Tag Archives: poems

Books, Boxing, and Boot Liners

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My kids finished their first novels of the year recently. For some kids, these were their first chapter books. One boy in particular announced to me that he’d never read a chapter book before and that it felt good. Since finishing that one, he’s read two others. Instead of poking the other kids when he finishes his work early, he quietly picks up his book and goes to a private corner of the room to read. I keep pinching myself to see if it’s real.

The first group read The Mighty Miss Malone. They were inspired by the account of the 1936 Joe Louis vs. Max Schmeling fight and created puppets and a boxing-themed puppet show based on their reading and their research. They were a huge hit with the younger kids, who couldn’t stop talking about it for days after the big kids came to their classes and put on a show.

Yesterday, a group that read Homecoming finished their project, a picture book based on the story. They did a beautiful job: The illustrations were superb, and the main plot points of the story were all there in terms that little people could understand. I went with them to the K-2 class for their reading. Terri projected the book and had my kids read it aloud for the little guys. When they were done, she encouraged the little kids to thank the big kids with hugs, and “ask them nicely to write another book. You’d like an alphabet book, wouldn’t you?” My big tough boy hid behind a table when the little people came charging around to give hugs. One little girl looked directly at him and said “Wiw you wite us a book about faiwies?” and his face nearly melted. She was soooooooooo cute.

I talked on the phone with a friend in another village last night. He says he’ll take me camping this winter, which is awesome. Just going for walks here opens up the world and makes my heart smile. He’s talking with me about snowmachines and extra boot liners and wall tents, and I can’t wait to find out what the world might look like from that kind of adventure-place. I’ve also been emailing all week with a teacher from another district who’s taking me hiking when I go to town in November. He had all my students when they were in elementary, and seems to have an endless supply of super cute pictures of my kids when they were small. I often feel pretty isolated out here, but this week I haven’t. I’ve felt downright social.

Sometimes I think
everyone around me talks too much
I think
I don’t talk unless I have something to say

Sometimes I wonder
if I have nothing to say, or if
listening
just wears the words out of me

Either way.

Lately, I think
friends are the people you are quiet with
I think
I can hear our skis swishing in the snow

Lately I find
i have some friends here
listening
who hear the silent mountains too.

They say “Let’s go outside and play”
And we do.

First Walk

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DSC03650 on the riverbank, a straw wind sweeps raw the gutters of my heart
and leaves me clattering outside with cold ears and a futile wish

I want a few more sunny yellow days, or just one sweet afternoon
to hang my hammock on the porch and love the sky with gold arms

but the wish drifts and falls and sticks flat to the wet of the river
and leaves me clammy on the bank with cold ears

DSC03643School started yesterday, so I’ve been flying around with my hair on fire for a few days now, getting everything in order. I’m really trying to be a good science teacher this year, and that’s taking a lot of effort. We built anemometers today, and we’re going to talk about how to use them to calculate wind speed tomorrow or Friday. For right now, we’re just looking at RPMs, which is plenty complicated. I want science to be something that the kids can look forward to, a part of the day where they can count on doing something with their hands or getting out of their seats. It should be that, but I’m not good at it yet. I will be. I want to be. I love this time of year because I don’t have any bad habits yet, and nobody is behind. Everything is possible, and everyone’s intentions are good. And man, I just love my kids. They’re awesome, and I’m so glad to be back here with them.

Administration is putting some pressure on Jake and me to rethink how we’ve divided our classes, which is a little frustrating since we’ve started school already. Jake’s about to blow a gasket, since he’s dealing with the lack of a 3-5 teacher and a cook on top of everything else.

I took a walk this evening to clear my head and realized I hadn’t been to the river at all since coming back. There’s been a lot of rain, and I’ve been busy. Fall’s here already. It’s melancholy and gorgeous, replete with fresh breezes that sweep through me when I stand outside long enough to feel the cold through my sweatshirt. I want something to happen before winter, but I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s just the usual heartache of autumn.

I’m collecting mugs, postcards, and international currency for my class this year. Send us stuff!

Arctic Spring Lullaby

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DSC02711My new favorite spot is on the riverbank by the elephant graveyard. It’s prickly with dry grass, charred by old fires, and studded with shell casings. It has a giddy breeze and the sound of water rushing by in some kind of big hurry. It has a huge slick of melting river ice that glares into the sky with blinding defiance and tips over helplessly into the clear water. The steep bank is made just right for the dangling of tired, muddy boots. I lay out there on Sunday afternoon, watching blue roll onto the sky, tasting the dust on the air and reveling in the sudden, dry earth under my shoulderblades. Sometimes, lying under a blue sky like that, in just that kind of wind, I can let my heart fly up like a kite with a long, dancing tail. That’s the happiest I know how to be.DSC02703

DSC02726I went down to the bank tonight just to think for a while, and to read my book and listen to water bringing the cold mountain song down like a lullaby. There are sirens in the Chandalar, luring sailors into the hills.

let me put my arms around you
(shush shush shush)
like this circle ’round the sun
(hush sh-shush)
come running to the woods, girl
(shush shush shush)
when your work is good and done
(hush sh-shush)

or just let screen door slam to
(shush shush shush)
and let the water run
(hush sh-shush)
so I can put my arms around you
(hush now hush)
like this circle ’round the sun

1:03 am

1:03 am, north of a circle ’round the sun.

Two-Step in Boots

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DSC02649put some miles on my boots
this week past
maybe some fifty miles
the same and same trails
In snow and slush and mud and dust
and a sun that throws daily different shadows
It’s fast, this business of spring
And I have made fast miles to keep up

slip-slush-splash and a few miles in wet jeans
That chafe and tug
what of it? It’s ice and mud
and laugh it off and welcome the sun
Did it again the next day, too
and again and again with sore feet and
giggling like the white goose flying
the first one shot
a hundred bucks to the gun

blue lake ice and then the same ice pitted
caribou antlers bend like mossy rubber
and in two days the white slough buckles under the bank
and disappears and unveils the carcasses of salmon
lying glinting in the river like silver gold
And dried on the sand like paper cranes

girl prints and caribou moon prints
by the gravel bar where bears are
and wolf toenails and boot heels
cutting the sand on the driftwood bank
slush steps fast-sinking in the melting lake
and the moon fading in the summering sky
this hurrying business of spring
is dancing miles on my boots
this week past
maybe some fifty miles

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