Headstone of Eugene Battice, finally laid to rest after 70 years. Photo: Linda Andre.
By Valerie Chandler
Most people are completely unaware that Michigan was home to at least 10 Native American residential boarding schools, institutions and Indian school missions over a span of 160 years. The first one opened in 1823 on Mackinac Island, before Michigan’s statehood in 1837, and Holy Childhood School of Jesus in Harbor Springs was the last to close in 1983. So many children were taken, it’s possible you may know an adult who attended one of the schools and survived what could only be described as one of childhood’s most physically violent and emotionally punishing experiences.
Michigan’s delayed, dismissive boarding school report
Probably every Native family has at least one relative that attended one of these boarding schools. To investigate countless allegations of abuse and deaths at the schools, the state of Michigan spent more than $1 million over three years to conduct a study using community outreach, personal interviews and data research. The report, at first, was withheld because Michigan officials thought it to be lackluster. Native Americans, in general, agreed it was discounted due to scathing details of crimes, embarrassment and horror. The report was completed in November 2025 but wasn’t released to the public until March of this year. It instantly cast doubt on the validity of accounts of Native Americans and tribal communities throughout the state; it was obvious that information was intentionally disregarded.
Tribal communities had hoped to learn the extent to which the state and local municipalities were involved with the tragedies. Tribal families wanted answers to questions that they had been seeking for generations and to receive some type of closure on a dark and unmentionable past. Though the study is complete, Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel has opened a criminal investigation to provide accountability for the abuses at the schools.
Forcible relocation by federal, non-federal entities
According to the 2024 Federal Indian Boarding School Initiative Investigative Report, there were just over 400 federally operated Indian boarding schools in 37 states in the 19th and 20th centuries, with five located in Michigan. The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition lists three additional schools. There were another documented 1,025 non-federal institutions that didn’t meet federal criteria because they were mostly operated by churches. These non-federal institutions participated in the forcible relocation of Native American children. According to a federal report, there were 30 of those non-federal institutions in Michigan. A great number of Native American children from Michigan were sent to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania as well as the United States Indian Industrial Training School (later named Haskell Institute) in Lawrence, Kansas.
Imagine a small community where the neighbors all know each other and the children play outside. An unknown black car drives up, and the children scatter to hide because this is what they have been taught. Men in suits talk with the adults and try to convince them to send their children to the boarding schools for an education and a “better” life. Sadly, some parents agree because they believe what they are told and have little to no money for their family. To these parents, boarding school means their children would be fed, clothed, receive medical attention and an education. Primarily met with opposition, the men in suits often found at least one child, willing or not, to take to the school. After all, the schools received federal funding for each pupil registered.
Assimilation methods used by boarding schools
Once at school, the children received forced haircuts, had to pick or be assigned an anglicized name, could no longer wear their Native clothing and practice traditional ceremonies, and could no longer speak their Native language. Children were often used for labor: cleaning, doing laundry, gardening, farming, lumbering, sewing and cooking. Once the work was done for the day, then they were schooled. If they were caught speaking anything but English or disobeying rules in some way, they received punishments, including corporal punishment: beatings, whippings, solitary confinement, flogging, cuffing and withholding food. I have been told a personal story of a little girl who, when she spoke her Native language, was forced to kneel on a broomstick handle for hours. Documents show that the Haskell Institute intentionally mixed children from 31 different Indian tribes in an attempt to force them to learn English.
In my personal research, I’ve reviewed news articles that uncovered multiple accounts of students who attempted to run away from the Mount Pleasant Indian Industrial Boarding School, only to be captured and returned. Some students were found as far away as the Upper Peninsula before being sent back to the school. Another student tried to burn the school down by setting a fire, and a student by the name of Moses Moses ran away at least five different times; the school finally gave up their search to find and return him. I admire Moses’ hard-core determination.
My family is aware that my great-grandparents attended a smaller Indian boarding school in Mount Pleasant; it is there that they first met. My grandmother told us a kind matron at the school taught her mother how to sew. However, because of the unspoken punishments she endured, my great-grandmother vowed never to teach her Native language to her children or grandchildren. She was also determined to never allow her children to attend any of the boarding schools, missions or institutions, and she was successful in her mission.
Very seldom could Native parents or family have any contact with their children. They received no news of them, unless a school official reached out to inform parents of their child’s passing. Often, the bodies of the deceased were buried on school property or, as records have shown, donated to teaching institutions, possibly without the parents’ consent.
Scattered records hinder documentation of deaths
The federal investigative report wasn’t just to collect information on the allegations of abuse; it was also intended to document the records and maps of all the deaths. The Saginaw Chippewa Tribe controls and maintains the Mount Pleasant Indian Industrial Boarding School buildings that remain standing. The tribe has documented 229 students who died between 1893 and 1934, but only five of the deaths were officially documented by the school. More disturbing is the fact that there are no official documented deaths at any of the other boarding schools in Michigan. This process has been difficult to piece together as most school records have since been distributed to various archival locations. The research and review of records have become increasingly more difficult and dire, due to the impending closure of the National Archives at Chicago, which was announced on June 26. This location houses a vast amount of Native American records, including those from the boarding schools, and where they will be transferred is currently unknown.
Programs to return Native American remains
In 1990, federal law established NAGPRA (Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act). The act requires all federally funded museums, agencies and institutions to return Native American human remains, funerary objects and culturally related items to lineal descendants or culturally affiliated tribes. The National NAGPRA program oversees the process and is administered by the National Park Service. Since NAGPRA applies only to federally funded institutions, many states have passed legislation which requires state-funded museums and agencies to abide by the same repatriation process.
Established in 2000, Michigan has what is called MACPRA (Michigan Anishinaabek Cultural Preservation and Repatriation Alliance). Last year I was appointed to be one of MACPRA’s representatives from the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians (LRBOI). I am honored to help bring justice and peace to my ancestors. In November 2025, while at the University of Michigan to repatriate some Native remains, LRBOI’s other representative and I were presented with information of a possible tribal ancestor whom the university had in their possession and who remained unclaimed. When NAGPRA was established, the Native remains were relinquished to UM, which became the repository (and continues to be) until final dispositions are identified.
After researching, I discovered the remains were not only of a Little River ancestor, but his next of kin were still alive. I contacted his family and learned his two sisters had tried to find his grave for decades and wondered why they could never locate it. His name was Eugene, and he passed away at 9 years old at the Mount Pleasant State Home and Training School. Though his death certificate listed mental deficiency as the cause of death, his family told me he suffered from polio. Following an anthropologic assessment by UM, it was determined that Eugene was more than likely partially paralyzed from the polio, and he had an abscessed tooth from a poor diet, likely high in starch and sugar, that caused an infection which led to his death.
We began the process to repatriate and bring Eugene home. With the assistance from the university’s NAGPRA staff, we learned that the LRBOI is the first tribe in Michigan, possibly in the nation, to identify living next of kin during the repatriation process. This was a first for the university as well and required consultation at the federal level. After official notice was published in the Federal Register, a date was set and Eugene’s journey home was put into motion.
The university commissioned a beautiful cedar box in which we bundled Eugene’s remains. MACPRA held a meeting the day prior, and tribal representatives stayed to honor the momentous occasion. A feast was held with university representatives, gifts were offered, songs were sung and Eugene’s youngest sister Linda and her husband were in attendance to help bring him home.
On May 23 a traditional ceremony was held, and after seven decades, Eugene was finally laid to rest in a proper grave for his family to visit. Though the family now knows where his grave is located, they still do not have answers to their questions about why his remains were donated. Documentation shows that his doctor signed the release for the transfer permit, but that is all that is known.
Since closing the chapter on this journey, our other tribal representative and I have learned of three other unclaimed remains at the university, and my research has confirmed that two of three are LRBOI ancestors. Before we begin the repatriation process, research continues in an effort to find any living next of kin.
Besides repatriating remains and objects already in custodial care, we representatives are essentially on call 24/7 in the event of an inadvertent discovery. In May, there was an ancient discovery in Lake County on private property. After authorities were called, as well as the Mid-Michigan Anthropological Medical Examiner, it was determined that the remains were Native American. LRBOI was contacted, and with the permission of the landowner, we conducted a site excavation with the assistance of MDOT and MDNR archaeologists. We were fortunate to be able to find the majority of skeletal remains, given that they were estimated to be over 1,000 years old. After careful examination and cataloging, we customarily bundled the remains and placed them in a cedar box for a traditional burial the next day in the tribe’s cemetery.
The things that personal research has uncovered and the weight we (NAGPRA/MACPRA representatives) bear mentally, emotionally and spiritually in every case is real. We take special precautions, but sometimes it’s just not enough. Thankfully, NAGPRA does offer online talking circles (counseling, more or less) to help everyone cope with any difficulties they may be experiencing.
As long as I am able, I will continue my calling to help my people, all Anishinaabek; I feel the passion in my heart and soul, and I know my ancestors will continue to help guide me.
Valerie Chandler lives in Wellston with her husband Matthew and their border collie/Australian shepherd. She is a citizen and employee of the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians, is a cancer survivor, loves to spend time with her family and has many interests and hobbies.
