A Whale of a Tale

During this afternoon's staff meeting, the secretary suddenly interrupted with, "Beluga are moving through. You can see them from the window." (Only in Alaska.) We crowded around the library windows to see. All we could see at that point was a blob-shaped set of waves that were different from the waves around it. A whole pod of whales was moving through (underwater). We watched for a minute or two before the principal called us back to order and resumed the (ever-lasting, boring) staff meeting. At the end of the day, one of the aides came into my room and said that they were bringing a beluga in and that was the reason for the large gathering of people on the beach. I decided to go down and check it out.

When I got to the beach, two beluga had been hauled in. One of the usual white color - over 15 feet of blubber and whale meat. The other was smaller and gray. The person I was standing next to, Lillie, said that it was a young whale - not full grown. That's when I noticed another white whale a little further down the beach. This is when I got my first taste of raw beluga. They were cutting off pieces of the tail (because it's so thin) and eating it, raw. One of the kids, Nicole, pulled part of a piece apart and gave it to me to try. Looking at it, I could see the different layers of skin and fat. I was hesitant, but gave it a try because I figured I could handle such a small piece (maybe a half-inch square). If it tasted bad, well, at least it was small. It was okay - I would eat it if I was starving. The skin started to dissolve and came off pretty quickly, but I sucked and gnawed on the fat part for the better part of the next hour.

Lillie pointed out another boat coming and said that it had 3. Whales, that is. This boat was towing 3 whales behind it. One of the hunters from another boat waded out, tied rope to the tails, and brought the other end of the rope back to the shore. All the men and just about all of the kids lined up like it was a big game of tug-of-rope. Working together, they pulled all 3 whales into shore.

At this point, there were 6 whales on the beach. I started talking to one of the ladies standing on the beach - Joanie. She said that they used to eat beluga the same way when she was a kid - straight from the tail. Apparently, there were killer whales that were chasing the beluga and that was why they came through as a large pod and close to shore. The killer whales were out deeper and the beluga were sticking close to shore to avoid them - bad for them, good for us. Joanie said she caught it on video - when the whales were coming through - and it was quite a sight.

I wandered down the beach to the other whale - the hunter who had brought it in were starting to carve it up. Interesting fact - one of the hunters works at the school and, when the beluga were spotted, had asked the principal if he could leave early. It paid off for him. They would slice off huge slabs of meat and fat (3 ft long slabs), rinse them in the water, and then put them in a tarp-lined trailer hooked up to their four-wheeler. It was 2 brothers and their dad and it was obvious who knew the most. Dad was very carefully directing the operation, but his sons were doing the actual cutting. He was imparting his knowledge in the best possible way - directing, but letting them do it by themselves. It was really interesting to watch.

Sorry for the lack of pictures - my camera is still AWOL. MIA. Supposedly somewhere in the mail between Portland and Elim?

Spelling

Kids make me laugh. I put magnetic letters up on one of the file cabinets in my classroom. One of my kids was "spelling" words before school started yesterday. He's one of my best students, academically. He was actually doing pretty well sounding words out, but generally just writing all the names he could come up with. All of a sudden, he said, "Teacher, look, Cheese-Its." Except that wasn't how he'd spelled it. He spelled it "Cheesich." He spelled it the way it sounded to him. That's one of my worst problems as a teacher - the natural speech impediments of six-year-olds. Those were the sounds he heard, not necessarily the sounds that were actually in the word. I had to laugh because he was so excited about what he'd come up with.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

We had a short staff meeting after school today in the high school math teacher's classroom. I wasn't in there for very long (25 minutes), but was seriously disturbed by the time I walked out. She had a poster on the wall describing to students what vertical lines were. Problem was, she spelled "vertical" like this: verticle. On a poster. On the wall for all to see. Duh. On the board she had the agenda listed for her first period class. That's all well and good, except she spelled "cancellation" like this: cancelation.

Does this bother anyone else?! If a TEACHER is going to post something on the wall or write something on the board, doesn't it make sense that the words should be spelled right?! It seriously bothers me that a TEACHER doesn't even care enough to make sure that things are spelled correctly in her classroom. I know that she's not an English teacher or a writing teacher, but that doesn't excuse laziness. She does teach one period of reading, and her horrible spelling skills set a horrible example. I may not be a high school math teacher, but if I do basic math facts on the board or post something on the wall having to do with basic math skills, I make sure those fact/skills/whatever are correct. Is it too much to ask her to do the same in making sure that basic words are spelled correctly?! I don't think so. As teachers, we set the example. We set the bar for the level at which we want our children to achieve. Judging from what I saw in her classroom today, that teacher hasn't set the standard very high. It's a shame.

A Dangerous Prayer

I had an epiphany-like thought at lunch today. I think I've found something more dangerous to pray for than praying for patience.

One of my students missed the first 6 days of school. His mom said that he had a sprained ankle, but didn't really like to use his crutches. He preferred to crawl around. After coming in twice to get the work he missed, she decided to send him to school today. His dad gave him a piggy-back ride to school. After he got his coat off and we got all his homework straightened out (some of it was done and some of it wasn't), it was time for him to head to breakfast. I laid down the law: In the classroom, he could crawl, hop, do whatever he needed to do. In the hall, he needed to use his crutches. It took us 10 minutes and not a few tears to get to the cafeteria. There is nothing between my classroom and the cafeteria, except for maybe a couple hundred feet of hallway. He kept complaining that his armpits hurt or his other leg was tired or whatever. The same thing happened in the middle of the morning when we went to the gym for recess. I finally ended up leaving him laboring down the hallway with the first-grade aide and the rest of the class went around him and down to the gym. After recess, he stalled out in the gym, pretty much refusing to go anywhere beyond the gym door. He and one other student had to go to a different reading class that was even farther down the hall than the gym. I left him there in the gym, took the rest of the class back to the room, and sent the other student in his reading class with both homework folders and instructions to "walk Victor down to your room." I don't want to know how long it took them to get there.

I came back from lunch to Victor laying on the floor in the hallway, hysterical, because he'd hit his leg on the wall or something. The principal was trying to get him to at least stop crying. After I got over my shock of seeing a principal actually doing something constructive, we got him calmed down and up off the floor. He didn't want to go to the gym with the rest of the students, so I let him stay in the room. He was building something with blocks and I was trying to get ready for the afternoon. I started to pray for patience with this kid, but stopped. He was already (unintentionally) pushing buttons and didn't need any help from God with that. So, my prayer became, "God, help me to love this kid." By the end of the day, I had become convinced that praying for help loving someone is a more dangerous prayer than praying for patience with someone.

Love (as defined by 1 Cor. 13) is a whole range of things, not the least of which is patient. So, really, praying for help in loving someone is praying for help in being patient, kind, not envious, non-boastful, humble, respectful (not rude), not easily angered or self-seeking towards that person. I'm pretty sure God threw every single one of those at me this afternoon in regards to Victor. Before my revelation at lunch today, I'd been praying every day for help loving this class. I think I'm going to continue with that prayer, but it almost makes me wonder what the rest of the week (year) is going to be like. . . .