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Also known as Chippewa, today Ojibwe bands are widespread and can be found from Ontario west to Montana. They refer to themselves as “Anishinaabeg,” or “true people.”
A typical eleventh-grader might spend Saturday hanging out with friends or playing sports. Marcy Ferriere spends her Saturdays crawling into abandoned wolf dens to gather data about these creatures’ habits. Some might find this strange — Ferriere finds it exhilarating.
Ferriere has loved growing up in her small town of Cloquet, Minn., with a population of just over 12,000. “You get to know everybody, and you’re not left out of anything,” she says. These connections created the foundation for her love of science, which started when she was in just seventh grade.
“We’re all required to do a seventh-grade science fair project,” she says. “I was working with zebra fish and their breathing and respiration rates. I fell in love with it.” Her work expanded beyond that science fair and went on for the next three years, with encouragement from her science teacher and science fair director, Dr. Cynthia Welsh.
Three years later, when her work with zebra fish wasn’t eliciting the desired results, Ferriere knew where to turn. “I went to Dr. Welsh and asked if there was a project that would lead me a little bit further,” says Ferriere. “She recommended the wolf project and said we could use GIS mapping.”
Now Ferriere and her partner, Elizabeth Strickland, are studying three different wolf packs using GIS (geographic information system) mapping, which allows users to view their data as a map. Ferriere had never heard of GIS mapping before this project, but after using it, she plans to make it a focus of her future research. “I fell in love with GIS,” she says. “I can demand what I want it to be, how it looks, and what data I look for — I want to go into GIS mapping.”
During the academic year, Ferriere works on her project every day, and as she gets closer to competitions, she works on her project for up to six hours per day.
As Ferriere and Strickland study natal and maternal dens to understand the wolves’ habits, GIS mapping is critical. “We’re figuring out why they put their dens where they do,” explains Ferriere. And while they gather the data, the program creates the visual map that allows them to understand what the data is showing.
But gathering that data was no easy feat. It was Ferriere, who describes herself as “thin and small,” who actually crawled inside the wolf dens to measure the various chambers. “I was a little nervous because we didn’t know what was going to be inside. I got stuck a couple of times!” she says. But her efforts were well worth it: she was able to obtain measurements that her team wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise.
Now, more than a year into the project, Ferriere and Strickland are piecing together the data and creating maps that tell an interesting story. “We looked at three different packs and their den positions. The dens are all about the same distance from every nearby road,” says Ferriere. “It’s almost as if the wolves know they have to be this certain distance from the road.”
The findings weren’t exactly what Ferriere expected. “I thought the natal den — where the pups are born — was going to be farthest from human disturbances, but it wasn’t like that,” she explains. These findings have led Ferriere to want to expand her research. “We did only three dens out of 13 packs. I want to get more den points/locations, to see if there is a reason why they’re so far away from things like human disturbances and natural resources,” she adds.
It’s a tall order for a high school student who works on her science fair project after school and on weekends. During the academic year, Ferriere works on her project every day, and as she gets closer to competitions, she works on her project for up to six hours per day. The Northern Minnesota and American Indian Regional Science and Engineering Fair happens every February, and if you do well there, you can move on to the state science fair.
Science fair is such a big commitment that Ferriere recognizes she would never be able to make it work without a few key ingredients. “I do have a lot of support, not only with Dr. Welsh but with some of my teachers too,” she says. “My family is a really big support to me. My mom is my biggest support system.” That backup is key as Ferriere balances school and her project, especially when things don’t always go as planned. “There were a lot of times when we couldn’t get the mapping system to work, or we didn’t have enough data points to compute distances for where the wolves were traveling,” she says. “I was overwhelmed, but you just have to power through it.”
Ferriere credits her support system, stubborn nature, and desire to succeed for all she has accomplished. “When I set my mind to something, I have to get it done,” she says. “I want to show people that I’m capable of doing something meaningful, that I’m smart enough.”
Ferriere plans to continue work on GIS mapping with the wolf packs through the end of high school, and then has her sights set on studying GIS mapping in college. While Ferriere doesn’t know what she wants to do in the long term, she knows that you should never give up on your dream. “Keep trying because you don’t know where you’re going to end up,” she says. “I used to say I’d never like science fair, and here I am today, deeply in love with it.”
— Alexa Panza
The Diné (Navajo) Tribe established the first tribally controlled college — Diné College — now celebrating more than 50 years of providing fully certified higher education courses. Originally known as Navajo Community College, it currently offers certificates as well as associate’s and bachelor’s degree programs.
Originally from Tółikan (Sweetwater), Ariz., Ranalda Tsosie describes herself as “a proud Diné woman.” She is also the proud mother of seven, an environmental chemist, and a full-time graduate student at the University of Montana, now in her last year in the Interdisciplinary Studies doctoral program with an emphasis in chemistry, geoscience, and environmental studies.
Throughout Tsosie’s educational journey, her traditional upbringing and support from her family have been a source of strength. “My great-grandparents and grandmother raised me to appreciate my culture, language, and traditional way of life,” she says. “My mother recognized my potential from the very beginning and always encouraged me to pursue an advanced degree.” In addition, her path was shaped by her undergraduate experiences at Diné College. “They emphasize the SNBH paradigm (a worldview that guides harmonious living) and how it incorporates Diné philosophies into living a life filled with respect, spirituality, identity, tranquility, balance, and harmony,” she explains. “It also represents four important life lessons: Nitsáhákees (Thinking), Nahat’á (Planning), Iiná (Implementing/Living), and Sihasin (Reflection/Assurance).”
Tsosie says she equates these philosophies with the process of scientific thinking and currently uses them as a basis for the research she is conducting on addressing long-standing water contamination issues within Diné communities. “Growing up on the reservation, and seeing community members slowly fade away into memories, has given me motivation to pursue remedies for ground and surface water contaminations due to historical mining activities,” she says.
When Tsosie had her first child a year after starting at the University of New Mexico, she was faced with a tough decision. “I knew that going to school requires a lot of dedication and would reduce the amount of time I could spend with my family,” she explains. “I knew I couldn’t do that to them, so I stopped and decided to not go anymore. I got a regular job and got used to it.”
Eventually Tsosie realized that she was no longer content to be in customer service. “I still had that passion and that need to do research: to find something new, to be innovative, and to use my curiosity to answer questions,” she recalls. “At some point you realize you are ready. It doesn’t matter if you are the oldest person in that classroom. What matters is that you’re there and dedicated to bringing change to your surroundings — yourself, your family, and especially your community.”
“Growing up on the reservation, and seeing community members slowly fade away into memories, has given me motivation to pursue remedies for ground and surface water contaminations due to historical mining activities.”
Next to balancing academics and family life, Tsosie found that impostor syndrome was her greatest challenge. “I had to overcome thoughts that I didn’t belong in my graduate program because I wasn’t smart enough,” she says. “Reaching out to my peers in the Native community at the University of Montana and in Missoula, Mont., the AISES Lighting the Pathway to Faculty Careers for Natives in STEM program, and the Sloan Indigenous Graduate Partnership scholars helped me get through and keep going.”
Now coming to the end of her studies, Tsosie has learned that many Native students are like her — they have families and they have persevered. “You can do it,” she says. “I never do any type of graduate work on weekends. I always devote that time to my children. It takes a lot of careful time management, but you can do it!”
Tsosie is hoping to create a career as a professor with a lab group. “I want to have my own science-children!” she says. “I want to foster Native students to get through graduate programs, to be an advocate for them. I’ve been so fortunate to have similar mentors throughout my life. At the same time, I want to be able to focus on research projects that encompass Indigenous methodological approaches and target issues in Indigenous communities.”
She urges aspiring graduate students to write a strong, persuasive personal statement that showcases their strengths and lets admissions staff know who they are. And she is convinced it is all worth it. “It took me two tries and I’m almost there!” Tsosie says. “And I’m happy to say I’m about to be done and that I can foster other Native students who are pursuing their PhD. Try, and if you fail, get up and try again. Because if you don’t try, you will never know the answer.”
— Kyle Coulon
Health care in the Navajo Nation is administered by the tribe’s Department of Health, which serves 300,000 people over 27,000 square miles through 14 separate programs, funded by various agencies.
The world of medicine is vast, and as a youngster Nizhoni Denipah knew she wanted to be part of it. She wasn’t sure what kind of medicine she would practice, but in high school Denipah, who is enrolled in the Navajo Nation and is also Ohkay Owingeh (formerly San Juan) Pueblo, Hopi, and Assiniboine, took a class to become a certified nursing assistant. She worked as a CNA through college, which gave her valuable clinical experience. She also made jewelry — a trade learned from her family — to help pay the bills. Networking through AISES and AAIP (the Association of American Indian Physicians) provided opportunities to meet mentors, shadow physicians, and attend pre-admission workshops to better prepare herself as a student and future medical school applicant.
As a senior in college, Denipah became pregnant, and as many would, she questioned the direction of her future. She asked her mom if she had to stop going to college to take care of her baby. Her mom emphatically told her, “No!” She recalls that her mom said, “You’ll just have to figure out how to do both.”
Denipah’s uncle Dr. Blake Lawrence was in family medicine, and her aunt Dr. Lynnae Lawrence practices internal medicine. She recalls watching her aunt go through medical school as a single parent of three, and therefore knew it could be done.
So Denipah did both, and graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in physiological sciences. This degree typically leads to research, teaching, or medicine. She tried research and teaching; however, she says, “I just never was able to be turned off from medicine.”
Denipah subsequently earned her master’s degree at UA, took the MCAT (medical school entrance exam), and was overwhelmed. She opted to have her test thrown out, fearful that a bad grade would forever stain her record. Feeling as though she was still not yet a strong enough medical school applicant, Denipah moved home to Flagstaff, Ariz., and began working as a dental assistant, a job that would allow for clinical experience and further build her resume.
When Denipah was ready to apply to medical school, she thought of her uncle Blake. “He was always laid back, super modest,” she recalls. “He would hang out with my parents. He loved to sing.” She wanted to go to his alma mater, the University of Washington, but she didn’t get in. She was accepted at UA, but opted to enter medical school at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. As Denipah explains, her “nontraditional route” meant it took five years to get her bachelor’s degree. When she entered medical school, her daughter was in kindergarten.
Since she had experience with dentistry, and because she made jewelry, Denipah knew she enjoyed working with her hands, and thought surgery might be a good fit. As a medical student she ended up working with the chairman of the Department of Otolaryngology for one semester and found the clinic to be, as she recalls, “intriguing and fun!” It was medicine from the clavicle up, much of it in the mouth, and that was familiar territory for her.
When [Denipah] entered medical school, her daughter was in kindergarten.
“I couldn’t talk myself out of otolaryngology,” she says. Her area of practice may have been decided, but she was surprised at how competitive the residency application was. After four years of medical school and five years of residency, “I’m working — finally,” she laughs, as she is now practicing otolaryngology — ear, nose, and throat, as well as head and neck surgery — in Santa Fe, N.M.
Dr. Nizhoni Denipah found that her title took some getting used to. “As a medical student, some of my mentors referred to me as ‘Dr. Denipah,’” she says. “As you progress, more and more people call you ‘doctor.’ As a woman, I still get called ‘the nurse.’ Nurses are awesome, but I do correct people when they get it wrong.”
In college Dr. Denipah was involved in AISES but wishes there had been more physician mentors for students in medicine. Now she would welcome the chance to return to AISES as a speaker or mentor, and she is ready with some advice for college students. “Anything is possible,” she says, “but nobody is going to do the work for you.”
— Patty Talahongva