A quote from theoretical physicist, Sean Carroll, talking with Ira Flatow on Science Friday.
Ira: Sean, I’m wondering how you spend your time. I mean, do you sit there thinking big thoughts with a pencil and piece paper?
Sean: Well that is my day job, yes. That’s not the only thing I do, but I am a theoretical physicist so I don’t look through telescopes or build equipment. I don’t even do computer simulations. I leave that to my graduate students. And I sit there in Starbucks or at the wine bar with a pencil and paper and I, you know, draw pictures and draw equations and try to see how to fit different ideas together. Happily, you know, it’s actually a very social occupation where we work together and we bounce ideas off each other so it’s a lot of fun.
Sit around talking physics, drinking wine, doing some math. File this under jobs to do in future lives.
Science Friday website
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
This week in awesomeness.
Rather than write about my past week in Tununak with school being canceled Monday due to high wind, canceled Tuesday due to frozen pipes resulting in honeybuckets Wednesday, a trip to the health clinic Wednesday to be tested for strep (negative), a relatively mellow Thursday, and bad weather Friday canceling flights for both the JH and HS basketball tournaments this weekend I wanted to share a few things I found or revisited from the outside that are pretty great.
The first is a blog by George Orwell. Kind of. The blog consists of postings from Orwell's journal posted exactly seventy years after Orwell himself wrote them. An obsession with farming and how many eggs his chickens laid each day...double plus good.
http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/1938/07/
The second is another blog - this one with with a collection of six sentence stories. A little longer than the well known short story by Hemingway ("For sale: baby shoes, never warn.") these are nonetheless good fun to browse.
http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/
One last blog of note is a collection of terrible library books submitted by librarians. Great.
http://awfullibrarybooks.wordpress.com
The first is a blog by George Orwell. Kind of. The blog consists of postings from Orwell's journal posted exactly seventy years after Orwell himself wrote them. An obsession with farming and how many eggs his chickens laid each day...double plus good.
http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/1938/07/
The second is another blog - this one with with a collection of six sentence stories. A little longer than the well known short story by Hemingway ("For sale: baby shoes, never warn.") these are nonetheless good fun to browse.
http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/
One last blog of note is a collection of terrible library books submitted by librarians. Great.http://awfullibrarybooks.wordpress.com
Monday, January 11, 2010
Snow retired.
I have heard of tremendous snowfalls in Tununak. Snow accumulations of six, even eight feet of packed snow. Of course, I don't believe it. It doesn't snow anymore. I mean, maybe it did, once upon a time. I have heard elders speak of times when they were young. Even I have stories like that from my childhood. Like the Halloween we received two feet of snow and a squirrel, so confused with the weather, climbed up my terrified, costumed friend. But that doesn't happen anymore. Snow retired.
Okay, to clarify, it does snow. But remember, it's retired. So it isn't that Snow completely stopped, it's just not that concerned with doing its job at the same frequency or intensity. It often gets caught up in long conversations with Fog or Hail up in Cloudville only to realize that it's now 8:30 and the nightly news is due on as soon as the ball game finishes and, provided it stays awake through the whole game (not likely), it will be much too tired to do much afterward. Snow also, it seems, acts like many of the snowbirds I know - and seems to head south for the winter. For example, Orlando reported getting a dusting of snow two days ago. I guess the winter can be too cold for anyone, even Snow.
So while Snow is in Florida, who is picking up the slack in Tununak?
Ice. Ice was always just a seasonal worker. First getting to work in late fall, Ice would get the ground cold enough so that Snow would have a good foundation on which to do it's job without the risk of melting. Ice might pick up a few hours over the holidays some years if Snow was tired or busy elsewhere, but after a few days Ice would be on it's way and Snow would resume it's work. Now, however, Ice has been thrust into full time employment in Tununak. Where Snow normally covered roads and tundra, Ice has filled in. It's not for lack of effort, but Ice is a poor substitute. Ice is slippery and very dense. Riding a snowmachine over ice is dangerous and painful. They just weren't made for that. Ice skates in the other hand...
Wind has also moved in to help in Snow's absence. Where Ice is trying to help, Wind is exploiting the situation. With the new ice roads (and boardwalks, stairs, hills, railings, etc.) Wind has discovered that if it blows hard enough it can move humans. There have been days (like today) where without my ice cleats I would be in very real danger of being blown downwind and stuck until the wind dies down (had I have been blown downwind when the wind started last week, I would currently have been stuck for about eight days with little hope of making it home any time soon).
I hate Wind. I have for a long time. It makes life so difficult - whether biking, or snowboarding, or just walking, the wind pushes me around. It's just a bully, aware that I can't do anything to fight back against its heat robbing fingers. Even now it is outside pounding on my walls, trying to intimidate me, threatening me, reminding me that if I try to make it up to school today (school was actually cancelled today due to high wind - 85mph gusts) it will make my walk across the ice a constant challenge.
I hope that I am wrong. I hope that Snow is just tired and taking some time off. That it will come around and realize that it misses its old job. Maybe it will see the mess of things Wind and Ice have made and feel the pull of obligation to return things to their just order. I mean, what fun is a wind day? What am I going to do - make wind angels and windmen? Have a windball fight? Come on Snow. Please...
Okay, to clarify, it does snow. But remember, it's retired. So it isn't that Snow completely stopped, it's just not that concerned with doing its job at the same frequency or intensity. It often gets caught up in long conversations with Fog or Hail up in Cloudville only to realize that it's now 8:30 and the nightly news is due on as soon as the ball game finishes and, provided it stays awake through the whole game (not likely), it will be much too tired to do much afterward. Snow also, it seems, acts like many of the snowbirds I know - and seems to head south for the winter. For example, Orlando reported getting a dusting of snow two days ago. I guess the winter can be too cold for anyone, even Snow.
So while Snow is in Florida, who is picking up the slack in Tununak?
Ice. Ice was always just a seasonal worker. First getting to work in late fall, Ice would get the ground cold enough so that Snow would have a good foundation on which to do it's job without the risk of melting. Ice might pick up a few hours over the holidays some years if Snow was tired or busy elsewhere, but after a few days Ice would be on it's way and Snow would resume it's work. Now, however, Ice has been thrust into full time employment in Tununak. Where Snow normally covered roads and tundra, Ice has filled in. It's not for lack of effort, but Ice is a poor substitute. Ice is slippery and very dense. Riding a snowmachine over ice is dangerous and painful. They just weren't made for that. Ice skates in the other hand...
Wind has also moved in to help in Snow's absence. Where Ice is trying to help, Wind is exploiting the situation. With the new ice roads (and boardwalks, stairs, hills, railings, etc.) Wind has discovered that if it blows hard enough it can move humans. There have been days (like today) where without my ice cleats I would be in very real danger of being blown downwind and stuck until the wind dies down (had I have been blown downwind when the wind started last week, I would currently have been stuck for about eight days with little hope of making it home any time soon).
I hate Wind. I have for a long time. It makes life so difficult - whether biking, or snowboarding, or just walking, the wind pushes me around. It's just a bully, aware that I can't do anything to fight back against its heat robbing fingers. Even now it is outside pounding on my walls, trying to intimidate me, threatening me, reminding me that if I try to make it up to school today (school was actually cancelled today due to high wind - 85mph gusts) it will make my walk across the ice a constant challenge.
I hope that I am wrong. I hope that Snow is just tired and taking some time off. That it will come around and realize that it misses its old job. Maybe it will see the mess of things Wind and Ice have made and feel the pull of obligation to return things to their just order. I mean, what fun is a wind day? What am I going to do - make wind angels and windmen? Have a windball fight? Come on Snow. Please...
Thursday, January 7, 2010
A weekend with a dozen teenagers may sound like a lot of fun, but... (Part 3/3)
"Note: I published part 2 and 3 to this post tonight so if you haven't read part 2 yet, I recommend doing that first. Simply scroll down to find part 2. Part 1 is further down still if you want to read that as well. -Eric"
We were returned to Gladys Jung, having only been gone about twenty minutes. A few other schools were likewise stranded and we went about resituating ourselves in the classrooms. With the robotics competition over, the gym was clear of Legos and we spent most of the afternoon playing basketball, throwing footballs, and running around. We also got in our promised one last trip to the store. As the students spent what they had left, I took advantage of a produce section to stock up on a few rare items – fresh tomatoes, avocado, cucumber… The walk back was interesting as now my hands were full holding a box of vegetables and other snacks for our team. The rain that had been lightly fallen had taken to changing states as the temperature dropped. If I slipped I was going to end up with produce all over the road. I also now have an irrational (actually, it’s probably pretty rational) fear of denting my face after hearing another teacher’s horror story of slipping on the ice and fracturing his cheek to such a degree that his face was visibly misshapen. Step after careful step I safely made it back to the school with all of my food. We rounded out the night with ice cream another teacher bought for the team and another round of gym time. We went to bed hoping that the weather in the morning would improve enough to allow planes to land in Tununak.
A quick breakfast and thorough cleaning of Gladys Jung and we again were ready to give the airport another try. We made it to the airport this time before learning that planes to the coast were on a weather hold. While preferable to an outright cancellation, a weather hold is still a bit too much when you have a dozen additional people you are responsible for. I should also add that the word airport means quite a bit less that what a conventional airport would mean. The airport I am referring to is in fact the Grant terminal, a small room with a ticket counter and baggage check similar in size to an old rural train station. There is a row of benches along one wall, a picnic table, and a small coffee shop upstairs that runs strange hours. Needless to say, in the event of a long weather hold there is very little to do. And we may be in for a while. The thing is, a hold doesn’t guarantee anything. I have known people that have ended up spending the entire day in the airport only to find out that the weather has not improved enough and to come back the next day and try again. And so, we settled in to wait.
As the hours went by we received little information from the airline. Typical for Alaska; aggravating for me. I have been conditioned to a constant stream of information. I like to know the details. What is the wind speed on the coast? Is it a crosswind? What about the temperature? Is that playing a role? Maybe fog? Low clouds? Earthquake? Tsunami washing the runway into the sea? Anything! But that isn’t the way things work. And so I wait, trying not to concern myself with answers that will not be answered. It seems I have spent the past ten years working with children in a variety of settings strengthening my patience. I am tapping into that skill now. From time to time a pilot will emerge, announce a village, rattle off a list of names, and then load up a plane and head off. Each time a pilot emerges, the entire airport full of people, all waiting quite a bit more patiently than me, eagerly strain to hear the village and the names, wishing, most of the time, in vain. It is only in moments like these, as I watch small groups of people have their names called to fly off to more weather friendly villages, when I find negative thoughts about Tununak milling about in my head. Why would anyone settle in a region with such brutal weather? How crazy must people be to continue living in a place where the wind is always blowing? And then, suddenly I hear “Tununak! Name, name, name, name, name, Eric!” and those negative thoughts flee my mind to be replaced by a sense of excitement and pride. I am going home. As we get in sight of Tununak I am reminded of the things I love about the village I have been placed in. We are one of the few villages (literally) that have significant hills and we have a river and my home is a mere hundred yards from the Bering Sea. Not to mention the best robotics team in the district.
We were returned to Gladys Jung, having only been gone about twenty minutes. A few other schools were likewise stranded and we went about resituating ourselves in the classrooms. With the robotics competition over, the gym was clear of Legos and we spent most of the afternoon playing basketball, throwing footballs, and running around. We also got in our promised one last trip to the store. As the students spent what they had left, I took advantage of a produce section to stock up on a few rare items – fresh tomatoes, avocado, cucumber… The walk back was interesting as now my hands were full holding a box of vegetables and other snacks for our team. The rain that had been lightly fallen had taken to changing states as the temperature dropped. If I slipped I was going to end up with produce all over the road. I also now have an irrational (actually, it’s probably pretty rational) fear of denting my face after hearing another teacher’s horror story of slipping on the ice and fracturing his cheek to such a degree that his face was visibly misshapen. Step after careful step I safely made it back to the school with all of my food. We rounded out the night with ice cream another teacher bought for the team and another round of gym time. We went to bed hoping that the weather in the morning would improve enough to allow planes to land in Tununak.
A quick breakfast and thorough cleaning of Gladys Jung and we again were ready to give the airport another try. We made it to the airport this time before learning that planes to the coast were on a weather hold. While preferable to an outright cancellation, a weather hold is still a bit too much when you have a dozen additional people you are responsible for. I should also add that the word airport means quite a bit less that what a conventional airport would mean. The airport I am referring to is in fact the Grant terminal, a small room with a ticket counter and baggage check similar in size to an old rural train station. There is a row of benches along one wall, a picnic table, and a small coffee shop upstairs that runs strange hours. Needless to say, in the event of a long weather hold there is very little to do. And we may be in for a while. The thing is, a hold doesn’t guarantee anything. I have known people that have ended up spending the entire day in the airport only to find out that the weather has not improved enough and to come back the next day and try again. And so, we settled in to wait.
As the hours went by we received little information from the airline. Typical for Alaska; aggravating for me. I have been conditioned to a constant stream of information. I like to know the details. What is the wind speed on the coast? Is it a crosswind? What about the temperature? Is that playing a role? Maybe fog? Low clouds? Earthquake? Tsunami washing the runway into the sea? Anything! But that isn’t the way things work. And so I wait, trying not to concern myself with answers that will not be answered. It seems I have spent the past ten years working with children in a variety of settings strengthening my patience. I am tapping into that skill now. From time to time a pilot will emerge, announce a village, rattle off a list of names, and then load up a plane and head off. Each time a pilot emerges, the entire airport full of people, all waiting quite a bit more patiently than me, eagerly strain to hear the village and the names, wishing, most of the time, in vain. It is only in moments like these, as I watch small groups of people have their names called to fly off to more weather friendly villages, when I find negative thoughts about Tununak milling about in my head. Why would anyone settle in a region with such brutal weather? How crazy must people be to continue living in a place where the wind is always blowing? And then, suddenly I hear “Tununak! Name, name, name, name, name, Eric!” and those negative thoughts flee my mind to be replaced by a sense of excitement and pride. I am going home. As we get in sight of Tununak I am reminded of the things I love about the village I have been placed in. We are one of the few villages (literally) that have significant hills and we have a river and my home is a mere hundred yards from the Bering Sea. Not to mention the best robotics team in the district.
A weekend with a dozen teenagers may sound like a lot of fun, but... (Part 2/3)
Within minutes the requests start coming. “Can we go to the store?” “When are we going to the store?” “Are we going to the store?” “When can we go to the store?” “Let’s go to the store.” This is the continuation of a conversation that had started the week leading up to this moment. And now, here we were, so close. I am beginning to see why traveling to Bethel, and really, just traveling in general, is such a huge deal for my students. I wrote in an earlier blog my desires to get out of Tununak for a bit. I can only imagine that that desire is even stronger in my students. Don’t misinterpret this to think that they don’t like life in Tununak. They do. Most have spent their entire lives here or in a similar village and have friends and family here. They are familiar with the ways of village life and enjoy many aspects of it like being able to hunt and practice other subsistence and cultural activities. They feel safe walking around at night, aware that they know everyone in the village. They like the consistency and routines that life in a small village has to offer and they take pride in that knowledge. But they are also American teenagers under all of the same pressures that adolescence has to offer from raging hormones and a sudden acute interest in the opposite sex to a desire for independence and breaking away from total parent control to battling to define themselves amidst the identities being forced on them by the media, mass marketers, dominant Western culture, and their own unique Yup’ik culture. And so travel allows them a chance to get out and experience life in ways that are not possible in Tununak.
We hold off the horde long enough to get our bags and things situated in the room and then we set off to the illustrious “store.” On the way to the store we stop at Subway for dinner home of the five eight dollar footlong. You see, the fine print that accompanies the irritatingly catchy five dollar footlong jingle comes into effect in Alaska and Hawaii. Instead we have the eight dollar footlongs. It wouldn’t really matter though. At this point I am ready to pay twenty. I have no idea why that is. Back home I make it a point not to eat at Subway. I find their subs mediocre. Passable, but there is so much better. Months without options lower my standards however, as does the fact that I have to do nothing more than hand over some green paper (another thing I haven’t done in months) before eating. So much easier than cooking! And so delicious. The textures and flavors! Fresh sliced veggies, cold cuts, pepper jack cheese, white bread encrusted with intriguing spice blends …Oh the experience. I don’t care what anyone says, this is not normal food – there is something in these subs that elicits irrational responses in the human mind. And if I’m not proof enough, our team seemed to react in a similar way. Suddenly aware of the plethora of options, many had difficulties making decisions. Staring at the sandwich artist some could only mumble, “I want that one,” pointing in the general direction of the menu. One was thrilled that all had to do in order to get as much pop as one could drink was to buy the cup. What a world we are in!
After finishing up dinner we walked across the street to the store. The store, Alaska Commercial or the AC for short, according to its website, is “A retail company providing groceries and general merchandise in stores.” The AC, now a statewide chain began over 130 years ago as a series of trading posts offering early traders, miners, and missionaries food and supplies. The history is a bit more romantic than the stores are today. Ownership has changed hands a number of times and the current version looks very similar to any other big box store. It is, in a minor way, the rural Alaska’s equivalent to a mall. New fashions can be browsed, candy and pop can be bought and consumed, and people watching can be done. While waiting for all of our team to finish shopping came again the question “When can we go to the store?” We were still in the entryway to the building.
Gathering everyone up, counting and recounting, we begin our walk back. We are supposed to be at dinner at seven o’clock – a time fast approaching. What? Dinner? What about Subway? One word – teenagers. Metabolisms like they are going out of style. Not that I'm one to talk. Anyone that knows me knows that if I don’t eat, often, I will die. So after a quick meal of lasagna served from the Home Ec room at Bethel Regional High School (complete with lockers, hallways, subject specific classrooms…the real deal) we head back to our room at Gladys Jung. The gym is set up with about a dozen identical Lego courses so that the teams can perfect their programming. We are here for a reason – to compete in this competition. Time is running short and our two teams need as much time as possible to dial in their programs. A few hours later as the lights in the gym are cut, we return to our rooms for the evening. Of course, anyone who has ever been a chaperone, or maybe even a teenager before, knows that the night is still young. In fact, the night will stay young for three nights straight. Mornings come progressively early, but more on that later. For the moment we have movies to watch, annoying pop music to blast, and enough teenage humor to fill a dozen terrible movies.
I fell asleep around 2:00am. Derek, a little before that. The boys? Not sure. I can assure you it was after 2:00. Also after 2:00 we discovered something very peculiar with the classrooms in Gladys Jung Elementary. All the lights become activated by motion. What a wonderful (security?) system. Every trip to the bathroom, every toss in sleep, possibly even every dream of movement, turned on the lights. The nice part about staying up so late is that I was dead tired and slept through all the light flickerings. Derek could not and faithfully turned off the lights after each movement violation. This would set the pattern for the following nights. I would be awake until around the time the terrible dance music died down with Derek taking up the watch around the time the lights took on a life of their own with the end result in neither of us getting much sleep.
While our nights filled with little sleep and too much bad music, our days were filled with robotics. The competition is made up of four parts: the performance of robot and programming of course, and then each team is also evaluated on the technical aspect of their programs and robots, on a team work activity, and on a presentation they make highlighting a problem and a solution that is related to the theme picked by Lego. The theme for 2009 was transportation and our teams investigate transportation issues prevalent in Tununak including fuel efficiency of snowmachines (Alaskan for snowmobile) and airplanes. These four evaluations took place throughout Friday and Saturday giving our teams a bit of time in between to continue perfecting techniques and exacting programs.
At the end of two days of competing and not sleeping the results were in. Kind of. What I can tell you is that we did not win. At least we didn’t win overall. I am still kind of confused over the scoring process, but our junior high team did place high enough in one event to take home a medal. At our teams’ robots’ programs got progressively better over the weekend. Happy with our performance, a little bummed about not getting to go on to Anchorage, we were ready to head home. With bag lunches in hand we exited Gladys Jung immediately following the awards ceremony en route to the airport where a small fleet of planes were ready to fly us home. Unfortunately the weather was not ready. We made it to the parking lot of the airport before word reached us that Grant Air was not flying to the coast. Oh the joys of Alaska. Our students were have cheering half moaning – split between another trip to the store and more time in Bethel to visit with friends and relatives from other villages and that of being away from home one more night, sleeping on the floor of an elementary classroom. My feelings, were not split. I was tired. I had lessons to write for Monday. And I was worried that if the weather didn’t let up my sub notes might not make it through another whole day. Nothing anyone could do though, so worrying or complaining made little sense. Another night in Bethel.
We hold off the horde long enough to get our bags and things situated in the room and then we set off to the illustrious “store.” On the way to the store we stop at Subway for dinner home of the five eight dollar footlong. You see, the fine print that accompanies the irritatingly catchy five dollar footlong jingle comes into effect in Alaska and Hawaii. Instead we have the eight dollar footlongs. It wouldn’t really matter though. At this point I am ready to pay twenty. I have no idea why that is. Back home I make it a point not to eat at Subway. I find their subs mediocre. Passable, but there is so much better. Months without options lower my standards however, as does the fact that I have to do nothing more than hand over some green paper (another thing I haven’t done in months) before eating. So much easier than cooking! And so delicious. The textures and flavors! Fresh sliced veggies, cold cuts, pepper jack cheese, white bread encrusted with intriguing spice blends …Oh the experience. I don’t care what anyone says, this is not normal food – there is something in these subs that elicits irrational responses in the human mind. And if I’m not proof enough, our team seemed to react in a similar way. Suddenly aware of the plethora of options, many had difficulties making decisions. Staring at the sandwich artist some could only mumble, “I want that one,” pointing in the general direction of the menu. One was thrilled that all had to do in order to get as much pop as one could drink was to buy the cup. What a world we are in!
After finishing up dinner we walked across the street to the store. The store, Alaska Commercial or the AC for short, according to its website, is “A retail company providing groceries and general merchandise in stores.” The AC, now a statewide chain began over 130 years ago as a series of trading posts offering early traders, miners, and missionaries food and supplies. The history is a bit more romantic than the stores are today. Ownership has changed hands a number of times and the current version looks very similar to any other big box store. It is, in a minor way, the rural Alaska’s equivalent to a mall. New fashions can be browsed, candy and pop can be bought and consumed, and people watching can be done. While waiting for all of our team to finish shopping came again the question “When can we go to the store?” We were still in the entryway to the building.
Gathering everyone up, counting and recounting, we begin our walk back. We are supposed to be at dinner at seven o’clock – a time fast approaching. What? Dinner? What about Subway? One word – teenagers. Metabolisms like they are going out of style. Not that I'm one to talk. Anyone that knows me knows that if I don’t eat, often, I will die. So after a quick meal of lasagna served from the Home Ec room at Bethel Regional High School (complete with lockers, hallways, subject specific classrooms…the real deal) we head back to our room at Gladys Jung. The gym is set up with about a dozen identical Lego courses so that the teams can perfect their programming. We are here for a reason – to compete in this competition. Time is running short and our two teams need as much time as possible to dial in their programs. A few hours later as the lights in the gym are cut, we return to our rooms for the evening. Of course, anyone who has ever been a chaperone, or maybe even a teenager before, knows that the night is still young. In fact, the night will stay young for three nights straight. Mornings come progressively early, but more on that later. For the moment we have movies to watch, annoying pop music to blast, and enough teenage humor to fill a dozen terrible movies.
I fell asleep around 2:00am. Derek, a little before that. The boys? Not sure. I can assure you it was after 2:00. Also after 2:00 we discovered something very peculiar with the classrooms in Gladys Jung Elementary. All the lights become activated by motion. What a wonderful (security?) system. Every trip to the bathroom, every toss in sleep, possibly even every dream of movement, turned on the lights. The nice part about staying up so late is that I was dead tired and slept through all the light flickerings. Derek could not and faithfully turned off the lights after each movement violation. This would set the pattern for the following nights. I would be awake until around the time the terrible dance music died down with Derek taking up the watch around the time the lights took on a life of their own with the end result in neither of us getting much sleep.
While our nights filled with little sleep and too much bad music, our days were filled with robotics. The competition is made up of four parts: the performance of robot and programming of course, and then each team is also evaluated on the technical aspect of their programs and robots, on a team work activity, and on a presentation they make highlighting a problem and a solution that is related to the theme picked by Lego. The theme for 2009 was transportation and our teams investigate transportation issues prevalent in Tununak including fuel efficiency of snowmachines (Alaskan for snowmobile) and airplanes. These four evaluations took place throughout Friday and Saturday giving our teams a bit of time in between to continue perfecting techniques and exacting programs.
At the end of two days of competing and not sleeping the results were in. Kind of. What I can tell you is that we did not win. At least we didn’t win overall. I am still kind of confused over the scoring process, but our junior high team did place high enough in one event to take home a medal. At our teams’ robots’ programs got progressively better over the weekend. Happy with our performance, a little bummed about not getting to go on to Anchorage, we were ready to head home. With bag lunches in hand we exited Gladys Jung immediately following the awards ceremony en route to the airport where a small fleet of planes were ready to fly us home. Unfortunately the weather was not ready. We made it to the parking lot of the airport before word reached us that Grant Air was not flying to the coast. Oh the joys of Alaska. Our students were have cheering half moaning – split between another trip to the store and more time in Bethel to visit with friends and relatives from other villages and that of being away from home one more night, sleeping on the floor of an elementary classroom. My feelings, were not split. I was tired. I had lessons to write for Monday. And I was worried that if the weather didn’t let up my sub notes might not make it through another whole day. Nothing anyone could do though, so worrying or complaining made little sense. Another night in Bethel.
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