The other day I started singing a song I learned in my childhood and my friends looked at me strangely, like they had never heard it before. I swore up and down that it existed, but I'm not so sure they believed me. It was this song:
Were we raised in the Pacific Northwest? No.
Were there any Native American kids in our class? No... well, Matt Young was ALLEGEDLY 1/8 Cherokee, but I don't believe him.
Why did our music teacher have us sing this song? Was SHE Native American? Nope.
Did she change careers from elementary school music teacher to Wal-Mart manager? Yes.
No Native Americans in Petersham, Mass... but one of my classmates had an uncle who was an out of work actor, so we were lucky enough to get some visits from an "18th Century" Petersham native by the name of Lucius Spooner. He told us about his old timey life... whether we wanted him to or not. It was like having a representative from Colonial Williamsburg or Old Sturbridge Village trespass into our classroom and give us history lessons... probably not founded in much research, but a history lesson all the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment