Early American Civilizations: Interesting Photos

Once I tumble down a rabbit hole, and start searching the internet on a subject that holds my interest (see my post on the Chachapoyan peoples), I keep falling. 

I retired from teaching in 2008. So I have plenty of time to go exploring.

You can find all kinds of great photos on the internet to use in your classes. Here are a few I found. I believe you can click on any of them, make copies for your own use, and use them as you will. All represent native American cultures.

Here are a few, in no particular order:

Timeline of Peruvian civilizations; sorry it's not in English.

Chavin drinking vessel; half man, half jaguar decoration?

Chavin pottery.

The famous Nazca lines.

Nazca pottery.

 

Moche temple wall.

Moche design; possibly a palace wall.

  

Moche art restored.

Moche earrings.

 

Moche religious symbol, made of gold.

 

Sican burial mask; c. A.D. 750-1350, Peru (not shown on timeline above.

Sican ceremonial knife.

Sican gold cups.

Sican drinking pottery.

Tiwanaku tombs (I may have this wrong; forgot to take a note.)

Tiwanaku temple entrance.

  

***

Central American peoples:

Olmec stone head: the mother culture of Central America.

Olmec stone head; possible ceremonial ball player?

Olmec jade jaguar; the jaguar was worshiped as a god.

Olmec pottery.

Olmec pottery.

Olmec stone mask.

Plate from Gran Cocle, Panama, c. 150 B. C. E. to A. D. 300.

Gran Cocle pottery design.

Mayan owl head mace.

Mayan relief, city of Palenque.

Mayan warriors (as shown in the movie Apocalypto;
the warrior at right would be carrying a sword edged with obsidian.

Aztec fertility goddess.

Rear view of statue.

Aztec calendar stone: almost twelve feet in diameter and weighing 24 tons.

The Chachapoya of Peru (A. D. 650 to 1470)

  

I happened across a travel story about the Chachapoyan people recently. They lived and thrived in the mountains of Peru, c. A.D. 600 to 1470, and controlled a region the size of Massachusetts. They had no system of writing; but we do know they terraced their lands to create room for farming. Potatoes were a dietary staple. 

The ruins of Kuelap.

My students always found it interesting to learn that the the Incas, the more powerful neighbors of the Chachapoyas, and the Aztecs, far to the north, were expanding their empires at the same time France and England were finally pounding each other in the Hundred Years’ War. France and England both survived. 

The Chachapoya did not.

English longbows at the Battle of Crecy, 1346.

According to archaeologists, they were conquered by the Incas and their culture subsumed. Some of the ruins they left behind, however, are as striking as anything a tourist might see at Machu Picchu.

Most impressive are the ruins of Kuelap a city that sits 9,880 feet above sea level. In all likelihood, a site of religious significance, it could also be easily defended. There are guard towers in advanced positions on nearby mountains and the main entrance allows only one person to enter at a time.

Since I retired from teaching in 2008, I have plenty of free time on my hands and I tend to fall down assorted rabbit holes and go looking for stories and pictures that interest me. Here are some of the best pictures I could find, including examples of Chachapoya graves. I also threw in a few pictures from other ancient American civilizations.

Double click on any photo for a larger view.

Artist rendering of Chachapoya homes.

Kuelap ruins.

Main entry to Kuelap; like other Native Americans, the Chachapoya
never invented a true arch.

Aerial view of entry to Kuelap.

Massive wall at Kuelap.

Keupal sits at almost two miles above sea level.

Believed to be a Chachapoya warrior; Inca art.

Chachapoya silver cups.

Axe head.

The Chachapoya domesticated the alpaca.

The Chachapoya used the llama for its wool, meat and to carry supplies.
They also raised and ate guinea pigs.

We believe they worshiped the condor.

The pineapple grows in the region.

Nearby Gocta Falls, dropping a total of 2,531 feet.

The jaguar is native to Peru.

The caiman can be found in nearby rivers.

The Chachapoya lands were rich in wildlife.

Brightly colored parrots supplied feathers for Chachapoya dress.

Guard tower on an advanced ridge near Kuelap.

Like modern tourists, the Chachapoya probably enjoyed their views.

Narrow entry into Kuelap; probably for defensive purposes.

Chachapoya symbol, purpose unknown.

Chachapoya stone design.

National Geographic has done several articles on Chachapoya burial practices and describes them this way:

The Chachapoya interred lower-class citizens in common graves with little ceremony. But occupants of the cliff tombs were carefully wrapped in layers of woolen and cotton textiles. They were also surrounded by objects associated with daily life: pottery and weapons. Because the Chachapoya left no written record, scholars have long treasured their burial objects.

The trouble is, looters want them too. More often than not, they arrive at burial sites long before archaeologists do.

The Chachapoya developed their culture relatively rapidly, building large towns and fortresses—apparently to protect themselves from each other, since there is little evidence of rival cultures early on in the region.

Around 1470 the Inca arrived, and the Chachapoya were overwhelmed. As part of the Inca policy of subjugation, many residents of Chachapoya settlements were transplanted to distant areas. Traditional Chachapoya burial rituals, including the building of tombs, persisted for a time. But because the conquering Inca often preempted tombs for their own use, many contain not only typical Chachapoya crafts but Inca artifacts as well.

“It was probably the Inca who gave them the name Chachapoya, meaning ‘people of the clouds.’”

J. Marla Toyne, an archaeologist with the University of Central Florida, says Chachapoya dead were buried as “close to heaven” as possible. Toyne explains how a team she led examined their burial sites at a cliff site known as La Petaca:

“We identified at least 120 human-made structures used as burial places, including open chamber tombs, platforms and, surprisingly, walkways that connected groups of tombs,” Toyne says. “They likely walked along the rock ledges, cutting stone out to widen the pathways and to get stone to build. Once completed, they filled the tombs by [carrying] up bodies of family members … adults and children were buried together, including both males and females.”

For Toyne, the practice of scaling the cliffs of La Petaca provided a meaningful connection to the Chachapoya people she studies. “Nothing can really put you in the position of what the ancient people were thinking when they decided to risk their lives to build these structures,” she says. “You can’t get that by looking at a picture or a map. When you’re up there, you recognize that creating this space for the dead meant a lot to them.”

Other mummies have been found at Laguna de los Condores. The region where the Chachapoya lived gets as much as 150 inches of rain.

So cliffs were good for burial.

Chachapoya "mummy."

High-ranking members of Chachapoya society were buried on the sides of cliffs.

The dead were enclosed in clay figures.

Looters have broken open many Chachapoya burial sites.

A burial site.

Burial site.

Archaeologists do not know what these symbols mean. The Chachapoya had no written language.

Dr. Toyne's team studied Chachapoya burial sites.

To get to many burial sites mountain climbing skills were required.

***

Once I tumble down a rabbit hole, I keep falling. You can find all kinds of great photos on the internet to use with your classes. For more on a variety of native American cultures click on this link.

A Former Slave Writes to His Old Owner

 Four months after the Civil War ended, a now former slave owner, Colonel P. H. Anderson wrote to his old slave, Jourdon Anderson. He asked him to return to the plantation to work. The Negro, as then called, had since moved to Ohio, where he found work for pay, and supported his family.

Jourdon replied in a letter of his own:

Dayton, Ohio,

August 7, 1865

To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter and was glad to find you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Col. Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here; I get $25 a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy, —the folks here call her Mrs. Anderson),—and the children—Milly, Jane and Grundy—go to school and are learning well; the teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday- School, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated; sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now, if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost- Marshal- General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you are sincerely disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages has been kept back and deduct what you paid for our clothing and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night, but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve, and die if it comes to that, than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood, the great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

P.S. —Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,

Jourdon Anderson

Photo from author's collection; feel free to use it if you like.

Source: Reprinted in Lydia Maria Child, The Freedmen’s Book (Boston: Tickenor and Fields, 1865), 265–67.

*

I do have some good materials on slavery available for sale if you’re interested, at “Middle School History and Tips for Teachers” on TpT.

These include:

Selected passages from Uncle Tom’s Cabin

“Tale of an American Slave,” based on three autobiographies penned by Frederick Douglass (he uses the N-word; so I quote him).

“A Slave Child Remembers,” which includes details from Booker T. Washington’s Up from Slavery

And:

How Bad Was Slavery? Part I

How Bad Was Slavery? Part II

I had great success with all of these readings in my classes; but the latter pair might scare other teachers away. I sat down with all my books at home, and headed for the library for supporting information. I took stories about slavery that sounded relatively mild or even “good,” and put them in one pile of notes. I took all the worst examples and put them in a second pile.

Then I wrote about slavery in two ways. In Part I, I use stories like one about Derry Coburn. Owned by Daniel Boone, Coburn often went hunting with his master, both men carrying rifles, and when Boone once sprung a powerful bear trap and caught his hand, Coburn didn’t run away or shoot Boone. He helped free his hand and bandaged him up. I quote Solomon Northrup (whose story was the basis for the movie, Twelve Years a Slave), who says of one master, Ms. McCoy, that she was, “A lovely girl, some twenty years of age...she is beloved by all her slaves, and good reason indeed have they to be thankful that they have fallen into such gentle hands.” 

She was “an angel of kindness.”

In discussion, my students almost always failed to catch the implication of Northrup’s words.

If they were thankful (relatively speaking) to be owned by McCoy, what about some of the worst owners—the sadists, the sexual predators, and the slave ship captains, like Theodore Canot.

When one of his slaves comes down with smallpox, Canot orders the boy poisoned, rather than risk having the rest of his valuable cargo infected. Canot justifies his decision as a “necessary murder.”

Part II, based on the same sources as Part I, paints a far different picture and I used these readings to show students the necessity of gathering as much information as possible before drawing conclusions.

Again: both Part I and Part II have usages of the N-word, because both are based almost entirely on contemporary accounts.

Also of interest:

African-Americans during the American Revolution

“A Twilight between Liberty and Freedom” which describes countless facets of Jim Crow life: from separate blood banks to separate taxis to separate military units to Jim Crow homes for the blind.

Again: the latter has the N-word in a quote.

(If I was still teaching, and I had any doubt, I’d probably ink the last few letters out on the master copy before reproducing them for class.)

Andrew Jackson's house. Author's collection.

Author's collection; feel free to use.

Today a Student Broke My Heart

I retired from teaching in 2008 but I like to keep my finger on the pulse of education today.

Ugh, that cliché: “finger on the pulse.” 

If I was still working with students, I’d challenge any who used it to come up with something more original if they could.

And I know they could.

Even now, I enjoy looking at the posts and comments and seeing the passion for the job displayed by so many young educators on various Facebook pages. Today, I spotted this comment by Felicia Swanger on the Middle School Social Studies Teachers page. I asked to copy it to my blog and she gave the okay. 

Here is what she wrote:

Today a student broke my heart. My fifth period class was rowdy while I dealt with a personal problem in the hallway. This isn’t something I do often, but today was that day.

When I came back in, I read them the riot act. I was lecturing them on responsibility and taking things seriously and stopping the nonsense and foolishness, when I looked at those kids and changed tactics.

I told them we were going to gain some focus and I started with a random kid and told him what I saw in him, all of the good things. Then I went to the next one, and so on. When I got to the fifth kid, his head was down and I said, “And you sell yourself short. You have told me several times that you want to quit school as soon as you can and have it behind you. You would rather be outside than sitting in this room, and that’s fine. Academic learning isn’t for everyone. But I want you to know that there are plenty of things you can do that you enjoy that can make you very successful”. We discussed his love of mechanics and I tried to show him that he did in fact have a functioning brain because he was good at things that the rest of us weren’t.

I went on with my discussions and told one little girl that she made the world better just by being in it, that her smile and happiness made people feel better and that she would be great with scared kids because she could put them at ease. 

The previous kid speaks up and says, “I wish I had had a teacher like that in 3rd grade when I moved schools. I was scared and lonely, and no one made me feel better.” That’s when this child’s light was extinguished. One careless teacher made him feel worthless for the next five years. I hope I lit his spark again today.

We have to be so careful with our actions and words. Our students are so important. They begin their journey 100% good and 100% curious and 100% accepting of others, and then the adults in their lives shape them. We let our stresses over testing mandates steal the joy from them.

We have let school become a place of worksheets and assessments at the elementary level where kids need to be fostering a love of discovery. The end result of a child’s education is not to score well on a test; it’s to gain the skills and knowledge necessary to be successful in life. Every child is capable of success. We just need to change our definition of what success looks like.

First, I wanted to copy her words because I love the way she addressed the children in her room, finding the good in each. I had served with the Marines before I became a teacher, myself, and I trust my old students would tell you, I could chastise the recalcitrant with the greatest of skill. Yet, my purpose was always the same as hers. I always wanted to put my teens on the right path, if they weren’t—and most were—and spent all my years in a classroom trying to do what she was doing this day. She was set on finding the good in her students, showing them it was there, if they didn’t realize, and bringing it out.

When I asked if I could post her words, I got a second, powerful but negative jolt.

She had this to say about her original post:

I think I have humpty-dumptied this week and decided that things need to change in education. I haven’t slept but one night this week because I decided to launch a crusade. Lol. I have sent a deeply heartfelt email to legislators in my state asking them to change our education practices and structure. I got generic responses, so I am taking it to social media next. It’s an awesome platform.

Sorry, for the long response, but even after seventeen years I remain passionate about this cause.

To be honest, after recovering from the jolt, I was almost relieved to read what she said. When I retired, I wondered if I was losing my mind. I already thought standardized testing was a curse. I told my last principal in my mind I felt teaching to the test was a form of “educational malpractice.”

She neither had a good response to offer, nor did she have a choice. She had to push us to teach to the test or risk losing her job.

I taught American history, myself, but I had a passion for books and tried to pass that on to my classes. I couldn’t work miracles with every student, of course. But I had more than enough success to make the effort worthwhile and convince me I was doing the Lord’s library work in getting teens to read more and read better books. Not long ago, I had lunch with one of my old students and she presented me three books she has come to love. The inscription in the first captures what I believe education is truly about, exactly what Ms. Swanger was trying to achieve with her kind words.

We all reach young people in our own meaningful and different ways. I taught with a great band instructor who turned teens into musicians who made music a career. Two colleagues took decent runners and transformed them into cross country stars. I taught with several English teachers who taught teens to find pure joy in writing and words. There’s no way to measure what these people did—but I believe they were doing something great. You can’t “measure” the solace Ms. Swanger provided to her students on just this one day; but that solace, that shot of well-timed kindness, may resonate down all the years of their lives. I could cite a hundred examples more from my career, of educators who made their marks in ways that will never show up on any standardized test.

I feel confident in saying Ms. Swanger could too. The more I believe that, the more I worry about what is happening in education today.

Last Friday, I was reading with Ellora, my four-year-old granddaughter. She’s just figuring out how to decode words, and I was giving pointers, when I remarked, “You know Papa used to be a teacher, right?”

“Papaukulele,” she replied, using a nonsense word she has coined, that never fails to spark my “outrage,” and provide her a laugh in turn.

Then it struck me.

Would I tell Ellora to go into teaching someday? I loved teaching every day of my career. But I don’t know if I would.

I took her to the park that afternoon and she had fun on the teeter-totters, balance ropes and Astroturf sliding hills. At one point we sat down on a large swing to rest. (She might not have needed the rest but I definitely did.)

A young mother made room for us both. She was watching her youngest scamper about and I started talking to her about raising kids and grandkids. She turned out to have been a teacher herself, I think she said for twelve years. Terry Hurt was her name and she said she’d taught in Texas, before leaving the classroom in 2005.

So I asked her the same question I ask every educator I meet. I’m like Rain Man, always posing the same query, always in a flat tone, hoping not to tip my opinion from the start. “Do you think all the standardized testing and focus on scores has helped education, hurt education, or had more or less a neutral effect?”

“Hurt,” Ms. Hurt answered almost as soon as the question was posed. “Does anyone ever say anything else?”

“Not really,” I laughed.

But what if this is no laughing matter? What if this is the existential question in U.S. education today?

If testing is hurting—as Ms. Hurt, Ms. Swanger and this old codger agree—what should we do?

Ms. Hurt told me her youngest would soon be going to school all day so she’s substituting and thinking about returning to the classroom full time.

“I went in to observe at my daughter’s school recently,” she told me, “but I’m not sure I could do what they’re asking young teachers to do today. It’s sad, too, because teaching was always my passion.”

Passion.

Thinks about that word. Can we measure passion for learning—and for imparting that passion to the young? I read what Ms. Swanger said. I thought about my response when reading with Ellora. I heard what Ms. Hurt thought. I’ve been asking the same question for more than a decade. I’ve heard hundreds of educators reply in the same way, in grocery stores, on the sidelines of soccer fields and seated at wedding receptions, too.

What if we’re doing real harm with our tunnel vision focus on testing? What if we’re selling our soul in return for transient scores? What if we’re ripping the heart out of our children’s educations? What if we’re all playing a small part in a tragedy not of our making—but a tragedy, nonetheless?

*

I think this might be the most profound statement about standardized testing I’ve seen in some time. It comes from a veteran educator, Jennifer Ballard Pinkowski, who taught Secondary English for several years. She has spent the last seven years working in Special Education:

Want to hate these tests even more? Watch students with Specific Learning Disabilities take them.

You see, these students still have to take the grade level tests their age indicates, not what the content they are learning on their IEP indicates. So they sit, hour after hour, frustrated, angry, discouraged, bitter, frightened, but sometimes, occasionally, still trying to do their best. It’s exhausting and heartbreaking and I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. I hate the politicians who jam it down our throats every stinking year and claim it’s for the greater good. I hate the state education officials who buy into that garbage.

And I HATE having to inflict this pain on my students.

I wonder. How long is it going to be until teachers, administrators and support personnel all band together and say, “Enough is enough. We’re not doing this to young people anymore. Enough.”

I think if people like Ms. Swanger and Ms. Pinkowski—who clearly put children first—have had their fill, something is seriously, seriously, seriously wrong.

I pray Ellora's kindergarten teacher next year will try to do what Ms. Swanger did.
I don't believe my granddaughter's success in life will boil down to a few test scores at all.