Maine spends $132,000 of taxpayer cash on group who say state should be renamed DAWNLAND to honor Native Americans and that its place names – including Norway, Paris, Nipple and Old Maid’s Rock – are racist or sexist
Maine officials are coming under fire after handing a $132,000 contract to a racial justice group, only for it to conclude with a 30-minute webinar on ‘problematic’ place names.
Taxpayers footed the bill for the lecture as part of the state’s employment of non-profit Atlantic Black Box (ABB), which claims to ‘engage the public in the collective rewriting of our regional history.’
In footage of the webinar this week, ABB founder Meadow Dibble urged attendees to acknowledge suffering caused by ‘white settler people’ as she rattled off place names Maine residents should feel offended by.
The towns of Norway and Mexico were seen as insulting, ‘Old Maid Rock’ was determined to be sexist, and Maine should be rebranded to ‘Dawnland’ to represent the Native American Wabanaki tribe’s original name, Dibble argued.
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‘You could say that reading Maine’s place names is something like reading a book,’ Dibble said. ‘And some folks will tell you it’s a comedy. But when you read these names through the lens of racial equity, this book can read more like a horror novel.’
The seminar also included a Native American representative claiming she researches names of places before travelling and purposefully avoids anywhere sounding ‘suspicious.’
Atlantic Black Box presented a slide-show on Maine’s ‘problematic’ place names, which came after landing a $132,000 contract with the state to ‘reckon with our region’s complicity in the slave trade’
Meadow Dibble, the founder of Atlantic Black Box, used the presentation to remark on the ‘painful histories behind some of these names that normalized white supremacy and violence against BIPOC communities’
The woke lecture, first reported by The Maine Wire, reportedly began with Dibble listing her pronouns as ‘she/ they’ before insisting attendees to re-evaluate ‘what is behind the names that are all around us.’
Among the names she took objection to included the small island of Nipple, Maine, and the naming of Maine itself, which she felt would be better suited to the Wabanaki tribe’s ‘Dawnland’.
The host then displayed a standard place name sign with the sites replaced with monikers such as ‘Land Thief Hill’, ‘Enslaver Lake’ and ‘White Supremacy Hill.’
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Certain place names were also deemed to ‘objectify or denigrate women, sexualize the landscape or play on tropes of loose women and witches’ – with ‘Old Maid Rock’ seen as particularly troubling.
Dibble added that ‘that is a topic that deserves its own presentation’, potentially after another taxpayer-funded contract.
She continued: ‘Once we know what is behind the names that are all around us, once we can see what lies behind the facade, the question we have to ask ourselves is are we as eager to continue honoring them.
‘Many Wabanaki elders, of course, and many of the knowledge keepers in Maine’s multi-generational black families are aware of the painful histories behind some of these names that normalized white supremacy and violence against BIPOC communities.
‘And we know that repeated constant exposure does harm.’
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The webinar called for the end of alphanumeric codes being used for certain sites in Northern Maine, as they were determined to only be named for ‘resource exploitation.’
‘Maine is full of the soulless quantifiers that have served to parcel out land to timber barons. And I just want to contrast those numerical names designed to facilitate resource extraction with Dawnland,’ said Dibble.
The small island of Nipple, Maine (pictured) reportedly came under fire in the woke presenation
Dibble also took issue with Maine counties named after America’s Founding Fathers, including Washington, Hancock and Franklin Counties.
‘Franklin County was named after founder Benjamin Franklin, who was an active participant in the slave trade and an enslaver before becoming an abolitionist,’ she said.
The webinar was reportedly the final result of ABB’s $132,000 contract with the state, which Maine says on its government website is intended to ‘take up the critical work of researching and reckoning with our region’s complicity in the slave trade.’
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The slide-show presentation then saw others step in to recount their struggle with Maine’s place names, with Maine State Geologist Steve Dickson noting that he has to use ‘offensive’ maps in his work that reflect old sites before they were re-named.
Native American activist and member of the federal Wilderness Society Jessica Lambert also spoke out about the direct harm the ‘offensive’ names have on her, as she claims to find herself unable to travel to certain places.
‘When you change the name from one that’s honoring into one that is denigrating people, that is racist, that is derogatory, you’re changing that space,’ Lambert said.
Native American activist and member of the federal Wilderness Society Jessica Lambert (pictured) spoke out about the direct harm the ‘offensive’ names have on her, saying ‘a lot of times I’ll be looking on Google Maps and see like a name that I’m like, that’s suspicious’
‘You’re tipping the balances of power, and I know that being an Indigenous person and going out a lot of times I’ll be looking on Google Maps and see like a name that I’m like, that’s suspicious or oh, that’s derogatory.
‘And I don’t want to go there. I don’t feel comfortable going there.’
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The webinar reportedly concluded with a discussion on a piece of upcoming state legislation that would establish a State Names Authority, a move to replace names of sites the committee determines are insulting.
The bill, which is up for a vote on January 23, would also mandate that going forward, members of the State Names Authority must include a black person and a Native American person.
Scott A. Harrison, Ed.D., M.B.A., is a senior advisor at The Harrison Group, a consultancy based in Yarmouth.
Maine has long valued local control in education. That tradition reflects an important belief that communities should have a strong voice in shaping their schools. But local control should not prevent us from asking a harder question: Are there core functions that could be delivered more effectively through a single statewide framework?
One of the most important is educator evaluation and professional growth. Maine law already recognizes the importance of this work. Under Title 20-A, Chapter 508 (Educator Effectiveness), districts must implement performance evaluation and professional growth systems that evaluate educators, assign effectiveness ratings and support professional growth.
The law further requires superintendents to use those ratings to inform key human capital decisions, including recruitment, hiring, induction, mentoring, professional development, compensation, assignment and dismissal. In short, educator evaluation is not intended to be a compliance exercise. It is intended to be a primary lever for the continual improvement of teaching and learning.
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In 2012, LD 1858 sought to advance that vision by giving districts broad flexibility to design their own systems. Districts could choose instructional frameworks, establish measures of effectiveness and determine how evaluators would be trained and calibrated. The goal was to balance local autonomy with professional accountability.
More than a decade later, however, the evidence suggests that flexibility alone has not produced consistent results.
My research involving 130 educators across four Maine school districts found only modest perceptions of performance evaluation and professional growth systems’ effectiveness.
On a four-point scale, average ratings ranged from 2.48 to 2.99. While educators generally agreed that districts provide individualized growth plans and can differentiate levels of instructional effectiveness, they rated several critical implementation areas notably lower, including instructional coaching, evaluator training, feedback quality, evaluator calibration and the use of evaluation data to inform professional learning and personnel decisions.
Although the sample was relatively small, the findings closely mirror what I have observed while working with predominantly rural Maine districts over the past decade.
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The qualitative findings were equally revealing. Teachers and administrators described systems that are often cumbersome, inconsistently implemented and difficult to sustain. Educators reported spending significant time developing goals and documenting evidence, while administrators acknowledged that competing priorities frequently reduce evaluation to a compliance exercise rather than a meaningful opportunity for growth.
Participants cited insufficient training, inconsistent expectations, limited coaching support and weak connections between evaluation results and professional learning. Perhaps most significant, though not surprising given the realities of today’s schools, the primary obstacle appears to be not commitment, but capacity — the time, expertise and tools required to implement these complex systems with fidelity.
Designing and sustaining high-quality evaluation systems requires expertise in instructional leadership, observation and feedback, adult learning, professional development, data use and evaluator calibration. While some districts have built this capacity, many — particularly smaller and rural systems — have not. Even where expertise exists, time remains a major barrier.
Effective evaluation depends on regular observation, coaching, feedback and calibration. Yet for principals balancing instructional leadership with the daily demands of running a school, carrying out these responsibilities consistently can be extraordinarily difficult.
As a result, Maine has effectively asked more than 250 districts to independently build and maintain highly complex educator effectiveness systems. The outcome is predictable: uneven quality and implementation, and variable impact on teaching and learning.
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This raises an important policy question: Should every district continue to design, train, calibrate and maintain its own evaluation system, or would educators and students be better served by a common statewide framework supported by regional and state expertise?
A statewide approach would not eliminate local control. Districts would continue to make decisions about hiring, staffing, curriculum, budgeting and school improvement priorities. Instead, the state would provide shared infrastructure: a common instructional and evaluation framework, validated tools, evaluator training, calibration supports, professional learning resources and implementation assistance.
The benefits extend beyond evaluation. A common framework would create stronger alignment across Maine’s educator pipeline. Colleges and universities could align coursework, clinical experiences and assessments to the exact same standards used in schools while sharing responsibility for educator success beyond initial placement.
Preparation programs, districts and the state would become partners in a continuous system of educator development, creating mutual accountability for results and a stronger return on Maine’s investment in teacher preparation.
Such alignment matters. As systems thinker Peter Senge observed, people working within the same system tend to produce similar results. If we want more consistent outcomes for students, we must pay closer attention to the systems shaping educator practice.
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A statewide approach would not eliminate local control. Districts would continue to make decisions about hiring, staffing, curriculum, budgeting and school improvement priorities.
A common framework would establish a shared language and clearer expectations throughout the career continuum. It would also make continuous improvement easier. Rather than asking hundreds of districts to independently revise complex systems, the state could evaluate implementation, refine practices, share lessons learned and respond to emerging research. Educators have experienced too many short-lived initiatives that consume considerable time and effort before fading away.
A coherent statewide system would provide greater stability and more meaningful long-term improvement. The question is not whether local control matters. It does. The question is whether every district should be expected to independently build and sustain complex systems that require specialized expertise, significant resources and ongoing refinement.
If Maine is serious about improving outcomes for students, it should rethink which functions are best managed locally and which are better supported through statewide infrastructure. Educator effectiveness is one example. There are likely others.
In a previous op-ed here, I argued that Maine should reconsider whether teacher compensation is best negotiated district by district. The same question applies here. When critical human capital systems are essential to student success, a coherent statewide framework may be better positioned to advance equity, efficiency and effectiveness while preserving local decision-making where it matters most.
The goal is not less local control, but a smarter balance between local autonomy and statewide support — one that strengthens schools and improves outcomes for every student, regardless of geography.
PORTLAND (WGME) — It’s now a three-way race for the Blaine House.
After more than a week, the ranked choice tabulation was run very early Friday morning, with Hannah Pingree declared the winner for the Democrats, and Bobby Charles the winner for Republicans.
Democratic candidate for governor Hannah Pingree (WGME)
Moving forward, Independent Rick Bennett is also in the governor’s race.
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As a moderate, Bennett could draw votes from both parties.
If Friday is any indication, the next four and a half months will be contentious, with the three candidates pointing fingers at each other.
Charles criticized ranked choice voting and says if elected, he will end it.
“Maine voters deserve to know the results of their elections on the day that they cast their vote,” Charles said.
Pingree disagrees, saying election officials made sure every vote counted.
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“Maine’s election officials did their job, and they did it right,” Pingree said.
The two nominees traded jabs Friday.
“The Democrats have just nominated an insider,” Charles said. “A deep Augusta insider.”
Republican candidate for governor Bobby Charles (WGME)
It was Charles’ own primary opponents who labeled him a Washington insider.
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“I will say it’s ironic that Bobby Charles is talking about positive change,” Pingree said.
Then there’s State Senator and former head of the Maine Republican Party Rick Bennett, running as an Independent.
Charles calls him a Democrat.
Pingree calls him a Republican.
“I think the choice here is clear,” Bennett said. “We have Hannah Pingree, who I respect, but she’s a continuation of the Mills administration. She was in charge of housing policy. We still have a housing crisis. Bobby Charles, as you know, has spent most of his life in the bureaucracy in Washington and then lobbying for corporate interests in Washington. Maine people are tired of a political system that puts the parties first and results second.”
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Independent candidate for governor Rick Bennett (WGME)
Charles says he wants to bring integrity to the State House.
“You either want change, integrity, lower taxes, the drug traffickers out of here, the needles out of here, the energy costs down,” Charles said. “No more fraud. I am sick and tired of all the things we’re putting up with. In my view, a betrayal of trust and a betrayal of integrity.”
Pingree says Congressional Republicans and the President are the ones making life difficult for Maine families.
“This is about healthcare that we can afford, whether you’re in a rural hospital in Houlton or urgent care in Portland. It is about Maine’s potential,” Pingree said. “A real future for our kids and the people who are working all across Maine just to get by. It’s also about continuing to stand up to Donald Trump. His attacks, his wars, his economic chaos that is making life harder for every single Mainer every single day.”
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As an Independent, Bennett did not have to compete in a primary.
Also, unlike the primary, there is no ranked choice in the general election for state races, so no ranked choice this fall in the governor’s race.
University of Southern Maine biology professor Chris Maher sets four traps around a woodchuck burrow in Pond Meadow at Gilsland Farm Audubon Center in Falmouth on June 15. (Daryn Slover/Staff Photographer)
FALMOUTH — Standing in the apple orchard at Gilsland Farm, Chris Maher instantly recognized the woodchuck waddling across the grass 30 yards away.
“There’s Torch,” said Maher, needing neither her binoculars nor the telescope she had on hand to identify the tan marmot the size of a small cat. “And, oh, look, she’s got a pup with her.”
Trailing behind Torch was one of her several “pups” in her litter this year. Only 6 weeks old, the baby woodchuck was the size of a grapefruit, scurrying around under the watchful eye of its mother, who was nibbling clover flowers. Their burrow was just yards behind them, under the base of a tree stump.
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Maher has been studying the woodchucks, also known as groundhogs, at Maine Audubon’s Gilsland Farm since 1998. A biology professor at the University of Southern Maine, her office is 10 minutes away in Portland.
Over the nearly 30 years of studying this population in Falmouth, she’s been answering longstanding questions about the species. Not whether they’ll see their shadow on Feb. 2, and not how much wood they could chuck if they could chuck wood, but how and why they behave the way they do.
“They’re basically a lot more social than people had thought they were,” she said.
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Woodchucks are one of six native marmot species in North America and the least social of them all. When Maher first started reading the scientific literature on the species in the 1980s and 1990s, it said that woodchucks were solitary and territorial — but some anecdotal reports also shared they were perhaps more social than previously thought.
When Maher moved to Maine in 1997 to work at USM after years studying the behaviors of other species, she decided the social lives of woodchucks were worth examining. With the permission of Maine Audubon, she started trapping and tagging the woodchucks at Gilsland Farm. It became the longest study of woodchucks ever conducted.
While there were once three dozen woodchucks on the property, now only eight adults have multiple burrows each in the many fields, orchard, peony bushes, parking lot and underneath Maine Audubon’s outdoor classroom. Maher’s workforce has declined as well, as her busy schedule as an interim dean at USM means she has less time for student assistance.
One of the eight and Torch’s adult daughter, named Tremont, also wandered under the apple trees. After she left her mother’s burrow, she moved in next door, digging burrows under the outdoor classroom and in a field of goldenrod.
“Born in the orchard, and basically never left home. The parallels with people are amusing,” said Maher.
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With her handheld computer, which resembles a PIN pad in the grocery store checkout, Maher took a 15-minute sample of Torch’s behavior, hitting buttons every time Torch switched what she was doing. There are codes for when the woodchucks eat, groom themselves, dig, recline or are on alert.
Female woodchucks have a territory of about three-quarters of an acre. Maher’s research found that related female woodchucks will overlap their territory, previously thought to never happen. Mother and daughter, aunts and nieces, grandmother and granddaughter are all more tolerant of sharing space than unrelated woodchucks.
But sometimes they still need to take a stand. That morning, Tremont and Torch got into a fight, squeaking at and batting each other. With their familiar relationship bringing higher tolerance, it wasn’t a “knock-down, drag-out” brawl, said Maher, just “Torch being Torch.”
For the fight, Maher hits the button to indicate “other.”
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” data-large-file=”https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?w=780″ height=”683″ width=”1024″ alt=”” class=”wp-image-7669139″ srcset=”https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg 3000w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=300,200 300w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=768,512 768w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=1024,683 1024w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=1536,1024 1536w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=2048,1365 2048w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=1200,800 1200w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=2000,1333 2000w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=780,520 780w, https://www.pressherald.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2026/06/43635806_20260615_Falmouth-Woodchucks_5.jpg?resize=400,267 400w” sizes=”(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px”/>University of Southern Maine biology professor Chris Maher pauses after spotting Harp, a female woodchuck, at Gilsland Farm Audubon Center in Falmouth. Maher was surprised to see Harp with pups. (Daryn Slover/Staff Photographer)
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Maher knows that not everyone is a fan of woodchucks.
“People kind of run this gamut between ‘I hate woodchucks, because they eat my garden, or they dig under my shed.’ Or they love woodchucks — chances are, those people don’t have a garden,” she said.
Despite the woodchucks who keep eating the zucchini plant in her home garden, Maher maintains her affinity for the animals. Over the years, she’s trapped and tagged 630 Falmouth woodchucks.
In addition to the number on its metal ear tag, each woodchuck also gets a name, which helps her students remember them. Each year, there’s a theme: cars, cartoon characters, musical instruments and colleges. This year, she’s thinking it will be sports teams, in honor of the World Cup.
Now she’s attempting to trap and tag the pups born this year, including those of Tremont, who was born three years ago when the naming convention was Maine towns and had four pups this year.
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Maher set four traps at right angles around the entrance of one of Tremont’s burrows, smearing a dab of Hannaford’s smooth peanut butter on the pressure plate that will trigger the trap to close if stepped on. Apple slices she dropped inside the metal grate increase the temptation.
Between the traps, Maher shoved wooden shingles to make a fence. Adult woodchucks will get creative trying to escape, as evidenced by tooth marks on the wood. Catching the pups is easier.
“They’re naive,” she said.
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Once a pup is caught, she’ll weigh it, take a hair sample, give it a numbered ear tag and paint a distinct mark on it with Revlon black hair dye, so she can recognize it from a distance.
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Keeping track of which of these squirrely animals are related for 28 years, as well as what they’re doing and where they’re going, is no small feat. Maher’s logbook is filled with decades of notes on trappings and re-trappings of the hundreds of animals.
“Long-term studies are really valuable,” said Daniel Blumstein, a biology professor at University of California Los Angeles who studies yellow-bellied marmots. “Having decades of information gives us a whole different way of thinking about what’s going on.”
In addition to changing understandings of their social behavior, Maher has conducted numerous other studies across the course of the project, including the variation in woodchuck personalities, tracking their movement with radio transmitters, testing their paternity using DNA from hair samples and seeing if they pay attention to the alarm calls of other animals (turns out, woodchucks care what chipmunks have to say).
She’s also seen their lineages unfold across generations, such as with the woodchuck named Bonnie.
Maher first caught Bonnie in 1998. She lived for 12 years, twice the average woodchuck lifespan, until she disappeared. Her legacy living onwards, as having trapped and tagged her offspring, and her offspring’s offspring, Maher was able to track Bonnie’s bloodline for seven generations until it died out in 2018.
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Maher wondered what exactly happened to Bonnie. The answer was unearthed in 2021, when Maine Audubon tore down the pavilion that her burrow had been under. Curled up underneath was the mummified body of Bonnie, identifiable by the tag still in her ear.
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Maher keeps Bonnie’s mummy in her office in a plastic tote, occasionally taking her out when she gives talks about her research at libraries, to Girl Scout troops and Maine Audubon camps.
“It’s a highlight of the summer for many campers,” said Molly Woodring, who oversees day camp and other educational programs at Maine Audubon.
With additional assistance from a woodchuck puppet, Maher presents her research and what it’s like to be a wildlife biologist to campers each year, also often explaining what she’s doing to other curious visitors of Gilsland Farm who typically come out to birdwatch.
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“I do think, like in the context of the sanctuary, and in the context of her work, (woodchucks) do become really fascinating and lovable,” said Woodring.
As she starts this season’s pup tagging, Maher is also considering winding down her project. She turned 63 on Thursday — a day she wished she could have spent with the woodchucks, but was packed full of meetings.
In a year she’ll be on sabbatical, where she’ll write up more findings and is hoping to write a popular science book about woodchucks and her life studying them. Retirement is not too far off, and it doesn’t look like anyone else will be taking over the reins of the study.
“It will be hard to not keep coming out here,” she said. “By then, it will be 30 years of stories.”
While Maher may soon reduce her time observing Falmouth’s woodchucks, the woodchucks will remain — with evidence of their contribution to science still visible for at least another generation.
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“Animals with tags will still be running around for a little while,” said Maher.