A child’s reaction to any of these treatments ranged from compliance, temporary fears, or unhappy looks – all of which were usually ignored – to sulking, rebellious shrieks, or silent resistance. This latter took the form of ignoring orders or repeating the behavior to see if the adult would take notice. It was rare indeed to hear a child talk back, verbally refuse to perform the action, or say petulantly, “I don’t want to.” Sometimes a child did threaten vengence – when it was angry at another child or an outsider such as a tanik – but it was most unusual to hear threats directed at parents or adult relatives. By adolescence, discipline seemed to consist entirely of lectures, though still delivered in the harsh tone characterizing Inupiat cautions.
After the age of five, a child was less restricted in its activities in and around the village although walking on the beach or ice still required an adult. During the dark winter season, the child remained indoors or stayed close to the house to prevent it from getting lost and to protect it from polar bears which occasionally entered a village looking for food. In summer, children played at all hours of the day and “night,” or at least until their parents went to bed.
By the eighth year, some of the responsibility for a child’s socialization had been passed from adults to peers. Children frequently lectured each other using the same admonitions as told to them earlier: “Don’t fight,” “Don’t pakak,” “You supposed to knock,” and “Shut the door.” Rule-breaking might also be reported to a nearby adult: “Mom. Sammy ipagak.” Tattling was not depreciated to the extent that it had once been. Still, while older children regularly “played parent” in which they imposed adult rulings on younger ones, all children instructed each other irrespective of their age. Such instruction was generally taken in good spirit. Thus, when an younger child reminded an older one, “You supposed to knock,” the latter was likely to smile sheepishly, go out of the room, knock, and enter again.
Although not burdened with responsibility, boys and girls were both expected to take an active role in family activities. In the early years, these were shared, depending on who was available. Regardless of gender, it was important for a child to know how to perform a wide variety of tasks and give assistance when needed. Both sexes collected and chopped wood, got water, helped carry meat and other supplies, oversaw younger siblings, ran errands for adults, fed the dogs, and burned trash. As children grew older, more specific responsibilities were allocated according to gender. Boys as young as seven might be given an opportunity to shoot a .22 rifle, and at least a few boys in every village had taken their first caribou by the time they were ten or eleven.
Young girls, and to a lesser extent young boys, learned techniques of butchering while on hunting trips with older siblings and adults. In most instances, however, neither girls nor boys became at all proficient in this skill until their late-teens or early twenties. Prior to complusory school attendance and the hospitalization of large numbers of youths for tuberculosis, such knowledge was attained at an earlier age. A girl, especially, learned butchering as a young teenager since this skill was essential in attracting a good husband. But by the 1960s, it was more likely to be picked up after marriage – and not always then.
Still, while a gender division of labor among youths was clearly recognized by the Inupiat, it was far from rigid. Boys occasionally swept up the house and helped with cooking. Girls and their mothers went on fishing and duck hunting trips; and sometimes caribou hunting as well. Thus, among the youths, each gender learned that it could assume the reponsibilities of the other when the occasion arose, albeit in an auxilary role.
Siblings played together more happily than is often the case in American society, but sibling rivalry was not completely absent. Hostility was generally expressed by tattling or engaging in some form of minor physical abuse. However, anyone indulging in hard pushing, elbowing, pinching, or hitting was told immediately to stop. Rather than fight back, the injured party was more likely to request help from an older sibling or near adult. Verbal abuse was also rare.
By contrast, competiveness, derived from pride of achievement or skill attainment, characterized many children’s activities. In games involving athletic prowess, a child would say, “Look how far I can throw the stone,” rather than “I can throw the stone farther than you.” When rivalry was more direct, it was expected that the game be undertaken in good spirit and the skills of one participant not be flouted at the expense of the other. Aggressive competitiveness was explicitly condemned, as when a father childed his son, “Why you always wanting to win?”
Only very young children limited their play to those of like age. After reaching five or six, the age range of playmates widened considerably. Team games such as “Eskimo football,” were particularly popular and had as participants children of both sexes ranging in age from five to twelve. The game combined elements of soccer and `keepaway,’and when played by older boys, elements of rugby as well. It was not until adolescence that a young person actively set herself or himself apart from other children. Youths of this age group briefly watched youngsters play volleyball or some other game, but seldom participated. Adults encouraged this separation, and when they saw a teen-age boy or girl playing with younger children, they would say, “That person is a little slow in his [or her] development.”
Many other popular games were played as well. Some, involving feats of skill and strength such as hand wrestling, have had a long history among the Inupiat. Others such as kick-the-can, volleyball, and board games like monopoly and scrabble, were introduced by Whites. Still other games combined elements of both. Haku, an Inupiat team game in which the object was to make the members of the opposite team laugh, included the offering of amusing portraits of Hawaiian and Spanish dances, done, if possible, with a straight face. A few traditional Inupiat games like putigarok, a form of tag where the person who was “it” tried to touch another on the same spot on the body in which he or she was tagged, closely resembled the western game of tag. Some children occasionally played a fantasy game called “polar bear” in which one child took the role of an old woman who fell asleep. The polar bear then came and took away her child. She then woke up and attempted to discover where the bear had hidden it. At Barrow, Inupiat children played a slightly different version of the same game called “old woman.” A youth played the role of an old woman who pretended to be blind. When several of her posessions were stolen, she “accused” other children of taking them. This game required a fair amount of verbal exchange. The more able the talker, the more likely the winner. Story telling was one of the most popular forms of Inupiat entertainment, especially during the winter months when outside activity was sharply diminished. Typical stories involved autobiographical or biographical accounts of unusual incidents, accidents, hunting trips, or other events deemed interesting to the listener. Following the evening meal, a father might call all the children around him and recount his last whale hunt, or how he shot his first polar bear. A good storyteller acted out part of the tale, demonstrating how he threw the harpoon at the whale’s back, or how the bear scooped up the lead dog and sent him flying across the ice. Other stories told by other people described life long ago before the tanniks arrived. Myths and folk tales portrayed exploits of northern animals and birds endowed with supernatural qualities.
Children, too, liked to tell stories to each other. These short tales usually described some recent activity, real or imagined. Young Inupiat were passionately fond of horror stories, and a vivid description of raw heads and bloody bones quickly elicited delighted screams of fear from the throats of the listeners. If the teller acted out part of the story, so much the better.
The Inupiat child’s creative imagination was reflected in all the activities of story telling, imitating others, playing store, and inventing new games. Young girls turned a bolt of cloth into a regal gown which they wore to an imaginary ball. Boys of four or five climbed under a worn blanket with make-believe airplanes to practice night flying. Charging over the tundra with sharply pointed sticks, a pair of six year olds cornered their supposed furry opponent. This kind of spontaneity, supported by flexible routines and a minimum of rules, continued until the early teens when events of the real world began to offer greater challenges. Only in the confines of the classroom did these children find their psychic freedom curtailed.
All Inupiat children from six to sixteen were required to attend local Bureau of Indian Affairs [BIA] schools. Parents generally agreed that school was a necessary part of the modern child’s education, and children themselves enjoyed the contrast of school and home. Still, the themes addressed in the classroom differed markedly from those of everyday Inupiat life, and many a youth would have preferred lessons in hunting and skin sewing to those in arithmetic, geography, social studies, and English. Nor did they see much benefit in following newly arrived BIA teachers admonitions that they learn to “Be prompt,” Work hard to achieve success,” Learn the values of banking and budgeting,” and particularly “Keep clean,” for such middle class American values had little meaning for life at home.
The school term in North Slope Alaska villages began in late August and continued for 180 days, the number required by the government. Acknowledging the limitations placed on the student’s behavior, it was still possible to characterize Inupiat childhood at that time as one of relative independence. Participation in simple household tasks permitted boys and girls large amounts of free time. Only gradually did they have to assume the more adult responsibilities of cleaning house, caring for younger siblings, hunting and preparing food. Thus, apart from the school experience, there was no sharp break in the continuity of learning between infancy, childhood, and the beginning of adolescence.
In one special sense, there was an even greater blending of these age-grades than in the past. In aborginal times, changes in clothing delineated a distinct transition from childhood to adolescence. When a boy’s voice changed, he was given a different style of short trousers. Later, when a father or male guardian decided he was ready for marriage, a minor operation was performed by cutting two slits at the corners of his mouth. Once the wounds were cleansed, decorative labrets were placed in the openings, thereby signifying that the boy had become a man and was ready for marriage. A girl’s transition to adolescence came with her first menstruation, at which time she was placed in temporary isolation for up to a month or even longer. With further maturation, marked by the growth of her breasts, she exchanged the clothes of childhood for those of the adult woman. At this time, women were tattooed by making a series of closely drawn parallel lines extending from the center of the lower lip to the chin. In the early 1960s, a few women of sixty-five or more still carried these symbols of early womanhood; but by then the custom marking differences in age and gender had become obsolete.
Much of the Inupiat child’s upbringing was designed to prepare the young person to assume the skills and values of an adult. Children were made to feel that their contributions and participation were important to the overall life of the family. They were taught how to draw their subsistence from land and sea, what responsibilities needed to be undertaken in the home, and what cultural traditions they should follow. In spite of this background, and in part because of it, many adolescents felt quite unprepared to assume the responsibilities of life in a rapidly changing world only partially understood by their parents. Due to diverse models of adulthood offered by school teachers, missionaries, and their own family and kin, it was very difficult for a young man or woman to choose how best to structure their adult lives. As a result, the process of becoming an Inupiat adult at this time was frought with inner turmoil and insecurity.
Taught from childhood that an Inupiat male should be self-reliant and a good hunter, boys observed their fathers seeking wage labor at a government or military installation. After obtaining such a position, these men could hunt only on occasional days off or during short two or three week vacations. They were also more likely to take chances by having to hunt in bad weather since that was the only time they could obtain subsistence foods for their families. The frustration and abivalence felt by a father who was limited in his ability to provide this Native food quickly carried down to the son. So too, girls regularly observed their mothers’ confusion as they tried to comprehend the economic, educational, religious, and other changes occurring within their spheres of activity. In many respects, the difficulties faced by Inupiat women were at least as great if not greater than those of the men. In terms of the amount of energy that had to be expended, the larger families, a product of steadily improving health care, added significantly to the work required around the home. Furthermore, to this practical problem was added another having to do with ideological redefinitions of gender.
Prior to Alaska’s colonial period, Inupiat women and men made decisions about the activities for which they were largely responsible. Thus, Inupiat women maintained direct autonomy in many areas having to do with the production and distribution of food, skin sewing, and similar endeavors essential to the survival of the group. Men too, were dominant decision-makers in their important spheres of activity most of which centered around subsistence hunting. But men were not dominators in the sense that, as a group, they tried to subjugate, command, or control the actions of women. Thus, the social relations between Inupiat women and men prior to their colonial encounter with Europe and America was relatively egalitarian in nature. This, of course, was hardly in keeping with the definition of womanhood held by incoming colonizers. From their perspective, the position of women was clearly subordinate to that of men. Eventually, the undermining of women’s autonomy took hold, thereby seriously reducing their ability to cope with many new and complex problems which they had to face. Needless to say, the continuning stresses brought on by these changed social relations were closely watched by adolescent daughters seeking models in which to emulate.
In schools, too, adolescents of both sexes came to understand that the Inupiat were a small and relatively unimportant segment of the world’s population, and that much of what transpired in national and international affairs passed them by without a glance. This knowledge, contrasting sharply with the earlier Inupiat perception of themselves as a capable and self-reliant people, did little to enhance the students’ sense of pride and self-worth.
Though the village school was highly informative about the outside world, it did not prepare Inupiat youth to live with or in it. Primary school children learned to speak English and if they completed the elementary curriculum, they could read and write. But to enter a high school or technical school, youths had to leave their villages for up to four years and travel to Sitka, Anchorage, Fairbanks, or some other city in Kansas or Oregon about which they knew little. Young men who chose not to continue schooling – and the choice was almost always left up to the them – soon found that their lack of skills placed them at a distinct disadvantage when competing with Whites for northern jobs. For young Inupiat women, however, there were not any jobs in which they could compete even if they did obtain the necessary skills. At that time in the early 1960s, any secretarial or other service-oriented training offered women in high schools, could be utilized only in areas far removed from the villages in which they grew up. Thus, young Inupiat teenagers of both sexes were “trapped” by the economic, social and cultural environment in which they found themselves. There were few incentives to follow the ways of the past and little opportunity for skill training that could help in preparing for the future. It was hardly surprising, therefore, that most adolescents devoted their time and energy to matters of the present.
This problem was compounded by the freedom given the youths by their parents and other relatives. As noted earlier, Inupiat childhood became more peer centered with increasing age. With the sharp increase in number of living children [due to improvements in health care], older siblings were regularly called upon to assist their busy parents. They also took on greater responsibility for socialization of the young. Thus, by the time a child reached adolescence, most of her or his time was spent with those of similar age. This long standing cultural pattern, continuing right into the 1960s, meant that the parents’ knowledge of their adolescent children’s thoughts and behavior was often quite limited. Not surprisingly, when pressed to comment on a son and daughter’s plans for continuing school outside the village, a father would say, “I don’t know. They haven’t told us yet.” This lack of communication between parents and adolescent youth, coming at a time when the latter were searching for new models of behavior enabling them to “live in both worlds,” did little to resolve their feelings of insecurity and isolation.