Going Down the Rabbit Hole

When I began writing this post, we had just gotten home from school. On a Saturday. That's right; make-up days can be scheduled on the weekend for village schools. It felt strange, as though we had skipped right over the weekend, and circled back to Monday. What was really strange though, was how many students showed up. All this week, when the principal reminded everyone about the make-up day, there was always a rather antagonistic response. Many students were adamant they were not going to attend. Additionally, NONE of the teachers were actually going to be in the classroom beyond the first hour, because we all had a new teacher/principal training scheduled for the day as well. Yes, all of the core teaching staff is new here, as well as our principal. Only our Special Education teacher has been here for the last 3 or 4 years. Crazy. It's a long story as to how these events were simultaneously planned on top of each other, but suffice it to say, our students made it clear that it really wasn't worth coming to school on a Saturday if we weren't even going to be with them. (By the way, we considered that a pretty big positive.)

And yet, all of my students were at school today, and all but one of Philip's were also. I couldn't believe it. And they were so happy to be there. I was actually rather bummed to be sitting in a meeting, instead of joining in the fun learning activities I had planned for the day. I told my aide that my plans were for her to use as needed, but that the day could go in whatever learning direction the students took it. That apparently included only three of my activities, and then progressed to acquiring a rabbit for a class pet, and a made-up gym game where the teams ended up being Russia vs. Ukraine. That's one thing I can say that I love about teaching: you never know where the day may go. It also was not lost on me that the very first year I taught, I inherited a rabbit for our class pet, from a student whose parents had decided the rabbit was a commitment they no longer wanted. And now, here I am in my first village teaching experience, and the rabbit has returned. I'm sure there is some poetic meaning to this. After all, in many cultures, rabbits symbolize new life or new beginnings. Fitting. A bonus about this rabbit is that she belongs to my most troubled student. When we were discussing the species of hare that live in Alaska this week, (one of our tangents) he brought up his pet rabbit. I could tell how much she meant to him, based on how fondly he spoke of her. Then he asked if she could be our class pet. When I asked how his parents would feel about that, he said, "Well, my dad's gonna shoot her soon, and I'd rather her live here."

So that settled it. We now have a class pet rabbit, and her name is Juniper.

Speaking of my class, there have definitely been some observable wins this past week. I've noticed a quicker response to my redirections, without the usual backtalk. More students are calling me by my name, instead of the usual "Teacher." I've also heard them using my phrases with each other more often throughout the day. Phrases like, "As long as you're trying your best, that's all that matters." And, "Why are you speaking to so-and-so that way? They don't speak to you like that." The fact that thinking beyond themselves is starting to happen more often is incredibly encouraging. I've also made notable gains with my toughest student, the aforementioned rabbit owner. I've gotten him to smile and laugh. He's asking me questions in class, and contributing to classroom discussions. I can get him to complete work 2-3 days out of 5 now, compared to his previous 0 out of 5 day rate. The wizened educator in me is mindful of the fact that there will still be setbacks and frustrating days. But the fact that we're seeing these gains, after only a month, is incredibly promising.

Philip and I also started a joint morning stretch time with our two classes, where every day, about mid-morning, we take a break, head to the gym, and engage with the kids in various yoga-like stretches and strength conditioning. At first, we had some resistance. But over time, we have almost all of the kids involved now, trying to improve the length of time they can hold a plank, or increasing the number of pushups and situps they can do. (I've constantly been impressed with the older native aides who can outlast me on just about all of it!) I really did have my head wrapped around not expecting notable progress until well after December. I believe the key, besides consistency, has been through our informal conversations. We've been able to get them talking about things that matter to them, teaching us about their life and knowledge, all while subversively tying it into concepts we're learning about.

It's safe to say I'm pretty fond of them already, and I'm hoping they can figure out how to navigate the tough hands they've been dealt.

Which brings me to my next reflection about education; don't get lost in the,"Keeping up with the Joneses" trend in education. I've mentioned before how there is a disconnect between the well-meaning administration who purchase colorful curriculum, and the actual educational needs of students. But it's easy, as a lowly teacher, to get sucked in to hours of planning and stressing about what you're putting in your lesson plan blocks, that have to be approved by your principal. It's easy to feel like you have to keep up with using all the resources that the district is saying you should be using on a regular basis.

Mathematically, if you mapped out all the programs and curriculum that are on the table, it's impossible to utilize them the way you've been instructed to. This week, Philip gave me a gentle, yet direct, check that if I continued working the long hours that I have been, I would come to regret this chapter of our life. I was stressing again about bureaucratic expectations, at the expense of authentic teaching and spending time with our family. My old negative tendencies from my teaching days of yore. So, I took a step back, and took a proverbial deep breath. And I reflected on another of Philip's comments, that my best teaching has always been in the unstructured moments, when a real-life opportunity presents a teachable moment. Which is pretty much all the time. And in taking that step back, I realized that all the people pushing these resources, most of which are online programs, are peddlers of the wares that have been enthusiastically sold to them. And because other states or districts are on the bandwagon, we must be too! Everyone is so zoned in to the specifics of their job, and the seduction of packaged learning, with all the test practice and assessments built in, they've lost sight of our purpose. And because money has been spent on these resources, all of which have their own promised academic results, there is now a push to validate the money that has been spent. Very little of any of that process authentically involves me or my students. If it were up to me, I'd eliminate 90% of the online programs, and spend more money on building school infrastructure that allows more hands-on learning. Give me a science lab. Or an interactive reset room, where students can go to calm down, yet remain academically engaged. Provide funds to allow students to improve their own community through project-based learning. Whether we like it or not, kids don't connect to a mouse and keyboard as well as they do to real, tangible manipulatives and real world problems. The same is true for me. For any learner. It still strikes me as odd that here in rural Alaska, where the landscape and culture provide ample opportunity for kinesthetic, tactile learning, the push is still for online. Did educational institutions learn nothing from COVID? Regardless, those who still have a passion for teaching and learning... we hold the line, and continue to fight the good fight.

Shifting to the homefront, things have been pretty good for our family. We're still slowly making this house a home, and it's amazing how much a few floor mats, rugs, and wall hangings make a space feel more cozy. This weekend, the living estate sale for the things in our Texas home happened. It was strange, seeing our former life on sale through updates on Facebook. Honestly, there were still a few pangs of sadness in seeing some of those former emotional ties. But it was a very conscious choice to leave behind the materialism that had accrued in our life, and try to embrace a less encumbered existence. Indeed, this whole experience really has been a reshaping of values and perceptions of what it means to truly live. We're still in the throes of acutely feeling the challenge of this readjustment, and we're being careful to extract the best of it.

And the snow! I have never seen so much snow in my life. No, we're not tired of it yet. Most of the time, when it falls, it's very powdery, and acts more like confetti. We've only had one round of "wet snow" where we could actually pack and build with it. But it has been rather amusing to watch the kids walk through the snow, without having a clue as to how deep it actually is. It's up to Avery's waist at this point! Walking to the post office after school is always a nice workout. It's also fun watching the river gradually narrow, as the frozen shoreline continues to expand.

Looking ahead, our first Thanksgiving away from home looks to be rather busy. Tomorrow, the tribe and the school are having a Thanksgiving potlatch in the gym, where everyone is bringing their dish, and school staff are providing games and entertainment for the kids. Then, on Tuesday, the district has provided turkeys for all the village schools, so the school lunch will be all Thanksgiving food. On Wednesday, the first day of our break, we're having the staff Thanksgiving meal, again, bringing our own contributions. So, after realizing we'll have had three Thanksgiving dinners within four days, we decided that for our family, on actual Thanksgiving day, we're going to celebrate the Chandler Bing way, and feast on grilled cheese sandwiches and Funyuns. (Josh is thrilled.) We're also going to watch the Macy's Day Parade and the National Dog Show, recorded of course, because with the time difference, I really don't want to get up at 6:00 a.m. It'll be the first time we haven't hosted Thanksgiving in about 15 years, and I'm not sure how it's going to feel on Thursday. I already miss our traditional table centerpiece, Tom the turkey, whom my mom sewed at some point in my early childhood. Thankfully, my brother and sister-in-law are taking good care of him, and allowing him to be a part of their Thanksgiving. But I'm going to miss the hustle and bustle in the kitchen, the family gathering over coffee, the full living room and dining room, and grazing on food all day, while people come and go. It's going to be a time to intensely focus on our family of six, and relax together, which I intend to do.

I'll end with a bit of fun cultural learning. This week, my students taught me a lot about setting snares, which materials to buy, and which ones not to waste money on ("That's the white man version!") I had also asked them if there was any area that our family shouldn't hunt on, in case it was sacred, or reserved only for members of the tribe. They immediately responded with, "No! You can hunt anywhere, because you're from here now. You're one of us." Again, proof that no matter where you go, if you first extend understanding and respect, most of the time, you will in turn, receive it. But in all this discussion, I inquired about whether or not any of them would be interested in selling their furs to us. That resulted in me buying a Pine Marten fur from one of my students. It's an interesting creature, and rather elusive. So it's always impressive to hear how my students are experts at trapping them.

So there you have it. We have now been here a month, and have learned much. I am now steward of a rabbit named Juniper. And I know it's still just the beginning.

Pictures from this week:

Brownie, our village guide.

He's finds us on our walks.

Going to work.

Outside my classroom window

Avery starting a snow fort

Before our big snowstorm...

...a few hours later.

Bunk bed wrestling wound.