Snow day!

Yesterday, it snowed all day. As I looked our window, it took only seconds for the light flurries to change to a fierce gale. The house rattled with the bellowing wind. When the wind stopped pounding , the house was quiet and the snow returned to a slow, slanted mist. Every so often a bolt of sun burst through the clouds, polished the water and quickly ran away. Brave Seagulls and Ravens coasted on the icy air. The water was unusually choppy, rocking the large fishing boats moored to the dock. The mountain snow crept down through the surrounding hills to the sea. This week it has been so cold that I have resorted to wearing a new uniform; my insulated running pants, wool socks, turtle neck and fleece…and that is just around the house. I ordered two new coats from Land’s End (that name taking on a whole new meaning) praying that one of them will keep the wind out and the warmth in. They should arrive in the next two weeks. In the mean time, I am making do with my ski jacket. Yesterday I just shook my head in my disbelief, knowing that we haven’t even begun to feel the worst of it yet... only to wake up to a beautiful blue sky snow day….

Another great week...

I found my grandma’s recipe for Chocolate Chip Zucchini Bread and Andrew and I made two delicious loaves. Andrew was a little apprehensive about adding the 2 cups of zucchini but the end result was a big hit. Dashing my anti-baking reputation, I shared a few slices with Andrew’s teacher and classroom assistant.

Andrew had a fun week at school. He is learning to type and has been word processing his fiction story of the “Invisible Teacher”…soon to be publish on a prominent blog sight near you :) Mrs. Wright, his Tlingit instructor, is teaching them in how to say the Pledge of Allegiance and “Trick or Treat.” She has threatened not to give candy to anyone who does say the magic words in Tlingit. Math-wise, Andrew is running around with a tape measure measuring everything from my leg to the perimeter of the living room. After breezing through his third grade math book, Steve and Mrs. Bidiman have decided to let Andrew join the fourth grade math group. He is excited about that.

We are reading a bunch….Andrew and I just finished reading a great book called “The Sign of the Beaver.” A pioneer story that tells of the awkward but lasting friendship between a Native American Indian boy and boy from Maine. Drew cruises through his own chapter books every week plus the books he picks out from the library. We are 9 chapters away from the suspenseful ending of Harry Potter Book 4...I am often seen trying to balance an umbrella and reading Harry Potter while walking to school, Andrew circling around me on his scooter. It is an odd sight but both of us love the story so much we try to fit it in where we can.

Wednesday, Hoonah had its first assembly of the year, culminating a three week sports eligibility period. Steve, along with his staff wanted to change the pervasive disregard for classes and the large number of students on the ineligible list. From consistent tardiness to blatant teacher disrespect and failing grades, the staff set into place a ticket reward system and a “three strikes your out program.” The assembly was to promote positive behavior and team building. It was a lot of fun…wig wearing wrestlers danced to a peace and love song from 60’s, the grades battled it out in a tug-a-war challenge, eventually won by the freshman class, a free-throw basketball tournament was held, and a math challenge was given to five guys and one girl. The senior girl took home the prize. At the end of the assembly, tickets that were given out for good behavior over the last three weeks were put into a drawing. Here is a picture of the students that won $10 in carnival tickets for the Nov. 9th Carnival. Each three weeks more prizes will be given out. The students are enjoying the positive reinforcement and the entire school is benefiting from a improved learning environment.

We can’t help but miss home, our family and our friends, but as we watch the news we also realize how blessed we are that Steve has a good job, we are all healthy and together. We are blooming where we are planted…it may be little more challenging for some of us to bloom in 29 degree weather but we're blooming nonetheless. Thanks again for reading and for your emails and comments. I am honored that you choose to share in our Alaskan adventure with us. Until next Saturday………..have a beautiful week.

Eavesdropping on Success

I want to give a shout out for my husband…

I was standing at the copy machine making some copies for Andrew’s teacher, when the reading specialist poked her head into Steve’s office. As she stood at the door and expounded, I overheard the following conversation….

“I hope your ears were burning because, I just left a conversation between the high school teachers. They are so impressed by the work you are doing. You are doing the job of two positions. You are so organized. The staff is happy. The kids are behaving better. I just wanted to pass on the good things that are being said about you. You are doing a great job and everyone is thrilled.”

Steve’s reply was so like him (and probably why he’s not Superintendent of the year or in some cushy state job)….he said, “Thank you, but….” and humbly gave all the credit to his staff for taking the action. He is so not a self promoter and I love him for that.

People stop me in the school halls and along the sidewalks and tell me what a great job he is doing. He gets emails from his staff complimenting him on his communicativeness, positive behavior ideas and the logic in which he resolves a wide range of difficult problems. In two-and-a-half months he has saved the school money as well as brought in thousands of dollars for the district. Steve has effectively addressed some challenging discipline issues in the high school. He is breaking new ground by engaging parents in open and constructive conversations about their children’s success in school. In addition, he is making great strides on the Career and Technical Education Wood-burning program which helps the environment and gives high school students authentic, real-life learning experiences. He works hard and strives to make the system run itself through empowering his staff and establishing a clear operating system that is easy to execute.

Being a Superintendent/Principal is a tough job no matter where you live but some issues that Alaska administrators face are; the largest numbers of students affected by fetal alcohol syndrome in the country, race issues, high drug and alcohol use, high suicide rates, high staff turnovers and very limited budgets. Not to mention, guiding a school board to make crucial decisions, when they know nearly nothing about education or running a financially sound business. I do not envy Steve’s job in the least. I respect him for fighting the good fight in a sincere and ethical manner. He even bought a student and alarm clock, knowing there was no parent to help this student get up in the morning. He is a problem solver for difficult issues and a great leader that humbly credits others when success occurs. I knew Andrew and I was lucky when we met him. I know the town Hoonah thinks the same.

Sacred Heart Catholic Church of Hoonah

Week two of getting a sense of Hoonah’s religious community brought us to the Catholic Church of the Sacred Heart.

I walk by Sacred Heart Church, some four times a day, to and from school. One day, I noticed a posting on the door. It read that a Deacon would be in town to serve communion that Sunday. I thought it would be nice to meet the Deacon and see what the Catholic’s were up to in Hoonah.

Andrew and I arrived at five to 11, quietly entered and were greeted by Deacon Charles. He was tall man with curly hair and glasses. He wore loose ivory vestments that bore a design of grain and water. He shook our hands heartily and then gave us three books. One was the missal with the scripture readings for the day, one was a music issue and the last book was prayers to be said in the absence of a Priest. Andrew and I were well prepared with literature to maneuver through the service. It is a good thing well coordinated.

Andrew and I sat in the second row of folding chairs. (These fold-out chairs had cool fold-down padded kneelers) The congregation consisted of four other people. Sitting across the aisle was an older couple, behind us was a Spanish speaking lady and Rich, the forestry coordinator who is working with Steve on the Wood-burning Project. He was in the back playing the guitar.

The service started and I fell into the religious motion that I have known for over 30 years. The part of me that loves to know what is coming next in life, cherishes the predictable organization of the Mass. Catholic means universal. The Catholic Church wanted to provide a service, or a Mass, focused on offering the Eucharist in the same ritual around the world. In one hour, a Catholic Mass gives attendees a chance to sing familiar praise songs, read the same scriptures, and pray in unison words taken from the Bible or crafted by the devote leaders of the church. I have attended mass at St. Marc’s Square in Italy, St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City, and now in Hoonah and all ceremonies are the same. It is an amazing mega-religious franchise. Of course, it is riddled with, as any huge corporation, with human error and an intense difficulty to control the quality of its product. But the focus has been and always will be on the Eucharist….and when a Catholic parishioner believes in the real presence of Jesus…the redundant prayers, bad music, and a weak homily are a small sacrifice to endure. For only through the Mass can he take part the greatest gift of being with Jesus at the Last Supper once more. For a Catholic, taking in the real body and blood of Christ is as close to Christ as a person can be.

The praise song stops….again, I feel as if I just sang a solo. I look and smile at Andrew and he just rolls his eyes at me, knowing that mom is always the loudest singer in the room. The Deacon shares some announcements, mainly, the plans for a Priest to come more regularly to Hoonah. We read five pages of unison prayers from, “Prayers to say in the absence of a Priest.” It is now time for the scripture readings. The Deacon looks at the “congregation” and asks if anybody is interested in reading from the Old Testament. After an awkward silence, his eyes fall on me. I guess he assumed that because I wasn’t afraid to sing on my first visit, I wouldn’t be afraid to speak either. I slowly go up to the lectern muttering my apology for not being more prepared.(yeah, right) I quickly scan the passage….thankfully there are no names like “Reuel”, “Eliphaz”, “Jeush”, or “Oholibamah” to confuse my tongue. I give a smooth read and sit down. Once in my seat, I realize that I was so nervous about reading that I forgot to genuflect before approaching the alter and after the reading. (Shoot, and I was doing so well, too) We now sing the responsorial song. Rich amps it up a bit and is carrying the melody quite nicely. It is time for the second scripture reading. The Deacon wastes no time in nodding at me. I am up in a flash…I genuflect and give solid reading from Corinthians. I genuflect again and sit down. I am relieved that my time up front is done. The rest of the Mass is up to Deacon Charles. He reads the Gospel and gives a short Homily; tying the messages from the readings to his experience of being a professional Icon painter. He then unwraps the previously consecrated host and all but Andrew received communion.

It is always a tough call for me to take communion during a Catholic service. I love receiving communion. I do believe in the real presence, but I am not a practicing Catholic. In respect of the rules of the Catholic Church, I shouldn’t take communion on my whim. Yet, in this case, I do, figuring in the end God alone can judge my heart.

We sang one more hymn and church was concluded. Deacon Charles served store bought sandwich cookies, coffee, and tea at the back of the church. Andrew snagged a couple cookies. I just smiled and winced. It felt a little awkward watching the eating and drinking in the sanctuary. After a few minutes of standard conversation, Andrew and I said our thank yous and goodbyes (which don’t take very long where there are only five people) Deacon Charles escorted us to the door and asked me about Andrew’s preparedness for first communion. It was a very awkward moment. I was polite, respectful and appropriately vague. I opted for the safe response that kept me uncommitted. I didn’t feel it was the right time to go into my religious beliefs.

It is a complicated subject for me. While I enjoy attending a Catholic service, I don’t feeling comfortable passing on the legalistic aspect of religion to Andrew. There are a lot of rules. I realize that they were created to honor Biblical teachings and assist people in becoming closer to God, but for me they are more of hindrance and distraction. I know it worries my mother and confounds my some of my siblings. Some may agree, others may blame my ignorance, but ultimately I am accountable to God. I don’t have all the answers and I have a lot to learn. Yet, I believe God is so great that no human or religion can articulate His wonder, much less organize the perfect path to heaven.

"Outta the Park....Mom?"

This week’s outdoor highlight didn’t include spotting a bald eagle, gazing at a snowy mountain peak or watching a whale jut out of the frigid water….nope… the outdoor adventure of the week included an all-American vigorous game of softball played with some twenty elementary and junior-high school students.

Before leaving Medford, I anxiously packed all sorts of sports gear in our luggage and even paid a hefty fee for bringing the extra baggage. My rationalization was that it would easier for Andrew to transition to living in Hoonah if he had familiar things to play with. I packed a soccer ball, flag football set, football with a tee, two bats, mitts and loads of balls, ranging from whiffle to hard. So, a couple of weeks ago I go to Steve, holding a gear bag and relay my discovery, “Surprisingly, Andrew has not asked to once to play with any of these things.” He just smiles knowing from experience that kids rarely need much “gear” to be happy. I sit perplexed actually trying to remember the last time we played a “sport” game. I concluded that it was soccer and it was my idea to play.

Monday afternoon I had another idea. I wanted to play ball. I loaded up my Ashland Co-op cloth bag with two mitts, balls and a metal and wooden bat. When I met Andrew outside of his classroom he took one look at the bag and his eyes lit up. In a flash we were making our way to the dirt field…he waved to a couple of his friends and yelled for them to come hit some “homers.” As we poured out the well-used of our bag, a reluctant, tall sixth grade girl watched from the sideline wearing a shy hint on her face. With little prodding, she gladly joined our game.

I was designated pitcher. One after another, students stepped up to plate. Trendy tennis shoes planted and bat back, spring-loaded. Before I let the ball travel over the plate, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Their sweet faces were smudged in awkward anticipation combined with pure and innocent hope. As I prepped each pitch, the glint in their eyes read, “Please, let me hit the ball. Ooooohhhhh please let me hit the ball.”

Soon we had so many kids wanting to play that I stopped and divided us into teams. Batters ranged in ages from 6 to 13 years old. The bats and mitt were either too long or too short, but nonetheless balls were flying, fouling or striking in every direction. I didn’t set any ground rules and it became a free for all. There was a slew of stolen bases and over throws. We didn’t have an umpire…so if was the pitch was a ball or a strike was anybody’s guess. It was jubilant, competitive frenzy and we all loved it. Finally, it was my turn at bat. Tina, a tomboyish girl in basketball shorts, spitting out the side of her mouth, quickly pitched me a perfect ball. I slammed that red soft sphere “outta the park.” I took all four bases with hands raised and performed a victory dance over home plate.

Andrew had a great time. He didn’t send every ball to the outer rim of the field, but he didn’t care. He ran fast, stayed on base and brought in valuable runs for his team. He pitched a few fast balls that scared a junior high batter; one because it was fast and two because his other pitches almost took his head off. Andrew played shortstop, left field and any base that wasn’t covered. He made some outs and held his own beautifully against all the “big kids.” As I watch him play, I am amazed by how he thrives in all environments.

Kids came and went, but in the end we played hard for an hour a half. Flushed faced and bounding, Andrew went happily into his piano lesson. That night during Andrew’s prayers he thanked God for the nice piano teacher and the great baseball game. The next day, the talk in the halls was all about our game. Even Rene, the 5th/6th grade teacher told me that her students were talking about the home run made by Mrs. Pine. Mmmmmm a mom who can hit home runs…now there’s a much better reputation than “Carpet Lady” or “Weather Girl.”

When I was waiting for Andrew to pull his scooter out of the bike rack, the tall, 6th grade girl that joined us in yesterday’s game asked when we get to play again. We made a deal: the next clear day I’ll bring the bats, mitts and balls…she’ll bring the victory dance.

Contest Winner, Bear Spray and Ultimate Dodgeball

Here's some more highlights of our week together...

1. Andrew won the coloring contest in his class. His art will be displayed at the post office and his prize was a huge ice cream cone full of chocolate-chip ice-cream from “The Galley” restaurant. I wish I would have brought my camera…because he was in 7th heaven savoring every lick.

2. Some of Steve’s friends went out of town for a week-and-a half and loaned us their Ford Explorer. After I bought some “Bear Spray” (huge, huge dose of pepper spray) we did some exploring. For all of us, one logging road after another got really boring. Plus the clear cutting was hard to dismiss so we headed back to the waterfront and walked along the beach. I enjoyed using the car to help transport a few oversized household necessities but, overall, I stuck to the walking. It just feels better.

3. Another beautiful rainbow...

4. Andrew invited me to go to lunch with him at school (I brought my own lunch of hummus and veggie sticks). After fifteen minutes of the kids slurping split-pea soup and wolfing down ham sandwiches and strawberry apple sauce, we all went outside to play ultimate dodge ball. For another fifteen minutes I ran for my life. Balls were coming at me from every angle. It was fast and furious and a lot of fun.

5. Another glorious sunset....

Speaking "Tlingit" with Class

Every Tuesday and Thursday at 11::45 I walk to Andrew’s school to attend his noon language class. For a half hour Mrs. Wright teaches us the Native American dialect of Tlingit. I wanted to share with you some of what I’ve learned about the history of the Tlingit people and their language.

The Tlingit people are one of 500 Native American communities spread throughout the United States. It is difficult to say how many Tlingit people lived in southeast Alaska before the Europeans arrived in the 1700’s, but today there are about fifteen thousand Tlingit living in the Alaska region, some even as far south as Seattle. Hoonah’s population is 80% Native American Tlingit.

The history between the Tlingit and the Euro-American settlers unfortunately reads the same; injustice and cruelty that affected our more high profile U.S. Native American communities. The Russian’s arrived in the 1700’s and Orthodox Priests learned the native tongue to convert the Tlingit to Christianity. In the process they converted everything from their clothing to their hairstyles; dolling them up in European frilly white dresses and black tailored suits. Sweeping the native women’s hair into updos and cutting the men’s hair short. The Russian’s settled on their land, mined for gold and built shops in their communities. But not until the 1800’s did Hoonah feel impact of the “white-man.”

American bought Alaska from the Russians in1867. Now it was American’s turn to bring their version of civilization and organized religion to the Native people. In 1878, an American missionary, Rev. S. Hall Young of Sitka, happened upon the small Alaskan village of Hoonah and wrote…

“We next visited the Kowdekan (Hoonah’s “original” name), the largest village of the Hoonya tribe. It is located on a deep bay on the North-East shore of Tchitchagoff Island. The population is 625. They are simple hearted, primitive people. The women are comparatively unpolluted and the children numerous. They have constant communication by canoe with Sitka and Fort Wrangell. We should make this one of our chain of mission stations among the Tlingit people.” Later he added, “We found the Hoonahs about the most receptive of all the Alaskan; and this was the beginning of what has been one of the finest and largest of our Alaska missions.”

The missionaries gave little care to the twenty-five hundred year old Tlingit culture and banned most everything that resembled or alluded to the native traditions including their language. As mission schools were erected in 1881, all students were punished heavily if they spoke their native tongue. They too were forced to shed their functional clothing and wore uniforms of dresses, white shirts and pants. In addition, families were split up and children were dispersed to residential mission schools on surrounding islands.

The elders preserved the Tlingit language in their homes but after almost a hundred years of American influence there were several generations that grew up barely able to speak or understand their native tongue. By the 1970’s schools weren’t run by missions anymore and a resurgence of the Tlingit culture began to grow. Some of the elders started to teach classes and share the old stories. For thousands of years the Tlingit language was passed on orally. It wasn’t until 1972 that linguists began to interview and record Tlingit families to create a written documentation of the sounds, words and stories. In 1990 the Sealaska Heritage Institute made language restoration a priority and began to teach Tlingit to a growing body of students. Entirely funded by grants, Tlingit has been taught in Hoonah schools since that time.

It is a complicated language. A simple sentence is full of pinched consonants, whispers, plosives and glottal attacks. The written text is based on our standard alphabet but added are a series of accent marks, periods, under linings, apostrophizes and capitals that change the pitch, the letter sound and the meaning of the word.

They have fourteen different adjectives to explain snow, six different verbs for putting on different articles of clothing, five different ways to make the “k” sound. It is not an easy language to learn.

Over the last month-and-a-half Andrew and I have been practicing the names of different articles of clothing and how to say the item is mine.

My computer can’t show all the accents over certain letters but I will do my best to give you a sense of it…

Ax Naa. Adi Aya. ( ack na adee ayah) = These are my clothes.

L’aak aya. (pinched “l” makes a clicking sound…klagk ayah) = Dress

L’ee x’wan aya. (klee kwan ayah) = socks

S’aaxw aya. (saackww aya) = hat

Ax tuk’ataali aya (ack took a tah klee ayah) These are my pants.

They have wonderful names for the months…

July, August and September are one long month on the Hoonah calendar.
It is called Distlein (dis-klane) – “the big month, time to gather everything, time to keep busy.”

October is called Shaanax (shah-nuck-dis) – “the month to go to the mountain to get mountain goat”

November is called Kukahaa Dis (koo-kuh-hah-dis) – “the month in which you shovel snow”

December is called Lkeeyi kei u.eix (Lh-kee-yee-kay-oo-ake) – “the month when you can’t see the corners of the house.”

Because the Tlingit people live in a rain forest, they are expert wood carvers. They are especially famous for carving totem poles. A totem pole can honor a person who died, help people remember a story or stand as a welcome in front of a house, school or community center. They are not used as religious objects. The Tlingit people have never worshipped the poles or the symbols on them.

This is one of the totem poles in front of the school and it tells a story of a fisherman who is holding a halibut hook to catch very big and heavy fish. The eagle figure also displayed at the school was originally a bottom of a house post. House posts were built into the walls at either end of a clan house to give clan recognition and to support the roof…early functional art.

I have enjoyed learning a new language and understanding more about the Tlingit people and their history. Steve, Andrew and I are the minority in Hoonah, treading lightly in wounded streets, ever aware of the past discrimination. Yet as Steve sets out every day, he strives to prepare these young students for a world of limitless potential, where the past does not equal the future and all can come together for a better world.

It drives home the unique opportunity that my family is experiencing. I am grateful for the lessons that I am learning and the awareness that would otherwise be void to Steve, Andrew and me. I am thankful that Andrew is learning respect for another culture, not from a book or a movie… but from playing baseball with Austin, speaking an ancient language to his Tlingit partner Brandon, and slapping high fives as he and Randy finish the ultimate race car ramp. To me, I believe, that is how God’s mission is truly served.