The vast geographic and demographic diversity of Alaska creates unique challenges for the state's education system. More than half of all schools are in remote rural villages, often with high rates of poverty. Of the 41 percent minority students enrolled in the state's public school system, 26 percent are Alaska Native.

The Alaska Rural Systemic Initiative (RSI) is one effort the state has developed to address the needs of their student population. RSI is a set of programs and projects designed to forge partnerships among Native, scientific, and educational communities and to integrate indigenous knowledge systems with educational policies and practices. Twenty partner rural school districts are participating, and more than 90 percent of the students in those districts are Alaska Native. Key outcomes have included developing a standards-based, culturally aligned math and science curriculum, establishing a Native Knowledge clearinghouse, and creating the Alaska Standards for Culturally Responsive Schools.

Now in its tenth year, the Alaska RSI continues to produce an increase in student achievement scores, lower dropout rates, and higher numbers of students attending college. These results support the premise that "increased connections between what students experience in school and what they experience outside school appears to have a significant impact on their academic performance" (Hill, Kawagley, & Barnhardt, 2003).

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Subsistence Education Program Reconnects Native Youth to Cultural Heritage

Russian Mission School, one of the participating schools in the Alaska RSI, has experienced remarkable success in implementing a culturally responsive curriculum. In 2000, working in close partnership with community members, the school launched a Subsistence Education Program that integrates Native knowledge with academic standards.

In the tiny village of Russian Mission, located in a remote corner of the Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge, most residents support themselves with a combination of seasonal work, public assistance, and subsistence hunting. The impetus for the program grew out of community meetings in which village elders expressed concern that even youth who completed school did not have the skills they needed—physically or spiritually—to live successfully in the community. Loss of native traditions, combined with the challenges of modern life, including poverty and substance abuse problems, had resulted in a generation without a strong sense of identity or the skills to make a successful transition to adulthood in the village.

Principal Mike Hull recognized that the school needed to rethink the kind of education it was providing to Native youth. "Only 10 to 15 percent of these kids go on to college or take a job outside of the village after graduation," he explains. "Schools should be about serving the needs of the community and teaching kids how to live well where they are."

To develop their curriculum, staff at Russian Mission borrowed from the Yup'ik model of education—which has been carried out for 10,000 years—as a framework for teaching youth how to be an adult in the village. From a native perspective, the model provides a powerful way for elders to transmit traditional knowledge to the next generation, and for Yup'ik youth to reclaim their cultural heritage and gain a stronger sense of identity.

From an educator's standpoint, it's sound pedagogy. A hands-on, inquiry-based instructional approach engages learners in activities that apply learning to tasks that are real and of high interest. The subsistence curriculum makes use of the unique resources of the village heritage and environment, and it's enriching for students and staff because of the diversity of learning approaches and settings it provides.

The strength of the curriculum lies in directly connecting to the outdoor environment and the seasons, creating hands-on activities that integrate subsistence skills with academic content, and tapping into the native knowledge and skills of elders and community members. The seasons and weather conditions dictate what happens at the school. "We don't just look at what's happening this time of year, but what's happening outside today," says Hull.

Much of the teaching and learning activities take place outdoors in the village environs or in camp settings. Students become intimately familiar with their natural environment as they learn a wide range of subsistence skills, including traditional hunting and fishing methods, how to build cabins and snow shelters, and navigation and survival techniques.

Traditional knowledge is carefully integrated with academic standards. A unit on berry picking, for example, asks students to study and identify five types of berries, learn where those berries are traditionally harvested, and then use the berries to create traditional Yup'ik foods. The berry picking activity incorporates benchmarks from science, health, and personal/social skills standards. Students then demonstrate what they have learned through writing assignments and using technology to create a PowerPoint presentation about making traditional foods. "We're very aggressive about using the standards," notes Hull. "But we see Native culture as the pathway to that."

Cultural content comes from a strong partnership between educators and community members. "We have very unconventional teaching and learning roles here," Hull explains. The school's maintenance man is a leading expert on subsistence in the village. The "facilities" he helps to maintain include a cabin that was built upriver and a 4' x 8' hole in the ice used for setting a fish trap. The school librarian has been trapping since childhood. Two new teachers from Oregon who recently joined the school staff "became immediate students of the culture." The educators, Hull explains, have organizational skills—they know how to manage the kids. But it's always the village community members who are doing the teaching.

The subsistence education program has had a powerful impact on the students and community as a whole. Within the first year of the program, enrollment rates at the school went up, while crime in the community went down. Connections among students, teachers, and elders in the community continue to deepen, and youth are excited about rediscovering their cultural heritage. A recent survey indicates an increase in subsistence activities, which has the added benefit of putting food on the table for the community's neediest members.

The result that has gotten the most attention from educators is the program's success in raising student achievement scores. For Hull, the test scores are merely an added bonus to the transformation the program has worked in the students and the community. "The idea is that if we work on building a healthy community, we'll have higher scoring kids," he says.

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Unique Teaching Tool Links Learning to Students' Lives

Vaughn Dosko, principal of Tuluksak School in Yupiit School District, is excited about the culturally responsive tool they've recently added to the curriculum. It's not the latest reading program or instructional strategy—this "tool" is furry, four-footed, and bushy-tailed. The school acquired nine dogs to form the first school-based dog sled racing team in the state, maybe in the nation.

Dosko, who came to the district five years ago from Northern Idaho, admits that while it took time to understand and adjust to the culture of village life, "It didn't take me long at all to realize that Western educational ways will not work in this community." He firmly believes that Western academic content can be taught using culturally responsive practices. "We want to prepare these kids to be successful in whatever they choose to do after they graduate, whether it's go on to college or be a subsistence hunter in the village."

The dog program is used within the context of a districtwide culturally and linguistically responsive curriculum that aligns core content with hands-on activities in subsistence, survival, and community. In home economics class, students sew the booties the dogs wear on their feet when they go out and "mush" in the snow. As part of their science courses, students learn traditional hunting and fishing techniques to provide food for the dogs. "This is not your typical science curriculum," Dosko affirms.

The dogs help with core academic subjects as well, sometimes in unexpected ways. It's not unusual to find a fourth-grader out in the dog yard, reading aloud to the dogs. For children who are not comfortable reading out loud in class, reading to the dogs is a totally nonthreatening way to practice their skills. After all, says Dosko, a dog will never correct your pronunciation or grammar.

Contact with the animals also helps students develop social and interpersonal skills, serving as a kind of "pet therapy." Many children in rural Alaska don't have family pets like kids in the lower states, and the bonds students form with the dogs are very beneficial. Dosko has sometimes taken a problem student out into the dog yard and found that tending to the dogs together provides a nonconfrontational way to work through an issue.

The "carrot" of the program for students in the early grades is that they will be able to take electives in junior and senior high school to actually learn how to mush the dogs. In local mush races the Tuluksak dog team has done well, serving as a source of school and community pride.

One key to successfully implementing the program has been a focus on retaining and developing a culturally responsive staff. Before Dosko, the school had never had a principal who stayed more than two years. The school suffered from high teacher turnover rates—a common problem in rural Alaskan villages—which led to a lack of continuity and prevented the school from developing its capacity.

Instead of focusing on recruiting new teachers, as many rural districts do, Dosko concentrated on retaining the teachers they had. One strategy was to create a better quality of life for teachers in the village. "In rural Alaska, the district is also your landlord. If you're not happy at home, you're not happy at work," he says. Dosko worked hard to create better housing conditions for teachers, and the village has received funding for water storage and treatment improvements. In August 2004, a new school building was completed.

Another aspect of teacher retention centered on the unique opportunities for professional development for non-Native teachers. The superintendent, Joseph Slats, is Alaska Native. The district also draws in community members to promote better cultural understanding of village life. A three- to six-credit course in Yup'ik culture and history is offered to the staff every year, and professional development is offered in improving instructional strategies for teaching literacy to English language learners. These efforts have paid off. The school has gone from a nearly 85 percent turnover rate to losing only one or two teachers a year. Dosko credits the resulting structure and consistency as a critical factor in sustaining a culturally responsive program.

Community support and involvement is also crucial. The curriculum, which Dosko admits is a work in progress, is developed through conversations with community members. The dog program was chosen in part because it is both a male and female activity, while many traditional Native practices have distinct gender roles. The school has a local knowledge expert to consult with, plus a cultural curriculum coordinator who assists in identifying supplemental materials and community resources to enhance the program.

The benefits of the program are many. For students, the program has resulted in increased enrollment, graduation rates, and especially student engagement and motivation. "Kids are having so much fun they don't always know they're participating in learning activities," says Dosko. There have also been dramatic changes in the way local people relate to the school. Community members see others participating and spending more time at the school and want to know how they can become more involved. Dosko believes the program has opened doors for other districts to implement innovative, culturally responsive practices. When the school first approached the state for funding for the program, they were "turned down flat." Because of the program's success, Dosko thinks they might get a different answer today.

Asked what school leaders can do to implement culturally responsive practices in their school communities, Dosko recommends first gaining an indepth understanding of the student population and their needs, then using creativity to respond to those needs with the resources at hand. "Culturally responsive education really does not mean that you have to go out there and create something completely new," Dosko asserts. "It's about utilizing what's there already, understanding the resources you have right there at your fingertips."