Chewin' the fat, shootin' the Shish

Had to document this; the first time I actually did my hair in 3 months!

Nome was hit with its first big snow storm of the year just as I was leaving for a recruiting visit to Shishmaref.  Sitting in the airport I had flashbacks of getting stuck in Unalakleet due to unfavorable flying conditions, so I couldn’t believe it when the pilot called us to board the plane.  Once on board we had to wait quite some time for final clearance, and I watched a boy write his name and village in the fogged up window; he told me everyone does it as a way to see which of their friends and family have traveled recently.  Upon further inspection, I noticed that most of the windows had similar messages written on them, appearing from our heat.  Nothing like condensation communication!

The plow clearing off the runway so our plane could land

The airline we typically fly with follows all of the safety guidelines, but isn’t known for being conservative in questionable weather.  They will, and do, fly in anything.  A surprising number of locals have been in plane crashes resulting in broken bones and other “minor” injuries, and it’s always shrugged off as just being the nature of flying in bush Alaska.  Real-life experience is the best teaching tool, but I admit it was a little disconcerting that this particular flight was being piloted by an apprentice.  An experienced copilot was there for backup, but the majority of our 45 minutes in the air was handled by a newbie.  As I was desperately trying not to freak out, a teenager sitting next to me was having fits of pure glee as the plane was taking dips and climbs comparable to a rollercoaster ride, minus the tracks.  You always wonder what things might go through your head in a plane crash, and this flight provided me with a snippet.  Let’s just say it was more alarming than enlightening.  When it was all over, we landed on green land without even a dusting of snow.  It always amazes me how different the weather can be in places that are in such close proximity.

The highest point in Shish!

Being in Shishmaref was an experience in itself, and served as my first adventure to the Arctic Circle.  It is the most populated village that I’ve been to (with around 500 residents), but also the smallest physically.  The settlement is located on a barrier island that is a total of 7 square miles, only 3 of which are actually land.  The village is ¼ mile wide(!), with one main road running down the middle.  Political viewpoints aside, the effects of global warming are abundantly clear.  This island is located on the Chukchi Sea rather than the Bering Sea, and its rising waters from melting sea ice are quite literally closing in on the town.  The permafrost is also thawing, increasing the rate at which the soil is being washed away.  These conditions are causing an average loss of ten feet of erosion each year.  One particularly hefty storm swallowed up over 125 feet of land in one clip, and a new school had to be built as the previous one had fallen into the sea.  If you look out onto the submerged dunes you notice that they are actually comprised of old vehicles, large appliances, and even old buildings.

The land is so thin you can see the water on both sides!

Because of this, the village has been attempting to relocate for years.  Tin Creek was selected as a new settlement location, however after a lengthy testing process to determine the viability of surviving in this new area it was decided that the very same problems would occur there as well.  Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.  Leaders in Shishmaref are looking into the possibility of relocating to the village of Wales, but a cost analysis concluded that it would be a multimillion-dollar endeavor.  I spoke with a veteran teacher about this issue, and she believes that folks will stay until the road is flooded, flee to relatives in neighboring towns, and there’s “Shish” you can do about it.  I guess only time will tell, but I’m glad I got to visit before it becomes a modern day, less glitzy, Atlantis.

The school, with one of the only six working vehicles in town parked out front

Shish has so many students they use "portable classrooms"

My trips to the villages are usually spent on my own, but as fate would have it a friend from Nome was also spending a night in Shishmaref for work.  After we were both done for the day, we decided to go for a walk.  We couldn’t go too far (we were essentially doing laps), and it wasn’t long before the winter storm following us from Nome made its grand appearance.  The excitement of the first big snow was palpable, and kids were everywhere bounding through the fluffy whiteness.  Once we’d had our fill it was slumber party time.  My friend doesn’t work for the district, and there are no hotels, so he paid $70 to stay at the school overnight.  A bit surprising when you consider the fact that we’re provided with thin foam mattress pads and the deluxe accommodations of a library floor and dubiously heated showers.  But I’m not complaining; Shishmaref is a village without a fresh water supply, and the school has the only running water in town.

Clean water goes in from the tank through the blue tube, and out through the yellow tube

Matty and I in separate pictures; there was no one to play photographer for us!

Shishmaref may not have the resources I’m accustomed to, but it is often referred to as the “friendliest village in Alaska”, and by my knowledge this is no exaggeration.  Every single person I came in contact with said hello, asked me where I was visiting from, and offered me some sort of help or comfort.  This kindness and hospitality may spring from the fact that they must depend on each other for their very survival, or they may just be generous and thoughtful folks.  Whatever the reason, I appreciated and was inspired by their unconditional generosity.  My visit was brief, but I was seen off like an old friend.  I was hugged goodbye, questioned about when I expected to return, and my pockets were filled with snacks for the trip home.

Developing my taste buds with beluga meat and dry fish!

It’s been winter for a few weeks now, and I think I’m adjusting to the climate.  I remember going outside one morning and thinking about how warm it felt; a drive by the bank informed me that is was 19 degrees outside.  I’ve realized that almost anything feels warm in Nome when it’s not windy.  But let’s be honest; I’m not going so far as the scantily clad folks celebrating their Halloween weekend in typical skin-revealing style.  Call me crazy, but miniskirts and freezing temperatures just never seem to go together.  Although I do enjoy watching kids strap on their ice skates and cruise down the snowy (not icy) roads.

Halloween candy sure ain't cheap...

A beanie baby and a scarecrow

The Canadians!

The more you know!

The winter winds have been keeping our wind turbine moving!

Snow has come to stay in Nome, and the dustings of last week have turned into a long-term ground-cover that doesn’t melt.  The temperature hovers around 20 to 30 degrees during the day, and dips close to 10 degrees at night.  A friend in town made a joke that was right on the mark; Alaska has four seasons:  June, July, August, and Winter.  So far the current climate hasn’t stopped me from going for walks and hikes, and I’m proud to say that I am still comfortable in my “fall coat” and haven’t yet had to resort to my winter parka.  Although I can tell it won't be long before I break out the wool socks and long underwear!

View of Nome from Anvil Mountain

The hiking crew!  Up was fine, down was sketchy...

So inspired by the winter wonderland outside, I’d like to delve into a fun fact I remember hearing about Eskimo culture.  Do the Inuit people really have twenty different words for snow?  It turns out the answer it yes, and more!  While the language did not originally have a written form, there are words for old snow, fresh snow, snow for melting into drinking water, snow the texture of corn, snow the texture of rice, falling snow, fallen snow, dry snow, wet snow, snowdrift, snowstorm, snowflake, packed snow, fluffy snow, covered with snow, crusted snow, crystallized snow, wavy surface of drifting snow, overhanging snow, little snow, snow cliff, and more.  My favorites are muruaneq, which means soft deep snow, and qanisqineq, which means fallen snow floating on water.  There are nearly as many words for ice.  And contrary to popular belief, native people did not live in igloos (they lived in huts dug into the ground) unless they were out on a hunt or migrating to another area.

The district gives every new teacher a pair of yaktraks, and I've been putting mine to good use!

The roads were so slippery these girls were pretending to ice skate for hours outside my window!

Stairs everywhere in Nome are made of metal grates so snow can be scraped off before entering

The weather may be reminding me of reindeer games, but this week I learned some Eskimo games.  A rare instance of downtime introduced me to a game called “Muk”.  One person says “1, 2, 3, MUK!” and the last person to say Muk must make completely silent faces (with no body gesturing) until someone laughs.  The hilarity is indescribable.  I also learned about the Native Youth Olympics, where each event is based on games and life skills of past generations of Alaska Natives, originally played as a way to test their hunting and survival skills, to increase strength, endurance, agility, and balance mind and body.  I got to try a few of the events out during our morning workouts, and let me tell you they’re not as easy as their whimsical names make them sound.  These kids are tough.

The Kneel Jump: Hunters must develop the skill of quick movement to be successful in jumping from one ice floe to another.  For this game, kneel down, and sit on your heels with the tops of your feet flat to the floor.  Next you try to jump up and land on two feet while keeping your balance.  Length of the jump determines the winner.

The Eskimo Stick Pull: This is a game of strength, based upon the needs of the hunters who had to be strong enough to pull a seal out of freezing water.  Two people sit facing each other and pull on a stick, each trying to pull their opponent toward them without jerking the stick.  The first person to pull the other one up is the winner.

The One-Hand Reach: A hunter in a kayak had to have great body control, as tipping over could lead to frostbite, hypothermia, or death.  This event is a test of a person’s body control as they’re asked to hold their body weight up with just one hand pressed on the floor. The person reaches up to touch a ball suspended in the air behind them.  The person who taps the ball at the highest position is the winner.

The Wrist Carry:  Hunters were required to carry heavy game over long distances.  In this game, one person has his wrist draped over a stick and has to hold him or herself off the ground while two teammates carry them as far as possible around an oval track until they can no longer hold on.

The Seal Hop: This game originated with the hunters who imitated the movements of seals.  A competition of pure endurance, a person hops across the floor using only their hands and toes in a low push-up position.  The time it takes doesn’t matter, and the person traveling the farthest distance wins.

Alaska Day was celebrated this week and although I didn’t get a day off of work, I’ve learned quite a bit of trivia.  The Alaskan territory was sold in March, but it was not until October 18^th, 1867 that the commissioners arrived in Sitka for a formal transfer, thus Alaska Day is celebrated on this day each year.  Alaska was purchased from Russia at a cost of 2 cents per acre, totaling 7.2 million dollars.  What did we get for our money?  A land so big that if placed on top of the lower 48 it would stretch from Florida to Los Angeles and reach north to Lake Superior, a coastline that is more than 6,000 miles long (longer than all other US states combined), and a land with more water than any other state.  Alaska has active volcanoes, more than 3 million lakes, over 100,000 glaciers (over half of the world’s glaciers), and although it is the least densely populated state, one out of fifty residents have their pilot’s license.  I’ve gotta say, I’m starting to develop some Alaskan pride!

I know this is turning into an encyclopedia entry, but I’d like to go off on one more tangent (because it really is fascinating to me!).  The name “Alaska” comes from the Aleut word Alyeska, meaning “the great land”.  Makes sense to me.  Oddly enough, Nome’s name was all a mistake.  Prospectors originally called this settlement Anvil City.  The natives called the area Ayasayuk, or “sheer cliff”, and the Russians named it Mys Tolstoi, or “broad cape”.  Despite these colloquialisms, the area was not formally named until much later.  A British navy cartographer creating maps from ships’ charts misread the handwriting that said “?name” to mean “Nome”.  And so I live in Nome!  Go figure.

Hard to believe how far from NY I am!

The second week of my marathon schedule and Careers in Education class had some definite highs and lows.  It’s no secret that I thrive with a set routine, and am resistant to change.  In working with this population, I’ve noticed that the students I teach here are extremely resilient, probably as a result of the challenges and tragedies they regularly face.  I feel as though (slowly but surely) I’m starting to find this quality in myself as well.  I’m developing strategies to cope with the constant surprises and “make-it-work moments” in my day-to-day, and to face the many hurdles and conundrums unique to this instructional setting.  But what really counts is I’m still making the best of it, and doing a dang good job.

Job Shadows at Nome Preschool

Looking back on this session, what resonates with me the most is the almost tangible growth I’ve seen in my particular students.  We began the first day with the girls struggling to stand up in front of their peers to say their name and a little something about themselves.  By the end of our two weeks together, each and every student prepared a ten-minute lesson that they delivered confidently to our group as well as our NACTEC director (talk about courage!).  I never imagined that I could see this much progress over such a short amount of time, but the concentrated nature of our program makes it possible.  When you think about it, our instructional hours are equivalent to a month worth of class meetings.  One covertly placed and heart-felt thank you card indicated that my time and energy were not spent in vain.  It’s always sad to see them go, and at the airport one of my shyest students took a moment to turn back and say “I can’t wait until the day I can let you know that I’m finally a teacher”.  Awesome!

Oh yeah, and I learned how to start a fire by rubbing sticks together!!!

Rolling in the deep

Hiking to Tom's Cabin with Matty!  Notice the icy stream

Weird ice heave looks like broken panes of glass

This week I drove (and fish-tailed) on my first snowy Alaskan road, experienced a couple days of freezing rain, and felt the appreciation and glory of a rare sunny day.  It may have topped out at 40 degrees, but it felt warm as summer and the beach was calling me.  The breakers in Nome provide the perfect conditions for beach glass, or “gillies” as they’re called here.  A leisurely stroll always results in a pocket full of clear, blue, green, brown, and sometimes even purple(!) glass.  I realize they’re just busted up beer bottles, but I still get a thrill finding a good piece.  And it’s always fun throwing those that are not quite ready back into the sea for another go round.

This week I also experienced the unique changes caused by the influx of PFD money.  Despite the rigorous application process and limited acceptance slots, many students cancelled at the last minute once their checks were cashed to go shopping in Anchorage rather than attend NACTEC.  After multiple student cancellations and scrambling to refill spots (it’s important for funding that we operate at full capacity), our second group of high schoolers is in.  Many of the students that ended up coming brought huge portions of their money with them (one girl brought an envelope with nine bills in it; each a hundred dollar bill!).  We made daily trips to the airport to pick up hand-carries, all of which were significant amounts of cash.  Hand-carries are a quick and cost-effective method of transporting mail and packages; at about $1 a pound, items can be put on a flight leaving a village and delivered to another airport in a matter of hours, sort of like our version of UPS.  So basically, money was simply no object this session.

Can you spot the repeats?!

Having a disposable income may have influenced the way homesickness played out this week.  Many of our students experience homesickness, as they come from very small, tight-knit communities where they have the run of the place.  The structure of NACTEC and metropolis of Nome is a social and cultural shock to their system.  Homesickness is not a ticket out the door, and once here, the only way students can leave is by breaking a non-negotiable (violence, running away, drugs) and always at their own expense.  In past years if a family cannot pay for the return ticket, the student is actually enrolled in the high school here in Nome until they can come up with the money.  It’s no joke, and they cannot re-enroll for a full year.  This session however, having the money to fly home wasn’t a problem.  One very polite, bright, and capable girl was sent home for being caught with tobacco two times (she intentionally turned it in each time), because she so genuinely missed her 1-year old daughter.  While she was here, her homesickness spread like wildfire, and even I was reminded of how much it hurt to be so far away from familiarity.  It was a struggle to keep all of the students here, but fortunately we only lost this one student to the siren call of home.

On the flip side, many students have developed coping mechanisms for being away from home, and are frequent flyers at NACTEC.  These strategies are good practice, providing them with the skills necessary for one day leaving home and attending a vocational school or college.  Like gillies, every time they jump into the crashing waves of NACTEC the sharp edges of homesickness are smoothed out a little more, making it easier to function in a new place.  This week I welcomed my first group of repeat customers; five boys and one girl had rejoined us for another round.  It’s thrilling to meet and teach new students, but it was refreshing to have some veterans helping to guide the group in the right direction.  And let me tell you, I would take any help I could get this week.  In-session weeks are always extra hectic, but my schedule was even more jam-packed than usual as I’m teaching my first “core-intensive” class this session; Careers in Education.  I’m used to working hard, but this job is certainly another animal all together.

Morning workout at the Rec Center

Here’s a rundown of a typical day:  up at 5am to run, into work by 7am to clock-in and catch up on emails.  Each of the four teachers must submit a “daily report” at the end of their shift to inform the rest of the teaching team about current student dynamics, successes and potential problems to address, so it’s important for me to review these before diving in to a new day.  It’s amazing just how much can change during one shift.  After my briefing, room checks begin at 7:30am, and I must ensure that all beds, rooms, and pods are in perfect, almost military order.   Next I shuttle the group over to the rec center for their hour-long morning workout in two shifts; I was usually just getting into our spirited roller skating tag matches when it was time to begin shuttling them back to the house.  Once back, it was straight to the classroom for an hour of Red Cross First Aid training, with an alternate assignment given to those who’ve “tested out” and don’t need to receive the training again.

Bandaging our impaled objects

It’s at this point that my structured instruction usually ends, however in teaching a core intensive my day was just beginning.  My Careers in Education class was comprised of five girls ranging from 9^th to 11^th grade, all interested in working in the education field.  While I’m used to teaching 80 minutes worth of material at a time, our class lasts 4 whole hours each and every day.  I always plan more than I have time for, but even for me, this was a huge chunk of instructional time to make relevant and consistently engaging.  Although my means of transportation was limited, we did get some opportunities for in-class job shadowing and interviewing professionals in the field.  Those that know my teaching style know that I’m a huge proponent for hands-on learning, and this week was no exception.  I never got home before 4:30, I’ve forgotten the feeling of prep time, and I ended each day utterly exhausted.  That being said, if even one of these girls is inspired to follow their current dream it will have been more than worth it.

My lovely Careers in Education ladies!

Other course offerings this session included Video Technology, Aviation (being a bush pilot is a glamorous and attainable dream of many students living in the villages), and of course Driver’s Education.  The foundation for our wind turbine has finally set up, and on Friday it was all-hands-on-deck in assembling and standing up our 45’ wind turbine, which is now fully functional.  Students also worked to install a program measuring the average power generated, wind speed and intensity; all viewable from the comfort of a flatscreen inside the house.  What a sight to behold, and a tangible reminder for these students of what they can accomplish.

 

For the second time I worked on a Saturday, and I’m getting used to the subtle differences of weekend work.  To my surprise, many of the students set their alarms (one boy set his for 5am!) so they could start the fun as soon as possible.  Throughout the day I learned how to Eskimo wrestle, some naughty Yupik words, and how to make a bird call by whistling through my teeth while also buzzing my lips.  I learned that there’s a new fad in the lower-48 of feather hair extensions that’s significantly affecting my students; the demand is huge for the grizzly saddle hackle feather that is also necessary for tying a certain type of fly in this area, making it near impossible for my students to now obtain these materials.  A means of survival vs. looking trendy; America you never cease to amaze me.  The afternoon was spent garage sale-ing, and students filled entire garbage bags with clothes, books, toys, and dvds for themselves and their families, all for $5.  They may have money, but a bargain is a bargain!

Eskimo wrestling win!

Grizzly Saddle Hackle Feather