Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

I do, and for me, it starts with a snow machine.

So, Jamie and I got to attend some training last spring in California, and I did this year as well. Even a year apart, the trips were remarkably similar. Here is the story, in pictures mostly, of how one gets from the frozen village to sunny San Jose.

Step 1: Get from the village to the hub, because the little planes are struggling in mid-March. We ride about a half hour by snow machine to Saint Mary's, our nearby hub.

Brittnay arrives to pick me up. She is a saint.

Brittnay and Chris load up the sleds to take us to St. Mary's.
Here we are pictured just in front of the school.

St Mary's airport - a 20 ft x 15 ft building..
My favorite choice is the last one :)

The Dash 8 that will take us from St. Mary's
 to Anchorage. 

Step 2: Stash our snow gear, consisting of snow pants, parka, hat, neck warmer, boots, goggles, mittens, etc. in the pilots' area because who wants to take that stuff all the way to San Jose? Board the Dash 8 (about 30-ish seats). We get a free cookie!

Step 3: Indulge in some Anchorage food before boarding the "big plane" that will take us to California. I lost that photo, but it involved food at the airport Chili's and a giant glass of wine. 

From the big plane! En route from Anchorage to Los Angeles.

Ending our day with palm trees. I believe this is LA. It was a long day.

Step 4: Hang out in Los Angeles for the night, and fly to San Jose in the morning. 

Step 5: Take a much-needed side trip to San Francisco before starting the conference.

Thankful to be soaking up the rays.

Fun side story: While visiting this beach, Jamie and I were so impressed with this dog walker taking care of all these pups. We watched them for a bit, and then decided to sprawl out on the sand and try to soak up as many rays as we could, laying on our backpacks and closing our eyes to enjoy it fully. Then, for some reason, I felt like something was wrong. 

I opened my eyes to see that one of these angelic dogs was peeing on Jamie's backpack. Her eyes were closed and she had no idea that she was about to be used as a fire hydrant. 

"JAMIE!!!" I screeched. 

I must have had a look of horror on my face, but I could not articulate the sentence, "A dog is peeing 2 inches from your head," so she sat up in a panic to see what was happening. Eventually, I stuttered, "A DOG! IT'S PEEING!! GET UP!!" After we recovered from hysterical laughter, we ended up at Target to get her a new bag. 

Step 6: Hang out at the Dolce Mansion, where our conference took place. Each break we had, we meandered outside to catch a bit more sunshine. 

Professionally speaking, this conference by E.L. Achieve is phenomenal, and I got to chat with other teachers in various other circumstances, talking about how the common practices we use to accelerate academic language work both in the big city and the tiny village. We are lucky to currently be the only district in Alaska to partner with this amazing company. Maybe that will change soon - it has done amazing things for our teachers and students!

The patio of our conference - not a bad place to finish up report cards. 

Step 7:  Eventually, we returned to the village. This was probably taken from one of the little 207s (6 seats) or caravans (9-10 seats) en route to Mountain Village.

Returning to the tundra.

This year, I had much the same experience, having to snow machine from Mountain Village to Saint Mary's to get into Anchorage. Though I did not get to have a little side trip, standing with my bare feet in the grass was quite worth it!

So, now you know, if you're ever in the village, how to get yourself to San Jose.

(Sorry it has been such a long time since the last post...but you know how life happens...)

So Many Books, So Little Time

Frank Zappa knew a thing or two. 

The resolution to unplug and engage more is going swimmingly.

So well, in fact, that now I'm reading four books. Here's a glimpse of each:

1. Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us by Daniel Pink:

This book is a fantastic look at what motivates us in this day and age compared to what used to motivate humans. I can't help but read it and think, "So THAT'S why I zone out during ______!" or "No wonder I couldn't care less about [insert some useless task that apparently is required for the world to go 'round]." I employed some of this knowledge in a recent training and received positive feedback. Here's a taste: Motivation is about trust, not micromanagement. This idea should be intuitive, but clearly it needs to be more openly discussed. I recommend this work to anyone who works with human beings. And if you don't work with humans, I'm envious, but only slightly. Where do you work?

2. Teaching Sucks, But We Love It Anyway! by Frank Stepnowski. 

Stepnowski is a veteran teacher who, frankly, tells it like it is. Some dislike him for saying things people don't want to hear. On days that I want to gripe about this profession, I read this book and he gets it. It's like a bitch session without placing that sort of burden on a friend and bringing us both down. The bonus is that I usually end up laughing. If you really want to understand some of the unfortunate realities of the educational system in America, read this. Just keep in mind that though he's angry, he stays in it for the kids. A recent excerpt that jumped out at me on a particularly frustrating day follows:

"Sometimes, the reality of the teaching profession is so much stranger than fiction that one can only look upon it and laugh, because if you didn't (as the saying goes), you would cry; sometimes from heartbreak, sometimes from frustration, and sometimes just because the things that are done to us are so profound in their ridiculousness that all you can do is laugh."

I'm unsure of the page number this is found on because I'm reading the Kindle version. The emphasis on the last part was what resonated so purely with me the moment I read it. Here's why: that day, I was asked to backlog two months' worth of attendance data for an after-school program into a specific spreadsheet that wasn't distributed until over two months into the program using odd symbols that I have no idea how to make. Ha! Nope. This isn't nearly the most ridiculous task I've been asked to do; it just hit me on a down day.

Other favorite insights include: Anti-Teacher America, the "Data Deity" that is our system (which relates to the incessant testing of our kids), and muffin recipe lesson plans. And more. So much more. 

3. Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan:

I just started this one, given to me by a friend. So far, it's clearly a sad setting for positive and kind protagonist Jigana, but I'm hopeful for him. It promises to be heart wrenching thus far. I need to know that good still triumphs, so that shapes my mindset on this one right now.

And lastly,

4. It Can't Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis:

I'll be honest, I'm only reading this one because I saw it in the library during a reading day with my students. I'm sure you're wondering this: A reading day for science students? Well, I walked into my classroom last Friday to discover that it was 20 degrees F -  a window was left wide open by an as-yet-unknown individual, snow on the floor. Lab supplies were frozen; two faucets as well. Some lab experiments for the science fair are now delayed. I figured we could take a day off and enjoy some reading in a room that was above a freezing temperature. 

Anyhow, the old cover and yellowed pages drew me in. Published in 1935, it has a style that demands a more focused sort of attention than other pieces. It's like flexing reading skills I'd forgotten I had. I'm sure Mr. Anderson, P. Schultz, Mr. Kallis, and Ms. Miner would be proud. 

So many books, so little time indeed. What are you reading? 

Back to Basics

First off, Happy New Year, y'all!

Before the New Year, I had it in my brain that I would resolve to write more in 2014. I tried last year and failed, so of course, why not give it another go? Seems logical. (Or oddly similar to Einstein's definition of insanity: to do things over and over again the same way and expect a different result.)

Kayaking on the Missouri River.

January 1st is a solid marketing ploy and I suppose a nice, clean time to overhaul whatever in your life needs overhauling, but nothing other than the writing thing really came to mind this year. Also, I didn't want to commit to it just for the sake of making a resolution, so it was put on hold, at least until my return to the village. Sure, I wanted to improve myself, or at the very least improve my habits so that those around me (my precious students) may benefit, but nothing else jumped out at me. So I waited.

The return trip to Mountain Village was riddled with missed connections and weather delays, including an 18-hour stay at the Denver airport. (Thanks to the guy who let me in to the United Board Room so I could sleep!)

Then I got sick. (I take full credit for that: too much fun and not enough sleep over break.)

Then report cards were due. (I still don't understand why the semester must end 9 days AFTER Christmas vacation.)

Then I discovered that I would be involved in leading a district inservice less than two weeks before we were to give it. (Fun, but I'm reliably a nervous wreck beforehand.)

Then the Science Fair started to kick into high gear. (Worthwhile stress.)

Then I was allowed to start planning for a new Health Careers elective two days before it started. (No comment.)

Then we had conferences. (Necessary.)

I've decided that January is a mean month which proves to test my resolve yearly, but I refuse to believe this makes me weak. February seems just as good of a time as any. Hey, it's about the intent and the process, anyway, right?

Hiking in Kaua'i.

One day while lesson planning (or grading, I don't really remember), I meandered into the library, partially because it was empty and partially because I felt a heat wave pouring from it; my classroom usually settles around 63 degrees without students in there. So I went in to warm up, and it happened.

I started scanning the shelves. It took me back to the good ol' days at Beadle Elementary when the library was an endless source of adventure. I was convinced that librarian Mrs. Huennekens was partly psychic, because she always knew where to direct me and I could be in my own world for what felt like hours. Nerdy and introverted, yes I know, and proud of it!

Hiking south of Anchorage.

As I wandered the aisles, I felt this overwhelming and energizing sense of calm. Or maybe it was a calm energy. Or the warmth. I dunno, but my brain began to perk up. In that moment, I knew what my resolution would be: to read more. Or maybe, to readily tap into that sense of calm. But how to accomplish that?

I realized the zen that I felt came from the fact that I had no technology link at that moment: my phone wasn't on me and I'd taken a break from the computer. Holding a book felt so...engaging! I decided I would try for two resolutions: no technology (other than music) after 9 pm to allow for more reading. Now, trust me, the irony is not lost on me that you are reading this on a computer or some device. Bear with me here.

Lately, with the Facebooking, Pinteresting, reading of random news/pop culture/scientific articles, and checking my email and the weather countless times just because I can has left me feeling restless and, frankly, bored. I check those sites and feel that I am becoming a dullard. So why not cut it?

Turnagain Arm while hiking south of Anchorage.

It may sound like a silly thing, to read more, but I don't think it's any less ambitious than are fitness goals or any other of the usual resolutions that, when one inevitably fails to maintain them for too many days, make one want to drop the crazy idea altogether and resign oneself to a few extra pounds or a bad habit of cursing or snacking or smoking or what-have-you. The beauty of this goal is that it offers vast rewards despite, or maybe due to, its simplicity. I aim to keep things simple for my students; why not get back to the basics myself? I figure that if I keep this resolution at least 4-5 times a week, I will be calmer, and my kiddos will benefit from that.

And that, dear readers, makes me want to keep this year's resolution.

One last thing: it's currently raining here. Give us back our snow, Lower 48!

Cheers!

Life in Boots

In order to fully appreciate all that life in rural Alaska has to offer, it is essential to have the proper footwear. Boots, people, are one of the keys to happiness here. Whether it's muck boots, warm winter boots, or wellies, the right pair can make or break an experience. Ice cleats are of the utmost importance for the slickest days.

So, imagine my dismay when all of our snow melted this past week and we returned to mud and puddles everywhere. It was 41 degrees last Friday, and, unfortunately, my Bogs have holes in them. This has meant some wet feet now and then, but I don't mind. In fact, it seems to bother others more than me. We're back to the mid-20s, but still snow is nowhere to be found.

Marshall students, here for a volleyball tournament a few weeks ago, said, "So NATIVE you are!" when they saw that I'd put duck tape over the holes. (Don't judge; one of my favorite coaches instilled in me the importance of duck tape. Or is it duct tape? I never can remember.) My friends encouraged me to get new ones, and I brushed it off, saying that winter was almost here and once it snowed, I wouldn't need muck boots until April!

The sad part is that I was in Anchorage for the majority of the month of November. You'd think I would find the time to go purchase some decent rain or muck boots. Nope!

Oops. Joke's on me! Here we are, December 10th, and here's what I've got in my mud room...

My trusty bogs. They're not as tall as they should be, but they've served
me well. At this point, a friend has volunteered to gorilla glue them for me.
Yes!

My Kamiks, recommended by a student who knows my clumsiness and that
I'm hard on shoes. So warm and comfy. Way too warm for the current weather! 

The ice cleats. No, it's not quite wise to have white cleats up here, but hey,
they're easy to put on and take off, and they've lasted two whole winters!
The $13 were totally worth it. May they last three winters more!

I remember ordering those cleats a couple years ago; the company called to make sure I lived where I did before they sent them because they didn't trust my partially made-up address.

We got to chatting, and he asks, "Hey, I'm sure it's a long shot, but I have a friend named Mary teaching up there somewhere...that's not near you, is it?"

My response? "Actually, yes, it's where I am, and I know Mary, too - she's my roommate!"

The poor guy didn't believe me until I put Mary on the phone. This would be the first of many occurrences proving that Alaska is just one big small town, and a reason I love it here. If you talk to someone long enough, you're almost sure to find a connection.

Coming back from the school the other day, I ran into these two fellows running their toy snow-go's through the puddles. I love how they make their own fun, and it reminded me of the trouble my brothers, neighborhood friends and I often found ourselves in making mud pies and pots and insisting that they be treasured inside the house as well, having 'who can kill the most box elder bugs with his hands' contests, playing in the flooded ditches, playing night games...ah, the memories!

Just over two weeks until Christmas...here's hoping I'm in snow boots by then!

Cheers!

Blessed

     Hi, all!

     As usual, time as flown and here it is, December, the semester almost over. It's been an eventful few months for our village and our school district. As many of you know, I've transferred downriver to Mountain Village, where I teach in the same capacity: 7-12 grade sciences. We've gone from a levelized system to a more traditional credit-based one where students receive a grade of A-F. Overall, it has been a greatly involved but wholly worthwhile change.

A beautiful fall view of my new home, Mountain Village, from the top of Cupcake.

Surrounding area.

I'm a fan of the winding side sloughs of the river. Following those bumps on the horizon will get you to three other villages in our district, or so I'm told. 

     The kids seem to be happier overall this year. One former Marshall student even said to me, "The work is harder, but I do more, and my grades are better than last year. It's good now." (There was a fancy conversion from levels passed to a GPA, so kids did get some kind of a grade at some point.) Another girl came to me with a thank you letter she'd written on behalf of the volleyball team to one of their sponsors. She said, "I just thought we should do this, because they helped us so much. Does it look okay?" In several ways, kids deserve more credit than we give them.

A 7th and an 8th grader wanted to help me get water from
the pump house. Later, they took me on a walk down by
the beach.

     Five minutes into my first city league basketball game this year, I managed to pop my medial meniscus, or "shred" it, according to the surgeon. There was no foul play; only my two feet and the floor were involved. Many thanks to Brittnay and Sam, who literally carried and carted me around after it happened!

     That, combined with the opportunity to speak at the Bilingual and Multicultural Education Equity Conference in late November, caused me to be out of my classroom for the majority of November - twice for over a week each time. Add in Thanksgiving week, and I taught a whopping 7.5 days that month! It was too few for me.

No one can say we don't get VIP treatment out here:
ERA workers wheeled me into the airport as I went into
Anchorage for surgery the following day. 

     I worried and felt guilty about being away from "my" kids; I've discovered this fall that I really do love this job and didn't want to leave them for that long. (This is a good sign, right?) I suppose that's a silly sentimental teacher thing to think, but it's true. Plus, how one successfully plans for 7 days of classroom work without much guidance that doesn't just include books and worksheets, yet still provides learning and keeps them on the newly adopted curricular map... well, you get the picture. It is neither fun nor easy.

Six days post surgery, Jamie (right), a 5th Grade teacher, and I spoke at the
 BMEEC about how using Constructing Meaning has helped our students.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat!

Kids hard at work building circuits. Once they got them done, they asked if
they could build more complicated ones. Sure, why not? I'm sure Grandpa Al
would do a much better job than I did!

     I needn't have worried. The kids worked so hard on their projects while I was gone. When I returned, kids rushed to see if I was really back, shouted "HI, WELCOME BACK, STOTZ!" and ran off. That was cute, but when class actually started, they were more concerned about showing me their work, making sure things were correct, and asking if they could add certain elements of creativity. It really was adorable and a bit unexpected.

     I'm sure many of you have heard about the tragedy of the recent plane crash bound for Mountain Village. It has affected all of us, and its timing is what inspired me to write tonight. Even with all the (mostly good) stress of this school year, I feel truly blessed to be where I am, with the job I have, with a bum knee and generous friends who continue to take care of me in that regard, with an iffy water situation, working with some pretty humble people who do awesome things for our students. Sometimes, one just needs to acknowledge those blessings. Take 10 seconds to consider your own blessings. Heck, take 20. What are they? Don't you feel better now? What if we all started our days that way?

     I do have a request of you. I'm trying to figure out what this blog is or should be. Do you like the stories and summaries? Want more pictures and less journal-like yammering and reflection? Would you rather I post about the realities - both good and bad, funny and sad - of teaching? Let me know. I think sometimes I put off writing because I'm not sure what y'all want to hear. Feel free to email me or leave a comment below.

     I hope this finds you all warm and preparing for the holiday season, whatever that means to you.

     'Tis the season...to know that you are blessed.

Coast Trip

Never had I ever predicted that I'd be in full snow gear on a Labor Day weekend. So here's how that came to happen...

A teacher friend, Jamie, asked if I'd want to go to the coast, meaning the Bering Sea, over Labor Day weekend. We'd leave Friday night and get back Sunday, having time to recuperate and prepare for the week on Monday.

Matt and Sarah, tour guides extraordinaire.

Well, sure, I'm game for that. It would be foolish to turn down an opportunity to travel the Yukon by speedboat to the Bering Sea! We would be looking for a seal or possibly a whale to harvest and bring back to the village as a winter supply of meat and oil. Sarah, one of our tour guides, told us, "if I can just get one or the other, my family will be set for winter supplies."






We (1st Grade Teacher Courtney, 5th Grade Teacher Jamie, our tour guides Matt and Sarah Peterson, our helper/boat hand/coffee enthusiast/generally awesome survivalist Amos, and myself) got our gear ready and left Mountain Village about 7:00 pm or so. In case you're wondering, "full winter gear" means snow pants or Carhartt overalls, one or two pairs of thick socks, heavy muck boots, long underwear, a fleece, a winter coat, a hat, and mittens. Luckily, it's the rainy season, so a raincoat was worn over all of that as well, topped off with a life jacket. One never feels quite so attractive out here as when we are decked out for the weather. But hey, warmth and dryness while on a boat are perks!

Jamie, myself, and Courtney all bundled up with Sarah goofing off behind us.

We arrived in Kotlik, a village very near to the coast, about 11:00 pm. A fellow teacher from the district, Jackie, took us in and let us sleep on her living room floor. She even rearranged her sleeping children to do this for us. She and her husband are saints!

Arriving in Kotlik.

After coffee with another teacher and visiting the store the next morning (it's a rule that you haven't really been to a village until you've visited the store), we set off again for the coast. We stopped at an established fish camp, grateful for a chance to warm up, eat, and laze around. It was here that I got to use my first honeybucket! If you're not sure what that is, it's pretty much a bucket with a tiny toilet seat on top. So fancy!

Our digs. Sarah made sure that Amos made sure it was cozy for us. A direct
quote from her to him: "Amos, you make sure these ladies are warm!"
And then, grinning mischievously, "I know you know how to keep the
 ladies HOT!" Poor Amos. He endured so much teasing this trip, but we were
 grateful to have him. 

Jamie and Courtney get their bearings. Some of our students had recently
been here for a tribal coast trip, and we found their names all over the walls.
We had a guest, mouse Gus-Gus, who was a fan of Courtney. Or maybe we
were his guests?

Our supplies for the weekend.

Jamie and I didn't plan our awesome supper of chili with
hot dogs, but it was scrumptious!

We spent Saturday and Sunday boating around, setting nets, and tootling around the Bering Sea trying to spot a whale or seal. Alas, we saw none, but it was such a cool experience. Amos shot a couple geese. A few salmon did catch in the nets, and we had a fine meal before taking off to return to Mountain. Sarah kept encouraging us to "eat more fish, more! It will keep you warm when we travel." Well, I'm not about to ignore advice from a Native Alaskan, so I helped myself to probably 3 servings. She's right; I wasn't cold at all!

Matt set the net in hopes of snagging a whale.

Sarah overlooks the Bering Sea.

Whale remains. That's my foot.

I had to check its teeth. Jamie wasn't happy when I tried to touch her after doing
so. I'm not sure why she's so squeamish - she is a 5th grade teacher, after all! 

Amos keeps an eye out for possible moose or birds. He also uttered my
favorite quote of the weekend to Jamie: "You put sugar and creamer in
your coffee?! That ain't coffee, that's a milkshake! Blegh!"
I couldn't agree more.

As per usual in rural Alaska during the fall, it rained on the way back. It was a bit rough returning, as we were traveling upriver in addition to the rain. We got back about 10:00 Sunday night, just as it was getting dark. A tiring yet invigorating trip, I hope to get to do it again next year!

Goodbye to Marshall

This year, saying goodbye to Marshall was hard. Prior to leaving, my teacher friends here had a surprise going away party for me, largely organized by Shelly, Josh's wife. She told me we'd be taking pictures and doing glamour shots, which she knew would be the only way I would attempt to do my hair. Sneaky lady...I'm glad she did!

Josh and Shelly's adorable twins, my buddies Logan and Jack.

Leah, myself, and Shelly. I will miss my Alaskan sisters so much!

We were all in tears at the airport the day that the families Cunningham and Gaylord left. 

Saying goodbye to Josh, my joking buddy who saved me many a time,
was what broke me. He messed up my decision not to cry.

I even got a snuggle from Josh and Shelly's littlest, Wyatt.

That night, I took a walk with Audrey and Howie, who will be returning to their village of Emmonak. Here are some shots of my last night in Marshall at about 11:15 pm.

The still frozen river.

Marshall School from the southeast.

Last sunset view from my classroom.

The next morning, May 19th, I awoke to find a fresh but light blanket of snow. For a minute I worried that I'd dreamed the past couple months and that it was actually still March!

Next year I will be in Mountain Village in the same capacity. I've already found out that a wonderful teacher from North Carolina has replaced me, so I'm glad to leave my kids in her capable hands. My time in Marshall was an unforgettable experience, one I'm so very grateful to have had. Mountain Village is sure to bring new friends and continued mischief. Thank you all for your support! It wouldn't have been the same without your kind words and prayers.