The moose.

So some of the eighth graders went moose hunting on monday; the principal went, along with a couple other adults, but I think it was one of the kids who carried the rifle--and they got one! One enormous leg is currently laid out on a table right down the hall from my room, being butchered. I'm about to head down there, say a quiet Puja, and see if I can help out at all.

after-school visitors

This week I added ten or twelve middle-schoolers (gr 7-8) to my list, and they've initially been far more... reserved (to put it nicely) than my 4-6 graders. More armor. LOTS more armor. I didn't know where to find them all at first, so it's been kind of a gradual roll-out; Monday I got just a few, more yesterday, and today was the first day with a full house for both time slots. It's getting better already, but there are only a few in this age range who readily accept help with their work; I'm feeling a lot of resistance from them. Not that this is in any way a surprise. As kids approach puberty, they become more fearful, less trusting; more rebellious, less eager to please any kind of authority figure. Anyway, school got out an hour early today, and five or six different students in the middle school to high school age range, some of my tutoring students and some I didn't know, came in and asked if they could work in my room. Several even asked for help with their math or with information about various diseases (science homework). Some came and went, but for close to two hours I had students in my room, doing schoolwork, entirely of their own accord. I was so thrilled I got teary-eyed, more than once! It made me feel like the space I've created here is coming to be perceived as a welcoming and comfortable place to learn. I can't think of any greater accomplishment.

The teachers and administrators here have been great; they've gone out of their way to let me know I'm taken care of and to give me the support I need. But to have students come into my room, to study, of their own free will: it's the most welcome I've felt since I came to Alaska. By far.

garbage garbage garbage

EVERYTHING goes in the trash here. No recycling whatsoever. I've become so accustomed to recycling, office paper in particular, that I'm finding it quite hard to adjust to. There's a dump outside of town. A little troubling; I feel terribly guilty whenever I accidentally print an unnecessary page or have to print a new copy of my schedule because something has changed. It's genuinely troubling; I feel it in my heart.

On the other hand, how much fuel would it take to ship any meaningful quantity of recyclable materials OUT of here. Hmmmm...

Mother Moon

I've been wondering why the moon seems to be out for so long the last few days. It hangs in roughly the same plane as the sun, so shouldn't 6 hrs sunlight mean about the same for the moon? Then I realized: DUH, when it's full, the moon is on the opposite side of us from the sun, so the same tilt that shortens the days up here by leaning us away from the sun has the inverse effect on our exposure to the full moon--ie, Alaska is leaning toward it. Ergo, 6 hrs sunlight = 18 hrs moonlight. Hello mother!

The beginning

I need to begin telling the 'whole' story, but I keep putting it off because I don't know where to start. When in doubt, begin at the beginning.

I did my student teaching this past fall in Big Bay, as most of those likely to see this already know. Early in the semester, Carrie got an email from our old friend Arica, who had taught in the Bush for a year before moving to Marquette. It was a forwarded message from her old administrator, who obviously thought the world of her, asking if she knew anyone who might be interested in a tutoring position starting in January. Carrie and I talked it over and agreed it was at least worth looking into, and when we had more information--dates, location, pay, conditions--we agreed it was a good idea.

Not an easy decision, as it meant me being away for three solid months, but ultimately the benefits outweighed the costs. Personally, it would be a marvelous opportunity for growth, discovery, and adventure, as well as a chance to help kids who really needed it. Professionally, it would be invaluable, both in terms of experience and practice, and in terms of subsequent resume building. And the kicker, for the sake of our young and growing family: it would pay off nearly my entire student loan in one fell swoop.

So we decided to go for it, and a few short months later I was in Anchorage taking pictures of a moose at a range of about two yards; welcome to Alaska! I have lived in the UP for several years and have only ever seen tracks, but one day in Anchorage (when I was supposed to be grocery shopping) and I had a real close encounter.

I am now the new 'intervention' teacher at Ignatius Beans Memorial School in Mountain Village, Alaska, a town of less than a thousand on the mighty Yukon River in southwestern Alaska. Google maps will not tell you how far away I am or how to get here because there are no roads that lead here. If you want to go to a nearby village, you take a snowmobile, and if you want to go further than that, you fly. The tundra is spacious and beautiful, but also a little monotonous.

'Intervention' means I'm a tutor. I am working exclusively in reading and math, and mainly with students who are likely to fall short of 'proficient' on their state tests in one or both subjects without some extra help. In the last two weeks I have learned all about Alaska's official education standards (Grade Level Expectations) and how they are reflected in standardized tests. I despise standardized tests. But they do give me lots of information about what my students need to learn and practice. So from within the Belly of the Beast I work to help the individuals being processed there. Broadly speaking, this is exactly what I want to do with my life. Spread the love.

Some things I've encountered have meshed well with what I imagined a little school in the Bush might be like. My classroom has no windows and can be stiflingly hot, so I asked around to see if a fan might be had; another teacher loaned me a nice big one, but it has no shield on the front, so I had to put up on a filing cabinet out of reach. Many of my students are indeed quite poor, and live in very small houses with very large families. On the other hand, the school itself is startlingly well provided for. I have a fancy new printer/copier and five brand new Dell computers with 19" flat screens and wireless keyboard and mouse--pretty fancy! The building is quite new as well, half of it built only two years ago, with triple-pane windows whose handles turn ninety degrees to swing open from the side, or 180 degrees to open from the bottom.

I didn't know what to expect from the people, either native or newcomer, but I have been pleasantly surprised on all fronts. The teachers, by and large, are caring and idealistic. The principal is passionately devoted to his students' success, both in school and in life. And the students! Well, they are active, certainly, but also sweet, receptive, willing to work hard and to learn. They've made me feel right at home. I love them already.

on AK

Well, since I already have a blog that I haven't used lately, I may as well simply resume. Appropriate, I guess, since I am here for educational purposes. So here's blog post number one from Mountain Village: I had cereal for breakfast. Good old flaky, somewhat sweetened, cold cereal with organic whole milk. The milk I brought from Anchorage with me; the cereal I picked up at the store here in Mountain. It's a pretty nice little convenience store with prices not as bad as expected--expensive, but not absurd. So I will indeed place a bush order with Fred Meyer for all my staples, but I'm happy to know that I won't have to use powdered milk the whole time I'm here. And even more important, I won't have to use 'creamer' in my coffee because (drum roll) they have heavy whipping cream at the store. WOOHOO!

And now I'm off to plan lessons. Yay.

feeling and thinking

Initial thoughts on emotion:

We like to think of ourselves as rational beings occasionally subject to emotional sway. I think we're actually emotional beings capable of rationalizing our feelings. What I mean is that we rarely use our intellect to arrive objectively at logical opinions; rather, we take opinions that have arisen unnoticed from our emotional core, and use intellect to justify them and make them seem logical.

My gut reaction is to condemn this (perceived) reality and rave against the damnable human ignorance that gives rise to it. But when I think about it, I'm not sure I know whether this emotional core (as opposed to rational core) is a good or a bad thing. After all, perhaps it is our unique combination of the emotional and the rational that makes us truly human. A purely rational, logical person would be an awfully boring friend. A whole society of such people would be, well, dead.

Now, as I process these ideas, I wonder if perhaps the development of emotional intelligence (wisdom?) is as important as that of rational intelligence--maybe even more so. Maybe that's the key--to stop pretending this emotional core doesn't exist, stop fighting tooth and nail to prove we're right about everything, and instead to engage our emotional core and work to make it smarter. I certainly think this is important for teachers; we clearly need both brains AND heart.

Albert Einstein said, "It has become appaulingly clear that our technology has outstripped our humanity."

Seth Bernard claims his mom said, "Feel! Feel, boy, feel! Make muscle in your head, and use it to fuel your heart..."