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Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, adapted by Jean Mendoza and Debbie Reese

An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States for Young People

The history most of us were handed starts in the wrong place and leaves out the people who were already here. This adaptation gives Montessori educators an honest account they can actually teach from, and a mirror for the cultural curriculum we hand to children.

Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz published An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States in 2014. It won the American Book Award and became one of the most widely read correctives to the story this country tells about itself. In 2019, Jean Mendoza and Debbie Reese adapted it for young readers. Reese is a tribally enrolled member of Nambé Owingeh and the founder of American Indians in Children's Literature, which means the young people's edition was not just simplified. It was shaped by someone who has spent a career watching how children's books get Native people wrong.

We chose the young people's edition on purpose. It is written for middle grades and up, it includes maps, images, and discussion questions, and it is the version most likely to end up in a Montessori upper elementary or adolescent classroom. But we are recommending it first for the adults. Most of us were taught the story it corrects, and you cannot teach honest history you have never learned.


What the Book Is About

The book makes one argument and follows it all the way through: the United States was built through the taking of land from people who already lived on it, and that taking was not an accident or a tragic side effect. It was policy. It had names, laws, and defenders.

Dunbar-Ortiz starts before 1492, with the fact that the continent was already home to millions of people living in complex societies with agriculture, trade, cities, and governance. This matters because the story most of us learned begins with arrival, as if history started when Europeans showed up to witness it. Beginning earlier is not a decoration. It changes who the main characters are.

From there the book traces the doctrine of discovery, the legal fiction that Christian nations could claim land that was not theirs; the treaties made and broken; forced removal, including the Trail of Tears; the wars; the boarding schools built to, in the words of their own founder, "kill the Indian" and "save the man"; and the long project of erasing Native people from the present tense, so that children grow up thinking of them as a chapter that closed rather than as neighbors who are still here. The book ends where honest history has to end, in continuance. Native nations survived the thing that was designed to end them, and they are still here, still sovereign, still telling their own story.


Where It Meets Montessori

Montessori built a cultural curriculum unlike almost anything else in education. The Great Lessons open with the universe and the earth, move through the coming of life and of human beings, and give children a genuinely global, deep-time frame for who we are. At its best it is the opposite of the narrow, flag-and-founders history that Dunbar-Ortiz is writing against. A child who has followed the Timeline of Humans knows that people have been telling stories, making tools, and caring for each other for a very long time, on every continent, long before any nation existed.

That is the promise. This book asks whether we keep it.

The Great Lessons are only as honest as the follow-up work. The cosmic frame is beautiful, but children do not stay in deep time. They come down into specifics, into the study of their own continent and country, and that is exactly where the old story tends to creep back in. The "discovery" of America. The first Thanksgiving. Explorers who "found" places that were not lost. If the follow-up lessons carry the settler story while the opening lesson promised a human one, the curriculum quietly teaches the child that the grand frame does not apply to the people who were here.

The materials on the shelf make a claim about who counts. Montessori educators prepare the environment as a deliberate act. The map cabinet, the continent folders, the pictures of "people around the world," the history timelines. Every one of those materials either includes Native nations as living, present peoples or files them under the past, in feathers and the tense of long ago. Reese has spent decades documenting how children's materials do the second thing without meaning to. This book is the correction, and it is a checklist for your own shelves.

Peace education that skips this is not finished. The Peace Rebellion says often that peace without power is just quiet. A peace curriculum that teaches children to be kind to one another but never teaches them how this land came to be theirs to stand on is teaching a comfortable half. Honest history is not the enemy of peace education. It is the part that makes it true.


Where It Challenges Us

This is the section that matters most, and it is uncomfortable on purpose.

We are teaching on someone's homeland. Every Montessori school in this country sits on land that belonged, and by treaty and by right of prior presence still belongs in the account, to specific Native nations. Most of us cannot name them. A land acknowledgment is not the point and can become its own kind of performance, but the not-knowing is the point. The book asks us to learn whose land the school is on and to let that knowledge do something, not just decorate a website.

"Following the child" is not a reason to avoid hard history. Montessori guides are sometimes trained into a careful neutrality, a sense that naming conflict or injustice is imposing adult concerns on children who should be left to their joyful work. Dunbar-Ortiz has no patience for that, and neither should we. Upper elementary children have a powerful sense of justice; it is developmentally the right time. Withholding honest history from them is not protection. It is a decision about what they are allowed to know, and that decision is never neutral.

Representation is not the same as truth. It is possible to add a Native story to the shelf, celebrate a heritage month, and still teach the settler story the other eleven months. The book is not asking for an addition. It is asking us to change the account itself, starting with where it begins.


What to Do With This Book

Read the adult original if you want the full argument, but start most staff with the young people's edition, because it is the version your curriculum has to answer to.

A few ways to use it:

  • Audit your cultural materials against it. Pull the continent and history materials off the shelf and ask, for each one: does this present Native peoples as living and present, or as a closed chapter? Whose telling is this?
  • Find out whose land your school is on, using a tool like Native Land Digital, and then decide what your community will actually do with that knowledge.
  • Look at the follow-up lessons after the Great Lessons. That is where the settler story hides. The opening frame is usually fine; the specifics are where the work is.
  • Bring it to a staff meeting and ask the hard version of the question: Where does our history curriculum begin, and who decided that?

For classroom materials specifically, Reese's site American Indians in Children's Literature is the best guide there is to which books get it right and which do not.


An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States for Young People was published by Beacon Press in 2019. We recommend buying from a Native-owned bookstore such as Birchbark Books, or from Bookshop.org, which supports independent booksellers nationwide.

What are you reading? Tell us at info@thepeacerebellion.org.

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