Tuba City Rodeo

Each morning I walked from my BIA bungalow across the school compound to the middle school wearing my jacket and tie. Teachers wore ties in those days. It was required.

Autumn in the high desert of Northern Arizona is a time of intense colors.  Early morning, mid day, or sunset, the light, darkness, the colors, and contrasts are acute. There is no washed-out time.

As I headed to school, behind the boys’ middle school dorm there were three of my students playing on the non-mechanical bull. 

Why a non-mechanical bull simulator behind a BIA middle school boy's dorm?   In the southwest, and particularly on the Navajo Reservation, rodeo was intensely popular among the students!  Horse back riding, calf roping, bronco and bull riding, all figured into the imaginations of the youth.  From an early age, the boys saw themselves as the “rodeo cowboy!”  Today it may continue, but then, there were local "rodeos." Much like Friday night football for Mid-Atlantic high school students, there were local rodeo competitions.  A favorite Friday or Saturday evening activity was to attend a local rodeo.  The Navajo tacos sold at the stands at these rodeos were delicious!

Every Navajo school boy’s dream was to ride the bronco or bull and to be the best doing so.  The adults supervising these school boys encouraged that dream.  So they created behind the dorm a non-mechanical bull.  This contraption, as there is no better word for this beastly thing, was an oil barrel strung between two poles, with huge springs on each end of the barrel with ropes attached to the springs.  A dusty old rug was strapped to the barrel, a saddle between the rider and the barrel.  This created a simulated bronco or bull.  One student would stand and hold one rope, another at the other end would hold the other rope.  They each would yank on their ropes as hard as they could, while a would-be bull rider would straddle the barrel and be given a simulated bull ride to match none found on any rodeo bull. If you could ride this, then you were a rodeo rider. 

That morning as I headed to school, my three students stopped their early morning bull riding.  “Hey, Mr. Nolan, you should ride the bull!”  

“No, thanks boys. I need to get to school.  See you in class.”

“Hey, Mr. Nolan! You ever ride a bull?”

“No, guys. I need to get to class.”

OK, I’m 22, naive, and whatever else leads one to let three school boys convince you to straddle an oil barrel strung between two poles, with them ready to give you the ride of your life, I mounted the bull!

The sky was brilliant blue when I looked up from the ground.

Their new Anglo teacher gave three boys a lot to talk about with their friends.  I hope their popularity rose as high as my ego fell.

On to school I walked to teach English Language Arts to non-English speaking children, or so I tried. There was learning that day.