HERITAGE
LEADERSHIP*
Engaging with Contested Heritage:
Working Through, Walking Alongside (Part 3)
The Big River is the ancestral home of the Wasq’u People. Its waters provided abundant salmon, sturgeon, and smelt. Its watershed was where the Wasq’u People have gathered huckleberries and roots for sustenance, plants for medicine, and elk for meat and hides. This article recognizes a deep partnership that has formed in Central Oregon to honor the place names, the stories, and the traditions of the Wasq’u People. Photo by Skamania Lodge Photo Gallery.
Thank you to our contributing authors: Valerie Switzler, Radine “Deanie” Johnson, Theresa Coble, Christina Cid,
Rachel Galan, Kyrie Kellett, Ryan Lindsay, Pamela Blair-Bruce, Jim Craig, Carol Fitzsimmons, Keith Miller, Lisa Overholser, Bob Stanton, & Laura Westhoff
*The posture of a heritage leader is one of cultural humility, a readiness to rebalance power dynamics, and reciprocity.
If you work at a heritage site, you are central to addressing the crisis of meaning that is resurgent in our society. “Collective trauma,” writes Gilad Hirschberger, “is a cataclysmic event that shatters the basic fabric of society.” It emerges when people experience land dispossession, forced removal, racialized violence, or any form of oppression. Collective trauma shapes identities, memory, and intergroup relations. When unresolved, it leads to “a crisis of meaning.” Interpreters routinely tackle topics and events whose meanings society has yet to resolve; thus, we trust this final installment in our three-part article series will support you in your work.
Our Model for Engaging with Contested Heritage proposes (1) a way to think about trauma-informed heritage practice that (2) centers four truth inquiry and crucial engagement, that (3) happens in a supportive “liminal space, grounded in place” context, and that (4) culminates in healing and reconciliation that’s activated, in part, by the emotional experience of being moved.
In our model, safety, agency, collaboration, and trustworthiness create a context that supports two parallel, interacting, and iterative processes: four truth inquiry and crucial
engagement. Further, as we pursue these core practices, we find ourselves in liminal space—an in-between space that’s neither here nor there, a space that lacks fixedness, and a space that’s often very disorienting. Scholars say that when we’re nudged outside our comfort zone, we learn. Similarly, four truth inquiry and crucial engagement invite transformation as they guide us in exploring all manner of truths about the past, about ourselves, and about the world we live in. The process of truth finding, truth nuancing, truth internalizing, and truth telling moves us to think, to listen and hold tension, to connect and take action, and hopefully, to be whole.
Our model highlights the importance of being moved. When individuals experience being moved in response to working through a contested heritage topic, and when this happens in the aggregate, and when it motivates people to pursue healing and reconciliation because they want to be whole, then and only then, can we address the collective trauma that exerts such devastating effects on our psychological, cultural, and social wellbeing.
Savannah Holliday-Smith, a member of the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs, has generously shared her photos of her and her children to be included in the curriculum project, helping to center and celebrate Indigenous knowledge. Photo courtesy of Savannah Holliday-Smith.
Crucial Engagement Requires “Balanced Truth Telling”: The Wasq’u Curriculum Project
Valerie:
In 2017, the Oregon legislature passed Senate Bill 13. The law mandates that the Oregon Department of Education work with Indigenous tribes to prepare a K-12 curriculum that addresses tribal history, sovereignty, culture, treaty rights, government relations, and lived experiences. The Tribal History/Shared History initiative was visionary, supporting Indigenous-led curriculum development with lesson plans for grades 4, 5, 8, and 10, and a report titled “Essential Understandings of Native Americans in Oregon.”
Tribal History/Shared History was no cursory effort. It centered truth finding by exploring the perspectives of the nine Indigenous tribes in Oregon, engaging in robust dialogue about the past and its effects in the present, and honoring our stories as sacred. In fact, as the "Essential Understandings" report states,
Tribal nations lived and continue to live on the land that is currently known as the United States; each nation has a distinct origin story, worldview, and timeline of their history and contemporary context. However, much of that information has been presented to the general American public from a non-Native American perspective, filled with clichés, misconceptions and falsehoods. Simply stated, history has sought to subvert and suppress events and truths in this country surrounding tribal peoples—from genocidal practices such as the spread of disease and forced removal of children, to federal policies aimed at the destruction of lifeways, including termination of tribal nationhood and sovereignty…The truth is that Native American existences and experiences in this country, while painful and appalling, are also filled with beauty, resiliency, determination and strength.
Christina:
Valerie, this passage illustrates a balanced approach to telling the truth of tribal history in Oregon. It recognizes that each tribe has distinct origin stories, worldviews, lived experiences, and approaches to exercising their sovereignty. It acknowledges the lies and distortions that have circulated virtually unchecked in dominant society. And it highlights the detrimental effects of official U.S. policies and cultural mores. But most importantly, without negating a “painful and appalling” past, the passage centers Native American survivance.
The “Essential Understandings” passage reveals how truth can and must be nuanced through dialogue, listening, respect, and empathy. It requires bringing what you think you know about forensic truth, personal truth, social truth, and healing truth into conversation with knowledge holders, stakeholders, and community members. It requires asking questions, listening, pausing, reframing, and remaining ever curious. And it requires time.
You can’t nuance your understanding if you’re not engaged in what qualitative researchers call “member checking.” You have to verify, or more likely, revise or refine, your tentative conclusions with those who have first-hand knowledge and experience. That’s what crucial engagement is all about.
Kyrie:
In Central Oregon, we took the requirements of Senate Bill 13 and contextualized them to place. The Wasq’u Curriculum Project represents an ongoing collaboration between the Wasq’u tribe (one of the three tribes that make up the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs), The Museum at Warm Springs, the High Desert Museum, Confluence, and Mason Bee Interpretive Planning. (I’m the Principal and a Certified Interpretive Planner at Mason Bee Interpretive Planning.) Together, project partners developed a curriculum that focuses on the Wasq’u People and their connection to the Big River—or the Columbia River as it’s known to some.
As the project unfolded, we developed a set of core practices to guide our work. Every practice represented a learning and re-learning process. Together, we created a graphic to illustrate our shared commitments and the iterative, cyclical way that we wanted to engage with these practices:
Savannah Holliday-Smith helps her children deepen their connection to their ancestral homelands by the Big River. Photo courtesy of Savannah Holliday-Smith.
Participants in the Wasq’u Curriculum Project adopted the core commitments and core practices illustrated in this graphic image. The spiral symbolizes the iterative, cyclical nature of deep partnership work. Image by Kyrie Kellett.
Christina:
This process centered the wisdom and knowledge of tribal Elders; our Indigenous partners wanted to build curriculum around the stories that Native knowledge holders tell. We titled our curriculum “The Wasq’u People and the Big River.” Now that we’ve developed the content and classroom activities, I’ll candidly admit that from time to time, I sit back and admire what we co-created. It centers the stories. It centers the Big River. It has visual appeal and an authentic design. I’m really proud of it. And it's important to highlight that it was a four-year process. It took so much more time than I anticipated, and even then, it wouldn’t have happened without Valerie and Deanie.
Valerie Switzler (Wasq’u) is the General Manager for the Branch of Education for the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs. A real visionary, she lives large. When she says something, it’s always meaningful and powerful. When she smiles, she lights up a room. And she doesn’t stop. She’s a tireless advocate for Indigenous language and culture revitalization.
Radine “Deanie” Johnson (Wasq’u, Warm Springs, and Paiute) serves as the Language Coordinator for the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs. Her work connects students at the Warm Springs K-8 Academy with their language, culture, history, and ancestral homelands. While language revitalization is her main focus, she’s also active in the food sovereignty movement and has a hereditary responsibility as a food gatherer. Deanie was hugely instrumental in the Wasq’u Curriculum Project.
Deanie:
It’s so important for Wasq’u children to learn Kiksht, their ancestral language. We teach language learning in our Head Start program. Now that students are learning their language, they’re coming to school more often. They’re graduating at the highest rate in any Native community in Oregon—and the rate’s increasing! It really makes a difference for our kids to know who they are and where they came from.
I’m also grateful that the Wasq’u Curriculum Project centered our tribal Elders, recording their stories and experiences for future generations. Our Elders are our wisdom holders. We grew up on the reservation, so we are no longer physically connected to the Big River Basin. We have to learn about our ties to the river by listening to our Elders. For this project, we were lucky to get the videos we got. When you put a camera and a microphone on an Elder, they get nervous. Later they think, “Oh, I should’ve said this, or I should’ve said that.” But one of the things they did, they told us the authentic place names for places on the Big River.
Valerie:
Those videos were recorded when project partners came together for a two-day retreat at Skamania Lodge. It’s located on our ancestral homeland on the Big River. That trip was vital. We were able to experience the river, to feel the mist, to imagine where our ancestral villages were, and to share our stories. Everyone felt the power of the place. There’s no shortcut to the kind of insights that emerge when Elders, stories, place, respect, and gratitude sit together and mingle.
In my case, the thing that moves me every day are my two grandmothers. This project gave me another opportunity to listen to my grandmothers. I wanted to be around them more, to be involved with them, to be like them. For me, emulating my Elders is how I internalize truth.
Christina:
Our heritage leadership articles have a tagline: “The posture of a heritage leader is one of cultural humility, a readiness to rebalance power dynamics, and reciprocity.” During the Wasq’u Curriculum Project, I had to continually work to adopt these postures—and it didn’t always happen. It was a learning process.
For example, I came to our first meeting with prospective partners from the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs with handouts listing all the Oregon state education standards. I thought we’d do backward design, starting with state-mandated student learning outcomes. That was a western approach to curriculum development, and it fell flat.
I share this example because it illustrates the importance of reflection and self-awareness. In the end, we approached the curriculum design process by first listening to the Elders’ stories; later we worked to align the curriculum with state education standards.
TOP: Co-author Radine “Deanie” Johnson (Wasq’u, Warm Springs, and Paiute).
ABOVE: Co-author Valerie Switzler (Wasq’u).
A cornerstone of the Wasq’u curriculum project is the opportunity for students to learn directly from Wasq’u Elders and language teachers. As part of this initiative, we recorded Elders, including Valerie Switzler, sharing their stories, which were then transformed into short videos for students to learn from. Photo by Confluence.
From a Different Angle: Crucial Engagement & Truth
Carol:
Barbara Little, a professor at the University of Maryland, links dialogue with four truth inquiry. Reflecting on the speech that Mitch Landrieu, the Mayor of New Orleans, delivered in 2017 on the removal of four Confederate monuments, she said, “The Mayor—who is white—acknowledged that he ‘must have passed by those monuments a million times without giving them a second thought.’ However, he was willing to hear another’s personal truth. This narrative truth provoked a new understanding and highlights the kind of listening and dialogue needed to make a change.” Little tells us that dialogue goes beyond conversation; it requires courageous sharing and empathetic listening. Dialogue catalyzes latent impulses and understandings, causing them to spill over into ever more widely distributed arcs of engagement.
Laura:
If there’s a pivot point in the model, I think it’s dialogue. Conversations about contested heritage provide an opportunity for participants to share personal experiences, to listen and hold tension as they encounter perspectives that differ from their own, and to demonstrate an unwavering commitment to honor story as sacred. Brené Brown says that the only way to know what someone is thinking or feeling is to ask them. And “when they tell us what they’re feeling, what happened, what they fear or desire, we listen and become trusted stewards of their stories.” Story stewardship is a way of honoring other people’s stories as valuable and worthy of respect. When people share their experiences, their personal narratives, their personal truth, and are believed, safety and trust are reinforced within the group.
Barbara Little suggests that “honest civil dialogue about values, history, and both past and present injustice is critical to destabilize the triad of direct, structural and cultural violence.” Further, she asserts that reclaiming truths destabilizes violence, and honest dialogue destabilizes the power structures that cause harm. Sometimes I think that respectful dialogue that engages multiple points of view may be the only antidote to what ails us as a society.
Jim:
This conversation reminds me of the work of Wasq’u Elder and lifelong Warm Springs Reservation resident, George W. Aguilar, Sr. His book, When the River Ran Wild, weaves together tribal traditions and customs, historical research, and personal reflections.
I’m struck by Aguilar’s prose: “The river ran wild. It flowed with a force of its own, not constrained by the borders of human boundaries, but a force that shaped the land and those who lived upon it.” He tells us the role the Big River continues to play in sustaining the Wasq’u people: “We are still here, still fighting, still singing the songs of our people. The river may not run wild as it once did, but we continue to find strength in its waters.”
Aguilar’s reflections, and my reaction to them, highlight historical empathy—a concept that connects us with non-traditional guides, often from the past, and helps us understand their world, their experiences, and their choices. Sierra McKinney, a doctoral candidate at the University of Montreal, and her colleagues tell us that historical empathy happens when we contextualize history, when we try to see things through the perspectives of others, and when we allow our emotions to be engaged.
I have a latent emotional connection with Aguilar through my recent military service and my father’s stories of the Korean War. But, if we move from military contexts to his home on the Warm Springs Reservation, then many of those ready connections fall away. There’s so much about George Aguilar that I don’t know. I can try to contextualize Aguilar’s experiences but, without historical empathy, I don’t have a way to see things from his perspective—I’m stuck.
Fortunately, Mr. Aguilar gifted us his words and his demeanor in both video and prose. His skill and generosity in sharing who he is, where he lived, and what he experienced helps bridge the gap. I find myself appreciating his service in a war zone and the Big River region. This is one example of how historical empathy can bring each of us into the storyline. It opens the door to curiosity, care, and cultural humility. And it’s often a precursor to being moved.
Bobby Brunoe, Secretary-Treasurer/CEO of the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs, served as General Manager of the Tribes’ Branch of Natural Resources for 24 years. With a deep commitment to preserving the ancestral homelands of the Wasq’u people, Bobby works to ensure the continued strength of the Tribes’ ability to hunt, fish, and gather at their usual and accustomed places, while also sharing their vital work and cultural legacy with others. Photo courtesy of Robert “Bobby” Brunoe.
Caddo elder Marilyn Threlkeld and her husband Richard donate an elk hide to help furnish the Caddo Grass House. Photo by Caddo Mounds State Historic Site.
Wood, fungi, moss, and lichen reveal the beauty of decomposition, a process that returns nutrients to the soil and supports the growth of future plants. Photo by Caddo Mounds State Historic Site.
The Oregon Historical Society has profiled George W. Aguilar, Sr., noting that he is a Wasq’u Elder and a life-long resident of the Warm Springs Reservation. He learned the traditional knowledge and cultural practices of the Wasq’u People from his maternal grandparents, James and Hattie Symintire Polk. He wrote When the River Ran Wild! so that his grandchildren would be able to drink from a deep reservoir of ancestral knowledge and traditions. Photo by American Warriors.
Space, Place & Being Moved: Caddo Mounds State Historic Site
Keith:
We anchor the trauma-informed heritage practice portion of our model with the phrase “liminal space, grounded in place” because most heritage sites have layers of contested heritage that can activate trauma, both personal and collective. When we think about the ideal visitor experience, we hope visitors have fun, enjoy time with family and friends, engage meaningful content, or have an opportunity to learn, heal, or grow. But if visitors encounter contested heritage, they may end up feeling overwhelmed or stuck.
According to Amanda Hay & Dalvir Samra-Fredericks, two faculty at Nottingham Trent University in the United Kingdom, liminality is “a state of in-between-ness” that characterizes what happens when we are in transition. The experience of liminal space can be uncomfortable and disorienting—so much so that these scholars refer to “amplifying struggles of incoherence” that lead people in liminal spaces to “desperately seek fixedness.”
Hays and Samra-Fredericks found that negotiating “moments of being stuck were critical to the successful passage through the liminal space.” Leaving in-between-ness behind, visitors can step across the threshold into a “transformation of the self.” The idea of liminality is important because transition is a precursor to transformation—like a cocoon is for a butterfly. But when somebody gets stuck, how can they get unstuck?.
Lisa:
Keith, that’s such a great question, and it really speaks to the power of “liminal space grounded in place.” Scholars articulate the idea of spaces becoming places in different ways. “Place is a space to which people have attached meaning,” writes Yi-fu Tuan, and “a place is a space that has been given emotional significance through human experience.” Keith Basso, an anthropologist, now deceased, worked with the Western Apache at Cibicue for more than thirty years. He may have said it best when he gave his classic ethnography the title: Wisdom Sits in Places.
I doubt there’s an interpreter anywhere whose job description reads, “Turn spaces into places,” but that’s what interpreters do. They help people discover the meanings and significance of people, events, processes, and ideas—all of which can be connected to place. An authentic experience of place helps visitors navigate liminal space while also catalyzing four truth inquiry and crucial engagement processes. The power of place makes transformation more likely.
But to your question, Keith, interpreters can help visitors get unstuck by walking alongside them as they: (1) explore multiple pathways to coherence that meaningfully integrate the past into the present, (2) re-frame “heritage learning” as personal learning, and (3) ground their learning about the past, and themselves, in place.
Caddo Council Member and Fort Cobb Representative Kay O'Neal welcomes visitors to Caddo Culture Day at Caddo Mounds State Historic Site. Photo by Caddo Mounds State Historic Site.
Rachel:
For us at Caddo Mounds SHS, a journey through liminal space is often a literal journey of transforming space into place. Marilyn Threlkeld was a Caddo Elder and a long-time supporter of Caddo Mounds. She helped design the mural in Snake Woman’s garden that’s wrapped in a spiral pathway and surrounded by traditional garden plants.
In 2019, an EF-3 tornado hit Caddo Mounds during the annual Caddo Culture Day celebration. The tornado injured many, some critically, destroying the visitor center and a Caddo grasshouse that was constructed in 2017. Marilyn was at Caddo Mounds that day. Alaina Tahlate gave us the Caddo word for a tornado experience: shahó.
Marilyn offered her blessing for an Eastern Red Cedar that was planted in honor of the re-opening of Caddo Mounds after the 2019 tornado. Although Marilyn passed away recently, her presence is felt throughout the site. Her son, Travis, has attended many of our annual Caddo Culture Day festivals, but he wasn’t fully aware of the ways in which Marilyn’s gentle words and dedicated actions have enriched the place.
After the tornado, we commissioned Chase Kahwinhut Earles, a Caddo artist, to make two matching seed pots. The plan was to give one seed pot to the Nation and keep one seed pot onsite—but it just never happened that year, or the next. The time was never right.
Theresa:
Rachel, I remember December 2, 2023. It was a big day at Caddo Mounds. It marked the return of Caddo Citizens and Caddo Mounds SHS staff, volunteers, and visitors to the site—several of us even came down from St. Louis! It was the first Caddo Culture Day since the tornado. It’s the one event each year that draws many Caddo culture keepers back to their ancestral homelands in East Texas.
Rachel:
But on that December day, the time was right. We invited the Caddo into the rebuilt grasshouse. There was a fire in the hearth. It was lovely. And we shared a from-the-heart tribute to Marilyn. We presented the seed pot for the Nation to Travis in her honor. And it was perfect, because Travis now works for Caddo Nation. That memorial ceremony—that moment—was warm and wonderful. It didn't feel contrived. We expressed gratitude, and we remembered Marilyn with love, honor, and respect.
This is a story of liminal space grounded in place. There's the symbolism of seeds. There's a person’s life journey. There was a passing, in a sense, of our memories from mother to son.
Reflecting on my time at Caddo Mounds SHS, we’ve seen partnerships and conflict among people, between governing entities, and with the land. And while it hasn’t been easy, there has been a slow and perilous journey toward trust and healing. At Caddo Mounds, it’s another trip around the spiral—a spiral that hugs the contours of a Snake Woman mural that Marilyn helped design.
Caddo Citizens Kay O'Neal (left) and Marilyn Threlkeld (right) paint rocks for the snake mosaic in Snake Woman's Garden. Photo by Caddo Mounds State Historic Site.
Caddo elder Marilyn Threlkeld blessed an Eastern Red Cedar that was planted at the re-opening of the grounds of Caddo Mound State Historic Site in the aftermath of the 2019 tornado that devastated the site. Photo by Leslie Bush.
Today turned out to be a beautiful day to share our dances and culture with everyone. It was a little harder than expected to be here knowing how attached my mom was to this place and all she had done to support the museum. The staff and volunteers made us all feel at home with open arms and made today feel special. Thank you, Caddo Mounds and Friends of Caddo Mounds, for honoring my mom today. Words just can’t describe how honored I am. I look forward to continuing my mom’s legacy here and helping in any way I possibly can.
Travis Threlkeld, Caddo Citizen; Binger Representative, Caddo Tribal Council
Bob:
For decades, interpreters have emphasized providing opportunities for visitors to connect intellectually and emotionally with the meanings and significance of heritage sites and their stories. Our model reiterates the importance of intellectual and emotional connections; but it culminates in the specific emotion of being moved.
There are experiences that easily move us—sometimes they move us to joy and elation, sometimes they move us to tears. The birth of a child comes to mind—that awe-inspiring moment when they take their first breath. I’m also moved by the simple trust that’s evident when, as a toddler, that same child puts their hand in yours and pulls you off on an adventure to some uncertain destination.
This issue of Legacy is about interpreting wonder. Dacher Keltner wrote the book Awe: The New Science of Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life. Tom Medema, Associate Director of the National Park Service for Interpretation, Education and Volunteers (retired), focused his keynote at the NAI conference in St. Augustine on interpretation and awe. Tom introduced us to the many forms that awe can take—and highlighted that awe can be transformative.
In his book, Keltner tells us that other people are the most likely source of everyday awe. In fact, “over 95 percent of the moral beauty that stirred awe worldwide was in actions people took on behalf of others. Acts of courage are one kind of moral beauty with sublime potential.”
My sense is that engaging with contested heritage provides innumerable opportunities to showcase moral beauty and nurture everyday awe—and that’s what makes interpretation a noble profession.
Four generations of Caddo women take a moment in the Caddo Grass House to prepare for social dances during the annual Caddo Culture Day celebration at Caddo Mounds State Historic Site in East Texas. Photo by Caddo Mounds State Historic Site.
Pamela:
Honorable Bob, I agree that contested heritage, moral beauty, and everyday awe can go hand in hand. Further, as these things come together, the likelihood that someone will be moved increases.
Vilma Hänninen and Anja Koski-Jännes, two Finnish researchers, say that “being moved is a commonly felt but somewhat mysterious experience [that combines] joy and sadness.” Often, being moved is an emotional response to events that happened to others; that is, the person experiencing this emotion may not be personally involved. Hänninen and Koski-Jännes said that “this very powerful emotion motivated people’s tendencies to approach, join, and help.” They went so far as to claim that being moved “evokes [a] devotion and commitment to preserve and strengthen communal relationships.”
In a Legacy article we wrote titled “Sense of Place: Toward Belonging, Empathy, and Common Ground,” Amanda Berlinski said: “…places create bonds between people. I think we could elevate the human aspect of place. And it’s not just about people relating to each other; rather, it’s people relating to each other in the context of place.”
Heritage sites are reservoirs of potential energy. They support inquiry, engagement, growth, and human development. Our model acknowledges the transformative potential of place and the emotional power of being moved.
Ryan:
In the final installment of our three-part article series introducing our Model for Engaging with Contested Heritage, we show that truth isn’t confined to the “four truth inquiry” process that we discussed in the January/February 2025 issue of Legacy. Rather, it represents a throughline in the process of engaging with contested heritage. Truth finding, truth nuancing, truth internalizing, and truth telling are touchpoints in the process that leads to healing, reconciliation, and being whole.
Navigating this throughline requires that we explore multiple perspectives through dialogue; honor story as sacred; nurture historical empathy; and support reflection, self-awareness, and self-care. Fortunately, the dynamic of “liminal space, grounded in place” sustains inquiry and engagement. Working through the challenges that contested heritage presents, and walking alongside others as they do the same, may culminate in being moved—and being moved puts us on the path to resolution.
Finally, we brought crucial engagement, liminal space grounded in place, and being moved to life by exploring how deep partnerships, like those at the High Desert Museum and Caddo Mounds SHS activate the process and reveal its potential.
Engaging with Contested Heritage, Engaging with You
In Atlas of the Heart, Brené Brown says: “Love is the last thing we need to ration in this world.” Even though love isn’t explicitly mentioned in our model, it’s baked into how we do inquiry, how we engage with each other, and how we ground ourselves in place. Without love, it’s unlikely that we’ll be moved, be healed, or become whole. Without love, it’s unlikely we’ll forge a right relationship with each other and with the heritage places we hold dear. We hope this model will help you engage with contested heritage with skillfulness and love.
If this discussion has piqued your interest, dig deeper through these action steps:
- The Model for Engaging with Contested Heritage was developed by students and faculty mentors in the Heritage Leadership doctoral cohort at the University of Missouri – St. Louis. We’ll enroll our fourth heritage leadership cohort in August 2025. We’re accepting applications for the next online doctoral cohort that will take place during 2025-2028. Interested? Check out our promotional flyer and recruitment packet with information about how to apply.
- We nest four practices under the heading of “crucial engagement,” including: (1) explore multiple perspectives through dialogue; (2) honor story as sacred; (3) nurture historical empathy; and (4) support reflection, self-awareness, and self-care. When have you experienced crucial engagement? What was the experience like? How could it have been strengthened? Finally, how might you and your co-workers provide crucial engagement opportunities at your site?
- Our Model for Engaging with Contested Heritage seeks to harness the power of “liminal space grounded in place.” Consider writing your responses to these questions in a journal or notebook: Have you experienced liminal space? What was the experience like? Have you ever experienced a situation in which “space became place” and if so, how did that happen? Finally, how could your site harness the power of place to support four truth inquiry and crucial engagement?
- Being moved encompasses joy and sadness as we learn about events that happened to others. Grab a thought partner and discuss your experiences of being moved at a heritage site. Are there commonalities to these experiences? How could your heritage site provide more opportunities to be moved? And how might four truth inquiry and crucial engagement support that outcome?
Finally, check out these recommended resources:
- The Wasq’u People and the Big River curriculum will soon available online at the High Desert Museum's website. The content focuses on the Big River and its connection to the Wasq’u people—and the lesson plans, activities, and videos will no doubt inspire your curriculum development work.
- Valerie Switzler and Deanie Johnson are both featured in a resource guide for teachers that the High Desert Museum put together that focuses on food gathering, First Foods, and food sovereignty.
- If you’d like to learn more about Oregon’s Tribal History/Shared History initiative, this 5-minute video provides a helpful overview.
- Confluence and Mason Bee Interpretive Planning contributed to the success of the Wasq’u Curriculum Project. Their work in interpretive planning, design, partnership building, and community engagement was instrumental to the project. Their webpages are visually stunning and very inspiring. Check ‘em out!
- Since nurturing historical empathy is important to our model, check out UC Santa Cruz’s toolkit to help students identify Empathy Misses and respond more empathetically. Their four-step process is a great primer for interpreters, too. Bonus! They link to a short, animated video on empathy by Brené Brown.
- Our model is based, in part, on our experiences, understandings, and insights. But it’s also based on scholarly literature. Learn more about the literature we cite at this link.
