"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!