G. Dei (Ed.), International handbook/ reader on indigenous philosophies and critical education (pp. 262–279). Peter Lang. Dewey, M. (1876). Classificantion and subject index for cataloguing and arranging the books and arranging the books and pamphlets of a library. Retrieved from http://www.gutenberg.org/ files/12513/12513-­h/12513-­h.htm

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Finney, B. (1977). Voyaging canoes and the settlement of Polynesia. Science, 196(4296), 1277–1285. Flaherty, C. (2015, February 20). Educators share how no child left behind has affected their classroom. Retrieved from https://educationvotes.nea.org/2015/02/20/educators-­share-­ how-­no-­child-­left-­behind-­has-­affected-­their-­classroom/ Hawaiʻi Conservation Alliance. Hawaiʻi State Department of Education. (2015, November). Nā Hopena A‘o Statements HĀ: BREATH. Retrieved from http://www.hawaiipublicschools.org/DOE%20Forms/ NaHopenaAoE3.pdf Hawaiʻi State Department of Education. (2016, September 29). Strive HI transition year data report, 2015–16. http://www.hawaiipublicschools.org/Reports/StriveHIWaianaeInter16.pdf Kates, R. W. (2011). What kind of science is sustainability science? http://www.pnas.org/content/ pnas/108/49/19449.full.pdf Kelly, M. (1983). Na mala o Kona. Bishop Museum Press. Sea Grant. (2018). Kūlana Noi‘i. Retrieved from http://seagrant.soest.hawaii.edu/wp-­content/ uploads/2018/06/Kulana-­Noii-­low-­res-­web.pdf Meilleur, B.  A., Jones, R.  R., Titchenal, C.  A., & Huang, A.  S. (2004). Hawaiian Breadfruit Ethnobotany, Nutrition, and Human Ecology. College of Tropical Agriculture and Human Resources University of Hawai‘i at Mänoa. Retrieved from https://www.ctahr.hawaii.edu/oc/ freepubs/pdf/breadfruit.pdf Meyer, M., Ladefoged, T. N., & Vitousek, P. N. (2007). Soil phosphorus and agricultural development in the Leeward Kohala field system, Island of Hawai‘i. Pacific Science, 61, 347–353. Nelson-Barber, S., & Estrin, E. (1995). Bringing Native American perspectives to the teaching of mathematics and science, Theory into Practice, 34, 174–185. Nelson-Barber, S., & Johnson, Z. (2016). Acknowledging the perils of “best practices” in an Indigenous community, Contemporary Educational Psychology, Special Issue on Indigenous Issues in Education and Research: Looking forward, 47, 44–50. Pukui, M. K. (1983). 'Olelo no'eau: Hawaiian proverbs & poetical sayings. Bishop Museum Press. Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. Zed Books. Trumbull, E., Nelson-Barber, S., & Mitchell, J. (2002). Enhancing mathematics instruction for Indigenous American students. In J. Hankes & G. Fast (Eds.), Changing the faces of mathematics: Perspectives of Indigenous people of North America. National Council for Teachers of Mathematics. Vaughn, M. B. (2016). He lei aloha ‘āina. In K. R. K. N. Oliveira & E. K. Wright (Eds.), Kanaka ‘owi methodologies: Mo‘olelo and metaphor (pp. 42–52). University of Hawai‘I Press. Dr. Nelson-Barber is a sociolinguist in WestEd’s Science and Engineering Division. She combines expertise in qualitative research and culturally competent assessment and evaluation with years of experience providing equity assistance to schools, organizations, and service agencies serving diverse and primarily Indigenous communities. Her research, teaching, and community work centers on the teaching knowledge and abilities of educators (broadly defined) in nondominant contexts spanning Indigenous settings in the northwestern Pacific region, Hawaiʻi, the lower 48 states, and Alaska. She is of Rappahannock Indian descent and has life-long personal and professional experience in Indigenous communities.  

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Pauline W. U. Chinn is Professor of Curriculum Studies in the College of Education at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. Her research centers on (1) place-­based, culturally sustaining teacher leadership, (2) the impact of teacher-developed curricula on student engagement and academic achievement, and (3) the study of Hawaiian language newspaper articles and related texts for STEM education and research.  

Chapter 8

Perspective Taking and Psychological Distance in Children’s Picture Books: Differences Between Native and Non-­Native Authored Books Megan Bang, Jasmine Gurneau, Lori Faber, Ananda Marin, Michael Marin, Douglas Medin, Sandra Waxman, and Jennifer Woodring Abstract  Substantial empirical evidence suggests that cultural artifacts both reflect and affect cognitive orientations. Picture books are cultural artifacts widely present in children’s lives and are seen as an important component of early education, affecting cognitive, language and social development. In this study we examined pictorial representations in children’s books that either were or were not authored by Native Americans. Our initial focus was on cultural differences in psychological distance and the use of perspective taking devices. Although our results support these differences, more broadly we observed that Native-authored book illustrations depicted a greater range and variety of distances, camera shots, and perspectives than their non-Native counterparts. M. Bang (*) School of Education and Social Policy, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA e-mail: [email protected] J. Gurneau Office of the Provost, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA e-mail: [email protected] L. Faber Indian Community School, Franklin, WI, USA A. Marin Graduate School of Education and Information Studies, University of California, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] M. Marin Real Talk Junkies Films, Oakland, CA, USA D. Medin · S. Waxman · J. Woodring Department of Psychology, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. W. U. Chinn, S. Nelson-Barber (eds.), Indigenous STEM Education, Sociocultural Explorations of Science Education 29, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-30451-4_8

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Keywords  Native American · Cross-culture · Children · Picture books · Perspective taking · Psychological distance Highlights • Children’s picture books are cultural artifacts that can reflect and affect cognition • We compared Native American authored picture books to non-Native authored books. • Native authored books used more variety in illustrative tools. • Results reflect cultural differences in attention, observation and perspective taking

8.1 Introduction Picture books populate the lives of infants and young children, serving as sources of enjoyment and as learning tools both in and out of school. Infants as young as 15 months of age successfully learn the names of novel objects and can even extend these names beyond the pictorial representations themselves, using them to name the actual objects as they encounter them in the world (Ganea et al., 2008; Geraghty et  al., 2011; Preissler & Carey, 2004). It is therefore not surprising that picture books have figured in fields as diverse as early education, cognitive, language and social development (Fletcher & Reese, 2005; Mar & Oatley, 2008), and that scholars have sought to identify which structures in children’s books most effectively support early literacy and learning (Pappas, 1986; Poulsen et  al., 1979). In this paper we focus on one aspect of that structure: book illustrations. Illustrations, including those in children’s books, are not only learning tools but also are cultural products. They manifest the cultural orientation of the illustrator and may also have cognitive consequences for viewers. There is a long history of scholarship which argues that artifacts are tools which are critical mediators of thought (for a review see Cole & Engestrom, 1993). There is also substantial empirical evidence that cultural products both reflect and affect cultural orientations (Morling & Lamoreaux, 2008). For example, recent work reveals that popular storybooks from the US were more likely than those from Taiwan to depict characters in excited (versus calm) states, and that across cultures, exposing preschoolers to exciting (versus calm) storybooks altered their activity preferences and perceptions of happiness (Tsai et al., 2007). Evidence like this signals the importance of understanding both the nature of cultural differences and the role of cultural artifacts in maintaining them. Likewise, there is evidence that cultural orientations not only affect what people think (D’Andrade, 1981) but how they think (Nisbett, 2003; Nisbett & Masuda, 2007). Together, these lines of evidence have sharpened questions about the role of artifacts in shaping cultural orientations and learning more generally. Inspired by these questions, in the current study we focus on illustrations in children’s books that were written either by Native Americans or by non-Native

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Americans. This work fits within a larger project addressing how young children from different cultural communities reason about the natural world (e.g., Anggoro et al., 2010; Atran & Medin, 2008, Medin & Bang, 2014). For purposes of the current work, two related psychological constructs – psychological distance and perspective taking – are important. We have found that across a range of converging measures, Native Americans1 view themselves as closer to the natural world than do European Americans (e.g., Bang et al., 2007). In addition, we have found differences in perspective-taking: Native American children and adults are more likely than their European American counterparts to adopt the perspective of non-human animals (Unsworth et al., 2012). Furthermore, Native American participants tend to favor a relational, ecological conceptual organization, in which all living things have a role to play. This is associated with taking multiple perspectives and systems level thinking (Medin et  al., 2017), and differs from the taxonomic organization typically favored by European Americans (Medin et al., 2006). In the current study, we pursue these findings, asking whether these cultural differences in psychological distance and multiple perspective taking are reflected in children’s book illustrations. We ask whether these illustrations reflect the cultural orientations of the author/illustrators and might constitute one source of information that shapes young children’s emerging understanding of their relation to the natural world. To provide a foundation for the current study, we first describe the constructs of psychological distance and perspective taking. This work underlines the potential importance of illustrations for the ways in which readers not only engage with books, but also with the ideas portrayed in them.

8.1.1 Psychological Distance Trope and Liberman (2003) proposed that psychological distance affects cognitive processing. This proposal, known as construal level theory (CLT), has received considerable support (e.g., Liberman et al., 2007; Liberman & Trope, 2008). The notion of psychological distance is quite broad and includes physical distance, temporal distance and social distance.2 This work demonstrates that an individual’s perceived distance from an event influences his or her construal of that event. According to

 This statement is based on studies conducted in rural Wisconsin with children and adults from the Menominee tribe and conducted in an urban setting in the inter-tribal context provided by the American Indian Center of Chicago. Given that there are more than 560 federally recognized tribes, it would be extremely speculative to claim that these results will hold for all Native Americans, who live in very diverse cultural and environmental contexts. At the same time, our findings do accord well with scholarly writings about Native versus Western Science (e.g., Cajete, 1999). 2  Trope and Liberman have even suggested that events having a low probability are more psychologically distant than events with a greater likelihood of occurring (Trope & Liberman, 2010). 1

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Trope and Liberman’s construal level theory, psychologically distant and close events differ in a number of important ways. In particular, psychologically distant events tend to focus attention on: (a) abstract features, (b) desirability rather than feasibility, (c) gains rather than losses and (d) the whys of actions rather than the hows. Psychologically close events are associated with (a) greater attention to context and mitigating factors and (b) a greater likelihood of interpreting social behavioral situationally rather than dispositionally. CLT is also relevant to perspective taking. For example, being in a position of power (by hypothesis, being more psychologically distant) may be associated with a failure to take the perspective of other actors or to take situational factors into account in judging the behaviors of others (Galinsky et al., 2006).

8.1.2 Perspective Taking and Illustrations In another line of work, researchers have considered how different illustrations affect the viewer’s tendency to adopt either a first or third person perspective and the cognitive consequences of adopting these perspectives (e.g., Libby et  al., 2007; Lozano et al., 2008; Tversky & Hard, 2009). Results from this line have strong parallels to the work on psychological distance: a third person perspective is more abstract and focuses more on the why of action than the how. Furthermore, different pictorial representations affect whether one takes a first or third person perspective (Libby et al., 2009). In short, the data on psychological distance and on perspective taking appear to converge quite nicely. CLT predicts that psychological closeness facilitates perspective taking, and research in which illustrations are used as an independent variable also shows that properties of illustrations can be used to affect perspective taking (presumably with psychological distance as a mediating factor). There is also evidence suggesting that cultures differ in the ways in which they deploy psychological distance and perceptive taking in visual media. Masuda et al. (2008) reported cultural differences in the psychological distance and inclusion of context in paintings and photographs as well as cultural differences in associated preferences in these media.3 If these observations on psychological distance from nature and perspective taking are reflected in illustrations in children’s books, then we should expect to find differences in the illustrations in Native American and European American picture books.4 Accordingly, in general books illustrated by Native American authors

 There also are correlated cultural differences in the likelihood of spontaneously taking another person’s point of view (Wu & Keysar, 2007; Leung & Cohen, 2007). 4  By referring to Native American and to non-Native American books, we are collapsing over significant cultural and historicized experiences of the different authors and illustrators. We recognize that this risks operationalizing essentialist meanings of culture; however, our goal in this project is to focus at a grain size that neither minimizes the differences among tribal nations nor makes claims that require it. 3

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should be more likely to use illustration devices that minimize the psychological distance between the characters and readers, that invite readers to take on the perspective of a character in the story, and that provide readers with a broader range of views into the story.

8.2 Materials and Methods 8.2.1 Community and Project Context and Ethical Considerations The current project emerges from a larger “community-based design research” project in the Chicago inter-tribal Native American community and the Menominee reservation community. It was designed as part of a collaborative process in which community members and university-based researchers worked together to consider the books, develop coding schemes and conduct analyses. Our project is a collaborative effort involving a Tribal commission, a tribal school, an urban Indian community organization, and two research universities (see Bang et  al., 2010). This configuration is of note because it reflects institutional efforts to acknowledge and amend the long history of research in American Indian communities that has often not been in their best interest, a legacy that has made many Native communities rightly suspect of research and researchers. Over the years Indigenous researchers themselves have worked to develop appropriate research methods and criteria (c.f., Battiste & Henderson, 2000; Guyette, 1983; Hermes, 1999; Mihesuah, 1998; Smith, 1999). Our approach is based on an understanding of appropriate research methods for working with Native communities and our authorship is reflective of it as well.

8.2.2 Materials We selected 86 books, 42 written and illustrated by Native Americans, and 44 by non-Native Americans. See the Appendix for a complete list. The books were selected if they were (a) targeted for 4- to 8-year-olds, (b) included narrative and illustrations, and (c) included humans and/or nonhuman animals as characters. We selected no more than two books by any given author or illustrator. We also excluded books focusing on self-help, counting, naming, and holidays. The Native books were selected from the recommended list at Oyate.com, a website of a Native-­ operated literacy organization.5 We selected books for which the author’s and/or

5  It seems likely that the selections by Oyate.com are not a random sample of Native books and one should be very cautious about generalizing findings about illustrations to the entire population of Native books. Given that Oyate.com is a Native-operated organization, decisions on recommended

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illustrator’s biographies identified them as Native. The non-Native books were selected from the highest selling books listed on Amazon.com.

8.2.3 Coding Scheme Guided by film and storyboarding concepts, we designed our codes to capture the illustrative devices used to convey the psychological distance between the reader and illustration and the perspectives into the story that they provided (e.g., whether the illustrations included the reader as part of the story or as observing it). Notably, we considered whether within a given book, the illustrations depicted the same psychological distance and perspective throughout the book, or whether the psychological distance and perspective varied. Psychological Distance  To codify the apparent (psychological) distance between the reader and the depicted scenes, we developed two complementary codes, (a) subjective distance (ranging from ‘‘very close’ to ‘distant’), and (b) the distance described in terms of the vocabulary of “camera shots.” For the latter, each illustration was rated as providing the reader with either a (a) close up, (b) medium distance, (c) wide view, or (d) panoramic view of the scene as a whole. We found that these two measures of psychological distance converged well. Therefore, in what follows, we report the results based on camera shots. Results with this measure are identical to those based on the other with respect to trends and patterns of statistical reliability. Perspective Taking  Here we focused on two illustrative techniques that invite the reader to take a particular perspective on the depicted scene. From these codes one can also look at the variety of techniques employed in order to assess the use of multiple perspectives. Camera Shots  Once again using the vocabulary of “camera shots”, we rated each illustration as offering one of three kinds of perspectives. The first perspective is one that invites the reader into the scene as one of the characters (see Libby et al., 2009); this included over-the-shoulder (as if a camera had been placed behind a character’s “shoulder”) and embodied (in which part of a character is shown (e.g., hands in the foreground shots). The second perspective is one that invites the reader into the scene as a close on-looker (breaking the fourth wall, where the “wall” between the viewer and the scene is dissolved, providing the reader with the sense of being directly addressed by the characters). The third perspective offered the reader an

books may have favored those with illustrations and illustration conventions most closely associated with Native Nations. If so, our samples may overestimate the magnitude of any differences we observe. On the other hand, however, one could argue that it is just those illustration conventions that we should be sampling.

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outsider’s perspective on the scene (voyeur, often a default perspective where the viewer is outside the scene and often viewing it from some distance). Viewing Angle  Here we take a different vantage point, considering the viewing angle provided in each scene. For each illustration, viewing angle was coded as either (a) above (e.g., viewing the scene from far above, as in a bird’s eye view), (b) high angle (looking down on the scene), (c) eye level (the default viewing angle in most illustrations), or (d) low angle (looking up to view the scene).

8.2.4 Coding Procedure As we just described, using storyboard concepts we operationalized the constructs of psychological distance and perspective taking and developed two coding categories and related sub-codes. Corresponding codes are displayed in Table 8.1 below. One Native and one non-Native rater each applied the coding scheme at the level of books and each coded all of the books. For each book and for each coding category (physical distance; subjective distance; perspective; viewing angle) the raters indicated whether at least one illustration in that book adopted each of its subcodes. For example, when considering viewing angle, raters judged whether each the subcodes (e.g., for viewing angle: above, high, eye level, low) was present in at least one illustration in that book.6 Any disagreements were readily resolved through discussion. To assess reliability at the level of individual pictures, fifty pictures were subsequently coded7 independently by both raters; Kappa was 0.72, indicating good inter-rater reliability.

Table 8.1  Coding scheme Camera shots

Viewing angle

Psychological distance Close up Medium distance Wide view Panoramic view of the scene as a whole

Perspective taking Over-the-shoulder Embodied Breaking the fourth wall Voyeur Above High angle Eye level Low angle

 The effects we report would only be larger if we reported results by illustration rather than by book. Note also, as we will report shortly, the difference we observe are not an artifact of difference in the number of illustrations for the two samples of books. 7  The 50 books were selected by a third researchers to include multiple examples of each of the coding categories. 6

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8.3 Predictions If children’s book illustrations are cultural products that reflect distinct cultural orientations, then Native illustrations should employ illustrative devices that (a) provide less psychological distance between the reader and the scene, (b) invite more opportunities to take the perspective of a book character, and perhaps (c) offer a greater range of vantage points on the story.

8.4 Results As predicted, the illustrations in the Native and non-Native books did indeed differ in psychological distance, in perspective taking, and most dramatically in their tendency to provide readers with multiple vantage points as the story unfolds. Before presenting these results, however, we need to address a potential confounding factor—the number of pictures per book. If one kind of book has many more pictures than the other kind, the one with more pictures has more opportunities for at least one picture to satisfy a particular code. The Native books ranged in number of pictures from 11 to 59 with a median of 22 and a mean of 23.9 pictures per book. The non-Native books had a range of 13 to 119 pictures, a median of 27 and a mean of 31.2 pictures per book.8 This is a fair sized difference and it is statistically reliable [F (1,84) = 5.808, MSe = 199.718, p