The Final Weeks-Part 2

Living in Alaska, I have seen how quickly the weather can change, and my days teaching were quite similar.  I prepared for each day in the classroom in the same fashion I would prepare for the ever-changing climate.  In a place where little stays constant, there was one thing I knew for certain — I could count on something unexpected happening in my classroom each day.  

Of course, there were steps I took to prepare for the "unexpected," such as planning an extra lab to prevent any impending behavior issues or having an extra book handy in case time (and behavior) allowed for it.  However, no matter the amount of planning, there are still days where the "plan" gets thrown out the window and you just have to go with it --whatever "it" may be.  My final week was full of days where the plan, and even the backup plan, got tossed.

As I descended the stairs from my apartment that Monday morning to begin the week, I felt refreshed.  I felt confident that I could handle any obstacle thrown my way ... until I entered the cafeteria.  There I was greeted by the Head Start cook where she informed me that she would not be at work because all her children had strep throat.  She also told me that she attempted to find a sub, but everyone she called, and I quote, "was either too tired or hung over."  Out of the goodness in her heart, she went in early to set out the food for me to cook for breakfast and lunch.  I thought I would be okay since I also had two aids until the cook told me that they would be absent as well.  The one aid was having family issues and the other aid had moved houses over the weekend.  Thankfully, one aid was able to find a substitute.  

Trying not to panic, I told her it would be okay as she apologized for not being able to come in. Once I got to the Head Start, I got to work.  I began doing my regular morning duties (setting out the toothbrushes, filling the buckets for hand washing, setting out the chairs, etc.) and then I started making breakfast.  I ended up having nine students, and thankfully, they behaved wonderfully.  My main disappointment was the lack of time I was able to spend with the students because I was too busy cooking. The students left at noon due to being short staffed.  The parents were not pleased, but the decision was out of my hands.  Once everyone left, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I had survived so far.  

After washing the lunch dishes, which proved to be quite the task with very little running water, I called Mom to tell her about my day.  After talking with her till almost 1:00 (Alaska time), I began to finish up my responsibilities at the Head Start before returning to the main school around 2.  

Stebbins School

About a quarter till 2, I received a call from one of the regular classroom aids telling me the main school was on lock down.  Apparently, there was a man walking around the village with a gun.  Thank goodness the aid called when she did!  I was minutes from leaving for the main school (The main school called 10 minutes later).

I locked the door and closed the blinds.  I was a little shaken being in a foreign place, as well as being apart from the main school.  Luckily, I was not alone.  The janitor and another woman who works in a back office of the building were still there.  The lockdown lasted for almost an hour. When the police finally caught up with the man at his house, he was only carrying a stick. Later on, I learned that anytime this individual is seen walking around outside the school locks down. He is mentally unstable and the school locked down months before because he was caught shooting at teacher housing.  He takes medicine for his mental condition; therefore, anytime he is spotted measures are taken.  

The janitor ended up taking me back to the big school on his four-wheeler.  In Stebbins, no matter the brand, all four-wheelers are referred to as Hondas.  

Later at the main school, the principal called an emergency meeting.  I figured it was about the lockdown, but I was wrong.  As soon as each teacher and aid was in the cafeteria, the principal sat down and simply said, "Bed bugs."  

He explained that there had been a bed bug outbreak within the village and passed out trash bags to every teacher whose students do not use lockers.  We would now be required to bag the students' clothes as they arrived to prevent an infestation within the schools.  After hearing the news, I went to work right away washing anything and everything that could possibly be washed within my apartment.  I never saw any bed bugs, but the paranoia was enough to send me reeling.  I needed to start packing and could only imagine what would be waiting for me when I got home if something had gotten in my luggage, so I washed and rewashed throughout the rest of the week to be safe.  

A view of native housing during my last walk around the village

By the time I finally got back to my apartment that day, I could not get to the elliptical machine fast enough.  I needed to blow off some steam and release some built up tension.  As I went to bed that I night, the only thing I could do was pray that Monday was not setting the tone for the rest of the week.  

The cook didn’t return on Tuesday, either, so the students were dismissed again at noon.  Despite the obstacles, I began noticing more changes in the students.  They were working together better during stations, and they were making sure I noticed their good behavior.  For example, they would tell me about the good deeds they did and how they were using "good listening ears."  I also had begun noticing differences in the way the Head Start staff was treating me.  They were talking to me more, and Friday, the cook made me a type of fried bread.  It resembled mini-funnel cakes.  It was very good!  In fact, Friday was the best day of the week, and just as I thought the week would end on a high note, I was shot down again.

On Friday, I left the school feeling very accomplished after receiving the gift from the cook, as well as having a successful day with the students, but later that night I was heartbroken.  

A few teachers made pizza since it was my last weekend. We met at the couple's apartment where I share Sunday breakfast.  We were sitting around enjoying pizza and listening to Adele when I learned about "Polar Pup."  

The village is over run by wild dogs and some of the teachers have adopted some dogs as pets.  The school's itinerant counselor brought a little, white puppy into the first grade teacher's apartment to give it a bath.  It was a mess. Its tail had been cut off by a few of the village children.  The counselor was hoping someone could adopt it, but the teachers could not take in any more dogs without getting into trouble with the administration.  The first grade teacher was so heartbroken over the whole situation she began asking some of the male teachers if they could release it back outside.  She ended up bringing it to the apartment where we were eating, and I wish I had never seen its face.  

I had to add a picture of my Sadie-in honor of Polar Pup

First off, I am a huge lover of dogs.  I cannot watch an ASPCA commercial without shedding a few tears.  When I laid eyes on the puppy, I had never seen that look in a dog's face before.  My heart ached, and I felt so hopeless.  I was so bothered by the whole situation that I cried myself to sleep that night.  It was definitely the last straw.  

There were so many times after a day of teaching where I came home feeling so hopeless.  I could not change my students' lives or the situations they were born into.  I could only show them as much love as I could in the short amount of time I had with them each day.  Many evenings, I felt hopeless and wondered if I was making a difference.  Then seeing this helpless animal ... I had finally reached the moment when I thought, "It is time to go home."  

I realized how out of my element I was and I had never felt so helpless.  The face of that puppy, as well as those of my students, stuck in my head throughout the remainder of the weekend.  It was not until the last two days of teaching that I finally felt a sense of closure and realized I had done what I came to do. 

The Final Weeks-Part 1

When I think back to the week of January 30th, two things stick out:  How unbelievably slow the week crawled by and the look in a little girl’s eyes who knew her dad had forgotten her.

Stebbins at sunset

The week that January finally turned into February began wonderfully!  On Monday, I only had six students, and the combination of kids that I had gave me more opportunities to teach to the group as a whole instead of dealing with behavior issues.  No part of the Fearsome Foursome was there which made a world of difference.  I feel bad, at times, because when those boys are absent I am somewhat relieved, although those four need school the most.  Of those in attendance, I had two boys and four girls.  The day was free of tears or bloodshed. 

Once Tuesday rolled around, however, things returned to normal ­– or should I say abnormal again.  For some reason, the girls (who are supposed to be made of sugar and spice and everything nice, right?) wanted to be mischievous with the boys, which meant even more trouble.  Some of the manipulative teaching items had to be put away because they turned into weapons.  Long foam blocks became swords and guns to “kill zombies”.  The violence that comes out in these students’ anger and play bothers me.  Children learn by example and knowing where this stems from concerns me more.  

As I get closer to my last day with no official word of when the regular classroom teacher will return, I worry about the kids.  The more they are in school the better it is for them, and if the regular teacher does not return, they may have to shut down the program for the remainder of the year.  I am the third sub they have brought in.  The one I replaced did not want to extend her contract because of the extreme situation within the classroom as well as the other factors that I have been experiencing.  

 Stebbins, Alaska

The Head Start building is a different world in comparison to the main school building.  I feel isolated and alone there. I also long for the collaboration and classroom environment that exists between the teachers at the main school.  For example, they can Skype with each other throughout the day.  If one has an issue with a student, they can send a message — or Skype — to the office and someone arrives to take care of the problem.  They also have running water, a lunch break, and Wi-Fi.  The water at the Head Start is taken from a trashcan labeled, “Water Used for Drinking and Cooking Only.”  

After school, because I do not have Internet access at the Head Start (the aids do on their office computers) I write out the next day’s lesson plan (even though I am not required to) and write my reflection about the day, which is also for my personal use.  Sometimes, after the students leave at 2, I go to the big school to work on things just to be around everyone else — as well as use the Internet.  I have to enter checkpoints online for each student for the program that is based out of Anchorage.  

As the week dragged on, each day brought little gains, as well as more challenges.  One of the Fearsome Foursome hit a little girl in the face on Wednesday and had to be sent home, but this same student (I’ll call him Chief because he runs the show) has greatly improved since I first arrived.  “Chief” rules the roost but he has very endearing qualities.  I have made a connection with him, and his parents are one of the few that will talk to me, wanting to know how their boys are doing.  I have made sure to greet each child and their guardian as they arrive each morning.  Some will respond. Others will not because I am white, and they know I am the third person who has taught the class this school year. Therefore, they know that I’m not a permanent fixture.  

When it comes to behavior, “Peter”, the one who stabbed me with a pencil, is very smart and can love when he chooses to.  When he begins to get angry or act out, there is no stopping him, while Chief’s behavior can be deferred.  When Chief starts to get angry, I can usually talk him out of it.  I teach him about making good decisions and suggest other activities he can do. This usually works.  Sometimes, I’ll work with him on an activity to distract him when I perceive things are about to get out of hand.  I’ve found just taking one student out of the equation can make a world of difference — plus the individualized time with Chief has worked wonders.  

The road to St. Michaels

On Friday (which seemed like an eternity to arrive) when it came time for the students to go home at noon, all were picked up except for one who remained until almost one.  This little girl was the one whose face I mentioned in the beginning. I’ll call her Jasmine because it’s her favorite Disney princess.  “Jasmine” and I read books until about twenty after when she looked up at me and said, “Daddy forgot me.”  I kept reassuring her that he would be coming while the aid made calls trying to find out who would be picking her up.  As we continued to read, I felt her head lean into me.  Glancing down, I saw she was falling asleep.  I kept watching the door and waiting for her dad to arrive so she could go and take a nap.

  

Most days, the children come in after having only a few hours of sleep because of their parents’ lifestyle.  One morning, as the parents were dropping off their students, one little boy was tearfully begging his Dad to take him home, crying/shouting, “I got no sleep, Daddy!”  It was heart wrenching to watch.  

Finally, “Chief’s” dad came back to talk to our janitor and said he would take Jasmine home, which is not uncommon in the village.  The aid looked at her and said, “Your dad forgot about you.”  Although she was being playful, she didn’t realize how hurtful her words would be, but I knew judging by the pained look on Jasmine’s face that she took it to heart.  

Outside of school, I took my first trip to St. Michaels to buy a few groceries at their store.  Most of the teacher's shopping is done there because it is much bigger than the one in Stebbins.  There is a road that connects the two, and it's about 15 minutes away.  I also went cross country skiing for the first time.

About to go cross country skiing

Even though the week seemed like it would never end, I was not prepared for the events of my final week.  

I fly out on Valentine’s Day, leaving late in the afternoon from Stebbins to Anchorage where I will take the red eye to Seattle and then, finally, on Wednesday, to Dulles.

I have nearly a seven-hour layover in Anchorage so I will save Part 2 until then.

Goodbyes & Blessings

Growing up, I was always Dad's co-pilot.  I was given this title from the many trips to Georgia to visit Mom's side of the family when I was young.  I always had to sit in the passenger's seat because I had the tendency to get carsick...still do.  I was in charge of the radio, as well as the maps and directions.  Even though Dad knew where he was going, he would always question me on our location to teach me how to read directions (pre-MapQuest).  I believe I have a good sense of direction, but that came directly from Dad's guidance.  I also developed a good eye for spotting deer night or day while driving...also from Dad.  As I got older, I held my spot as we traveled to football games; father-daughter trips to NFL games.  We mostly went to Ram's games until I began following the Packers (go Pack go!), which also became a tradition for awhile.  Dad use to buy me Packer's tickets for my birthday each year.


But on this trip, Dad was MY co-pilot.  He was along for the ride not only to see Alaska, but to make sure I would get settled in okay.  His presence on this trip was also a comfort to many worried and inquiring minds at home who wondered about my safety in coming here.  I know Mom wanted to come as well, but honestly, I do not know how we would have gotten her on the bush planes with her fear of flying.  It would have taken very strong meds or a tranquilizing gun...just kidding.  I know my mom would move Heaven and Earth for me no matter her fears, but certain limitations only allowed for Dad to come along.

This would be Dad during one of our walks around the village
(maybe he'll start a trend up here with his camo?)

It was a blessing to be able to share all the new experiences in the beginning with him.  I was also thankful to have his help when it came to unpacking since I started work the very next day after arriving in Stebbins.  After the first day of work, I came back to the apartment to my food unpacked on the counter (he did not put them away because he knew I would enjoy doing that...I am weird, I know, but I love to organize).  He also cleaned out the one bin that had the only fatality the entire trip...the syrup bottle.  Aunt Jemima busted in one of my bins en route to Stebbins.  Of all things to bust, right?  Thank goodness I had Dad to help me, or I would have had so much more work on my hands when I first arrived.


Even though I knew he would be leaving, I came to look forward to his presence being there when I got home from work at the end of the day.  Although, sometimes he was not always there when I got back.  He was also making friends with the teachers, and one day, I came back to find him in the science room.  The science teacher told him to come down and sit in on his class.  Dad also took the time to explore the village to find out where the essentials were located:  the post office (even though everything is delivered directly to the school), the store, and the clinic.  He took me on the tour once I was out of school.


When the time came for him to leave, I did not expect it to be so hard.  It was a Saturday, and his plane was delayed quite a bit.  He was originally scheduled to leave around 10 a.m., but ended up flying out about 3 p.m. that afternoon.  The principal drove Dad and I to the airport, which is just a landing strip for the bush planes.  I went along to watch Dad's takeoff.  Looking back, I do not remember ever saying anything to him when he left.  When it came time for Dad to board the plane, he gave me a big hug, and that is when I noticed his shoulders shake a bit.  Usually, Dad and goodbyes are not a big deal, but I could tell this one was hard for him.  When he pulled back from hugging me, I noticed his eyes were glossy, and his lips were pressed tight together, but he quickly said he loved me.  Then, all in one breath, he said, "Have fun, be safe, and get back in the truck where it's warm."  I think all I said was 'Okay.'  Partly, because everything happened so fast.  When the plane lands, you do not waste any time boarding and getting ready for take off, and secondly, I was caught off guard by Dad's reaction.  I did not expect him to get choked up.  All I could think was, 'Thanks, Dad, now I am going to  start crying.'  I was fine up until that moment.  When leaving Keyser, I prepared myself for the tough goodbye with Mom, who actually handled it very well (from what I saw at least).  This, I was not prepared for.    


The principal and I sat in the truck and watched the plane take off, and then we headed back to the school.  I am grateful the principal did not say much that required a response on the way back because I did not feel like talking.  After that goodbye, I was simply focusing on my breathing, trying not to cry myself.  I headed straight for my apartment once back at the school, and as I climbed the steps to my door, I could feel my chest tightening.  I thought I would be fine, but then Dad...ugh!

The view outside the window of  my apartment

As I reached the top of the stairs, I realized that when I opened my door, Dad would not be sitting there on the computer or unpacking my bins.  I would be alone, and it all would become very real, very quickly.  The more I tried to fight back tears, the harder it became to breath.  I finally made it safely inside the apartment and  sat down on the edge of my bed.  The other bed that was placed in the room for Dad's stay was now empty, sheets folded neatly on the bare mattress.  As I sat there on the edge of my bed, I squeezed the sheets, exhaled, and finally let the tears run over.  It was not exactly an "ugly cry" session, as Oprah would call it, it was just a moment of realization.  I found out about the job in October, and now, here I am.  It was time to put the "big girl" pants on and look out the window at the new world around me.  In a million years, I would never have imagined that my first teaching job would be in "the-middle-of-no-where," Alaska.  I have always wanted to visit the state, but never thought I would be living here for a bit.  I am so grateful to have been given this opportunity.  Despite the unexpected along the way, it will be an experience I will never forget.  I am also so grateful for the support, love, and prayers that have been extended my way and my family's way.  It has helped close the distance between Alaska and home, and I know that it has helped my family so much, especially my mom.  Despite being so strong, this has not been easy for her, I am sure, but I could not have done it without her.  

From left: Mom, Matthew, myself, and Dad, saying, "Good-bye!"

Mom's strength gives me strength.  There have been many nights while here, after days that seemed eternally long, where I read the 91st Psalm before bed.  Mom used to read this to me when I was sick as a kid.  I can still hear her calming voice in the back of my head as I read it.  Even though you have to grow up, those little things that your parents give you, and not such the material things, but the influences they pass on to you along the way grows with you.  On one of the many plane rides to get here, Dad looked at me, and in the same open-ended way as HIS father starts a conversation, said, "That's something I really like about you."  My initial reaction was, "What's that?"  He replied, "The way you go after new things or your sense of adventure" (something to that extent).  The point is, I hope Mom and Dad know that, that "thing" they like about me, comes directly from the life they have in them and their caring spirit.  I am forever grateful for all the support, guidance, and love they have given me.  Without them, I would never have been able to take this chance and have this experience.  They have always been by my side, and I am so thankful to call them mine.  


**To Mom and Dad-I love you both, and I will see you soon! (10 more days!!)

The Northern Lights

 I have finally crossed the halfway point, and I only have ten working days left on my contract.  I do not know the exact day, but I expect to be home the week of Valentine's Day.  January feels like it will never end, and I never knew a month could pass by so slowly.

It is Sunday, and it is the one day that I miss home the most.  Sunday is my favorite day of the week because it is the one day I get to spend the most time with my family, as well as Daniel and his family.  Everyone is in one place compared to the rest of the week, which keeps us all going in opposite directions most of the time.  However, I have been spending Sundays here with a new family.

Since I have been here, a few of the other teachers, as well as myself, have started the tradition of meeting for breakfast every Sunday morning.  Last week was particularly fun because the night before our weekly breakfast, some of us stayed up to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights.  They usually do not appear here until about 1 or 2 a.m.  We passed the time with games, and then, to ward off the drowsiness,  I embarrassingly admit that us ladies decided to crank the Spice Girls station on Pandora radio, and I even more embarrassingly admit that I remembered almost every word to their songs (if only I could remember my professor's lectures the way I remember song lyrics....I would be a genius, just saying).  Once 1 a.m. finally rolled around, we all put on our snow gear and headed outside only to be disappointed.  The Lights were a "no show"....at least for the time being.  I headed back to my apartment and thought to give the forecast one more look.  We had been watching a website that gave updates on the forecast for the aurora borealis every two minutes.  The website said that the aurora would be at "storm level," the strongest point of activity, about 2 a.m.  So, I got a shower, and then passed the time by reading my latest Kindle download, The Help.  The forecast got moved up another 50 minutes, and not wanting to miss something I may never see again, I read for another hour.  Finally, around 3 a.m., I grabbed my camera, threw on my coat, and headed for the back door of the school.  As I stepped out into the -20 something Alaskan night, I held my breath as I looked up, fearing I would be disappointed again...but there it was.  

It was faint, not like the brilliance most are familiar with in pictures, but it was awesome nonetheless.  It is hard to describe, but it looked like a green paint splotch on a black canvas.  The colors faded in and out in the same way bands of rain do as they move across the horizon.  They were eerily beautiful!  In fact, they reminded me of the scene from the old 1956 film, The Ten Commandments, the one with Charles Heston, when the green smoke comes out of the sky representing the Angel of Death coming to take the first born.    Despite the frigid cold, I stood there as long as I could stand it just to watch because I was so awestruck with excitement.  I wanted to wake everyone up that waited till one in the morning to see what I was seeing, but not wanting to make any enemies, I thought I better not.  How I wanted to share that moment with someone!  I tried numerous times to get a picture of it, but every time I reviewed it on my camera, the screen came up blurry or dark.  However, thanks to the miracle of editing, I discovered later on that I actually DID capture the Northern Lights.  I just had to enhance the image and take away some shadows.  Then, they appeared into focus.  I had something to remember that moment by and share with everyone else.  

The Northern Lights
(the object in the left corner is the corner of the school's roof)

I was outside for about fifteen minutes until the cold got the best of me.  I could not even begin to imagine what -20 and below would feel like before coming here, but honestly, if dressed appropriately, it is not that bad.  Dressing for the cold also depends how long you plan to stay out in it.  Saturday afternoon, during a break from our meetings (we had inservice meetings Thursday, Friday, and Saturday) the first grade teacher, Meg, and I went for a walk on the frozen Bering Sea.  She has two dogs, one from home and an adopted puppy from the village, that needed some time to run.  We were outside for almost an hour.  I was comfortable the whole time, but to stay comfortable, I had to put on the following:  heavy Under Armor leggings and top, jeans, a sweater, my snow pants, my jacket, heavy socks, snow boots, face mask, toboggan, gloves, and goggles...it is quite the process.  Walking on the ice was fun, but a little scary when you really stop to think about it.  They only walk out on the ice on days when the snow machines and four wheelers go out on it too.  Many natives travel the ice by snow machine to Nome, which takes about three hours.  Again, as I said, the cold is not bad when well prepared, but I was not prepared for the dryness.  It is so dry up here that I can hardly stand it.  Before my humidifier arrived (thanks Grandmom and Granddad...it was a life saver!) I would boil pots of water on the stove just to get an ounce of humidity in the air.  I think that is one of the reasons I got sick with a nasty cold/flu shortly after starting work.  The air is so dry like that of an airplane and illness spreads fast up here.  The aids were sick the same week that I was ill as well.  

My walk on the ice

Besides the cold, I have also been asked about the amount of darkness up here.  When I first arrived, the sun came up about 11 a.m. and went down about 4 p.m.  Since I got here, I was told that we would begin gaining a little bit of sunlight each day until it is light almost 24/7.  I did not notice it at first, but now I am noticing the difference.  The sun now rises about 10 a.m. and sets close to 6 p.m.  It was not hard to get adjusted to, but I would prefer it to be light all the time.  The long periods of darkness in the morning makes me sleepy the first half of the day.  

The frozen Bering Sea

While I am thankful for those who have included me in their "family" unit up here, I will be thankful to reunite with my own.  I know it will not be much longer, but I am getting so anxious I can hardly stand it. Some days feel like they will never end, while other days, it feels like Dad just left to return home while I stayed behind to begin my adventure.  Dad leaving was a harder moment than I thought it would be, but that story is for a later post.

Teachable Moments

This past week marked my fourth week in Alaska, and it started off much better than the last.  This past Monday, January 23rd, was the best day teaching I have had thus far.  The wind was strong and cold, and only three students were brought to school.  Because of this, I was able to spend more time with the children individually, and more importantly, I was able to teach more because the distractions were less.  One of the students happened to be the child who attempted to stab me with a pencil the Monday before.  He is one of my toughest cases, but I know his behavior is a desperate cry for love.  There are four boys in particular who cause the most problems.  Separated, they are loving and kind, and I have had many good moments with each, but put them together...now, that is a deadly combination.  On this particular day, I was able to give him the attention he craved, and I feel that some gains were made.

A view down the coast of the village at sunset

The Head Start follows a curriculum that incorporates a different theme each week.  This past week's focus was titled, "Highlighting Heritage."  The subject each day centered around family life, as well as the differences between our families.

Being the third teacher to be placed into this classroom this year alone, as well as the cultural boundaries that are always present, I have tried not to deviate from any routines that were already set in place.  These children need as much consistency as they can get, and I did not want to change everything on them...AGAIN.  I am also aware that I am on their turf; therefore, I am mindful of my place, and do the best I can while still being "teacher".

The class already had a daily schedule.  I leave my apartment at about 8:15 each morning.  When I first arrived, the sun did not rise until about 11:00 a.m., but now it rises around 10.  It is dark when I walk to school, and the moon is still on the horizon.  The students arrive about 9 and eat breakfast at 9:15.  After breakfast, the students are scheduled to participate in various activities at the carpet, or something I call "Circle Time."  These  include a movement exercise, a daily message with review of the calendar, date, numbers, and letters of focus, a short introduction activity focusing around the weekly theme, and a book.  After "Circle Time," the students go to labs, which are stations set up to encourage play.  There is a drama lab, which contains a kitchen set with pretend food, baby dolls, and costumes.  There are a couple different tables containing various manipulative items, such as blocks, puzzles, and anything else that the students can piece together.  There is an art lab, a library area, and another lab with bigger blocks for the students to build with.   After lab is another story and then lunch.

During labs on this particular Monday, I worked with — we'll call him Peter (plus, he loves Spiderman, and his alias was Peter, right?).  Peter is one of the leaders in the classroom.  He provokes the other boys when it comes to their defiant, violent behavior.  Yet, on this day, he was engaged and willing to learn.  One of the labs the aids set up included figurines resembling various family/community members.  Peter went directly to this lab, and I seated myself next to him to discuss each figurine.  We talked about who each person's role is in a family, as well as what their occupation would be. For example, there was a doctor, a farmer, a pilot, and so on.  I also talked to him about the different names we call our family members.  I learned that in Yupik, their native language, "uppa," means grandfather.

After lunch, the students have journals that they draw in, and depending on behavior, another book is read and review of what was discussed that day takes place.  The three-year-olds are picked up at 1 p.m., and the four-year-olds walk with me to the main school to play in the gym till 2.  I really enjoyed my day with the students, but most of all my time with Peter.  When his "uppa" picked him up that day, he kept telling me he loved me.  Since his grandfather was standing right there, I was nervous how to respond, so I kept telling him how proud I was of him, which is another way of saying you love someone.

A view from the beach at sunset

The rest of the week returned to normal.  The chaos returned the next day, and Peter was back to his ways.  A woman from the state came in on Tuesday to evaluate the teaching environment, which is not of my own doing, but I was still paranoid the whole time she was there.  Anyone with a clipboard is automatically intimidating, if you ask me.  Friday, the power went out right before breakfast, and it was not just at the Head Start.  The entire village was affected except for the main school building because they have their own generator that kicks in during power outages.  Naturally, I thought that the students' parents would be called to pick them up since nothing could be accomplished in the dark (and the impending cold that would begin setting in from the lack of heat).  However, that is not what happened.  The students played at the various stations in the dark while the cook and two aids waited around for the power to return.  It began to get chilly so I put my snow pants back on, which is part of my daily attire walking to school. After about an hour, the power returned, and the day continued.  I am finding this place to be stranger by the day, and myself strange in it, but I cannot deny the amazing learning experience I am gaining.

I am not sure what my expectations were when I decided to make this journey.  I believe everything happens for a reason, and when things began falling eerily into place when deciding whether or not to come, I began thinking the Lord had plans for me here.  Wanting to make my mark on the world, I thought this would be an opportunity to make an impression in children's lives half a world away from my own.  I suppose in a way it still is, but every day I struggle to keep that dream alive.  It has all come down to grasping the small, teachable moments with individual students.  Large group activities will never happen, not with the "Fearsome Foursome" running around trying to kill one another, but I try to work with every child on an individual level as much as I can.  I also came expecting to grow myself as a person, and I certainly will not look at some things the same.  I am truly grateful for where I come from, and it amazes me that places like this village exist within the United States.  In college, we read about the conditions that many children live and learn in around certain areas of the country that would be shocking to most, but to experience it each day brings it all into perspective.  I only have 10 more working days left.  Lets see what the next two weeks may bring.

"Minor" Details

So, I have taken you along the path that it took to get here, but I am going to jump ahead a little bit to get into all the details of teaching in "wild" Alaska (although I do not know what is more wild:  Alaska or my students).

Upon accepting this position, I was under the understanding that my main focus would be on behavior.  The little tikes needed to learn that there are times at school when we have to SIT and LISTEN.  Fair enough!  Most three- and four-year-olds need to learn this, but there were a few other "minor" details that were left out of the job description, as well as what exactly I was getting into.

My first day began January 4th, the day after we arrived.  Since then, I have worked 12 days, and these past two weeks have been anything but easy.  I have had anywhere from 12 to 15 three- and four-year-olds each day, which is the highest number they have had all year, and these students are wild unlike anything I have ever seen.  They spit, punch, kick, curse, climb and jump off of anything, scream in your face, and the list goes on.  I know that they are only products of the environment that they come from, but I have never seen anything quite like it.

A view from my walk to the Head Start

The village is more like a "ghetto" that would be found in a major city, but on a much smaller scale.  There is a major problem with "home brew" and marijuana among the families in the village.  The main income for the natives is welfare, and there is a serious lack of work ethic because of it.  The elders who have lived in the village for centuries hold strong to their traditions and culture, but the younger generations want nothing to do with their heritage.  Most days, my students come to school wearing the same thing they wore the day before and have barely slept.  Of course, classrooms back home may have one or two students who fit this profile, but every student I am working with has been affected in some way.  I am teaching students born with fetal alcohol syndrome, along with other disorders from drug use, students who have been abused, students who have not learned how to play, and so on.  Despite their home lives, they have had little to no discipline because the culture here does not enforce it.  In fact, children are not regarded very highly until they reach a certain age.  It was explained to me like this:  Many years ago, when food would become scarce, children were the first ones to be left to go hungry.  Next, the elders would be left to starve.  This was due to the fact that neither could contribute to the survival of the group as a whole.  As sad as it is, this view still remains in a way.  Children are held in higher regard as they grow into their teens and become more capable.


The Head Start building where I am working consists of three other native women.  There is one aid, another aid that comes in at random, and a cook.  We also have a janitor.  The building is old and has no running water like the rest of the village, minus the main school building.  I have not stepped foot into the restroom there, and each day I wait until I can get back to my apartment.  Things get a little interesting at times when you really have to go, and you are wearing snow overalls, a long jacket with lots of buttons, gloves, etc....let me tell you!  The women who work at the Head Start have not warmed up to me quite yet despite every effort I make to be friendly and helpful.  It can get awkward at times.  On that note, I have run into some prejudice against people of my background around here.  There have been people pointed out to me that hate "white people," and I have heard the term "white bread" thrown around.  One day, during my second staff meeting, which was being held in the cafeteria, a woman barged in shouting about the "white trash" teachers who let her child come home without a sweater, as well as calling us "trash" teachers, a few other names were mentioned that I will not disclose (just use your imagination).

More views of the landscape surrounding the village
(to the left, you can see the crosses of a graveyard)

I have learned quite a bit about life in the village since my arrival, but my biggest challenge is my students.  Their behavior is proving to be more than I can handle on my own.  I feel very separated from the main school building.  For starters, I am.  The building is about half a city block away.  Second, the Head Start program is run by a group not affiliated with the main school, and there is some tension between the powers at each place.  These students need discipline, but because of the cultural boundaries, I receive little to no support when I try to enforce it.  The aids rarely back me up or stay consistent with the guidelines I try to provide for these students.  I have tried everything I have learned in my training up till now and nothing seems to work.  To paint you a picture of what life is like each day, let me tell you about this past week ... think "Kindergarten Cop," with a few shanks thrown in the mix.

On Monday, during breakfast, one student took his plastic butter knife and used it to cut the throat of another child.  That student was sent home immediately, but then, later that same day, the student who had his neck cut punched me, and then, proceeded to try and stab me with a pencil as I bent down to reprimand him.  He shoved the point into my sweater and ripped it down to my jeans.  I saw what he was getting ready to do, and knowing he could not hurt me (I had on a thick sweater, jeans, and other layers of clothes.) I watched just to see if he really would.  Sure enough, he did!  That child went home as well.  I had quite a few incident reports to write up that day.  Tuesday brought more incident reports plus some vomit, and three students peed their pants.  Correction: two students peed their pants, and one little boy peed on another's pants while using the restroom.  The lack of listening skills is one thing, but the violence is another.  The anger that I have seen in some of the faces of these four-year-olds is scary.  My heart goes out to them because only God knows what they have seen.

I try to go in each day with a smile, not thinking about the day before, and show these children as much love as I possibly can because they need it so desperately, but I am only one woman ... and I am exhausted.  I have never been so worn out in my life.  I have also been fighting a bad cold for the past week, which has not helped one bit.

The road to the airport

Do I regret my decision to come here and teach?  No, certainly not.  Through the good and the bad, I have learned and experienced so much that I would not trade it.  On the other hand, am I counting down the days till I head home?  You betcha!  These children need more of an intervention than I can give them alone, but I give it my all each day, and to be honest, some days I feel like I am teaching to the spawns of Satan himself (I guess it is true what they say ... Hell really does freeze over!)  But all joking aside, they are just children.  I would be angry too if I had my childhood messed with.  I do not know what kind of impact I can make in their lives during the short time that I am here, but I'll keep trying my best.  My favorite moments are the ones when I can pull a few of them aside and just read to them, or the spontaneous hug just because they want to.  In the morning, as they arrive, I let them pick a book to read with me.  This is one of my favorite parts of the day!

Next week, I am sure there will be more adventures to tell! As for now, welcome to Pre-K!