From the Mouths of Babes

Friday, as I was wrapping up class with my 10-12 graders, I told them that the assignment we were working on would be due Monday. I don't often give homework for various reasons but recently have started to do so more often. The top student (I'll call him Joe), who has a scholarship to any UA school he wishes to attend, said he'd be willing to do the work but that he had a problem.

"Um, Stotz, I don't have anything to write on."

I paused, confused. "You can do the work on the sheet I've provided; the data table is on there for you." Plus, he has a notebook, so I still couldn't quite compute his problem clearly.

Joe says, "No, I mean nothing to write on like a desk."

Well, that changes things. I am well aware that some of the housing here is, shall we say, not quite at the same standard that I was used to seeing in homes while growing up, but the thought never crossed my mind that a home could totally lack a writing surface that could suffice for a wee bit of homework. Those of you who know me probably guessed that my reaction to his statement was written all over my face. I'm a terrible liar in this respect, but am improving out of necessity, mostly from situations like this one.

Not really knowing what to say, I offered to hold a study hall over the weekend in my room. I never would have believed that 10/11 students would raise their hands earnestly indicating that they would come for such an event.

Say it with me now, "are you kidding me?!"

But back to the more important matter at hand: First, how is there no space on which to do homework? More importantly, how common is this problem within the village? Secondly, how does a kid without a desk receive a top scholarship? I would say that he manages his time well, except that the other day he told me that he was reading until 5:00 am. Now, I'm not one to tell a kid not to read, but I did use that little tidbit of information to make a pitch for a better bedtime. "Err closer to midnight than to dawn," I told him.

Well, I didn't end up holding a study hall today (though I am seriously considering it for the future), but as I came to the school this evening (Sunday), I bumped into Joe. He was near the school downloading something onto his iPod, probably another book that he will read tonight until 5 am. He ended up coming to the classroom with me so that he could finish his work from Friday. After that, Joe stayed and chatted, telling me about some of his closest friends, how he has dealt with bullying, his family, and how he remembers, in 2nd grade, being told the difference between being native and being white, and how he thought, "but we're all born the same way, we all die the same way, and we all need the same things to live. What does it matter what our race is?" Hmm. No wonder he's the scholarship winner.

Joe inquired about his younger brother's status in school, who struggles behaviorally at times.  He said, grinning mischievously, "I told him if I ever catch him getting into smoking that I'll beat him up!"

Oh, brotherly love. So mushy.

He then speculated on why his brother might be struggling - his best friend had died in a hunting accident a few years ago, and Joe has tried to look out for him ever since then. This information was completely new to me, and will obviously give me some insight to helping out his younger brother in the future. You just never quite know why someone may be struggling.

It's times like these that the fact that some of my students do as well as they do just absolutely floors me. I knew teaching out here would be a challenge, but not for some of the reasons that I'm confronting, or, more correctly, that my students confront. Lord knows I probably wouldn't have lasted a week, let alone accomplished anything!

And to think, I almost didn't even come over to the school tonight! I would have missed out on this great conversation with an amazingly kind and considerate kid. When people ask me why I came back, or how I "stand it,' --I"ll assume people mean life in a dry, fly-in, fly-out village--I guess it's little encounters like these that help me to answer those questions. Teachers often say that the students teach them more than they ever teach the kids, and I'm no different.

Our staff sometimes jokes that a year of teaching in the tundra is equal to about 5-7 years of teaching elsewhere, similar to "dog years." At this point, I can't argue with that idea. If I get to experience more gems like I did tonight, I might well just be here long enough to retire in terms of "teacher/dog years."

Well, there's a beautiful sunset and it's finally stopped raining for a while, so I'm out! Adios!