One day to be easy. That's all I ask. And it's asking too much.

I took today off. Yesterday, as I sat in my desk chair and looked around my room I felt so... defeated.

My kids had cried all day. Tears were being shed left and right. The teasing was out of control. I got bit on the hand by an upset student. Bit. by a third grader. It shocked me more than anything. I was in total disbelief that I needed to be aware of biting. Students punched, students hit, students yelled, students teased, students bullied, students slept, students cried and there was me. Standing up there battling to teach all while recognizing that the emotions that spilled over from whatever happened in their little lives this weekend... I realized this battle was over and I was the loser. Defeated.

The room wasn't a mess, but as I looked around I could see where one kid had sat earlier with her head tucked crying because another had just socked her in the stomach. I saw another child in the opposite side of the room picking her nose and rubbing her boogers on other students as they cringe and yell at her to stop. She laughs. I'm appalled. Another child is doing the same thing near her. They both find it funny now. In the middle of the room sits another child who grabs my arm, only for me to realize that she had been sucking on her hand or something because it is soaking wet. When I tell her that's gross and I don't appreciate it, she just looks up and grins.... because in her world it's comical. I wonder when I will ever transform from a babysitter to a teacher. I wonder how I'll get through the rest of the year.... and then another.

Sometimes life out here catches up with me and I have to stop and take a moment. As I sit here, I listen to the silence in my apartment and smile. It's a sound I've missed for so long. When you look out over the frozen tundra, you can see for miles and the world seems so peaceful. When you look into my classroom, the contrast is transparent. I am startled by the stark differences.

In my head, as I tried so desperately to fall asleep last night, all I could think was: For once, I just need one day - one day - that's all I ask - one day to be easy. The reality is that no one's lives out here are easy, not even just for a day. My life is proving to be no different.

Jenny and I walked to the store the other day and I took pictures of life out here. My children sleep in hurting houses that are often unfinished and crowded. I claimed to be taking pictures of the snowdrift, but in actuality I was taking pictures to show you what life is like in this part of 'America.'

Not all houses are like this, but a vast majority are. It's incredible to think about how people live in these houses in such harsh conditions. People are cold, but they survive. Amazing.

I recently wrote in my journal: I don't want life to be 'normal.' I want to feel it. I want it to remind me every so often that yes, this is it and this is worth it. And I do exist. I want to feel the highs and lows. I want to have to hold on tight at some points while feeling my hair blow in the breeze behind me at others. I.want.to.feel.life.

I'm holding on tight right now, but come June when I'm sitting in on the beach at Folly, that breeze will sure feel nice.

To those of you remembering to feel and not just live, I raise my Cherry Coke.

Cristina

Homesick... or not?

Hi Lower 48,

It's 10:00 on a Tuesday night. It feels like a Thursday and all I want right now is a smoothie from the co-op in Brattleboro. It's so funny the things you miss the most when you leave a place. There are times that I think of particular moments, moments that should mean nothing but for some reason mean something only to me, that make me miss someone or something so much it hurts. I've been doing that a lot lately - miss someone or something. I often long to hear the voice of a friend, for some sort of food, or just the idea of takeout in general. Life is exhausting and then the thought of coming home and cooking at times is beyond overwhelming... until you remember the 7 dollar a box pricetag that comes along with the simplicity of eating cereal. And the fact that your milk just came out of a box. Yum.....

I often get asked why I don't blog more, and I think the honest answer is that so many of the things I learn about or do out here I don't want to tell you. I miss my Lower 48 life more than anyone can imagine, but if I tell you what happens out here, you'll ask me to come home - and I'm not ready to do that yet. If I tell you that I get homesick, you'll say we're here, come back and I'm afraid you'll quit including me in your life. I love those random phone calls out of the blue that let me know I'm still a part of your life, even though I'm 1000s of miles away. I enjoy reading, and laughing, from all the emails people send or facebook messages or just a simple wall post that let's me know that I'm still a part of your life. I'm scared that if I post too much, or let you really know just how much I think about life down there, you'll stop for fear of making me homesick. And I don't want it to stop. 

That's probably been one of the most surprising things throughout all of this. When I first moved out here, I figured people would email and ask me questions and call and such, but people have still kept it up. It let's me know I have some pretty amazing friends (my family just has to I guess.... ha! I jokes!). So... what do you want to know?

Life this week has been tough. One of my kid's parents just got back from jail. It turns out she got super drunk and intentionally hit a high schooler with her snow-go. Another one of my kid's parent's is getting out of jail. Most of my kids have a parent or family in jail. I often catch them drawing them pictures or making something for them in class. What do I do then? Do I take it and tell them to focus/concentrate on what I'm teaching, or do I let them continue not paying attention? Unlike most teachers, I struggle with the normal teaching questions: Am I teaching this lesson in an effective way? What are my students learning? and the other questions: How much drinking was in the village last night? Is it the 2nd or the 16th? I know a lot of drinking will be going on after those two days because the parents will be getting paid. How much sleep did this child get last night? Should I let the child sleep on the floor for another twenty minutes or try to wake them up now? Are they acting like this because they are mad at me or mad at something else? 

I ask at least one child everyday if there are things going on at home that they are bringing into the classroom. The answer is always the same. This question always leaves me realizing that most of these kids have experienced more in their eight short years of living than I will in all of my life. I realize that I'm grateful for my childhood and my family who let me sleep  continuously uninterrupted throughout the night, who got me to bed at a reasonable hour, the mom who helped me with my homework, the parents who made sure I ate my veggies and had a decent lunch, the family who sent me to school with breakfast every morning already in my belly, the family who supported my softball, bowling, girl scout, gymnastics, dance and basketball adventures. The family who loved me unconditionally and worked hard to make sure that  I knew it.

Growing up, I thought that this type of childhood was 'normal' and 'expected.' I now realize that I was fortunate and loved. And for that, I'm beyond grateful. 

My kids will stay up into the wee hours of the night listening to their parents drink in the room next door while I will sleep peacefully in my bed. I will wake up eager to help them learn about plot and setting, while they will fight me tooth and nail with the overwhelming desire to sleep. We have spent all year together, and still every morning it is the same. And honestly, right now, I couldn't imagine it any other way. I think that if I didn't have to jump and dance and laugh and sing and make a complete fool of myself in the morning just to make sure their heads are up and their ears are listening, I would not feel like half the teacher I am capable of being. I will go, and I will do it everyday because deep down inside of me, I love this job and the everyday challenges almost as much as I love these kids.

Cristina

Here's another picture from adventures in Columbia with Karen. It was good times. 

My kids got their seashells. I will have to blog about it. It was awesome I must say.

back to the land of ice

Dear Lower 48,

A snow-go just drove past, reminding me that I will no longer hear the sounds of cars and trucks for over four months. I will no longer be able to get into my cold, unheated car and drive to Target to grab something that I need, drive to Sandhills and search for something pretty to wear or drive to a happy hour to share stories of our life with friends. I am back in the tundra. I am back in the land of the frozen, where I must put on gloves, a ski mask, a fur hat, a parka, ski pants and arctic boots to simply walk outside. And I realize now that I missed this place.

Life out here is hard. At times, it feels like I am so reliant on other people. Need more vitamins? Mom and Dad ship them out. Want something special for the kiddies? Mom and Dad ship it out. Running out of shampoo? Mom and Dad ship it out. Starving and want to head over to Moe's for a burrito? Not an option. Sick of soup and want to eat something tasty and delicious instead? Not an option - don't have the ingredients and usually don't have the energy to do it. And yet I love it.

While I was home, I felt like a slave to my credit card and cell phone. I checked my cell way too often and felt like my credit card was being swiped every 15 minutes. Here life is hard, but it's so much more simple. I am finally considered stylish now that I have a Clemson hoodie to wear to school. Seriously. hoodies are the regular choice of clothing. For funerals, people put on their cleanest ones... and I'm not even kidding. While it's easy to 'let yourself go' out here, it's also a great reminder that so many things that one thinks they 'need' in life, are really not necessary. What is necessary out here is a good parka, warm boots, good gloves, a hat - not the newest high heeled boots, Coach purse or Dolce and Gabana sunglasses. It is a good perspective check for me. Instead of spending money on a new wardrobe for the arctic while home, I instead went out to eat a lot, went for drinks way too often and in turn laughed way too hard with good friends. Even though the only thing that followed me back here were the calories, I still have so many memories that will keep my head high while I struggle to find the beauty in the breakdown out here.

Jenny and I spend a lot of time talking about if we're coming back next year. It's kind of funny, we're kind of like a traveling couple without the 'benefits' of being a couple! We joke about that a lot, and I am so happy to have her here. It was such a comforting feeling as I felt my heart rate rapidly increase getting on the plane to Kotz from Anchorage knowing that she would be there in the morning. I had a moment, as Jack (our friend in Koz), Jenny and I shared stories about last semester together, of knowing that this was one of the reasons why I was back. I also had that moment as I sat down on the plane to Kotz and saw all of the eskimo kids on board. Never have I missed my kids so much as I did at that moment. It was at that moment that I realized that while sitting on the plane was not exactly where I wanted to be, it was exactly where I was supposed to be. Sometimes life presents us with challenges we're unsure of, and I'm grateful it gives us glimpses of reality to remind us that we're doing the right thing.

Four months isn't that long I keep telling myself, but in the four months, someone I know will get engaged, someone will have a baby and someone will probably get married. All I will have done is completed my first year of teaching. Is that good enough? I struggle with all the things I miss out on being up here. I struggle with the knowledge that while everyone's life is progressing forward, all that is advancing out here is my teaching ability. The thought of teaching somewhere else though does not excite me as much as it does out here, so yet I'm conflicted. What does one do when everyone else's life is moving forward, while yours is essentially remaining the same everyday? Do you hold onto the experiences you are gathering now and hope for something big, or do you cave into the norms and luxuries of society even if it's before you're ready? I think I have until May to figure it out....

Cristina

In the Anchorage airport, there were polar bears. Real ones. Not alive of course, but I still admired them for all of their beauty and significance. I also found a shirt with a polar bear looking stranded standing on a tiny piece of melting ice. Below the box he's in it says "Global Warming Sucks. Alaska." I.love.it.

No blog post about coming back would be complete without a big haired picture from New Year's Eve. Here's Clayton and me getting ready for the big 2010 moment....