Alone Vs. Left Alone

I've recently been thinking about the distinction between being alone and being left alone.  They're two entirely different things, but they can accomplish the same end result.  I used to think that to recharge my "energy battery," I needed to be completely alone, but I don't think that's entirely true anymore.

There are times when I am done with people.  Too many people for too long.  In that case, just go away.  Solitude is needed.

However, sometimes I don't need or necessarily even want to be completely alone.  I just want to be left alone.  I acknowledge your presence, you acknowledge mine, and we both go about our business independently, even though we are occupying the same area.  I am aware that you are there, I am thankful that you are there, but I'm not necessarily going to further acknowledge or interact with you. 

I think an example is in order.  I am working this summer at the same summer camp that I have worked out in previous years.  At one point during program staff orientation, we were all up in the craft house.  I don't remember why we were all there, but we were and it turned into a game of "Help the Craft Director Make Sense of the Madness/Mess That Is Her Craft House," while also using some of her supplies for some purpose. (I don't exactly remember what.)  What I do know is that I ended up painting a sign for the Welcome Night Campfire.  I had someone else draw out the lettering, and then I staked out a corner and started painting it.  I was aware of the other staff members and their busy-ness, but they left me alone over in the corner with my painting job.  It allowed me to recharge for the afternoon while still being a part of the group. 

Reminiscing

As I was sitting on the deck eating my Subway sandwich this evening, I started thinking about my time in Alaska.  I think it started with thinking about my new job, and then devolved into a trip down memory lane.  It all centered around a single question: Why did I stay there so long?

It seems that there are two kinds of teachers in bush Alaska.  There are the "one-year wonders."  They stay for a year and do great, but can't leave fast enough at the end of it.  Then you have the "lifers."  These are the people who come to Alaska right out of college and retire/leave when they die.  I was neither. 

Confession: I didn't really have any friends in Alaska.  I had no support system in place.  Despite the fact that I lived and worked with the same people, I didn't really connect with them.  This made life very lonely.  Any rational person would have left after a year or two, yet I stayed six years.  Why? 

The people I worked with were very different from me.  Just about any time I spent with them was spent listening to their stories about sexual experiences/conquests, drinking, lamenting the fact that they couldn't legally drink in the village, which always led to reminiscing about things they did while drunk in Nome.  I'm not like that, nor do I wish to be.  It obviously wasn't about my co-workers, so again, why did I stay?

These are the reasons why:

• The kids were the cutest little Eskimos you ever did see.
• The community was wonderful.  I wasn't accepted right away (that took five years), but I was welcomed by everyone.
• It was Alaska.  The Norton Sound was (literally) my front yard.
• It was Alaska.  The land was beautiful.
• Snow.
• I could take my kids cross-country skiing instead of going to the gym and no one thought twice about it.
• Field trips were amazing.
• The Iditarod.  The learning implications of this event are almost endless.  We were limited in what we could do with first graders, but with an older grade, or even partnered with an older grade, there are so many learning entry points:
• Math - distance, speed, etc.
• Science - dog physiology, micro-evolution, why racing poodles maybe isn't the best idea
• Geography
• History - Joe Redington, Sr. and his crazy idea for a sled dog race
• Writing - the possibilities are endless
• I appreciated spring like never before.  When winter lasts until May, melting snow and the sound of running water in the morning never ceased to bring a smile to my face.
• We got creative to meet needs.  This is where my passion for small districts comes from.  I see now that we could have done so much more, but I never would have this perspective if not for that experience.

 No sane person would have stayed as long as I did with so many negatives.  It was my first job, however, so I didn't know how bad it actually was.  I'm so glad, though, that I finally came to my senses (mostly through interacting with others in my master's studies) and realized that teaching can be so much more than it was in our small corner of bush Alaska.  I am very much looking forward to working with a staff of people who like each other, who talk to each other, who work together to make instruction better for everyone, a place where I can actually belong.  I'm excited to see what teaching can really be like.

A New Job!

God is so faithful!  After 5 interviews and 4 rejections, I have been offered a full-time teaching position!  I will be moving again, this time from the big city to a small town.  I'm okay with that.  Knowing that there is full-time employment - a job that I have been praying for for 2 years - at the other end makes it worth the stress and cost of moving. 

However, it's certainly not what I envisioned.  I love that it's a small school in a small district.  After teaching in a small school in Alaska, I have a passion for finding creative ways to meet the challenges inherent to small schools and districts.  The first part that I didn't envision was the fact that the school is almost 90% Hispanic.  Lots and lots of little Spanish-speakers running around.  I speak exactly zero Spanish.  That could get interesting. 

The other interesting part is that I will be teaching fifth-grade.  I'm admittedly nervous about that part.  My only experience with fifth-grade is from substitute teaching and those weren't necessarily pleasant experiences.  When I was first offered the job, my initial mental reaction was, "Not a chance."  However, the principal then spent 20 minutes convincing me that fifth-grade wasn't bad and that I wouldn't have a problem.  She said that there is a strong fifth-grade teaching team, and that most of their behavior issues are in K-1, not in the older grades.  That's my biggest concern - behavior.  However, if I'm there from the beginning of the year and respect is set as a non-negotiable expectation, it'll be different from coming in as a substitute who has to prove herself every time she steps into a new classroom.  And it's not as though I'm locked in for the next 10 years.  If, after a year or two, I absolutely cannot stand another day in fifth-grade, there are options for moving down to other grades.

My thinking now is that this whole job search has been under so much prayer for so long, that if this is the call that came first, then obviously that's where God wants me next year.  We can talk about the grade level later.

When God Shows Up

Little background note for understanding this story: I love snow.  I always have.  Growing up in a desert, we didn't see much of the white stuff.  On the rare occasion that it did snow, it hardly ever stuck.  But I've always loved seeing it.  When I lived in Alaska, I loved the overnight and early morning snows.  I would walk out the door on my way to school and be stopped by the pervading stillness of freshly falling snow.  It was the only time that the village was truly quiet and peaceful.  Now I live in another place where it actually snows in the winter and I love it.

That's all background.  Here's the actual story.

I'm in a desert season of life.  One of those seasons when God seems silent and far away.  My prayer recently has been that God would do something, show up somehow or somewhere.  Anything to let me know that God hadn't forgotten me, that He was still in charge, and knew what He was doing.  I'm also reading a book called Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge with a group of women.  The part of the book we are reading right now is about how God romances us as women.  We were challenged to ask God to romance us, to show us truly how and how much He really loves us.  As you can see, that aligns with my life prayer right now - God would show up and remind me that He loves me. 

This morning, as I was getting ready for church, I started praying, asking God to romance me, but not believing that He actually would.  I've prayed this sort of prayer before, with no results.  As I brushed my teeth, I walked over to a window to see if the weather really was a gross as the forecast.  And guess what I saw?!  That's right, snowflakes.  They weren't sticking and there weren't many of them and they didn't last long, but God gave me snowflakes.  My heart swelled with love and I couldn't stifle a smile.  Praise bubbled out of my heart.  God really does love me.  I might be reading too much into it, but I believe God used an early morning snow flurry to woo my heart.  And that's what happens when God shows up.

A Recent Choice

I was called for a two-day substitute assignment in a kindergarten classroom this week.  I was a bit skeptical about taking a job during the first couple weeks of school, but I figured that beggars can't be choosers.  Those two days were very long days.  I spent most of the time putting out fires brought on by lack of social skills.  After that experience, I decided that I am not going to take any more jobs, regardless of grade, this week or next week. 

I made this decision for three reasons.  First, coming in as a substitute is a change, and it doesn't matter what age kids are, they don't deal well with change.  It doesn't matter how detailed the substitute plans are, I can't do things exactly the same way their teacher does things.  Throwing change at them during the first few weeks of school while they are still adjusting to a new routine will not end well.  Secondly, because I'm a change, I want to keep as many things the same as I can, including the behavior/discipline plan.  Regardless of whether I'm comfortable with it or not, I have to stick with what the teacher has set up.  Again, that won't necessarily end well.  Third, I don't know the students.  That is true for the whole year, but it's even worse at the beginning of the year.  The teacher may not know his/her students well enough yet to give a heads-up about possible behavior issues that I might encounter. 

Even as I'm writing this, I feel like it's a justification for being lazy, not working.  I know these are decent reasons, though, and I'm choosing to not make my life miserable.  I need the assignments to pay the bills, but I also don't want to develop an ulcer by the time I turn 30. 

Substitute Teaching

I'm sure how coherent this will be.  I have many thoughts rolling around in my head on this Saturday night.  I'm sure they're related somehow, but I'm not sure I know or can articulate the connections.  As I stare into the face of a new school year, one in which is looks like I will be substitute teaching again, I know I need to make some changes from last year.  The last school year was miserable.  I didn't deal well with the unknown and the anxiety that accompanied it.  It was a long, dark winter of the soul, one that lasted well into June.  Then, I went to camp for the summer, a place where God shows up and lives are changed.  I was reminded that there is a big world outside of worrying about money and trying to find a job.  There is more to life; there has to be.

This year will be different.  I had hoped to find a full-time teaching position, but it doesn't look like that will be happening.  God has apparently called me to be a substitute.  I don't know the reasons why, but God never promised to give us all the answers.  I may not like it, but God never said that we have to like everything He gives us.  He does call us to obey, however.  And obeying is walking through the one and only door that He has opened: substitute teaching.  So that is what I'm going to do.  And I'm going to do it with optimism.  I won't let the anxiety get to me like I did last year.

I did a Bible study by Beth Moore last year that included this quote: "God cannot make a decision for my life outside His lavish love for me."  Substitute teaching is not just what happened because God couldn't make anything else work.  Substitute teaching is God's first choice for me.  And anything He gives me is borne out of His great love for me.  I don't understand that love, and I certainly don't deserve it, but I am eternally grateful for it.

Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."  God knows the cries and desires of my heart.  He knows, even when I don't have the words.  Especially when I don't have the words.  As I focus this year on delighting myself in God and being faithful in obeying what He has placed in my life, I have to trust the He knows and hears the desires of my heart and will be faithful in fulfilling them.

Assumptions

There was a series of situations one evening this last week that ended with me in tears.  Things just kept going wrong and I ended up falling apart with feelings of failure that lingered for most of the rest of the night.

There usually is one night each summer when I reach a breaking point and have a complete meltdown.  However, in the past, someone has always been around to walk through it with me (and I very much miss those people).  But not this year.  This year, no one was there to catch me when I fell.  It was a very lonely realization.  I'm tired of always being the strong one.  It's like everyone has this preconceived notions about me, and they don't want to push me too far, so they don't push at all.  They just leave me alone, assuming I'll be okay.  I project a sense of solidity that is really just a mask to cover up my fears.  Because of this, I feel like everyone has all sorts of assumptions about me, instead of getting to know me.  They take my reluctance to form friendships at face value, instead of pushing further and discovering who I really am.  They assume I don't want/need hugs, friends, conversations, invitations to join in, when in fact that's all I really do need.  I'm doing life alone and everyone assumes I'm okay with it.  And at a certain level, I am.  As I've said before, groups of people make me nervous and large groups actually scare me a little.  But in my deepest heart of hearts, I know we were not created to go through life alone.  We need each other.  It's just a matter of finding one or two people willing to push past the facade and get to know the real me, without getting scared off.  Simple enough, right?

Introversion

I am a painfully shy introvert.  It's a horrible combination, but the truth.  I think I'm getting it figured out, though.  Human being make me nervous.  Real, live, messy human relationships scare me.  As an introvert, I'm a thinker.  I have 10,000 things going on in my mind at any given time.  When I'm in a group of people, I am usually an observer, not a participant (painfully shy, remember?).  So, I'm trying to process everything I'm seeing, and everything other people are saying and doing, and also processing all the stuff in my mind.  It's over-stimulating and overwhelming.  I just can't process everything fast enough.  That's stressful.  And then there's the added stress of keeping it all inside because I really don't have anyone to talk to.

That's where the "painfully shy" thing comes into play.  I don't make friends easily.  I'm too shy to take the first step and initiate.  I wait for someone to approach me, which very rarely happens.  And even then, I initially resist out of fear.  The person has to be committed to befriending me; 9.5 times out of 10 that is not the case.  Hence, I have few acquaintances, even fewer friends, and no true close friends. 

It's a lonely way to go through life.  The question then becomes, why has the God of relationships doomed me to a life of loneliness?  I can't believe that is true.  That's not the God I know.  I've spent the last 29 years pretending that I'm okay with situations and stuff that I'm not okay with, trying to follow the advice that public speaking gets easier that more I do it, thinking that there's something wrong with me because I'm not like everyone else.  I'm done pretending to be someone that I'm not.  How do I stay true to my personality, while not using it as a crutch or excuse to avoid fear-causing situations?

This is a lonely life I'm living, but I refuse to believe that this is it.  There's got to be more to life.  There has to be.  The Bible is full of stories of amazing people with abundant lives filled with purpose and meaning.  I want that.  So, how do I get there?

Life

It has been at least a year since my last post, not because nothing has happened, but because I am lazy.  I moved from Alaska and finally settled elsewhere in the beautiful pacific northwest.  I never did find a full-time teaching position and ended up substitute teaching in two of the school districts in the area.  Dependent on the number of teachers needing subs, it ultimately ended up being a part-time job.  Enough to keep me busy, but not always quite enough to pay all the bills.  I had 2 long car drives in the past 3 days and so I've had a lot of time to think.  This is what I've come up with.

This is a strong statement, and I use it very deliberately: I hate substitute teaching with every fiber of my being.  It is unpredictable and stressful and filled with unknowns - all those things that I am horrible at handling.  God has stripped from my life everything that is stable and predictable.  I literally have nothing and no one left in my life.  I'm standing all alone.  But that is exactly where God has decided that I need to be.  That choice is not God's second choice or someplace that He stuck me because He couldn't make anything else work.  It is God's first choice for me and is borne out of His never-ending, unfailing love.  I don't like it.  I don't understand it.  But that's okay.  God never said I had to enjoy it.  He only calls me to obey.  So, as miserable and lonely as I am, that is what I'm going to do.  I'm going to obey.

And this is the truth that I am holding onto: The God I know is the master of bring good things out of miserable situations.  He *will* redeem this.  I don't know what He's going to do or how or when or how long it will take.  But the only thing I have left to hold onto is that He will.  And it will be good.

A Response to Tragedy

I recognize that, most likely, no one will read this, but I feel the need to publicly express what's rolling around in my heart and mind this morning regarding the tragedy in Connecticut.

Although I know that schools are quite possibly the safest places to be, one of my greatest fears as a teacher is someone coming to school with a gun, intent on doing harm.  That fear was realized for too many people today.  My heart is broken.  There are no words to express how deeply saddened I am at the loss of young lives.

However, many are latching on to this horrific event as an excuse to promote their own gun control agendas.  That, in my mind, is absolutely inappropriate.  First of all, show some respect for those who are mourning.  Give them a chance to grieve before turning their sadness into a political opportunity.  (I regret the fact that they feel the need to politicize this instead of providing comfort and shoulders to cry on, but this is the reality of the world we live in.)  Second of all, this is not a gun control issue.  More stringent gun control would not have prevented this tragedy.  The shooter's mother owned her guns legally, but it did not stop this young man from using those guns to commit an atrocity.  If someone wants a gun to shoot inside an elementary school, or anywhere else for that matter, he/she will obtain a gun, legally or otherwise.  Laws only keep honest people honest.  Those intent on harming others do not, generally, show concern for how many laws they are breaking in the process. 

The issue here is not gun control or safety measures in schools (or lack thereof).  The issue here is not that simple.  The issue here is the hate and anger that was allowed to take root in a broken young man's heart.  A hate that only Jesus can heal.  The senseless loss of life included this young man who was in so much pain that shooting others, and then himself, seemed the only option left.  Oh, how this world needs Jesus.  It's not a simple answer.  It's not a politically correct answer.  But it's the only answer that makes sense.  Jesus is the only hope left to turn to.  Let us use this tragedy not as an excuse to promote our own selfish political agendas, but as an opportunity to share His hope and love with a broken world searching for answers.


P.S.  Just in case you feel the need to be mean: please no angry, argumentative, political, or otherwise disrespectful comments.  They are not welcome and will be deleted.

The Job Search

As some of you know, I decided back in February to not sign the offered contract for next year.  There are myriad reasons, both personal and professional, that all add up to the fact that it’s time to move on; Alaska is not a good fit for me anymore.  Because of that, I am now 10 school days (and 15 days total) away from joining the ranks of the unemployed.  Besides the obvious, there are 2 problems with this: I don’t know where to look, and I don’t deal well with rejection.

I have been told that the sky is the limit, and it really is.  I am not married, have no kids, no significant other, and no attachment with any particular geographic location.  I could literally go anywhere in the world.  For someone who has trouble making decisions, this is not a good thing.  I have narrowed it down to somewhere closer to my family.  That doesn’t really help, though, because there are several states that are closer to Idaho than where I am now: Washington, Oregon, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, the Dakotas, California, etc.  I’m kind of overwhelmed.  The trouble is not with finding a job.  The trouble is with knowing where to look and how to focus the search. 

I don’t deal well with rejection.  At all.  This is because I tend to take things personally, and this is proving especially true in relation to teaching.  Teaching isn’t just a job or a career for me; it’s a calling.  Being a teacher is part of who I am.  Therefore, when I am told that I am not what they are looking for or I’m not good enough, they are not just rejecting me for the job.  It feels like they are personally rejecting me as a person.  It’s not true, and form letters should be impersonal enough to soften the blow, but they don't.  It’s enough to throw me into a funk. 

Spring is finally making a beautiful appearance in Alaska, but I am having a hard time enjoying because I am so burdened by my inability to find a job, the hassles of moving 2000 miles south, and the inevitable rejection that accompanies a job search.

Iditarod!

January, as a month, is okay.  Sure, we're coming down off a major holiday and all the sugary goodness that goes with it.  But that gives us a fitness goal to focus on.  And there's still enough leftover goodwill in the air that nobody wants to strangle anybody else for a good part of the month.  Then comes February.  The longest, coldest, darkest month ever.  Some might try to tell you that there are only 28 (or 29) days, so it is actually the shortest month.  Don't believe them.  It's all a lie.  February is full of long, dark, cold days followed by long, cold, dark nights, with nothing to break up the monotony.

But then comes the glorious month of March.  It's not the best month ever, but its coming means that February is over and that is something to be thankful for.  Now, for some of you, March might mean the beginning of spring.  Not so much in Alaska.  March is still very much a winter month.  (And so is April, but that's another matter entirely).  Dog sledding is a winter sport, and the fact that we still have enough winter to hold a dog sled race in March says something about our weather.  March is still (very) cold, but the days are longer than the nights, and the whole month seems shorter because there is something to get excited about.  That something is the Iditarod. 

The Iditarod is a 1000-mile sled dog race that runs from Anchorage to Nome each year.  It starts on the first Saturday in March, and ends a couple of weeks later.  There are 25 checkpoints along the way that mushers must check in to, and Elim is privileged to be one of those checkpoints.  We get to see all the teams coming through, and usually time our spring break to coincide with when the majority of the teams are passing. Spring break in itself is enough, but to have it coincide with 60 dog teams running through is pretty cool.

The first teams started coming through on Monday.  I kept an eye on the internet tracker all day, knowing that the first teams had left Koyuk.  From there, it's about 7 hours to Elim.  The kids knew what was coming, and were darn excited.  A gauge of our focus level came right at the beginning of the day.  We were reviewing coins and thinking about the features of each one.  I asked, "Does anyone remember from yesterday whose face is on the quarter?"  Right in front, one little girl piped up, "Jeff King!"  Jeff King is a musher who has won several Iditarods and came out of retirement to run this year.  I knew then and there that we weren't getting anything done that day. 

I let the kids go about five minutes early because the first team was close and they all made a bee-line for the fire hall/armory/checkpoint.  Dallas Seavey was in first place.  He didn't stay long, just long enough to grab his food bags, some straw, and let the vets check his dogs.

He's a young'un!  He loaded those bags onto his sled along with some straw.  Rumor has it, he stopped a couple miles out of the village to rest and snack his dogs instead of stopping in the village.  Something about throwing off the competition.  (It must have worked, because he ended up winning!) 

The vets check every dog at every checkpoint.

Back on the trail to Nome!

We waited around for another half an hour or so because we knew that the next musher wasn't far behind.  Aily Zirkle rolled into town and actually parked her team for a break.  She moved around bedding down her dogs and feeding them, while the vets did their thing.

The crowd started to thin out at this point.  The next musher wasn't expected for at least another hour.  The kids, however, were having a ball.  One of my students is an animal lover, particularly dogs, and I watched her stand motionless watching this team for a long time.

Some other students had another idea for a good vantage point:

Those are big straw bales they are laying on. 

And, of course, no post would be complete without a shot of Maquire the Moose, whom the cameraman was carrying around and letting the kids play with. 

A Christmas in Review

A quick jaunt through the memories of the most recent Christmas holiday, told through pictures.  (It's 2:00 a.m. and I'm sitting in an airport.  Pictures are the best my sleep-deprived mind can do at the moment.) 

Even after the classroom tree is undecorated and taken outside, the memory (and a little more) still remains.

It seems we've had this problem before.  Something about small, old mixers and 5 cups of flour just don't mix well.

Awww.  A clean table! Not for long! (Insert evil cackle here.)

We used every plate she owns and then some.

Note the matching pajama pants.  A Christmas tradition!

This is quite possibly our finest moment. :-)

Apparently, the trend this year was tormenting the dog by tying ribbons to her collar.

This has nothing to do with Christmas, but I found 22 year old pickles in the back corner of a cupboard in the kitchen while I was looking for mint extract.  (I swear my mom has every spice/flavoring/scent/baking whatever known to man, but no mint extract.  How is that even possible?!)

Winding down break by going to lunch with a good friend!

It's Field Trip Time Again!

Every year, I take my kids on a completely uneducational field trip.  We take a sled and a saw, and go cut down a Christmas tree for our classroom, just because we can.  It's grown into somewhat of a tradition for me, and students come back to my room every year to see the new tree and reminisce about their own trip. 

I run up against this thought every year, even though it never ends up mattering: This has absolutely nothing to do with anything we're learning.  There is no redeeming educational value to this excursion.  And I think that's okay.  I think we get so caught up in standards, achievement, and testing sometimes that we forget that we are not dealing with little adults.  These are not just really short 18-year-olds.  They're little kids, and they need the chance to be kids once in a while.  They need to roll around in snow banks, make snow angels, and wonder about the dogs tied up by the side of the road.  They need to expend some of that energy that gets built up during long winter days and weeks inside.  If that means taking them on a walk and hauling back a tree without once mentioning science or math or reading, or turning it into a writing assignment when we get back, then I am totally on board with that.  School should not be solely drudgery, but rather should include fond memories that hopefully involve some learning.  

This year's trip actually started better than previous years, mainly due to the weather.  It was mostly cloudy, but no gale force winds.  A little breeze was picking up, but we decided to walk towards Tank Farm - the "gas station" for the village.  The road up there is lined with trees and willows, which provided a bit of a wind break. 

The kindergarten class had come with us, so we were actually looking for two trees.  We found a decent-looking tree for our room, and I managed to saw it down without hitting anyone in the head as it fell.  The trunk was pretty small, so it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated.  It was a little tall, maybe about 6 feet, but it wasn't super-bushy, so it wasn't too heavy.  The kids helped me carry it down to the road and got it situated on the plastic sled we had brought for that very purpose.  We found a tree for the kindergarten, and Wanda and I eventually got it hacked down.

The trip back was a little slower.  We were pulling two trees, the kindergarten tree kept falling off the sled, and the little ones were getting tired.  At one point, though, I was walking down the road, holding hands with a kid on each side, pulling the sled behind us.  Walking in a winter wonderland, completely content.  I honestly wondered if life could get any better than that. 

These kids are such troopers!

The real adventure started when we got back to the classroom.  We got the tree in the stand and started to screw in the screws that are supposed to hold the tree in place.  Remember how I mentioned that the trunk wasn't too too big around?  Well, the only problem with that is the trunk of the tree wasn't quite big enough around.  Even with the screws all the way in, the tree was wobbly and threatening to fall over.  I leaned it towards the TV stand, praying it would hold, while we went next door for hot chocolate and Rice Krispy treats with the kindergarteners. 

Just looking at it makes me chuckle, even now!

Then came the challenge of stabilizing the darn tree enough to put some sort of decorations on it.  Stringing lights was a challenge, as I needed about four hands to hold the tree and the lights.  After getting the lights on it, I leaned the tree against the whiteboard and gave the kids little ornaments, with instructions to put theirs on a branch that had no other decorations.  That kept them occupied for about 5 minutes. :-)

After school, I was working with some older students in my room to complete an assignment for the course that I'm taking right now.  Without warning, the tree tipped all the way over, crashing into some tubs of books and spilling water everywhere.  Between the 5 of us in there, we got the tree set back up and scrunched into a corner to keep it from tipping again.  Wanda came in not long after that, and as I shared our latest incident, she said she had some wood blocks that we might be able to jam into the stand to stabilize the trunk.  I got the older students involved in an activity, and then Wanda held the tree steady while I took the screws out enough to jam blocks into the stand.

Thanks to her, the tree is now standing straight and proud, a paragon of beauty, filling the room with the delicious piney scent that is synonymous with the holiday season.

It looks a little scraggly, but it works for us.  I must say, though, you can tell we're all short because most of the decorations are down at the bottom. :-)

Autumn in Alaska

John, another teacher, took Richelle (my new roommate) and I out for a ride on his four-wheeler yesterday.  I had declined a trip out to the hot springs last weekend and begged out of a picnic on Friday citing asthma concerns, so I figured taking a break from my mile-long homework list couldn't be all bad.  I'm so glad I did!  The sore muscles from hanging on to the back of the four-wheeler, and asthma and allergy problems from goodness knows what are definitely worth the beauty of autumn in Alaska!

The farthest shade of blue is the Norton Sound.

So much color!

Autumn snuck up on me!  I hadn't expected to see the foliage changing colors yet!

This is where we stopped for a blueberry snack break.  That's what happens when the driver stops and announces, "I want to eat blueberries."

End of the line.  The trail ends here.  We were about 15 miles out of the village at this point.

This is quite possibly my most favoritest view ever.  As you crest the top of a hill, this is the view that suddenly comes into view.  It takes my breath away every time.

A vicious branch reached out and bit my arm.  I'm uninjured, but my coat definitely isn't waterproof anymore!

A picture is worth a thousand words.  So, I'll summarize this summer with a few illustrations of the highlights.

Oops.

This is the story of an egg.

An egg left in a bowl of vinegar until the shell dissolved.  Information courtesy of Jeopardy.

That's what the inside of an egg looks like.

Vicki and I rode to Lucky Peak and back.  Twice.  Once in June and once in July.

We hiked into Boulder Lake in July.

The trail ended and we had a choice - hike up the rock face. . .

. . . or cross this river.  Guess which one we chose.

There's a gangsta in our midst.

We hung the hobo on the sign.  Bonus point if you can spot the grammar mistake.

Decorating cars is somewhat of an art in the Brewer family.

Mary now has an as yet unnamed little lamb.

God's Take

Due to all the hype surrounding the death of Osama bin Laden, this might be beating a dead horse, but it has been weighing on my mind all day.  I journaled about it last night, and my mind can't seem to let it go.

I'm not going to lie: when I heard the news that Osama bin Laden had been killed, my reaction was elation.  I was excited that they finally got him.  I found a live news feed on the internet and watched President Obama's address to the nation.  When he made the official announcement, I wanted to get up and do a happy dance.  Call me a sweaty heathen and lay on the guilt as heavy as you want, but I was (and still am) happy about it and I'm not going to be apologetic about it.

Then I started thinking.  I'm still excited about it; I'm still glad he's finally dead.  But what is God's take on this?  I fear my excitement and elation over a death might be a sin (at which point my unapologetic attitude is going to get me in trouble).  This man masterminded a plot that killed thousands of Americans on US soil.  He has killed scores of others from all different walks of life around the world.  His hate seemed to consume him.  (I read an article today that said he hated the Soviets and communism almost as much as he hated America.)  Yet, God does not wish any of His creations to be lost.  Evil or not, this man was created by God for a special purpose.  Granted, he wasn't interested in fulfilling that purpose and had clearly joined the dark side, but that's what redemption is all about.  What does God think about this death?  I honestly don't know.  If bin Laden's heart and soul were evil, is it good that he's gone?  Does God rejoice when evil is removed from the world?  Or is He grieving the loss of a child?  Justice?  Redemption?  Forgiveness?  Grace?  I don't know.  I would love to hear other thoughts about this.  (But please, be nice.) 

A few final thoughts: What makes a man hate the world so much that he is bent on destroying it?  What drives a man to harbor that much anger?  How could he be so lost?  I know these questions don't really have an answer.  I guess it's just the nature of evil, and it had such a strong hold on him. 

Seek Ye First

Awhile ago I wrote about seeking answers to certain prayers that I have been praying for years.  My conclusion was that God's word says to ask, seek, knock, and ye will find.  By the time I finally reasoned it through, it seemed so clear.

But here I am, months later, with the same prayers, questions, and desires on my heart.  The words of an old song stopped me in my tracks this afternoon.  I'm sure you know it: Seek ye first the kingdom of God / And His righteousness / And all these things will be added unto you / Allelu, Alleluia.

Seek ye first the kingdom of God.

It's right there in the Bible, in Matthew 6:33, but that was not what I had previously concluded.  Somehow I'd missed that verse.  I had been thinking that asking, seeking, and knocking was about seeking the answers to my prayers.  Have I been seeking the wrong thing all this time?  Maybe, instead of prayers for answers, I should be praying for the kingdom of God.  You know, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done."

What does that mean, though?  What does seeking the kingdom of God look like?  I don't have answers for those questions.  I'm almost afraid to find the answers.  I'm afraid that it'll be like the love conundrum: God says to love Him, loving Him means obeying His commands, His commands are to love Him.  A wonderful, never-ending circle that I don't understand.  Is seeking God's kingdom like that?  I don't even know where to start.

Music and Lyrics

I'm a sucker for a good romantic comedy, which is what Netflix is good for.  That and wiling away the long winter weekends that we are still afflicted with, even though we're halfway through April.  I think Mother Nature missed that memo.  Anyway, I recently watched Music and Lyrics, a delightfully breezy comedy starring Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore.  There's a song that Hugh Grant sings that caught my attention.  I'm not sure why, but these lyrics really resonate with me.

"It's never been easy for me
To find words to go along with a melody.
But this time there's actually something on my mind,
So please forgive these few brief awkward lines.

Since I met you, my whole life has changed.
It's not just my furniture you've rearranged.
I was living in the past
But somehow, you've brought me back,
And I haven't felt like this
Since before Frankie said, 'Relax."
And though I know,
Based on my track record,
I might not seem like the safest bet.
All I'm asking you
Is don't write me off just yet.

For years I've been telling myself the same old story,
That I was happy to live off my so-called former glory.
But you've given me a reason
To take another chance.
Now I need you,
Despite the fact that you've killed all my plants.
And though I know
I've already blown more chances
Than anyone should ever get,
All I'm asking you
Is don't write me off just yet."

King Island Dancers

Last fall, our school staff had some grant money to play around with.  We decided to use it to fund an artist-in-residence for our students.  That set off an almost year-long process that culminated this past week with 6 members of the King Island dance group coming to Elim and spending 4 days teaching our kids to dance.  The 4 men drummed and danced, the 1 female of the group did a lot of the dancing, and the little 7-year old switched back and forth between drumming and dancing. 

Elim does not have a strong dance tradition.  When the missionaries first moved through, they discouraged/banned dancing because of ignorance - they feared a link between native dancing and pagan spirit worship.  The missionaries were also enamored with white indoctrination, which is why the native language started to disappear.  As a school, we would love to see the students learn the language, learn the dancing, learn the native ways of their ancestors, but that push has to come from the community.  They have to initiate it.  That is why the community outpouring of support for this group was so encouraging.  If adults start to bring back these ways, the kids will pick it up and run with it.

The present state of King Island is sad.  It is uninhabited by humans.  For some reason, all natives were relocated to the mainland (Nome area) in 1964 and have since scattered across Alaska.  The highest concentration is in Nome, which is where the dance group is based.

The students were split up by ages and each group had a set time during the day to learn how to dance.  The kindergarten/first-grade group was in the middle of the morning - during our 90-minute reading block.  That was nice.  It shortened the long reading time into a more manageable 45 minutes, which I used for review before we start the next level of the reading curriculum this coming week.  I took a lot of pictures, but they all have kids in them so I can't post them. :-(  On day 1, the girls learned the rabbit dance and the boys learned the walrus dance.  The best part was listening to the boys grunt like walruses at the end of their dance. :-)  On day 2, we reviewed the dances from the previous day, and learned the green-picking dance.  The dances tell stories.  For example, the rabbit dance mimics some of the movements of rabbits; the walrus dance mimics a walrus.  The green-picking dance is about picking fresh greens, piling them up, showing them off.  Day 3 was a resting day.  The dancers did not want to wear out their voices, so they showed the students part of a video from a 1979 potluck/celebration that they danced at in Nome.  Day 4 was reviewing the dances we had learned in preparation for the evening performance.

Before the performance Thursday night,  we had a community potluck.  Only in Alaska would a potluck look like this: sloppy joes, several king crabs, turkey, ham, pasta salads, baked beans, rice, muktuk (whale blubber), berries, agutuq (Eskimo ice cream), and fudge. 

At the performance, the first 45 minutes was showing off the dances we had spent the week learning.  My fear going in was that students would get stage fright and not want to dance in front of such a large audience.  I shouldn't have worried.  Most of the kids were so excited to get up there, even if they had no idea what they were doing.  That was so encouraging.  Even the adults were excited.  The first and last dances were invitational dances - anyone could get up and dance.  Some of the adults were old enough to remember the dancing they had done as children and got up to dance.  If we can find a way to capitalize on that excitement and enthusiasm, there is hope that native dancing will find its way back to Elim.

The second half of the performance was the dance group doing its thing.  That was cool.  The first dance Butch and Jessica did was part of the Wolf Dance - a traditional dance/celebration that usually lasts about 3 days.

The headgear the Butch is wearing is made out of eagle feathers.  His mitts are made out of sealskin, with the little jangling tokens made out of puffin beak or ivory. 

This is the Raven dance.  I could see the mannerisms of ravens in the movements they were doing.  The little boy, Martin, was so intense.  He's been dancing since he was about 4, and totally knows what he's doing.  He was so cute to watch.



After that, they stopped introducing the dances.  Sometimes I could figure out what they were depicting and sometimes not. 

 

I'm not sure what these masks were supposed to depict, but I know I wouldn't want to meet on in a dark alley late at night.

Sylvester, on the left, has got to be at least 60, but he was able to dance with the same range of movement as the younger men.  He does not show his age. 

Another walrus dance, but these two had masks for this one.

In case you were wondering, the clothing they are wearing are called kuspuks.  It is a traditional clothing garment that both men and women can wear.  Women's kuspuks are longer and look more like dresses, while men's kuspuks have a shorter hem and look more like shirts.  The drums they are using are made out of walrus stomach, stretched on an oak frame.  Trees are scarce on King Island, so traditionally, the frames were made of spruce gathered from the driftwood washed up on the beaches.  The handle could be made from either wood or ivory.