LEECH LAKE INDIAN RESERVATION, MINN.
'Watch. This is the coolest moment of my day,'' science teacher Allison Barta says, unlocking the door to her classroom at the Bug-O-Nay-Ge-Shig High School.
Inside, a freshwater aquarium takes up much of the back wall, providing the only light in the windowless space. For a moment, the room resembles an environmental science lab. Then Barta flips on the lights.

This is what years of federal neglect look like at schools such as Bug-O-Nay-Ge-Shig — part of the 183-school federal Bureau of Indian Education system (BIE).
Barta's classroom is housed in a rodent-infested building with a shockingly long list of problems: a roof that caves in under heavy snowfall, a failing heating system that has many students wearing coats and blankets in class as soon as the weather turns and a sewer system that backs up during extreme cold — all adding to the discomforts and indignities of an aging, metal "pole barn" that has to be evacuated when wind gusts top 40 miles per hour.
In an era when educators emphasize science, technology, engineering and mathematics as keys to students' future success, Barta's science room has no lab tables and few microscopes, and no storage for hazardous materials needed for basic lessons. The ventilation and electrical systems are antiquated.
At Bug-O-Nay-Ge-Shig in northern Minnesota — and on reservations across the country — the educational promises this nation made to tribes are being broken. It is a policy of disgraceful indifference, leaving generation after generation of American Indian children struggling to build better lives.
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