Springing into Summer

by Ashley

Most of the time, before I write a new post, I look back on previous entries, to make sure I'm not being redundant. So much happens in between posts, that I don't remember what I've already shared. This morning, when engaging in that past review, I realized I posted on this day exactly, one year ago. And much of what I wanted to say has already, in fact, been written about. However, since a whole set of 365 days has happened since that post, there are quite a few tweaks to add to my words, that I'd like to share.

April is nearing its end, which out here means the snow and ice are finally beginning to thaw. There really isn't much of a spring here, since it's still too frozen for the trees and plants to blossom, or the insects to awaken. That's all reserved for summer. Our signs of spring are the slushy, unpredictable ground that still refreezes over night and becomes a slip n' slide every morning to work. The less than ideal amount of snow weight on our roof, making its way to the ground in waterfalls that are channeled by the contours of our tin roof. The return of 40-degree weather that feels balmy to our skin, and the warmth from the sun that feels foreign to our faces.

The emergence of all of these things drives the impatience for summer vacation, especially since we're halfway finished with end of year testing. This year was another decent student showing for testing, although our measure of success isn't measured in the actual scores they will receive. Our metrics have been more about how long students are willing to sit for the test, the amount of rapid guessing they do, or whether or not they actually use their scratch paper for the math test. By those standards, we are still seeing improvement. I won't talk much about my sentiments towards state testing, because I've already gone there. But I will say how each year, it remains painfully obvious just how out of touch the flow of curricular standards are with basic child development. We like to think our system is academically rigorous, and that we're holding our students to a high standard of achievement, but the impression of that only exists on paper. In reality, the measures taken to uphold an illusion of our success completely undermine any authentic progression in the educating of our students. Our measure of success should instead lie in what kind of human beings we are turning out of our doors once they graduate, and enter into society as adults. This has been another intense year of wearing many hats. More so even, than last year, thanks to understaffing issues. It has been an exhausting pace, and many times, we feel we are fighting all sides in the attempt to do what's best for students, to reach the potential of what could be happening in this community. We have the usual battles that are no different than any other school across the nation: parents and guardians who aren't interesting in being proactively involved in their students' education, a district who is more concerned with looking successful rather than authentically reflecting on their actual performance; fellow colleagues who are more concerned about getting paid to only do what they want to do (which isn't much), rather than doing what's necessary and maintaining an integrity to the position they chose to accept.

At this time last year, I wrote about the bittersweet notion of losing two of our staff, but gaining a hopeful candidate for our principal. That has largely held. We have a fairly good team dynamic out here, with a few exceptions, and the good news is our principal is returning for next year. Stability is key, so any we can provide in our school is good for the students. We also have a middle school/SPED teacher already hired for next year. Of course, at this point, she's an unknown factor, but she'll have a good dynamic to walk into, and we hope this hire will be good for our most high-maintenance group. We also have some creative ideas going for next year, in keeping our students grouped by learning cohorts that we've discovered work well together. These cohorts transcend traditional grade levels, something our small numbers allow us to do. It will also be our third year here next year, which many tell us is the magical year that students finally begin to trust and respond to you. I realize a lot of energy has already been put into next year, before we've even wrapped this one, but that's how my mind works. That's actually something I've been working on more lately, trying to be more present-minded, taking in the moment, rather than spending more time in the what-ifs and maybes of what lies ahead.

This leads me to what I really wanted to talk about in this post. Up to this point, I largely haven't divulged a lot of details on our actual day-to-day encounters at school, because I've been treading the line of student confidentiality and respect for the village, vs. an honest account of our experiences out here. And of course, to maintain that boundary, no names will be mentioned in my account. But, I thought it's high time to share a bit of the humor, and light-hearted moments I've endured in the classroom, because those moments have become a part of the essential extractions I reflect on, to combat the negatives. I've had to work really hard to see the wins when they happen, and to remember to log them right alongside the losses. As you know, this year, I inherited the K-5 class, which this year is comprised of two 1st graders, one 2nd grader, three 3rd graders, one 4th grader, and one 5th grader. Quite the spread, with a lot of individualized instruction that happens simultaneously. However, there is one student who takes most of my energy, every single day, especially since I seem to be the only adult who can actually work with him. Most every one else loses patience with him after only five minutes. For good reason too. In all my years of teaching, I don't think I've ever met another student who experiences such sensory overload, and gets so easily distracted, as he does. It is so hard for him to complete a task because his brain and body are akin to a pinball machine; constantly pinging from one idea to the next. All it takes is a split second of external environmental stimulation, and I've lost him. Even in quiet rooms, his mind is constantly racing through hundreds of thoughts that are completely detached from the work that's in front of him. To give you an idea, I'll recount some moments I had with him this week, that invoked such simultaneous feelings of frustration and humor, that many times, it's all I can do to take a deep breath and keep a straight face. I shall refer to him as, "Student A."

Working in our small group at my table during math block...

Student B: *Sniffs and looks up* "I smell popcorn!"

Student C: "Me too!"

Student B: "Is Mr. Hatfield making popcorn for us?!"

Me: "I don't think so."

Student A: *With a deadpan face and matter-of-fact tone* "I had popcorn last night, at my house. You're just smelling my farts."

During a timed fact-fluency math test, in which I had pulled him to my table to help him focus...

Me: "A, use the paper I gave you to move down each row as you finish. It will help you see which problems you are working on."

A: "Well, first I'm going to go over this way and do these problems. Then, I'm going to go down this way, and do these. And if I go this way, I can make an infinity sign pattern. So, the paper doesn't really work for that."

5 minutes later...sees a fly on the window...

A: "You see that fly on the window? He's going to be my pet. I shall name him Bob." (then chuckles to himself for quite some time, every now and then saying, "Oh, Bob...")

Another few minutes later...

A: "Mrs. Crosby, what if the whole world was blind? That would be something."

And later on...

Me: "A, you need to get busy, and do your facts as quickly as you can. You don't have time to draw on your paper."

A: "I know teacher, but this 3 just looked hungry, so I thought I'd give him some teeth."

Later still...(rest of the class has moved on to independent math skill work)...

A: (Has a weird look on his face, looking at me, as though he's about to sneeze. Then, all of a sudden, he lets out an extremely long and loud belch.) "Oh, excuse me. I thought that was going to be a cough!"

Going on minute 33...

A: (says to rest of class) "Can everyone please be quiet? I'm trying to focus!"

Rest of class stares at him in disbelief, since most have been working quietly on his behalf. Then...

A: "Why is it so quiet?"

He finally finished his 5-minute timed test 38 minutes later.

The frustrating part of working with him is that most of the time, he actually already knows the material. It's just so hard to get it out of him. His mind is thinking so much faster than his hand, that it just can't keep up. The number of times he'll say an answer out loud, and then write something completely different, is rather frequent. And I always smile when he looks at what he put down, in confusion, and says, "Now why did that come out?" This is a kid who's been told by many that he's stupid, he's "SPED", and that he needs a lot of help. I've come to see quite the opposite. I've spent most of this year praising his out-of-the-box thinking, his insightful questions, and explaining to him that his biggest challenge is the speed, depth and breadth of his mind. I've seen his confidence and emotional regulation rise quite a bit this year. Every day ends with him giving me nothing less than a bear hug. Unfortunately, that only transpires with me. If he works with anyone else, his mindset reverts right back to old habits, which are sadly reinforced by those who are attempting to work with him.

This is true for several of our students. Philip and I both have been told during our time here, that we are really good at what we do, that we have a way with our students, and that the culture of the school is astronomically better than it has been in a long time. I only relay this because every time I hear that, I'm truly perplexed. In my very humble opinion, we don't do anything astounding, and we don't use any magic strategies that only an uber-skilled educator could follow. All we do is see our students, and talk with them. That's it. We pick up on the hidden idiosyncrasies in our students' words and actions, and use them as pathways to connect to them. We're honest and real with them. There is no show. We treat them, as Dickens would say, as "fellow passengers to the grave." Our goal is not to pump these kids full of facts and figures that will boost scores. We're trying to develop people, who will be equipped to handle the unpredictable life phases that await them. Yes, there are times that I feel dampened that the numbers on paper don't align with national "averages." But then, I take stock of our room, and the dynamic that has been built, day by day, moment by moment, and I have to say, I'm proud of what they have accomplished this year. We've worked our butts off, and there is intangible progress to show for it. These students, and others across the nation, still have to go home at the end of each school day, and experience the very things that set that progress back. As their teachers, we have to remember that we only get them for a very brief moment in the lengthy spans of their lives, and as such, we must keep our expectations in perspective. In truth, the metrics our industry uses to measure student success really only reflects the self-discipline of the student. A child can know every answer, but if they don't value their education, or themselves, you'll never see that knowledge demonstrated to its true extent. That's why the magic lies in the face-to-face, for those who are paying close attention.

Next year, I will have the same set of students. I'm already looking forward to continuing our learning journey, as we've all come to call it. That's another nice thing about our small little system out here: next year, we get to pick up right where we left off.

As for our family...we are EAGERLY awaiting summer vacation. Jadyn is actually flying home this coming Saturday, and as always, we're looking forward to being reunited once again. She's finished her freshman year at UAS well, but she too is ready for a break. Our last day of school is May 22nd, with the teacher workday the day after that, so we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Our plans for summer include lots of fishing, hiking, berry picking, grouse hunting, bike riding, walking the shoreline, traveling the river, and sitting around the fire pit. It is long overdue. Our new adventure this year will include our recent purchase of a 4-wheeler. At long last, our boy will get to ride around on a red ATV, something he has daydreamed about since his 3rd birthday, when he had the toddler version in our backyard. We'll have to wait for it to come in on the barge, which of course can only happen once breakup on the Yukon happens. Last year, our ice flowed out on May 9th, and it took a couple of weeks for all the chunks up river to flow out to sea. So, we are eagerly watching the breakup map.

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Our Life in Photos

Nature Shots: I still can't seem to get enough of our scenery here. These are all from this month, so as you can see, we still have a lot of snow on the ground. Our sunrise is now around 6:00 a.m., and sunset is after 10:00 p.m., although the light doesn't diminish until after midnight. We get to see them both, and I'm not sure which I find more beautiful. The ravens also like to play outside our window whenever the wind is blowing well off the river. It's always the same trio.

Family Life: Philip has learned to sew, patching up pants with patches and stitches. The girls have kept busy running the Wildcat Cafe after school every Tuesday, with Emily being our resident barista. They do the baking, the brewing, and the serving, for community members who want to donate to our school. Business has been slow, but we're trying to make it a regular thing.

Our family hikes and outdoor activities are definitely warmer, as evidenced by the appearance of shorts in the kids' wardrobe.

A Flashback from Spring Break

Awhile back, during Spring Break, Kaltag hosted a cultural event known as Stick Dance. There are only two villages along the Yukon that host it: us, and the neighboring village of Nulato. They trade off years, so this year it was our turn. This is a week-long event that allows families to let go of family members who have passed away. Every day there is a potlatch, where everyone comes to listen to speeches and eat together. It can last up to 3 hours each day sometimes, depending on how much people have to say. The potlatch is then followed by singing of traditional Native songs, and dancing. The women wear their Met'segh hoolaanees, which are basically summer parkas or "Indian dresses." Men usually wear their native vests with various insignias, usually an animal, beaded on the back. The girls and I were able to borrow some dresses for the most of the week. Since these are handmade by family members, this year, we were fortunate enough to have some made for the us, by one of our friends who works at the school with us. She insisted that we have our own to wear, and she was kind enough to make sure that mine was not pink. We got to wear them on the last night before the culminating Stick Dance, since you're supposed to wear your new dress on that day (the picture of Ems and I in green, Ave in pink).

Our borrowed dresses

Dancing at the Hall

Our very own Met'segh hoolaanees!

I didn't take many photos or videos during the gatherings because this particular tradition is very sacred and private for the people here. But I will say this: I can see why everyone is exhausted once it's over. Families spend all week hosting a lot of extended family and friends in their homes, cooking enormous lots of food for both them and the potlatches. Everyone is also up every night until well past midnight. The last night, they do the most somber singing and dancing, as they sing the traditional 14 songs; songs that have been sung since the inception of this tradition over 100 years ago. One family member dresses as the member they are honoring. They dance with the last song to be sung, thus beginning the process of calling the spirits that are to be let go. Once the last song has been sung, the "stick" is brought in; a full size trunk of a tree, that is placed in the hall. A chant is said, over and over, as various animal skins, mostly wolf and wolverine, are hung in decoration. Families can add items to decorate the stick, as they dance and sing around it all night. The belief is that the stick is a connection to the spirit world, and it remains open for the spirits of their loved ones to move on. They chant and dance, in shifts, until the sun rises. Once that happens, the stick is taken down, and carried to the river. There, they break the stick, thus breaking the spiritual connection, and then throw it in the river.

As mentioned, the purpose of Stick Dance is to allow families to let go of their loved ones who have passed. Usually, it takes several years before a family is ready to let go, because it's not just an emotional decision. The family also has to provide gifts for all those who helped them during the grieving process. This means its actually rather expensive for the families who are honoring a family member. This year, there were twelve families honoring a loved one. They give their gifts away on the last day, and we were told to come, to be a part of it. We assumed there were specific people who would receive gifts from each family, but instead, it really was gifts for all. We sat there, in awe, while the chaotic scene unfolded before our eyes, looking like a flea market in reverse: families set up their "booth" areas with their gifts, and then proceeded to make rounds, handing out their wares to everyone sitting in the hall. We actually received several gifts, despite insisting that we shouldn't receive any. Gifts ranged anywhere from animal furs to cups and pens. Of course, I was very grateful to receive several batches of homemade jam...my favorite gift from here.

Well...I believe that hits the highlights. My next post will most likely be after school lets out. As I tell my students, you don't let off the gas for the last stretch of the race, and I don't intend to. As always, thanks for reading!