Sienna Warecki
October 5, 2014
The last couple of LIN3616 classes have sparked something of a soul-searching renaissance in my life. It started with the wheel of the 7 Stages of Life, where we learned humanity’s responsibilities as they grow up, and then it caught fire with the Gikikinoohamaatiwinaanan, the Seven Ways of Learning. Everything in this course has had a potent impact on me and my perspective, but these two teachings specifically have changed my life.
When I say they have changed my life, I do not mean it as empty praise. I mean it viscerally, intensely—it’s the kind of change that isn’t always pleasant, the kind that keeps me up at night face to face with an existential crisis over what I should be doing with my life. According to the wheel of human responsibilities, my role in life right now is to be “doing the work of the people”, to challenge established status quo and make visible, positive impact on the community. As a young adult, I’m meant to be a world shaker.
I don’t feel much like a world shaker. I feel like I’m treading water in a vast, colonialized machine, racking up a staggering student debt in order to study a subject I might not end up using in my career, and studying it in a way that does not feel like learning. It feels like programming. Oftentimes it is so abstract and cerebral and overly-theoretical that it’s easy to forget how it can even be applied to the real world, and that bothers me deeply, because I need to be able to see the real, tangible impact of what I do for the world. Above all things, I need to feel that what I am doing is useful. I’m done with eating shit.
One of the two ways of listening we managed to nail down in class before you taught us the other five in Anishinaabe culture was Bzindamowin, or learning from listening. I think I’ve been doing a lot of that lately—listening to your teachings on the importance of language revitalization for Native peoples, listening to my friends and mentors and their trusted opinions on where I’m needed most, and then (and this is the hard part) listening to myself. I’ve been trying to take cues from my own spirit; I’ve been trying to pay attention to the things that make it perk its ears up, the ideas that make it jump up and down and go there it is, go do more of that.
And here’s where it’s got me: I want to find a way to get involved in the preservation and revitalization of Indigenous languages. It might not be the only calling in my life, but after about a month of soul-searching I can say it is definitely one of them. I’m good at languages, at understanding the culture behind them, and I’ve been told over and over that I’m equally good at explaining that knowledge to others. And the Anishinaabe culture and people are tugging at my heart in a way only very few things have succeeded at doing in the past. It’s how I want to fulfill my responsibility as a young adult—and how I want to start fulfilling my responsibility to the Kaswenta contract. Two birds, one stone.
I have no idea where or how to start. I guess this class is my starting point, in the end: by becoming as fluent as possible in Anishinaabemowin and making a community learning resource to be proud of. After that, I’m playing it by ear. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
A last note: there is another one of the Seven Ways of Learning that we explored in-depth last week, that being Gnawaaminjigewin, or learning by witnessing. I have done my best to witness as accurately as possible the goings-on in LIN3616, and here is what I have found: I have never been so fully, constantly engaged in a class, and I think I speak for most of us. I’m willing to bet it hasn’t just changed my life, but the lives of nearly everyone here. And I am learning.
In short, the Case Study is going well so far.
October 5, 2014
The last couple of LIN3616 classes have sparked something of a soul-searching renaissance in my life. It started with the wheel of the 7 Stages of Life, where we learned humanity’s responsibilities as they grow up, and then it caught fire with the Gikikinoohamaatiwinaanan, the Seven Ways of Learning. Everything in this course has had a potent impact on me and my perspective, but these two teachings specifically have changed my life.
When I say they have changed my life, I do not mean it as empty praise. I mean it viscerally, intensely—it’s the kind of change that isn’t always pleasant, the kind that keeps me up at night face to face with an existential crisis over what I should be doing with my life. According to the wheel of human responsibilities, my role in life right now is to be “doing the work of the people”, to challenge established status quo and make visible, positive impact on the community. As a young adult, I’m meant to be a world shaker.
I don’t feel much like a world shaker. I feel like I’m treading water in a vast, colonialized machine, racking up a staggering student debt in order to study a subject I might not end up using in my career, and studying it in a way that does not feel like learning. It feels like programming. Oftentimes it is so abstract and cerebral and overly-theoretical that it’s easy to forget how it can even be applied to the real world, and that bothers me deeply, because I need to be able to see the real, tangible impact of what I do for the world. Above all things, I need to feel that what I am doing is useful. I’m done with eating shit.
One of the two ways of listening we managed to nail down in class before you taught us the other five in Anishinaabe culture was Bzindamowin, or learning from listening. I think I’ve been doing a lot of that lately—listening to your teachings on the importance of language revitalization for Native peoples, listening to my friends and mentors and their trusted opinions on where I’m needed most, and then (and this is the hard part) listening to myself. I’ve been trying to take cues from my own spirit; I’ve been trying to pay attention to the things that make it perk its ears up, the ideas that make it jump up and down and go there it is, go do more of that.
And here’s where it’s got me: I want to find a way to get involved in the preservation and revitalization of Indigenous languages. It might not be the only calling in my life, but after about a month of soul-searching I can say it is definitely one of them. I’m good at languages, at understanding the culture behind them, and I’ve been told over and over that I’m equally good at explaining that knowledge to others. And the Anishinaabe culture and people are tugging at my heart in a way only very few things have succeeded at doing in the past. It’s how I want to fulfill my responsibility as a young adult—and how I want to start fulfilling my responsibility to the Kaswenta contract. Two birds, one stone.
I have no idea where or how to start. I guess this class is my starting point, in the end: by becoming as fluent as possible in Anishinaabemowin and making a community learning resource to be proud of. After that, I’m playing it by ear. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
A last note: there is another one of the Seven Ways of Learning that we explored in-depth last week, that being Gnawaaminjigewin, or learning by witnessing. I have done my best to witness as accurately as possible the goings-on in LIN3616, and here is what I have found: I have never been so fully, constantly engaged in a class, and I think I speak for most of us. I’m willing to bet it hasn’t just changed my life, but the lives of nearly everyone here. And I am learning.
In short, the Case Study is going well so far.