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.