Rising to the Work

by Ashley

We've come through the busy stretch of the holidays, which actually holds a lot between work and home. At school, we held the community Thanksgiving dinner, which is a joint effort between the village and the school. It's done potlatch style, with families bringing sides to supplement the turkeys and ham that are sent out by the school district. We had a great showing, the highest attendance since we've been here, and it was good to see so many talking and laughing together. The students made some of the sides in Philip's Culinary Science class, and helped in posting flyers and inviting the community. A big part of our effort with our students is to teach and empower them to lead these events themselves. It's encouraging to see them take pride in what they have accomplished, and when they are eager to share it with others.

Our family Thanksgiving was another quiet one, as is the new rhythm since moving here. We were all together again, this Thanksgiving potentially being another last one together, since Emily is planning on going to the University of Alaska in Anchorage next year. We still struggle to estimate portion sizes, since for so long, our Thanksgivings included a fair amount of extended family. Even with my notes from last year, we had too much. Which is fine...I am the resident leftover eater in this family, and I'm always down for variations of turkey and mashed potatoes. But it really gets interesting in trying to decide what sides and desserts to make. When you have a lot of people, you can make your favorite, and rely on it getting eaten by several people. I am the only one in our crew who likes sweet potatoes, so now, when I make that as a side, I have to remember I'm just making it for me. My recipe that I've used for years serves no less than eight people. Needless to say, I ate sweet potatoes for a week. For desserts, I like to make pies. Philip really likes buttermilk, the kids like pumpkin, and I like pecan. Again, in Texas, I could make all three with no worries whatsoever. Here, we have to pick and choose. I made a pecan and a pumpkin pie, and it was still too much.

The quiet is still strange. Logically, I suppose you can't do the holidays a certain way for 30-something years, and then not expect a change of environment and pace to not feel strange. As I've said before, it's nice to be able to relax a lot more, to enjoy the slow pace of sitting and watching the parade in quiet, and not feel rushed to have food on the table for the masses by a set time. But the home we had in Texas was always open to friends and family, and as such, we got used to a certain volume of love and laughter that is simply missing here. Our crew of six still has plenty of both, but the decibels are definitely diminished. Since our move here, I've really focused on being fully present in the present, extracting what I can from our time here, knowing it won't be forever. Our life here, I believe, in many ways, is going to be unique from our future, as it certainly has been from our past. There will come a time once again, when we are surrounded by more friends and family than we are now. We won't always live in remoteness. So, I want to remember this time for what it is, rather than for what it is not.

The short stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas was speedy indeed, between wrapping up lessons, and engaging in Christmas extracurriculars. The K-5 class I teach has, as one of its subject areas, Native Language lessons. We meet with a Native teacher twice a week, learning the language of Denaake, one of the dialects for the Athabascan people. As a part of that class, every year, we participate in the Christmas Showcase, where each class across the river school district, performs a piece to be shown virtually to all the schools, and the school board at district headquarters in Fairbanks. We only get about 2 1/2 weeks to work on our selection, and every year, the class gets really nervous about their performance. This year, each class was given fourteen options of Christmas carols from which to choose. As always, I had the class look over the options, and then vote on their selection. Unanimously, the class decided they wanted to recite the Lord's Prayer, as it is written in Denaake. I was surprised since a lot of the carols are more fun in nature. Yet it seemed really important to them to learn the prayer. Perhaps it's because they hear this prayer when the elders are present for important events, and the oldest elder usually leads everyone in prayer. It was the only selection to transcend Christmas time, and interestingly enough, our class was the only one to select it for the showcase.

Knowing the importance of the selection, and knowing that we would be reciting it for Native elders that reside on the school board, we wanted to make sure we did the prayer well. We practiced diligently with our language teacher, and we practiced every day, on our own. I wrote the words on sentence strips, and posted them on the board. We practiced pronunciations, cadence and rhythm, and staying together as a group. We rehearsed how we would start, and how we would finish. I smiled to myself, as memories of my mom and her choir directing guided me in every rehearsal, something I never thought I'd be doing.

By the time the day of the performance rolled around, the kids felt ready to do it well. I had told them multiple times that the key to reducing anxiety is to be well prepared. And they were. When our turn came, and they announced our class, the kids were all lined up in a row, sitting in their chairs, facing our tv screen. I was off screen, by the board, ready to guide them with the words we had posted. I gave the signal to stand (thank you to all my former choir directors!), and they did in unison. They followed my pointer, keeping their nervous tendency to rush in check, and they spoke loud and clear. We reached the end, said the final, "Amen," and then I gave the signal to sit, which again, they did in unison. They were looking to me for a sign as to how they did, which of course, I'm giving my melodramatic high fives and thumbs up from my corner, still off screen. I was so proud of them. But then, before moving on the next school in the showcase schedule, one of the elders on the board stopped the speaker, and said that she was so impressed with how well our class performed the prayer, and how serious they seemed to take it. She said she had heard many recitations of the Lord's Prayer, and that was once of the best. Now of course, she might have just said that to be kind to my students, but after that compliment, their faces were beaming. Once we signed off towards the end of the showcase, and headed to the gym for the beginning of our lunch time, all the nervous energy just came pouring out of them. They were giddy and silly. They kept saying,

"Mrs. Crosby, we cooked it!"

"Did you see how we all stood up and sat down together?"

"We got the hard part right!"

"We stayed together!"

"We weren't crazy and out of control like some of those other classes!"

And so on. I just smiled, and kept reminding them that they had put in the work, and it had paid off. I reminded them to savor this moment and learn the lesson, and to remember what it feels like to be proud of a worthy accomplishment. For me, it was of course, a very fine moment indeed, one for which every teacher hopes.

After that, a couple of Christmas movie showings, a joint Christmas bazaar between the tribe and the school, and a Grinchy pancake breakfast brought us to the holiday break. The last day of school was a lot of fun. We served pancakes, made by Philip, and provided syrup, marshmallows and sprinkles to top them off. (Sugar 'em up and send 'em home!) We went back to the class to give out stockings, and pack up. Philip dressed up as the Grinch, and surprised my class, giving them both a good scare and a good laugh. We then showed the Grinch movie in the gym, along with hot chocolate. Once the movie was over, it was time to go home. Considering the day was all fun and no work, we were surprised as many students came as they did. Yet it was still as though they'd rather be there than somewhere else. I had several students say they didn't want to be away for the next two weeks. A notable sentiment that highlights the importance of the stability of what we provide at the school.

But that stability comes at an exhaustive price, and our family was more than ready for the break. And it's been a good break, full of movies, games, puzzling, hot chocolate, a ridiculous amount of sweets, and hours that are skewed toward late nights and late mornings. Of course, it all runs together when you only have four hours of daylight, anyway. All of our break was submerged in a cold snap, where our highs never got warmer than -25, and our lows stayed near the -45 range. Our kids experienced the tinges of frostbite for the first time, learning that touching bare metal in those temps will burn your skin, and walking daily for 10-15 minutes without a face covering will affect the skin on your face. We experienced frozen pipes, and all of our windows look like a scene from The Day After Tomorrow. The cold has severely limited our activities outside, which of course, means we've had to sit inside in warm clothes, with a fire going daily. It's been so terrible... :)

On Christmas Eve, the kids did their sibling gift exchange, which is always junk food favorites. Being here, we have to order from Fred Meyer in Fairbanks, and then have bush shipping send it out. Here lately, ordering food has been interesting, with many items being out of stock. If we're lucky, we get a personal shopper who understands when to omit or how to best substitute those items. Most of the time though, we get some wonky alternatives (almond milk egg nog instead of regular milk egg nog.) The kids' gifts to each other were no exception. We've learned to roll with it, and they do well at adjusting. Amazon and the postal service are no different, and this holiday season, shipping issues were at their worst. We've learned to order gifts two months early, to ensure their timely arrival, and even that didn't pan out this year. So, we'll continue our bush tradition of the rolling Christmas and birthdays, waiting for future surprises to come trickling in.

Speaking of birthdays, Jadyn turned 20 this year. 20! I keep thinking about that with an exclamation point. She joked about how she was ready to drop the -teen from her age, and continue moving out of the not-a-child-yet-not-an-adult phase. We celebrated with her dinner request of wild duck and mashed potatoes, embellished with steak and grouse. Her dessert choice was fondue, so Philip made a chocolate fondue, Avery made homemade marshmallows, Emily made rice krispy treats, and Josh cut up strawberries. We played a lot of Nertz as well, a familiar game to Philip and I, but shamefully unfamiliar to our kids. Feelings are mixed on the game, with a lot of frustration that mounts when Philip goes out in 30 seconds. :) It was a fun birthday, and a fun conclusion to New Year's, which was again severely diminished by the cold and lack of people. We toasted in the New Year on Texas time with Joe & Brenda, which really felt like the only toast we needed. In Alaska time, we had fireworks right next door to us, guns shooting into the night all around the village, a small display of the Northern Lights, and a really impressive moon halo, but staying inside was more appealing. The kids and I ended up staying up until 3:30 in the morning, just talking about life and sharing inner thoughts about things. A valuable way to ride out the embers of a year gone by and to appreciate the gift of time.

---

I am the family historian, the one most involved in writing down memories and events of our family, logged in various ways like photo albums, wall calendars, travel journals, and in the last two years, this blog. But seventeen years ago, my mom gave me a 20-year Christmas book that allows you to record your family Christmases, with information about holiday visitors, things you want to remember, special gifts, and what transpires Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. You can paste in favorite cards or family photographs as well. I have diligently filled it out every year since she gave it to me. Every year, I read over past Christmases, and it's neat to remember all the people that have come into our lives over the years, many of whom have moved on elsewhere. It's also fun reading the evolution of traditions that slowly formed over the past two decades. It struck me this Christmas, that I only have three Christmases left to record in this book; an amount that takes us up to Avery's junior year in high school. I've already decided to photocopy a set of pages to insert so that the book will finish cleanly with the graduation of our last child. But it was rather a poignant, multi-layered realization that the final chapter of this book will also be the final chapter of our kids being kids. By the time I log that last entry, Jadyn will be 24, Ems 22, Josh 21, Ave a senior. There's no telling where each of them will be at that point, or where Philip and I will be for that matter, and of course, there's always the notion that no tomorrow is guaranteed. But this book has become a tangible account of what has been the highlight of my life...the most notable part of my existence. This book has been alongside us through the journey of marriage and parenthood. It has recorded the arrival and loss of loved ones. It has preserved the moments that were so important, and has shown the growth of those whose names it holds. I haven't decided if I'll start a new book once this one is closed. Perhaps I will, since I love to write about our moments. And if Philip and I are lucky enough to become grandparents, well of course, I'll want to log those moments somehow. But right now, in this chapter, the eminent closing of this Christmas book is bittersweet. A reminder to cherish the present, because it's just about the only guarantee we have. And it is fleeting.

Which brings me now to the weekend-eve before going back to the grind. I don't think I am unique in feeling an extra-strength dose of lethargy in returning to work after an extended break. In fact, it is during these stretches that I feel most anxious to move on, to something a bit easier. To, "get where we're going," as Philip and I have come to say about whatever lies ahead after our time here. However, over the break, I started reading Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, and there is an entry that has helped frame what is necessary to continue that which I believe to be important work. Here is an excerpt:

"In the morning when you rise unwillingly, let this thought be present-- I am rising to the work of a human being. Why then am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for which I was brought into the world?"

My default is to be a creature of comfort. I have gravitated to the path of least resistance for much of my life, for many reasons. However, choosing to live in that state always brought with it an immense dissatisfaction with myself and my place in the world. As appealing as it is to sit around the house in my blanket-hoodie (a Christmas gift this year which has surprisingly become my favorite), and read books by the fire, is that the purpose for which I was made? Even if one doesn't believe in God, the concept of one's purpose still remains. My best moments, where I've felt most alive and useful, are always outside of that comfort zone, but it takes conscientious choice to pull myself away from ease, and embrace difficulty.

So, it is with this mindset that I embrace going back on Monday, and rise to the work. The work of instilling a sense of worth and hope for an upcoming generation of people who are surrounded by examples of despair and hopelessness. To do that, I too, must not go gentle into that good night.

I wish many blessings for you all, in the start of a new year, and that your eyes will be open to perceive them, no matter how small they may be.

(Photos have been updated in our AKPhlash album.)