Running Header: MY PERSONAL CULTURE 1

My Personal Culture
Olivia M Norman
College of Southern Nevada
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When I first began thinking about my own personal culture, I felt like the stereotypical

norm of an elementary teacher: white, English-speaking, female. I struggled trying to come up

with what I bring to the table. I decided to start with some family traditions and it was then that I

realized how much exposure I really did receive to different cultures.

From the time I was 3 years old, I had two Christmases every year. I spent a rather non-

traditional Christmas Eve with my moms family in San Diego. We would have a huge dinner,

open all our presents, and then see what Santa brought the next morning. Sometimes we would

have a tree made from cardboard or lights taped to the wall, while other years we would carry a

tree to the beach. I would then fly to Las Vegas to spend Christmas Day with my dads family. I

once asked my mom why she did not celebrate on Christmas Day and she informed me that her

grandparents from Germany had done it that way, so it was our family tradition. I have always

wondered if she was just humoring me, so I would not feel guilty about leaving her on a holiday,

but regardless it was our tradition.

Most of my time was spent at my mothers house with my older sister. My mother was

very hard working and independent. She fixed up each house we lived in and then flipped it so

that we could get a bigger house. If something broke, she fixed it herself. As kids, we were

expected to pull weeds, help paint the house, and cook. Actually, learning to cook was the result

of my mother hating to cook; I taught myself so that I would not have to eat her cooking. I am

now the one in our house to fix things: washing machine, hot water

heater, electrical outlets, sinks, etc Gender roles are virtually non-

existent in my family as my husband does all the shopping and most of

the cooking. I feel that it is important to show my own children, and

future students, that girls or boys can do anything with perseverance.

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My father had a habit of collecting strays: people not animals. There was always someone

living with us, from a co-worker down on their luck to babies who needed adopting. I think this

spawned my desire to work with children and why there is usually an extra child in our family

pictures.

In junior high, I went to a private school where I was exposed to a large Jewish

population. Approximately one quarter of the students were Jewish, so naturally I became friends

with many of them. I went to bar/bat mitzvahs, learned about Hanukah, and even

attended synagogue on a few occasions. There was an extreme

amount of emphases put on looks, fashion, and money. All of which, I had

none. While I had friends, I would not say that I fit in. I can empathize with

children who are outcasts.

In high school, I attended an all-girls Catholic school. In an environment without boys to

compete over for attention, we learned to be as outspoken and candid as we wished

(well, depending on if the nuns were around). There were no stereotypes

such as, boys are better in math and science. There was less fear of

saying something stupid and less worrying over our hair or make-upuntil the bell

rang; then we rolled our skirts and pulled our knee highs to thigh highs. During the

day though, we were all dressed the same, so there was less concentration on looks, and

academics were allowed to shine

There was no longer a high Jewish population, but the Hispanic population comprised

about half of the student body. I learned that Catholicism was predominant among those students

who crossed the border every morning for school. They mostly stayed to themselves, but still

provided some insight into their culture. I become all too familiar, and perhaps jealous, of
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quinceaneras. To their parents, it was

a rite of passage into womanhood. To

most of them, it was a contest over

who had the biggest party. They were

as exciting as a sweet 16, a year early, but some were as big as a wedding.

It was not just Christmas, but every extended break from school, that I flew to Las Vegas.

Most residents of Las Vegas speak of some sort of shock over the diversity when they moved

here, but I have never known anything different. I came to Las Vegas

a few times in my early 20s to party on the strip, but for the most

part I grew up seeing gambling as an addiction. I saw neighbors lose

their rent money on slot machines.

During shorter breaks from school and on weekends, I stayed with my grandmother. She

lived in a trailer park on an Indian Reservation. There were camp grounds that she managed and

with no child-labor laws on the Reservation, I started working around 12 or 13 years old. I

started by handing out change in the activity room, then by high school had moved up to the

front desk and reservations. I learned from a rather young age to work

for the things I wanted. While I try not to judge those on welfare, I

also pride myself on having never been on unemployment. I have had

to ride a skateboard to work and use a milk crate as a table, but I have

always worked for what I have.

My grandmother ended up marrying our boss, a full-blooded Kumeyaay Indian. Yes

Indian, I know it is more politically correct to say Native American, but that is not what they call

themselves on the Reservation. She moved in with him which was in the heart of the
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Reservation, instead of the outskirts where the camp grounds were. Between working there and

then spending every weekend staying with my grandparents, I became very familiar with the

Indian culture. I had friends named Blue Eagle, Grey Buck, and Snowball (the only naturally

blonde Indian I have ever met). I learned to train horses and ride into the mountains to see the

original reservation. My new grandfather spoke of his time growing up and how some traditions

had changed over time while others remained the same. It is fascinating to see how they have

merged their native and their white cultures together. For instance, when my grandmother died a

few years ago, we had a blended service. It is believed that all worldly belongings should be

burned along with the deceased bodies. We opted to only burn her belongings after keeping a few

mementos. I found it interesting that even her couch was burned even though my grandfather is

still living. He said it held her spirit because that was where she spent most of her time once she

got sick. Then, the next day, we attended mass in the Catholic Church on the reservation where

most of the residents are members. She was buried in the connecting cemetery. Afterward, there

was a huge potluck where everyone in the community brought something to share. My favorite is

the Skwaw bread, which is fried bread dough that you use to pile on taco style toppings. There is

a strong feeling of respect toward elders and you would notice in line that elders always go first.

The only time you would a see younger person toward the front would be if someone was fixing

a plate for a parent or grandparent. (Please note the lack of photos in this section is due to the

Kumeyaay tribes belief that photos steal your soul.)

Because I was introduced to a variety of religions: Catholicism, Judaism, and poly-

theism, I felt comfortable coming to my own conclusions. I became fascinated as an adult by

learning the history behind religious traditions and how so many religions share stories but with

different characters. I shied away from churches after a nun told me that my best friend was
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going to hell for being gay. My husband also experienced a group from his church inviting him

to go gay bashing. This became a pivotal theme for both of us and remains a strong tie to how we

feel about religion and treating people fairly. These negative experiences greatly shaped our

views. I feel very strongly in the separation of church and state and do not feel that the classroom

is the place for religious celebrations, i.e. Christmas.

College was an eye-opening experience for me in vastly different ways. While I had

experienced a variety of cultures growing up, politics were rarely discussed around children

other than to say were Republicans because we work hard. In college, I was exposed so many

different political ideas that seemed more in line with my views on equal rights. I grew up in a

time when being gay was cutting edge, but in college it was no big deal. This helped me shape

my views later in life toward gay rights. I knew I was raised in two areas known to be melting

pots, and erroneously believed that meant I knew a little about a lot of areas. Wisconsin was

different. I never expected cheese to teach me this lesson. I walked to the grocery store with

some friends and wanted to get supplies for a grilled cheese. I was used to the dairy case holding

all the orange cheese in one section, white cheese next to it, soft cheese after that, and so on. In

Wisconsin, it is organized by farm. There is an entire case for one farm with all the varieties.

Then an entirely separate case for another farm with all the different kinds they make. Please do

not think cheese changed my life, but it did open my eyes. I was living in a bubble; granted it

was really large, diverse bubble, but a bubble none the less. This introduced to me the idea of

small town living and helped me glimpse what it might be like for someone moving to a new

area. I came to love small town living with sledding on cafeteria trays, bunnies hopping across

campus, and their weird way of cheese shopping. I did not love the dark skies however. In fact, it

caused depression. Moving from Sunny San Diego to longer nights than days created a chemical
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imbalance. Until this point, I had no idea what real depression was. I always just thought snap

out of it, but at that point I could not. I admit that I still am not the most sensitive person when it

comes to depression; I still have it engrained in me that you must pick yourself up by the

bootstraps, but at least in the back of my mind I can

remember what it was like.

When I told my parents about the depression,

we all decided I needed to go home. They gave me 30

days to find a job and a place to live. If I was not in school, I needed to be on

my own. And I did it. I found a room for rent (incidentally from the gay friend

going to hell, according to the nun), and a job handling reservations at a hotel, much like what I

did as a teenager on the reservation. I worked two jobs, both at hotels, in order to get an

apartment at the beach. I walked, rode a bike, or rode a skateboard to get around. I did not have a

phone, a car, or even furniture, but I did have a roof over my head. Between that first round of

college and now this time in school, I have always had some kind of job. I

have always found a way to make things work.