It was a strange little story about a California school district’s outrageous practice. Happy ending when they backed down. There were apologies! But it all centered on a song so odd – downright archaic – that it called for some actual reporting. That turned out to be interesting.

A ten-year-old came home, upset about a song his fourth-grade class was supposed to sing. He asked his mother to write a letter saying he didn’t have to sing it.

Naturally, she asked him what was so terrible about the song. He didn’t want to tell her the lyrics. He said he’d bring them home the next day. Which he did.

His mother agreed – they’re awful. So awful she showed them to the tribal council.

The boy, Alex Fierro, and his mother, Debra Fierro, are members of the Wukchumni (Yokuts) tribe. The song, “Twenty-one Missions,” presents a decidedly ethnocentric view of the relationship between the Franciscan priests who ran the Spanish missions of the west (after the Jesuits were expelled), and the Indians they sought to preside over.

The song’s intro says we will “Learn about the sacrifice, learn about the glories” of mission priests “Spreading the gospel, doing God’s favor.” (Already I am sputtering about church and state. We are talking about a public school.)

The first verse extols a mission building. “Massive walls – three feet thick/Arms outstretched, a padre see/Saying, “Come, little Indian, dance with me.” (The massive mission walls were built by Indians, often unwillingly. Not by priests who then invited Indians to shelter there.)

In the chorus the padre suggests a lifestyle change. “No need to hunt or a gatherer be/Come little Indian, dance with me.” (And then work at the Mission, and if you try to leave, be rounded up by soldiers and whipped. While we’re hunting you down, we’ll try to capture your friends and family too.)

The second verse speaks of trying to “save the soul, soothe the savage breast,” and the third is about young priests praying “where their heroes prayed/Testifying to the price they paid.” (It may not have been a great life for the priests, but the Indians paid a much higher price. Families were separated until everyone agreed to be baptized. And then to work!)

It ends with a curious passage. First we are told of “Men of faith, the Good News preaching… reaching/Out to the red man’s soul/Oh, what a noble goal.”

Then, in an abrupt, inadequate, nod to the disastrous effects of the missions on California Indians and their societies: “At what cost, goes the song/Who was right? Who was wrong?/Asks the song, asks the song, asks the song.”

The family and the Wukchumni tribal council all wrote to the Visalia Unified School District, asking for the song be removed from the curriculum. (There was a Facebook foofaraw.) The next night they came to the school board meeting, and spoke about problems with the song. The VUSD superintendent apologized, and said the song would be removed.

A few days later, the music teacher and an assistant superintendent met with Alex and his family members to apologize directly. This went well.

That’s the story as given by the accounts I read (though I have said more about the lyrics).

I hoped to know more about the apologies – and I also wondered how such a song appeared in the curriculum. WHERE DID THEY DIG THAT THING UP?

I called the VUSD and spoke to assistant superintendent Doug Bartsch. He said it had been quite a week. He wasn’t able to give the wording of the apologies, but he knew about the song.

The song was one of many from a musical group called Sons of the San Joaquin. They’re brothers Jack and Joe Hannah and Joe’s son Lon. Jack writes their stuff. They model themselves on Sons of the Pioneers, an early Western singing group one of whose original members was Roy Rogers.

“They’re widely known in the cowboy community,” Bartsch said. You might have heard them at a cowboy poetry event in Elko. Jack and Joe have played pro baseball. They’ve done ranch work, coaching, and teaching. They’ve sung in church. One of their albums is Gospel Trails.

They were commissioned by Fresno County to create a curriculum teaching history through music, according to Bartsch. These songs are also used in the VUSD. Bartsch says proudly that all through drastic budget cuts in California schools, “we’ve never backed down on our commitment to the music program.” (Which is impressive.)

The Sons give twice-yearly concerts in the school. Because the children know the material, “it’s real cute, the kids just burst into song.” Bartsch says his favorite song is one about the Mexican cowboy (or vaquero), which “recites the names of significant Mexican cowboys.” Because many kids in the district have Hispanic surnames, “these kids are hearing their last names… It’s awesome.”

Bartsch was present when the Wukchumni presented a Native American viewpoint to the music teachers. “You could hear a pin drop. They were all nodding,” he said. “They had not thought about it in that perspective.” Alex Fierro’s music teacher wanted to make a personal apology to Alex.

Though he wasn’t able to tell me the wording, Bartsch was there when the music teacher – who is Lon Hannah – apologized to Alex Fierro and his family. It sounds like it deserved an A.

“That was the important apology piece. Taking care of his spirit. The teacher was fabulous,” Bartsch said. There was no defensiveness. “Lon offered a real heartfelt apology to the child. [Alex] was very gracious. Everybody was gracious in receiving the apology. There were embraces offered.” He says the VUSD will “use this as a way of helping us learn more.” The tribal members offered to serve as a resource, and Bartsch says he will follow up on that this week.

(If you’re saying, “Wukchumni, Wukchumni, where did I hear about the Wukchumni?” you might be thinking about a short documentary, a New York Times “Op-Doc” on Marie Wilcox, the last fluent speaker of the Wukchumni language, the dictionary she has compiled, and her efforts to teach Wukchumni to younger people.)

So it ended well. The song is out of the curriculum. The school district learned something important, and has plans to learn more. Good apologies created good feelings between the school district and Wukchumni members.

I’m still amazed that no one detected problems with the lyrics of “Twenty-one Missions.” The Hannahs, like many church-goers, may automatically connect religion with goodness. It probably never occurred to them that public schools are not allowed to promote religion, let alone the nobility of (forced) conversion. My guess: they were clueless, but had no unkind intent. They probably didn’t learn about the Californian Native American experience in the California public schools, any more than I did (instead, the state curriculum had a unit on the Hopi). Yet I would expect school districts to review material in the curriculum and spot obvious problems.

Once, when I was a small irregular child in California schools, not learning about California Indians, a music teacher had us sing “McNamara’s Band.” The chorus had the line “McCarthy pumps the old bazoon.” I did not know what a “bazoon” was (mock-Irish for bassoon, also the original line was “puffs,” not “pumps”) but I sensed potential teasing for a McCarthy. It was the end of the day. As we sang, I coiled myself. The second the bell rang I was up and running.

By the next day my classmates had forgotten about pumping the old bazoon. Which still sounds sort of filthy.

It’s not a close comparison. “McNamara’s Band” doesn’t pay honor to brutal compulsion of people and destruction of cultures. I’d rather be teased about “pumping the old bazoon” than be taunted with “Come little Indian, dance with me.”

I wasn’t as brave as Alex Fierro. Also I didn’t have the Constitution on my side.