Butter, Sugar, Dog Hair

Two elementary school girls came over this afternoon to make cookies. They have a sleepover lined up tonight, and I loved listening to them discussing the games and pranks they plan to play.
“What if you hide outside the door and scare them?”
“We could put whipped cream on their face!”

We made a couple dozen tiny cookies and a specially tailored cardboard cookie-carrying box with the words “top secret” printed on the top so that they could transport them without losing them all to nosy neighbors.

It was wonderful and also a little sad for me. Cookie night used to be a big thing in Venetie. It never took off here in the same way, but this felt to me like those old cookie nights used to, with the girls laughing and opening up a little in ways they don’t at school. I am going to miss them. And all of this.

While the cookies were in the oven, J asked to play with Daazhraii. Now, Daazhraii is a pretty good dog. He’s playful, obedient, tough, smart, quiet, affectionate with his people, and sensitive (sometimes a little too sensitive), but he doesn’t like children, especially little girls. He treats kids with extreme suspicion and, if they approach him in an enclosed space, he stiffens, glares, and, if they keep coming toward him, growls. It’s scary and disheartening.

I have done a lot of reading on this, and I try to handle it well. I control any fear or anxiety I feel when kids are around him. I don’t allow him to be cornered, and, when I need to, I remove him from the situation gently. I don’t validate his fears by punishing him, I just watch him carefully and do what I need to do to remain confident that everyone will have a positive experience.

“See how his tail is stiff? That means he doesn’t want to be petted. Let him sniff you and, if he walks away, just let him go.”

It works well, and it seems to be helping him build up his confidence, because when J talked me into letting her play with him, he aced it.fullsizeoutput_228

One of L’s little-kid-sized rubber boots had a tear in it, and I’d just put on an Aquaseal patch, so she and I stood in our socks on the steps and watched as J spoke softly and gently to Daazhraii until – I couldn’t believe it – he let her pick up his rope toy and play tug and chase. They played for at least half an hour, at first on his run by the front door, then running laps around the house, taking turns carrying the rope toy. He was as gentle as – gentler than – I’ve ever seen him, and completely beside himself with the fun of it, totally relaxed and thrilled with his new best friend.

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Daazhraii seems to be mellowing, and I’m glad. There is not much room in the world these days for dogs that can’t be trusted. He may never get to be really trustworthy (I still wouldn’t let him into the house with the kids, where he tends to get more territorial and feel more cornered), but he’s making some progress, and that’s pretty exciting stuff.

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Sunshine!

On the subject of sunshine, everyone should know that it’s daylight here twenty and more hours a day now, and twilight the rest of the time. I love hearing the birds singing all night. I went out to pee at two this morning and I could hear the river churning like a slushie machine down at first bend. Spring is here!

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Taking the sno-go in for storage, rocking some scandalously bare knees

In other sunshine-related news, I was nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award – “an award given to bloggers by their peers for being creative, positive, and inspiring, while spreading sunshine to the blogging community.”

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Thank you Julia for nominating me! I’m honored that you thought of me and also super delighted by your questions.

If you don’t already read Beneath the Borealis, you should. Julia writes an account of her life in a very different part of rural Alaska. She is perceptive, enthusiastic and vulnerable in her writing, and I love each and every one of her posts. She has just added a tiny fluff to her family, so one can assume there will be many enchanting snow-puppy stories coming soon.

Here are the questions posed to me by Julia:

Why did you begin your blog?

I began Chasing Piggens years ago, when I was living in Arkansas.

Partly, I started the blog because the life I shared at that time with my partner Sean was wildly different from the lives of everyone we knew. It was a way of sharing what we were up to, and why.

Partly, too, I was reading a lot of blogs at the time, learning about how folks had tackled projects or approached changes similar to mine. I thought I might have some useful advice for someone wanting to raise chickens in varmint hell or butcher their own pigs with the help of a decrepit swingset. Then I started reading Alaska blogs…

What is the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning?

“Oh shit, I’m late!”

Geoff woke me up at five thirty this morning, convinced we were late for work because the sun was so high in the sky.

The best part? Friday was the last day of school! We get to sleep in – or out, preferably – and on any schedule we please – for the next three months!

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We shot off rockets with the kids on Friday afternoon to celebrate.

How do you soothe yourself when you’re having a bad day?

I reread a Tamora Pierce book. Tortall is my favorite place to go when the real world is too tough to face.

Hogwarts is a close second, especially on audio as read by the fabulous Jim Dale.

What is your ultimate favorite meal or food item?

STUFFING! I love stuffing! I will go to extreme lengths (trust me – I live in the bush and it’s not easy to come by fresh parsley) to put honest-to-goodness homemade-from-scratch stuffing on the table at Thanksgiving.

If you could only recommend one place to go in the world to everyone you met, where would it be?

I would recommend the arctic. And I would advise everyone to stay for a while.

The arctic is beautiful and vibrant in ways that I couldn’t have imagined when I lived in the lower-48. There are places here, river valleys and hilltop lookouts, that are so beautiful and primeval that they crack your heart wide open and compel you to drop everything and revel. You can’t help feeling small and afraid while at the same time feeling that you are at the height of your powers somehow: Impossibly human with a real understanding of what that means. If you hang around long enough, the landscape itself will transform you.

What is your favorite pair of shoes?

I love my Bean boots. They’re great all-purpose rugged footwear, and I kinda like that they mark me as a New Englander in a world of Alaskans in XtraTufs.

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Shoulder-season footwear with teacher-style ornamentation

Do you feel like an adult?

Yes, but I really hope that will go away when I stop being responsible for children all the time.

Lately, as I’ve been researching and scheming for Project LandYurtPlanDirt, I’ve felt ridiculously grown up. I have done heaps of paperwork, and I had to order checks for the first time in my life (who uses checks?! [adults, apparently]). I’m looking forward to the part where I’ve spent all my money and I get to go bash down trees and cut firewood and move into my sweet-ass yurt on a tall deck in among the trees beside the reindeer pasture. I’ll pull in my rope ladder (figurative or not? you decide!), put up a sign that says “no boys allowed” and forget all about paperwork for a good long while.

What makes you feel alive?

River trips, winning at anything, kissing, playing dog football or skijoring with Daazhraii, carefully planning and then spectacularly executing any scheme, singing in the car, fixing things by myself, being trusted.

What is your favorite cocktail or beverage?

I don’t have a favorite! Beverages are conditional. I do have a thing for pink, though. On a slow morning, grapefruit juice. Any time at all, a dash of real-deal cranberry juice in my water. In winter, I like a pink cocktail out on the town.

Do you like where you live?

Yes. It’s also very complicated. Arctic Village is both spectacular and harsh in almost every imaginable way.

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Chasing rockets through Arctic Village in rubber-boots

What do you need to do for yourself to feel good?

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY! Basic Self-Care vs. Work, Chores and Adventures!

In my life, the latter tends to totally dominate. My work makes me feel like I’m contributing something useful to the world, chores make me feel like I’m holding up my end of my relationship, and adventures make me feel like a badass. Eating well, sleeping enough, and getting any kind of exercise tend to fall by the wayside because those things benefit only me and don’t really impress anyone.

I’ve been a lot better about it this school year – I realize that I need to take care of myself if I want to get the most out of my body and mind – emotional resilience, physical wellness, and mental agility all depend on self-care and are all essential to succeeding as a teacher – but it can be really hard to prioritize myself. If I could push hard twenty-four hours a day, there would still be more to do: Lessons to plan, wood to chop, classes to teach, dishes to wash, papers to grade, game nights to run (I am now the Dungeon Master for some of our middle school boys who just got into D&D), events to plan, reports to draft, staff parties to host and on and on.

This year, Jewels and I worked out after school together.  At this point, we can both recite Jillian Michaels’ “Yoga Inferno” dvd nearly perfectly (our favorite line: “there are days you’d rather be dead than turn on this dvd!”). It is exhausting, but working out erases my headaches and makes me feel like a million bucks. That changed the school year in a huge way for me. Thank you Jewels, for always being game to roll out the yoga mats. You saved my bacon this year.

Nominations:

I would like to nominate some of my favorite, still-active, Alaskan Teacher-Bloggers for this award, and I’ve tailored my questions accordingly. With no internet at home, I’m terrible about keeping up with who’s new out there, so if you know of any good bush-teacher blogs I should follow, please comment.

  1. Aletha over at Tumbleweed Soul is very active and always has something cheerful or funny to say.
  2. Leslie at Occupational Therapy Below Zero works in Arctic Village with me, as well as in other parts of Alaska with other schools, and takes beautiful photos.
  3. Andrew and Kristina at Bellamy Travels are new to Alaska this past year. They work in Hughes and I just found their blog a few weeks ago when they posted an awesome synopsis of their year.

Here are the rules, if you wish to play:

  1. Thank the blogger who nominated you.
  2. Answer the 11 questions the blogger asked you.
  3. Nominate up to 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions.
  4. List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award in your post/or on your blog

Questions:

  1. Why Alaska?
  2. How does your experience compare to your expectations?
  3. Imagine a bucket. What’s it used for?
  4. If you could design your ideal care package, what would be in it?
  5. What is one thing you buy just about every single time you go to the grocery store?
  6. Do you have a favorite joke? What is it?
  7. What is something you can make, food or otherwise, that you are proud of?
  8. What is one thing you are looking forward to right now?
  9. When you need to laugh, what is your go-to book, podcast, tv show or whatever?
  10. What is your favorite extravagance?
  11. What is something that you miss already about winter?

Adventurers, Nurturers, Skijorers: We Want You!

Yukon Flats School District is looking for a secondary teacher for Arctic Village next year. I am off to graduate school, so my position will be opening up.

UPDATE: As of 7/11/19, according to ATP, my position is still open at Arctic Village School, as is the K-4 position. Please feel free to apply here through ATP and to contact me directly if you have questions about the job or the community.

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We want you! And no, not at all in a creepy, axe-wielding way!

As you can imagine, I’m kind of invested in finding someone right for the job, so here’s my honest pitch:

It’s an impossible job, but it is worthwhile. Teaching here is grueling and wonderful and infuriating and heartbreaking.

Sometimes it is easy to get lost in frustration: there are administrative failures and cultural misunderstandings and frozen pipes galore. There are a million and one things that are out of our control.

Sometimes it is easy to get lost in the pleasure of exploring the wild, magnificent Arctic Refuge that abuts the village and to forget why we must come back to work on Monday mornings when the wolf tracks lead in some different direction around some other mountain and the sunset is creeping farther north every evening. 

But we do come back. The kids have an unbelievable amount of love to give and a tremendous need to see it returned.

If you think that kind of experience might be for you, read on.

I know I am not at all the same person that I was when I began.

 

What does the job actually entail?

Right now, I teach grades 4-12. My classes are Algebra Fundamentals, High School English, Reading, Elemiddle (4-7) Language Arts, Elemiddle Social Studies, Art, sometimes P.E., sometimes Keyboarding, sometimes Drama.

There are extras that aren’t technically part of the job. Geoff and I both run a detention/study hall for an hour after school gets out each day. One evening a week, I run a board game night. I used to open the school for sewing two additional nights a week.

All of that, more or less, is flexible.

Geoff also teaches 4-12, and we have divided it up by content area in the past. That could be done differently, depending on the skills and interests of the new teacher. Regardless of how the classes are split, you’ll be working closely with Geoff. Don’t be shy about shooting him an email if you’re interested in the job. The school’s contact info can be found on the district’s website.

Now, the job description probably says something vague like this: prepare and provide curriculum-aligned lessons for assigned grade levels and content areas.

The fact is, you will write a lot of curriculum. You will teach grade levels and content areas that you are probably not certified to teach. You will do a million things at once, and you will be derailed constantly, so don’t bother making rigid lesson plans.

The negotiated agreement says our work day is from 8-4, that we get regular prep time, and that we have sick days that we can use at our discretion.

If you’re only planning to work from 8-4, you’re probably not going to do right by the kids. The school has a unique place in the community and in the kids’ lives, and you will be a huge part of that. That doesn’t end at 4:00.

If you want to take a lot of sick days or be rigid about your prep time, you’re going to screw your colleagues over. There is no one else in town who can really cover your classes. Sometimes, there is no one else who can even supervise the kids.

Fair Warning:

The Obvious

This is the bush: Everything comes in on the plane. The small store stocks mostly non-perishable foods. Gas costs $10 a gallon.

 

This is the arctic: It gets really cold here. Make sure you have long johns.

 

The Less-Obvious

Water:

Water here comes from the river. It’s filtered and treated at the washateria, then pumped over to the school and the two teacher apartments. Every other building in town is dry, and people haul or pack water from the washateria’s outdoor spigot for home use.

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Most people in town use an outhouse or a honeybucket at home. The school and the teacher apartments have running water and flush toilets. For showers, adults go to the washateria. Students are allowed to shower at school in the afternoons. We provide towels.

The kids don’t have the best oral hygiene and hand-washing skills, and they could, arguably, benefit from more showers.

Geoff and I live in a dry cabin, and I find I prefer it. There’s something essentially cleaner about not having a bathroom at all.

The Vibe:

There are four teachers here: an elementary teacher, two secondary teachers, and a special education teacher, all from outside. Our classified staff is all local. Many of them are quite young and awesome. In the past, we have usually had a pretty genial work environment.

There is a lot of male energy at school right now. Mark and Geoff get along pretty well, most of the time, but adding another man to the mix might be tricky. We could really use a woman in my position, if only to provide an alternative role model for the kids. Besides, someone needs to keep a stash of pads in her desk to hand out in times of need.

At the very least, if you are a man and you want this job, please consider calling or emailing and setting up a time to chat with both Mark and Geoff so that you can get a feel for how you might fit into the testosterone dynamics.

Special Needs:

About half of our kids are in Special Education. Almost all of our kids are behind by one or more grade levels in reading and math. It’s a very challenging teaching situation.

Tribal Land and Law:

Arctic Village is located right on the boundary between ANWR and a huge chunk of private property owned by the Native Village of Venetie Tribal Government. Teachers live and work on tribal land by the forbearance of the tribal government. In many ways, we have a different set of rules and expectations from any other residents of the community.

Non-members cannot go out exploring (skiing, snowmachining, hiking etc.) on tribal land without a tribal member as a chaperone and/or permission from the council. It’s easy to get out and enjoy the wilderness in Arctic Refuge, but it’s important to know where the boundary lies.

Non-members are held to a different standard when it comes to adhering to the rules and laws that the council and tribal government have put in place. This is a dry village, but drinking is common. The rules are not enforced except when they are, and if someone in the community has an issue with a teacher, or with teachers in general, or with outsiders, it is easy for them to cause a lot of trouble for an outsider who doesn’t take care.

When you have guests, it’s important to notify the council that they will be arriving. Even following this guideline, my guests have experienced some harassment. It is never the most memorable part of their experience – Arctic is stunning, the kids are charming and sweet, and most people are warm and welcoming – but it is frustratingly consistent.

No one tells you these things. There isn’t a manual or a packet for incoming teachers. Coming from outside, I assumed that I was expected to do what my neighbors do: when in Rome, do as the Romans. That just isn’t the case here, and no one will tell you that straight-up from the get-go. I have learned how to behave by trial and error and observation.

Housing:

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There are two apartments in the old school building. The one-bedroom apartment will be occupied next year. It looks like the two-bedroom might become available, but if that happens, the district will be hiring an elementary teacher in addition to a secondary teacher to replace me. Unless they find a teaching couple or two teachers willing to be roommates, someone is going to have to live in a dry cabin.

Rent for the two-bedroom apartment is $1,150 a month including heat, water and electricity. It’s possible to leech off the school’s internet from there.

Rent for a cabin in town is about $400 a month, maybe less, but you’re responsible for all of your own utilities, chores and maintenance. It’s not easy, but I think it’s worth it.

Most of the homes in town are heated exclusively with wood. It is probably possible to buy your wood from some dudes in town who bring in money that way. It’s also probably possible to pay someone to pack your water, maybe even buck and split your firewood (high school kids are great candidates for this). With a snowmachine and a chainsaw, it’s feasible to do all of this yourself, although it does add an extra heap of chores.

Perks:

Here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I’m going to gush for a little while.

Beauty and Adventure

Arctic is stunning. My pictures can’t do it justice. Photographers, artists and the daydreamy be warned: you may find it hard to focus on school.

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Not focusing on school.

I’ve gushed pretty endlessly about this aspect of Arctic and of Venetie for years now, so if you want to know more, just read some old posts (suggested tags: Chandalar, firewood, snowmachines). If you’re an adventurer, make friends with Geoff (hint: he likes disaster movies and talking about man toys like cordless heat guns).

The wilderness adventure potential of this place is unlimited. I’ve been looking for the limit for years now, and I haven’t found it yet.

 

People and Culture

Arctic kids are the sweetest kids I have ever worked with, anywhere, bar none. They will hug you and love you and want to visit with you all the time. They’re ridiculous. If you like kids, you will love them. If you don’t like kids, find a new profession.

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The adults in the community are, for the most part, equipped with awesome senses of humor. You won’t see much of them unless you get involved with community events or attend sewing night, but getting to know folks is well worth the effort.

The elders are incredible. They have memories of a time when the Gwich’in were still traveling seasonally and living a mainly subsistence lifestyle here. They can tell stories that make the hair on your neck stand up, and they have skills that are quickly becoming rare. It’s a pleasure to hear them speak to the kids.

If you’re into it and can find the time, there are opportunities to get familiar with Gwich’in culture. The kids have language instruction a few times a week, several people regularly attend sewing nights at the school and do traditional beadwork, and there are people in the community who are glad to teach others to cut caribou meat and ice fish. My classroom is fully stocked with literature by and about the Gwich’in people, and people in town are proud of their heritage.

This is a critical moment for the Gwich’in. Congress has mandated leasing for oil and gas development in the Arctic Refuge, and the leasing area is in a sensitive place for the Porcupine caribou herd. Many adults and elders in the community are active in opposing this development, and you will find that passions run deep on this issue.

You Can’t Beat the Food

Everyone in town goes bananas for blueberries in August. I believe one woman picked thirty gallons of blueberries last summer. Lingonberries, known around here as cranberries, are harvested a little later in the fall.

 

There is very little, in my opinion, that rivals the taste of fried caribou meat and lingonberry chutney.

Throughout the fall and spring, sometimes even through the winter, caribou are active in the area. Caribou meat is lean but tender, and very flavorful. If you are a hunter, as a resident of Arctic Village you are entitled to take ten caribou in season. If you are not a hunter, you will have the opportunity to buy or trade for meat.

 

 

In the spring, holes are drilled in the Chandalar where it bends just upriver from town. Everyone enjoys ice fishing as the days warm and lengthen. Sometimes we take the kids up on skis and spend the afternoon making too much noise on the ice. I’ve never had any luck, but I hear grayling is delicious.

Other locally available foods include waterfowl, moose, ptarmigan and rabbit.

Flexibility

 

I have a dog that will cry incessantly and eat my boots if he’s left alone. We’ve worked it out so that he can be in a kennel just outside my classroom window all day long, which seems to work for him.

When the weather’s nice, we often take the kids skiing. It doesn’t necessarily have to happen during their thirty-minute P.E. block: we are able to retool the schedule to work with whatever activities we have planned, even on fairly short notice.

When I wanted to do stained glass with the kids, we were able to order the supplies and build a class around it.

Our secretary has been bringing her baby to work since she was just a little smushy bitty thing. Now she’s three and sometimes appears in the classroom doorways, asking for her mommy, wearing nothing but a diaper. It’s charming.

There are advantages and disadvantages to living and working in the bush, but you can’t beat it for flexibility.

Compensation

The pay and benefits are decent (by lower-48 standards).

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We Want You:

If you have a sense of humor.

If you are someone who likes to play board games with kids.

If you have an imagination.

If you are interested in getting outside.

If you are someone who is willing to give others the benefit of the doubt.

If you can think on your feet.

Interested?

If you think you might be interested, get in touch. I can answer your questions frankly or put you in touch with the folks who can.

 

Occupational Hazards

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so much more than just the cold!

1. Parasitic Arthropods

Our cabin is currently sitting empty with the windows open. Last time I checked, the temperature upstairs was about -5. I never actually saw a bedbug, but I have a distinctive line of bites along my ribs.

Kids bring bedbugs to school, along with head-lice, pretty frequently. A few weeks ago, I had a kid raise his hand in the middle of read-aloud. I glared, and he put his hand down. A minute later he threw his hand up like Arnold Horshack and waved it in the air. All it took was a raised eyebrow and he burst:

“I found a zhii!”

That is one of my hundred or so Gwich’in words, so I did what most people would do if someone loudly announced that they’d just picked a louse out of their hair- what everyone else in the classroom did – and stared slack-jawed.

He looked back, totally ingenuous.

“Umm. Go to the office.” He left. I tried to play it cool and get back to read-aloud, but he came right back in.

“Um, where’s the office?”

“Katie! Go tell Katie!”

Katie’s our administrative aide and she’s worth her weight in gold. She quietly arranged a school-wide head check and called parents.

After a while my student came back into and helpfully notified us all that “nobody should sit there. [He had] dropped it.”

All that is just to say that parasitic arthropods are just part of classroom teaching. What are you going to do? It’s really a wonder we’ve never had bedbugs before.

We threw the mattress in the yard last week, and a day of forty-below took care of that. Freezing the house at a temperature of zero or below for a few days will kill any bugs or even eggs that are left inside. We had to move the canned goods and perishable food out of the place, but there are no pipes to freeze. It’s a perk of arctic living.

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ice on the windows so you know it’s cold: bedbugs begone!

2. Trauma

I realize I am just beginning to understand trauma: it’s the dread I feel with the coming of dividends and holidays – times of heavy partying; It’s the sick feeling I get when someone who doesn’t usually visit the school shows up in the middle of the day. So often those visits mean that someone – a student’s cousin or a parent – has died.

This fall, I taught for two hours with the knowledge that two of my students had lost a parent that morning. They had no clue, just went about business as usual. I held everyone in my classroom, escorted kids to the bathroom, made sure no one snuck a device under the table and got on social media. I tried to keep it light, have fun, not let on. It seemed to take years for the kids’ grandma to come and get them. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

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meanwhile, the sun is rising again, a little longer each day

By the time these kids hit middle school, they’ve seen far more tragedy than I saw in the twenty-five years of my life before Alaska. I have only been around for a few years, but already my gut is twisted with it all.

Trauma clouds the vision and tragedy is what happens when someone gets backed into a corner and can’t see a way out. Tragedy is what happened to both these boys, one of whom was my student. I try not to let myself dwell on it, but I have had a hard time letting it go.

3. Polar Bears

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This is Not a Polar Bear

Jim is my neighbor, the father of a whole pack of young Arctic Village girls. He came by the school to pick up his daughters and I got to hear this story firsthand while the girls got their winter gear on. I just about lost my cool when I heard about this: it was the same weekend I was out thinking I was so badass for patching up the Bravvie all alone in the wilderness. I would have felt a lot less badass if I’d known there was a polar bear prowling around the area.

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And after I fixed it, practically under the nose of a ravenous bear, my ride found the strength of ten Bravos, plus two! (this is how we haul school trash, these days)

**Polar bears aren’t really an occupational hazard. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. This is just a ridiculously nifty story.

Reflection

So, it’s New Years Eve.

Every new year, since I first came to Alaska, has marked profound changes in my circumstances and in my dreams. This is the first time in many years that I’ve spent this transition away from old friends – my heart’s family. In fact, at the moment, I’m completely alone except for my dog. If I can’t be with loved ones, I’m glad to be by myself. There’s a little extra gravity to sitting and thinking and writing alone. Later on I’ll go get Geoff and we’ll go to the community hall and join the fiddle dance, but for now I’m free to sit here in perfect silence and consider.

It’s been a year of changes around here: Congress voted to open ANWR and Arctic Village got cell service.

There were some pretty great achievements: The inservice snowmachine trip last March, the school play, learning to skijor with Daazhraii, the Christmas party, the river trip, dipnetting our limit on the Kenai, finally getting the Bravo running properly, doing stained glass with the art class, reading Harry Potter aloud to the elemiddles, that time I got my tongue stuck to an axe-head and then unstuck.

I was in town last week, mostly to take the GRE, but also to do some shopping. When the plane took off yesterday morning, I slipped back to my first flight to Venetie. We flew over a dawning Fairbanks where the streetlights were painting the parking lots and roads with pale pink circles, the Chena was steaming, everything was smoking and billowing in the cold, catching the little light of the almost-sunrise, and the lights of town were golden. It was exactly as I remember it from that first time, three years ago, when I was hurtling headlong and helpless into the unknown.

This time looked the same on the outside, but it felt entirely different. I was going home in a plane full of familiar faces, not alone into some unknowable adventure.

In that first year, I left things behind and began from scratch.

In the second year, I found my feet and my skis and a kind of real happiness.

This year, I grew strong and brave. I have learned to navigate on the rivers of the interior, I have camped alone in the winter, I have been stuck in overflow, I have chosen trees and cut them down and chopped them into firewood, I have learned to flush the fuel lines/grease the shaft/change the spark plugs/replace the pump and filter, I have slept on a bed of spruce needles fifty miles from anywhere at forty-five below.

This was the year of Daazhraii:

This was the year of Lyra:

This was the year of firewood:

I have been able to look forward and outward this year. I am applying to graduate school. I am counting down to the release of this year’s state land sales brochure. I’m daydreaming about the rivers I will explore in Lyra, the chickens I will raise if I wind up living in Fairbanks for a while, the cabin I want to build somewhere remote some day.

It’s a good view, this teetering on the the brink of new things. I can see the sun coming up on some pretty great stuff, and this new year’s full moon is lighting up the things behind and around me that make my life awesome: students who are beginning to come into their own, a dog who makes everything sunshine, a fella who is maybe even more independent than I am, friends who are orbiting the same sun, mountains and miles of snow, and a community hall that is even now beginning to fill up with dancers.