Nurturing native Americans on campus

Her first time around, Debby Tewa struggled through just two years of college. Having grown up on the Hopi reservation, she had attended schools in Arizona and California before heading to Northern Arizona University (NAU) in Flagstaff. "I was totally unprepared," she says. "I kind of felt lost."

It was an academic and emotional whirlwind - one that many American Indian students encounter on large campuses. Whatever support systems might have existed at the time, Ms. Tewa didn't know about them.

More than a decade after leaving NAU, and in midcareer as an electrician, Tewa came back to finish her bachelor's degree. The enhanced academic and mentoring programs she found hint at the kinds of efforts colleges around the country may need to make to improve retention rates for native American students.

Nationally, only about 15 percent of native American 12th-graders who are likely to attend college actually earn a bachelor's degree within eight years. For tribes, that makes it difficult to find people with enough education to serve a host of critical roles, ranging from doctors to economic-development experts.

But there's no silver bullet. For many native Americans, there's still a sense of culture shock and missing home when they first arrive at a university. Other obstacles include prejudice, finances, language barriers, and alcoholism, according to a study of several dozen successful American Indian college students in Montana in the mid-1990s.

More than 90 percent considered leaving college at some point. But the study also gave insight into what helped them get to graduation: In addition to the support of family and friends, the students found some professors who were caring and culturally sensitive. The report recommended incorporating more Indian history into the curriculum and making sure the campus had native role models.

That's what drew Tewa back to NAU. She saw a brochure for Applied Indigenous Studies, a program that grounds students in both traditional native knowledge and Western academics - and equips them to apply their skills in indigenous communities. Paired with a minor in environmental studies, it was a perfect fit for Tewa, who had been working to bring solar energy to parts of reservations that were still without electricity.

For the first time, Tewa's classes covered the history of native Americans. But she also learned practical matters, like how to apply for grants. "When I graduated [in December 2004] and became involved with the Sandia National Laboratories [as a liaison with tribal governments], all of the theories and the course work totally applied," she says.

The reason the indigenous studies program is so attractive? "It's affirmation - there's now relevancy for what they're learning," says department chair Octaviana Trujillo. Although NAU is a bit late to the game - many universities offered native American studies in response to activism in the 1960s and '70s - she's proud that the program was designed in consultation with tribal leaders and has the rare status of a full academic department. About 40 students major in it each year, concentrating on everything from law to economics. But the department's offerings have a much wider reach - both for native and nonnative students and faculty.

Perhaps there's no more tangible form of outreach than the "resident elders" on campus. A few years ago the department brought in James Peshlakai, a Navajo "Keeper of the Way," as he calls himself (preferring that to labels such as "medicine man"). He brings a treasure trove of knowledge both of the songs and ceremonies that transmit Navajo culture, and on how to straddle two worlds - his remote sheep farm, where life is governed by the rhythms of nature, and city life, dominated by brick buildings, clocks, and e-mail.

The story of his first semester at NAU shows the ripple effects his presence has had. "I thought, these kids, they come off the reservation.... I have to build their courage up to face a new life away from their people." So his first talk was titled, "Being an Indian youth." He was shocked when he walked into the room and found it mostly full of white professors. "So I look around, look up, and say, 'Oh Great Spirit ... give me the power: All of these guys want to be an Indian youth.' So they all laughed," he says with a face-creasing smile.

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