Pardon me a moment while I indulge in some hopeful naiveté.
Maybe Natives would do better in 2012 than they did 100 years ago. Think about it. Our attention spans, sadly, have diminished to almost nonexistent proportions. I graduated with an alarming number of students who openly admitted to never having finished a single assigned book in their whole high school careers. My father worked with men who couldn’t even recall the last book they’d read, and in fact, thought my father a hardass monster when he informed them that my brother and I spend our summers readings. “Awwww come on! Give them a break!” As an English major, this information depresses me beyond words. I find joy, solace, release, ideas, vacations, and intellectual debate within the covers of books. A world without them would be bleak.
The illiteracy rates in the United states are upsetting, to say the least. 1 in 5 people worldwide cannot read. In the United States alone, approximately 1 in 4 people scored in the lowest literacy brackets. So, given this information, the general dislike for reading, our every-shrinking attention spans, and the supposedly new age-y openness to new things, why not let the Natives flourish with what they do best: storytelling. I’m jumping off the statement Dr. Morris made in class, that she’s met Natives from all walks of life and they share in common humor and a love of telling stories.
My whole post sprung from pg. 97 of Thomas King’s book we’re reading in class. Essentially, oral literature is not quantifiable and therefore not as worthy of intellectual discussion or study.
Which is foolish. Think of the average person. Plopped in front of the television, a can of something in their hand, a snack on the table next to them, watching a show. Let us presume it’s Comedy Central. Those jokes, that oral literature, sticks with the average person. They’ll see their friends or coworkers the next day and have a good laugh as they retell those jokes. Yet, ask them to remember the symbolism or even the character names of, say, a Hawthorne novel and you’ll hear crickets. Which isn’t to say I’m not guilty of the same thing. Names are not my forte and certain genres of novels put me to sleep. I love a good story or a great joke, they stick with me. They make an impression on me.
So in 2012, why not let our institutions follow the siren call of a good story. It’s what our generation needs. Children of three years old would rather play Angry Birds on their parents’ cell phones than take a trip to the library. Or, at least, has been my experience. But give Natives the right setting, the right stage, and their history could really take off. If The Inside or Access Hollywood can mould the nation to care about the rich and famous, let a shunned group of Natives have their shot at opening the eyes and minds of the nation as well. Who doesn’t love a good story?
Illiteracy:
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