A smart Indian is a dangerous person, widely feared and ridiculed by Indians and non-Indians alike. I fought with my classmates on a daily basis. They wantedme to stay quiet when the non-Indian teacher asked for answers, for volunteers, for help. We were Indian children who were expected to be stupid. Most livedup to those expectations inside the classroom but subverted them on the outside. They struggled with basic reading in school but could remember how to singa few dozen powwow songs. They were monosyllabic in front of their non-Indian teachers but could tell complicated stories and jokes at the dinner table. Theysubmissively ducked their heads when confronted by a non-Indian adult but would slug it out with the Indian bully who was 10 years older. As Indian children,we were expected to fail in the non-Indian world. Those who failed were ceremonially accepted by other Indians and appropriately pitied by non-Indians.I refused to fail. I was smart. I was arrogant. I was lucky. I read books late into the night, until I could barely keep my eyes open. I read books at recess, thenduring lunch, and in the few minutes left after I had finished my classroom assignments. I read books in the car when my family traveled to powwows orbasketball games. In shopping malls, I ran to the bookstores and read bits and pieces of as many books as I could. I read the books my father brought homefrom the pawnshops and secondhand. I read the books I borrowed from the library. I read the backs of cereal boxes. I read the newspaper. I read the bulletinsposted on the walls of the school, the clinic, the tribal offices, the post office. I read junk mail. I read auto-repair manuals. I read magazines. I read anythingthat had words and paragraphs. I read with equal parts joy and desperation. I loved those books, but I also knew that love had only one purpose. I was trying tosave my life.Despite all the books I read, I am still surprised I became a writer. I was going to be a pediatrician. These days, I write novels, short stories, and poems. I visitschools and teach creative writing to Indian kids. In all my years in the reservation school system, I was never taught how to write poetry, short stories ornovels. I was certainly never taught that Indians wrote poetry, short stories and novels. Writing was something beyond Indians. I cannot recall a single timethat a guest teacher visited the reservation. There must have been visiting teachers. Who were they? Where are they now? Do they exist? I visit the schools asThe Joy of Reading and WritingSuperman and Me - latimes http://articles.latimes.com/print/1998/apr/19/books/bk-42979
The passage shows how Native children were expected to fail in school but excelled in cultural knowledge outside the classroom. The narrator resisted these stereotypes by reading obsessively, using literacy as both empowerment and survival. Despite lacking role models, he became a writer, proving that Native voices belong in literature.