Seal Hunting

On a nice sunny day, I was asked to go for a “boat ride.” With excitement, I went home after a day of teaching and quickly threw on my coat, borrowed Theresa’s boots, and grabbed a couple granola bars and some money. I was going with our school secretary’s family—her son is in my class. Although I hadn’t asked where we were going, I figured we might be traveling up the river to Emmonak, a village about 9 miles away (which has a better store with groceries and a restaurant).

As I walked to their house and followed them to the boat, I still had no idea what to expect. The day was beautiful, laughter and giddiness was in the air, and we waited anxiously as the boat maneuvered through the water to get ready to head out to the mouth of the Yukon. As we waited to get the boat filled up on gas, their daughter Dylani and I played with some stray rocks that were on the plywood floor of their motorboat.

Before I knew it we were headed toward the Bering Sea and Jadon was grabbing his spear. I finally realized the plan was to go hunt for Mukluk! I was impressed to see the skill of my 4^th grader as he held a spear to catch a Mukluk. After the seal popped his head above the surface of the water a few times and Jadon had no luck, some people announced Mukluk in a different area on the VHF (which reminds me of a CB radio, but runs off of different wavelengths.)

While the boat closed in on a group of other boats, I started to learn how the Yupik culture views seal hunting. It is not a competitive sport, but they work together as a team to surround and catch the Mukluk. The females and kids also have their own spears and try their hand at catching Mukluk. If one person spots Mukluk, they all start their motors and speed towards it. The closest person throws their spears. Everyone waits patiently and is good humored while the exciting hunt continues.

We hunted until a few people speared the Mukluk we had been chasing for hours. They putted in close so I could see them pulling the bleeding seal up on the boat. I forget the order of how they share the seal, but they split up who gets the skin, the meat, etc. After saying goodbye and gliding off into the sunset amidst the glassy Bering Sea, we zipped around enjoying the last bit of sunshine for the day and looking for more Mukluk.

On our way into the Alakanuk Slough, we spotted a Mukluk and a Nayiq. My students chose group names at the start of the year and the groups were the Mukluks, the Nayiqs, and the dolphins. The day I went seal hunting, I was able to connect the Yupik name to the actual seal. Mukluks have wider necks and are larger seals. Nayiqs are smaller with thinner necks and more pointed noses. It’s strange to not really know the English names for the seals. The Mukluks are called bearded seals, but I forget the other English names for seals. And I can’t spell the third common type of seal around here.

One memorable moment was Dylani throwing her spear at a seal in the slough. Her spear went the distance, but was a little ways to the left of where the seal had popped up. Her family laughed about it a little bit and we retrieved the spear. After about 6 hours of being around this smiley giggly 8-year old, I was surprised to see her mood change so drastically. The line of her mouth was as flat as her once-sparkling eyes. I quietly said to her, “Hey, that wasn’t too bad.” Her little mouth spurted, “Yes it was!” I let her know that she did a really good job. And if we never made mistakes, how could we learn to get better? Her reply made me think. “Ya, but I’ve been throwing a spear since I was 3!” I couldn't imagine how Dylani felt and it revealed a new perspective of growing up as a girl in Alakanuk. At 8 years old, I didn't even know seal hunting existed!
My day out on the water with the Ayunerak family was the most exciting day since I moved. It was a great feeling to be out with the community rather than cooped up in teacher housing. I was honored to be invited on such a fun hunting trip!

Saturday Tradition= Splurge and Gorge

Every Saturday, the gang goes to the one and only Alakanuk Restaurant. On the menu, includes two options--a burger or pizza? Both are splendidly delicious. However, the most delightful part is not having to wash our dishes! (Dishwashers do not exist in the village...) Here are some pictures from the first time we started going about a month ago.

Clark, Becca, and Theresa with their burgers. And below we are served a nice cold can of pop.

Clark's "After-burger" look.

We walked to the end of town for the first time. There were lots of rundown houses and a spot of gold at the end of town. (Here is, again, part of the Yukon)
We picked the route along the river to head back to our house. The building sticking up over the short trees is the school in the distance. Our housing is to the left of that.
I believe, this is one of three remaining original long houses. People still use them to live or store equipment. A little ways down the river path, we saw another one.

Flying to Hooper Bay for Inservice

The front of the Hooper Bay school. We got to take advantage of some of the beauty of the architecture (a 2-story open cafeteria with a view of the ocean), technology, and the gym to play some volleyball. We got in about 16 hours of teacher inservice and 10 hours of volleyball.

A few kids playing with a ball on the boardwalk next to the store.
Clark oversees Josh's adventurous leap on the way back our trip to their store. We figured we needed to take advantage of the fresh produce (or Red Bull and candy, in my case).
Evergreen trees, Pacific Northwest, how I love and miss Washington!
Becca pointing to where she and her husband are from on the library's rug.
The swampy land can have its beauty.

Nothing like a good sunrise from the deck of the school.

A Sunny Day

From sun shining on fall leaves to snow floating in the air, a month has come and gone. Alakanuk slowly reveals itself as I continue to receive opportunities to get to know more people, as people invite me into their lives, and as I continue to build relationships with my kids, their parents, and others. My daily struggle to find words to describe all of my experiences begins with my incessant worry is that my descriptions will be lackluster. However, I must try!

One day a few weeks ago, the warm sun called one of the other teachers and I out to go walking to the store. I didn't realize I'd regret my decision to not bring my camera so profusely on a shopping trip. The store wasn't my main area of interest. It was the path to get there.
There are three stores in Alakanuk. The Native Store, the Annex (I believe it's all of the Native Store's overflow or outdated items), and Dave's Store are our only options for food. Since the village runs close to the river along one gravel road, each end of the road is called "downtown" and "the other end of town."

I personally enjoy walking the trail that goes off the gravel road, through the trees, past a pond, past some fish-drying racks, over a log or two, and through a gravel parking lot. The sunlight cast off beautifully clear reflections from the pond's calm surface. As we walked within' eyesight of the majestic Yukon River, I had to pause a few times for what I called, "Visual Soak-olization" and what others may refer to as "an excuse for Miss Out-of-Shape to refill her fat lungs." But, nonetheless, that beauty needed to be captured in the camera I didn't have with me. I had to try mentally store the scenery.

Here are some pictures that I had taken from the trail on a different trip to the store.

Now, that leg of the trip is just to connect back to the gravel road next to the T.C. (Tribal Council), Annex, and Catholic Church. Then, you walk down the gravel road, past the tank with graffiti, past the muddy child playing on the road with rocks (which, by the way, the rocks are closer to boulders than gravel and could easily sprain an ankle) at the end of her driveway, past a row of "new" housing, past the one restaurant, and finally you arrive at your destination-- Dave's Store.

I don't think I was limiting my products to healthy that day. My shopping bag consisted of Lucky Charms, Mountain Dew, the last bag of bagels in the store, and cream cheese. The price was... unreasonable. My friend got two heavy bags full of groceries which I cheerfully helped her carry. One comparison I can make between Alakanuk and Europe, is a backpack is usually required when grocery shopping. This way, you already have a shopping bag in case they don't have one. And, heavy items in plastic bags are not the most comfortable items to carry for a mile and a half.

The walk back to towards the teacher housing was proving that God is the most amazing artist. As the sun dipped lower and the colors got warmer, everything had a cheery glow. I hurried to grab my camera and head out for another quick walk. My goal was to find some water that would show some good reflections before the day was gone. I was excited for my little photography adventure. Even my roommates dog, Briar, was excited to come with me.

When the day is done, my mind is still whirling with tasks I need to accomplish with my teaching, plans I need to prepare, and phone calls I need to make. My job is really never done. But, that day while taking pictures, I realized I had been running so fast, and I remembered I could take a few seconds to pause and enjoy life.

Many have told me that moving my life and starting my career in a new place at the same time is not going to be easy. So I can't expect to clean out every cupboard, or master a brilliant plan to have my class meet AYP goals, or build a solid relationship with each and every student in one day. Therefore, in my biggest efforts to be the best teacher I can be, I tried to push out my thoughts of school and focus on finding some balance. Whether I take a few minutes to practice photography, or play a new guitar chord, or cook warm homemade bread, I have seen how letting go of some of the stress is actually beneficial. Balance is good. Productivity is more prevalent when we have balance in our lives. Plus, who couldn't agree that life is more fun when we love, laugh, and learn?

A few pictures to encapsulate the airport that one sunny day...

A Peek with Pictures

Basketball is quite a huge part of the students' lives. They will play 20 on 20 and be perfectly happy. This is the most loved basketball hoop on the deck of the school, where kids go out for Outdoor PE/ Recess.
Their makeshift foul line. When I first was shooting to decide teams, they told me to stand at the foul line and just pointed to the floor. I had wondered why they happened to only shove pop cans in one row while walking across the deck before school started.
Briar's footprint at the dock. Some of this mud is like quicksand, so walking across it can lead to a surprise when your foot sinks in deep.

Briar came into my room one day after I had vacuumed, wandered around and left. When I saw him come in later, I realized I hadn't thrown my rug back down. Once I did that he made one neat little circle and with a little sigh of relief plopped down on my rug. I'm not used to dogs in the house, but a well-mannered dog like Briar allows me to enjoy the comfort of a dog checking up on me when I'm stuck lesson planning on my bed.

One student brought me Aqutaq to try. Eskimo Ice Cream: Lard, Fish, Sugar, Berries, and Milk.
Josh "caught" a moose and we helped cut and clean it the next day.

One day as I was worn out from everything else, had just sat down to eat my mashed potatoes and the moose we had just cut and cleaned the day before, Theresa came running in to say there was free fish at the river. We went down there to where the Fish and Wildlife Service had left nice salmon from their nets in the bright blue bin next to the river. Theresa is a great teacher, so I was able to learn how to clean a fish! Cooked for dinner the next night, the salmon beats the flavor of salmon from the Columbia River.

Saturday Night- Bonfire and a Dip in the Yukon

It has been exactly two weeks since I last wrote about my adventure here. I had an eventful weekend after the Friday Welcoming Eskimo Dance. Then, the next school week was squished with lots of planning, challenges with adjusting to the cultural differences (especially in the classroom), upset stomachs from rushed schedules and new diets, an overload of meetings, our houseguest and Alaskan New Teacher Mentor Mary, less and less sleep, and meanwhile still trying to clean out and organize my classroom. It was a hard week. Then, came sickness the next week.

I’ll start back where I had left off. The Saturday after the Eskimo Dance, we all slept in. Most of us went straight to our classrooms. We were trying to use the first two days of school and take all the information we learned from our students temperaments and our informal assessments (our district or school doesn’t have any set formative assessments and their system for figuring out standards is especially difficult for us “newbies”) to start planning our first full week of instruction.

Besides the glorious late start from catching up on some sleep, Saturday was to be productive. However, when I got to the classroom and set up my laptop, my day was disrupted by a little wave of news. My mom emailed me that someone I knew had died. A very charismatic father of two kids (they were at a youth-camp that I would have been a counselor at that weekend) was on his way home when a car that swerved and killed him drove into his lane. He was my sister-in-law’s uncle and a very loud and loving part of many family functions. After finding this out, I wished I could be there at the funeral. I imagined how the atmosphere of the youth-camp might affect the popular Skit Night while each cabin performed their humorous play. I decided to read a letter I had picked up from the Post Office, but quickly learned about my dad flying to comfort his brother during mysterious health issues. How had so much happened in the Lower 48 in just a few days? My mind started racing with the silly “what ifs?” What if my father dies in a sudden car crash? What if my friends or family need me through emotional upset? What if I get hurt in an accident and I can’t get flown to a hospital that is hundreds of miles away in time? Why do I feel so far away.

The clock ticked on in my classroom. My first tears shed in Alakanuk cleared up so I could see a flicker of sun peek into my windows. The long swamp grass leaned heavily over the muddy boardwalks that run in front of the worn and weathered teacher trailers in the “ghetto side of teacher housing.” I realized I hadn’t gotten much accomplished as my tailbone started to hurt despite the cushioned chair. The clock kept ticking. The village ran on “brown power” which means the frequency changes frequently from 52 cycles per minute to 64 in any given moment. I had recently learned that any clock plugged-in would have to be reset constantly to have a semi-close-to-accurate time. The clock in my class hung by the battery on its back. I didn’t know how far the hands had moved as I sat there lost in my selfish thoughts.

Jumping up from my desk, I forced myself to move out of my negative dump and explore other teachers’ progress in their classrooms. By chopping most off my to-do list that day, I worked my way through a few tasks and called it a day. I had planned for a long time to watch Skit Night through Skype, an online video conferencing call. I felt elated to be able to watch the people I know back home living their every day lives, cracking their familiar jokes, and displaying their talents while performing some good skits. However, I wasn’t able to watch the rest of it because internet connection wasn’t great. The homesickness feeling—which I feel guilty to say I almost never have (because I am spoiled with the opportunity to travel and go back home occasionally)— was beginning to set into an uncomfortable place inside of me. I had to stop reflecting on the past and focus on the future (Except, wait. Both “past” and “future” make me homesick…). The quote, “Just one day at a time..” came to mind and I decided to focus on life in Alakanuk.

The teachers had already headed toward the dock for a Burn-your-moving-boxes-Bonfire. A twenty-minute walk doesn’t seem scary at 9:45 pm because it is completely daylight. However, I did have to walk by myself since everyone had left already. This village may be “dry,” but illegally there is a lot of moonshining and drinking occurring at any given moment—especially a Saturday night. There are no things such as drivers’ licenses up here, plus four-wheelers and dirt bikes are just more fun when you’re drunk (sarcastically, it is the ideal situation.) I knew that I had to be careful to avoid the drunks on the way.

With one hand on my cell phone and the other hand gripping a set of keys, I trudged through the mud to the bonfire. I had my guitar strapped to my back and my blonde hair tucked into a hat. It wasn’t 15 steps after I hopped the sewer pipe and walked up the ditch to the gravel road when two men on a four-wheeler slowed down to take a little look-see. One older man with dark wrinkled skin whistled his best through no teeth and a younger man just stared as they rolled by. I hadn’t gone anywhere without companionship and I started to wonder about walking alone. Luckily, I didn’t meet anyone else except for small kids digging with sticks in the mud or siblings crammed on a four-wheeler out on a little joyride through the dump.As soon as I got to the bonfire (which was now only smoke leftover from the insta-heat boxes), the conversations and warmth I felt from my newfound friends overcame any feelings of sadness I had been letting myself fall into. The damp logs held people I had yet to get to know. Although I took a leap and landed in the middle of nowhere— so did these other teachers. My roommate and I have similar values and we appreciate living with one another. The other teachers are adventurous, good natured, clever, fun, talented, and they share a passion for education.

Obviously there are a couple of us who are kooky and unique, but what group doesn’t have some characteristics to spice up life? It’s like a good warm burrito with some interesante picante sprinkled on top. When I prayed about life up here as a teacher, I prayed about a good staff, students, and community. But, the support system I feel from our diverse group and our unique qualities is not something I could have ever orchestrated.

At the end of the night, I can honestly say that I probably had just as much fun as I would have had in Washington. It even involved a dip in the Yukon. I had told myself in Anchorage that I wanted to swim in the Yukon River before it froze over. If splashing in refreshingly cold water in rubber boots isn’t fun, I’m not sure what is. Running an eighth mile into the incredibly shallow water until I was knee high and back-flopping in felt pretty good. With cold dripping wet hair, the sound of my feet squishing water in my boots, and a smile on my face, I walked out of the water—toward my new friends and home.
Little did I know how important those friends would prove to be in the next couple weeks.
More to be written! My hardest task when writing this is to try to find words to describe the culture shock. The differences are-- as someone else said tonight, "They wouldn't understand. They probably wouldn't even believe you!" As soon as my brain is able to process it more, I'll start writing about life in the village, the people, the way of life, village English, the Yup'ik language, the ideals, the amount of support from the community, the politics, the law (or lack of), and how it all plays into teaching my 4/5th grade classroom in Alakanuk, AK.

Eskimo Dance

Friday night, we were invited to go to the Tribal Council for an Eskimo Dance to honor us new teachers. We piled in the van at 6:45 PM and drove through the pot holes to a tattered grange-hall type building. Not a soul was in sight and a padlock was on the front entrance. While we were waiting, we discussed how most of the buildings in the village are raised since many destructive floods had forced the village to relocate to the other side of town. This building had an interesting water-level sign I hadn't noticed while walking past it to Dave's Store. It showed the recommended building elevation, as well as markings of other local buildings. I was glad to see they had built the school two feet above the suggested level.
Finally, four-wheelers started puttering in and after awhile someone came with a key to let us in the T.C. Inside the large rectangular room, there were shallow bleachers on the left side and many bright blue circles hanging on the wall on the right side. There was a row of folding chairs around the perimeter. Our large staff group shuffled onto the cold metal bleachers. I took my muddy boots off to replace them with my Sketchers.
After a longer time, I asked a returning teacher how long it might be until they start-- hadn't they said 7? She replied that they were on local time. This meant it could be another hour before it started. However, to waste some time, I went with my principal, another teacher, and took one of my students to the local Annex store across the way.
My Sketchers suctioned to the thin mud with each step, as the routine of changing back and forth between mud boots and shoes is becoming more familiar. Luckily, I was able to avoid too much mud and walked around the plywood floor as others shopped for snacks. I can't justify spending lots of money, but I was in desperation for a caffeine fix after two days of teaching. So, at that point a $2.59 Coca-Cola seemed like an okay deal. However, my roommate's pop cost four dollars and some odd change for an expired Diet Pepsi.
When we got back, a row of men were sitting on the chairs opposite the bleachers, holding the blue circles. When the dance began, an elder started singing a Yup'ik simple melody. The others joined in. For the next few hours, all men beat on the drums and sung. Women and children wearing Guspaqs, bounced their knees and made motions with their hands as if they were berry-picking, mixing Aqutaq (Native ice cream made from berries, fat, and fish), and hunting. It was a night of serious, and even some silly, dancing. They even convinced me to go out there to fumble through the unfamiliar dance moves with, what I felt like, naked hands. All the ladies and girls had gloves or fans covering their hands. When they invited us new teachers to try dancing, I had to remember that they couldn't have expected us to bring the proper attire. Knee bobbing and air-berry picking was more difficult that it looked from the bleachers!
Afterward, the atmosphere of the room had changed from an ordinary cold rectangular room to an excited buzzing room full of hugs and handshakes as we left. It was after 11 P.M. and I was exhausted from two very draining days and excited from the prospect of sleeping in the next day. Many of us felt like walking home next to the river, in the chilly breeze, with the sun’s light still shining bright.