First Week

Posted on August 29, 2015 by Keely

Yesterday was the first fine day all week. We went outside to write in our journals. The kids ran ahead, tripping down the path they use in winter for sledding and in summer for flying on bikes.Because they are silly, they wouldn’t sit on the ground. All eleven of them crammed together at the one picnic table. A little less work got done than I might have hoped, due to the natural consequences of having eleven kids at one table, but everyone wrote at least a page of sensory details. On the walk back, B borrowed my camera. It has been an awesome first week of school. I had to fight to get B in my class, but he’s thriving so far. He likes the book we’re reading and the activities we’ve done in science. I have a handful of kids, like B, that I didn’t know well last year, and they’re still wild cards, but so far nobody has been bored enough to make trouble just for fun. It bodes well.

We’re going to do algebra for real this year. I’ve taken the kids who are ready, regardless of their grade, and Jake has the kids who need another year of preparation. Ready means, in this case, mostly okay on basic math. I’m starting with a good long pre-algebra unit, then jumping into the good stuff. We’re going to take it slow, but I think we can get there.

I have half the class reading The Mighty Miss Malone and the other half reading Homecoming. Both books deal with damaged families and poverty and kids who carry more than their share of the burden. So far, both books are hits, and it warms the cockles of my heart to sit with my kids and talk about literature. We’re getting there.

The anemometers have been mostly successful. They got a little lost converting RPMs to miles per hour, but we’ll keep hitting it until it comes easy. We’ll get there, given time. And distance. ha. ha.

First Walk

Posted on August 26, 2015 by Keely

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

School 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!

Camped out at inservice

Posted on August 18, 2015 by Keely

By sheer luck, I got invited to camp out on an island in the Yukon this week instead of staying in the dorms at voc-ed. Geoff, who teaches in Arctic Village, had set up his camp on Sunday, and when Terri found out, she fished for an invite. I distinctly remember, while packing my stuff in Belfast, thinking “how much camping will I be doing during inservice? Pah!” and boxing up my gear to mail to Venetie. Whoops. Fortunately, I had my sleeping bag and pad, and Terri brought along an extra tent. It was perfect last night: no bugs, no bears, no people. The sun dipped below the horizon for a while, but it never got truly dark. I slept with the tent unzipped and pegged open to let in the mist off the river and the sound of the water lapping the hull of Geoff’s boat in the night. Perfect.

seasons are sudden

Posted on August 17, 2015 by Keely

Maybe if I’d been here all summer, I wouldn’t be surprised, but it’s early fall in the Yukon Flats now. I stepped out of the peak of summer, August in Maine, and stepped into cold evenings and clouds and lightning orange trees interrupting the purple and green landscape like easter eggs. The fireweed is going to seed already.

I was in Venetie just long enough to move my stuff into a new apartment (more windows, a bathtub, a south-facing porch, and less cupboard space) and write and mail a letter. I walked through the village with a wary eye on the trees: there have been bears in town. One of my students visited with me while I unpacked my boxes. She’s off to boarding school on Wednesday, so I may not see her again. I told her I’d send cookies every time she sent me a letter of at least one page, and wished her well with a hug. I’m so proud of that girl.

Yesterday, just before I had to hop on a plane to Fort Yukon, my freight came in. I had to unpack all my frozen and refrigerated groceries in a hurry, then hop on the plane. My kitchen floor is covered in cardboard boxes and non-perishable foodstuffs. So much for leaving the place neat and tidy. Inservice is a little frustrating this year: we’re in Fort Yukon, so grocery shopping in our free time is out, and there isn’t really time to go back to Fairbanks, shop, then come back and set up the classroom and the house after inservice. I hope my bananas and lettuce are still good when I get home to Venetie.

The first time I got on a small plane to fly out to Venetie, I thought I was going to die. Now it’s become routine, no more strange than riding a bus. The landscape is still beautiful, especially now as it fades subtly into a fall purple with rivers winding through it like silver foil ribbons, but I’m starting to recognize lakes and mountains along the route. The magnitude of everything seems less when the landscape is speckled with landmarks. It feels like the way home, now, which is always shorter than the way out.

We’re staying in the dorm at the voc-ed center in Fort Yukon for the week. I spent an agonizing while reading on the couch last night until Jake and Terry showed up on borrowed four-wheelers and carried me and another young teacher out of there. We rode up by the army base (you know, because they used to/still do spy on Russia from here) and into the woods a ways, looking for the Yukon and a teacher who should have come in by boat last night (no luck, but he’ll be here today, everyone is quite sure). We saw bear tracks in the river mud, and a snowshoe hare with his heels already white. Jake drove me down to the river and I stuck a hand in, just to say I’d done it. The brisk evening air felt good on my face and I saw a lot of the village fast. Fort Yukon has stop signs and street names and two stores and a radio station and a bed and breakfast! There’s a tour bus! It’s downright strange.

We’re still looking for a 3-5 teacher because for some reason (aaargh!) the job was never posted. Anybody interested? I’m not on facebook anymore (the district has it all blocked up), and I don’t have a working phone connection at the moment, but you can get me by email: keely.m.oconnell@gmail. You’d get to teach across the hall from me and we can play games and go hiking on the weekends! yay!

Without Further Ado

Posted on May 27, 2015 by Keely

It’s no less frustrating for being universal: when there’s a lot to say, there’s no time left to say it.

I’m back in Arkansas working on (procrastinating) cleaning out the house. In the last two weeks I have recovered from prom prep, taken/facilitated a hunter safety course (this is also known as supervising kids with guns), moved everything out of my apartment and into my classroom, turned in final grades, returned to the lower-48, and floated the upper Buffalo. And I may have bought a boat. More on that all of that later.

For now, I present to you the great and brilliant beauties of Venetie, Alaska, dressed in their finest and wearing their happiest smiles.

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In the hours leading up to the big event, my door was open. Everyone needed the phone or the shower or the mirror or just some help zipping up. Terri had her curling iron going full steam (can you tell I have no idea what a curling iron is or how it works?) for hours. Some girls had found dresses elsewhere by the time our box o finery arrived, and some hadn’t. In the end, everyone found something to wear and looked beautiful, and I had a stash of dresses hanging in my classroom closet, patiently waiting for next year.

Prom was awesome. The girls melted my heart: “Ms O! It’s the last song, you have to get on the dance floor!” “Ms O! Come take a picture with us!” “Ms O, you have to play laser tag!” I found myself in a lot of selfies, grinning ear-to-ear next to a kid vibrating with glee.

I got to see people who are usually very restrained cut loose and dance to bruno mars with cardboard cutouts (Paperboy turned out to be a real player). There were activities like laser tag and board games and baking and movies, and we had an unlimited supply of pizza. B brought a fish he’d just caught, because what’s prom without uninvited guests hanging by the door?

The prom committee slept over in my classroom after the big event, and we played bananagrams, watched Super Troopers, re-prommed in our jammies (they weren’t ready for it to be over, so they went back to the gym, turned down the lights, cranked up the music, and rocked out until they were dead on their feet), and made 3 am cookies. I finally crashed out around five, listening to the birds getting laryngitis from singing all through the dusky night. When I woke up, the girls were scattered all over the room like puppies, tangled up carelessly around each other and the furniture.

Thank you a thousand times to everyone who made it happen for us. We’ve started something here that is going to be a part of this village community for years to come.