Teaching is So Easy. Sometimes.

Lego Robotics
I have been involved in Lego Robotics for the past five years now.  I have to admit - I'm kind of obsessed.
 
Here's a quick primer:

Running the robot during the competition

• Our fifth through eighth graders have the opportunity to join an extra-curricular club/team known as robotics.
• Each season, we, along with a couple dozen other teams across the district participate in the annual First Lego League (FLL for short) competition.
• For the competition, each team designs, builds, and programs a robot.  The robot has a series of missions that it must accomplish to earn points.
• In addition to the robotics side, the teams also create a project that offers a solution to a problem based on a theme.  The theme this year:  Nature's Fury.

Modifying programs - trying to apply a cast

Team Building - Building a tower to touch the ceiling

So that's that.  Research, write, perform, build, program, compete.  What I like about it so much is that it's painless to coach.  Legos are just too awesome.  And kids (as well as adults) just get sucked in trying to get the robot to do what it's supposed to do.  Problem solving, teamwork, persistence, math, science and whatever else (meteorology and geology this year).

SeaPerch
The second thing is closely related.  Last summer I had the opportunity to be an instructor for a summer program for middle school students.  The program, SeaPerch, was a one week camp where students traveled in from the villages to build a remote operated submersible.  Over the course of a week each student built a SeaPerch from simple materials (PVC, netting, zipties, model airplane props, and a trio of motors) that they got to take home at the end of the week.  Another fascinating, easy to teach group.  All the learning kids love.  The easiest thing in the world to teach.

After assembly, the chassis get spray painted

The concept of neutral buoyancy was never easier to teach

Three days of soldering.  Three long days.

Testing out the SeaPerches at the harbor.

Booyeah Summer Break

School year (number four!) ended last Thursday.  It snowed.  Friday was a work day - the official last day for me - and it snowed some more.  Saturday, the official first day of summer and we decided to go goose hunting.  It is too strange to explain why it wasn't quite a success.

Ahhh...summer break.  Finally.

The south hill.

Ready for the zombie apocalypse

 It is officially spring (according to the calendar) so the geese should be returning.  They've been slowly making their way back, but the larger migration has yet to start.  I blame it on the lack of open water.  All of the ponds around Tununak are still covered in ice.  Snow blankets most of the tundra.  The river ice is still in place.  The sea ice is still anchored to the shore.  It's weird.  First day of summer, and it's below freezing.

Kurt guarding

All of these disadvantages didn't stop Kurt from shooting the solo goose flying overhead.  We'd posted up on the hill waiting for geese to fly over us.  Boring, cold, but not so bad when you lay back on the frozen tundra.  The lonely bird flew over us once, too high for a shot, when Victor began calling.  The sad, lonely bird, thinking his homies were calling him in banked wide and began his descent.  He came back around when - Bang!

Stalking ptarmigan

We sat, staring up, trying to determine if he hit it.  Then trying to determine if it was coming down.  Then we were up running.  The dead bird landed within three feet of where we were sitting, I mean guarding.  Most terrifying thing in the world to see a bird fall out of the sky.

We ended the day with two ptarmigan, a goose, and a brush with falling death.  Not the worst start to summer break.

Victor, Kurt, Danny, two ptarmigan, and one goose.

I now like ice fishing.

The first time I went ice fishing I fell in a hole.  As a little kid with a little foot I was able to fall in the little hole.  It was cold and miserable, and on top of all that I don't remember catching anything resembling a fish.  Maybe I caught a cold.  Who knows?  That was about twenty-five years ago.  I can now say that my opinion on the activity has changed.

A little more than nine miles round trip.

My change of heart happened three weeks ago.  Up for something out the ordinary, we (Angie, Kurt, Neal, and myself) decided to go ice fishing.  The fabled location was a ways away.  Kurt and Neal had made an attempt to find the spot an earlier weekend with no luck.  In preparation for this attempt I asked the other high school teacher how to get there.  She sketched out a quick map on my whiteboard.  "Okay, got it," I said.  Armed with this knowledge we now felt ready to go.  We discussed our plan, and Kurt had heard it was shorter to go over the hill, we set out.

Kurt shoulda worn cleats.  Oh well.  Next time.

 We left the BIA in the early afternoon.  The sun was out, blasting the way.  As our journey up the hill started I was instantly pleased with my last minute decision to wear my ice cleats.  Angie had hers on as well.  Neal and Kurt opted to venture forth without.  What had appeared as nice soft snow turned out to be nice soft snow, except under that layer was a much trickier layer of ice.  The nice soft snow did nothing but make the ice even more slippery.  Combined with the steep incline of the hill and the sled carrying our fishing gear, the hike up the hill took a long time.  About half way up, after both Neal and Kurt had stumbled and fallen a number of times apiece, the clouds rolled in.  The wisdom of our route was in question.  But we were invested in the adventure by this time.  There would be no turning around.

Slightly reminiscent of an arctic exploratory team

As we neared the summit, Angie and I were out in front.  We climbed the last bit and as we came even with the top of the hill we came face to face with a herd of musk ox.  Probably fifty adults and a number of juveniles stood no more than one hundred feet from us.  The wind had been coming from the north - they had not been able to smell us approach.  We dropped to the ground, whispering to Neal and Kurt to hurry up.  Before they made it up to us the herd figured us out and began moving away to stage their defensive positions.  Musk ox, being gigantic animals, are not the bravest of creatures.  I have heard that they will charge, but most of the time all I've seen them do is line up, shoulder to shoulder in a display of power.  They are mighty intimidating, but after sizing us up for a while and watching us slowly get closer they must have recognized our true power.  I am still trying to figure out what our true power was, but they took off to the North.  We continued to follow their retreat as it was in the direction of our fishing spot.

Muskox.

Muskox.  Chillin'.

Rare blue sky moments are fantastic.

 The hill we were crossing, actually the core of an ancient volcano, rises maybe one thousand feet above the village.  The top is a large flat area offering views in all directions.  From there we could just barely make out where we were going.  It was a long ways away without a very clear line down.  We continued along the ridge looking for the easiest way down.  After deciding that using the sled to bomb the hill was probably not the best idea we opted for sliding down on our feet and butts.  Slower than sledding (we ghost rode that whip), it was much more fun that climbing the hill.  Our descent took us to about one hundred feet above the sea – to the edge of a rocky cliff that falls to meet the shore.  We would have to walk along the cliff until we found a drainage chute to descend.  A little further on we came across a baby musk ox, completely alone.  Angie and I left Neal and Kurt at this point and we descended down a chute to the ocean below.  Kurt and Neal got much closer to the baby than I thought would have been possible.  Kind of a bummer to miss that.  Oh well.

The baby I missed.

But I did get first tracks in the backcountry.

We arrived at the old fishing hole as two others were packing up to return to the village.  They'd had luck catching fish so we decided to get to work.  The spot we were at was on sea ice near the shore where a stream draining the hills we'd been climbing on emptied into the ocean.  This assured that open water was available below the sea ice and fisherpeople before us has chipped out holes to catch the fish. 

You just watch for a fish - then yank!

There are two primary methods to catching fish where we were.  Dip netting and jigging.  Nets may be the fastest method but we didn't have one.  The traditional manaq would have to do.  Basically what you have is a dowel with some fishing line connected to a hook.  The most basic fishing kit ever.  I actually felt overburdened with a reel on the ice fishing rod that I'd borrowed from another teacher.  No matter, the fish were there.  In a matter of speaking they were biting, but that's not completely accurate.  The method we used involves laying on the ice, sticking your face in the hole to block out the light so that you can see into the water.  I didn't believe that I would see anything at first, but as my eyes adjusted I was overwhelmed at the numbers of fish swirling about under the surface.  At this point all you do is lower you naked hook into the water, wait for a fish to approach it, and yank - snagging the fish through the lower jaw.  It was unbelievable.  We caught fish after fish like this.  Kurt had advised us to be content with the smaller guys - they fry up the best.  With this we were completely content pulling whatever fish came our way up and out of the water.  In about half an hour we'd caught about sixty fish between the four of us using three rods.  That's a little less that one fish per minute per person.  It was awesome.

One of sixty.

I know it looks ridiculous.

Our catch.

The walk back, however, was not so great.  After realizing that walking over ice covered mountains was more work than walking on ice covered oceans, we decided to take the coastal route back.  Longer?  Maybe.  Windier?  Absolutely.  But flatter and ultimately probably faster.  Our journey concluded, arriving wind- and sunburned, starving, and tired, about six hours later after covering a total of about nine and a half miles.  Quite the day. 

Epilogue:

We were too tired and hungry the night we returned to eat the fish we’d caught.  After giving away approximately half of the fish, we quickly cleaned them and put then in the refrigerator for the next night.

Filling two frying pans with oil we fried the little guys up.  Absolutely delicious.    

About 40 fish heads.

Fryin'

Batter fry assembly line.

Oh yeah.

So tasty.

Acquiring Skills For Life

I will leave Tununak one day, and when I do I will have collected the weirdest set of experiences.  For example, I have cooked the senior banquet for six seniors and their ten guests each.  I have run sound effects at a district-wide art performance.  I have help create high school student schedules.  But the most helpful thing, I'm sure, is perfecting the art of grocery shopping.  A never ending process, shopping for food has become some sort of weird obsession.

First off, remember that while there are two stores in town, the prices are exorbitant and the selection miserable.  So our shopping usually happens twice a year - once in the fall and again over winter break.

For the grocery nerds out there is our list.

Here's the basic plan.

1. Inventory what's on hand in our house.
2. Using that list and previous lists, begin making the current shopping list.
3. Separate it out into dry, shelf stable items; refrigerator; and frozen.  These will be coming from different locations.
4. Once separated, attempt to order as much as possible from Amazon.  With free shipping it often has some incredible deals. 
5. The refrigerator and frozen items, however, require far more thought.  After getting frustrated with the professional shoppers (commissioned shoppers in Anchorage) we decided to try it ourselves.  The process requires a number of coolers (three), some cooler bags (two), duct tape, ice packs, and a knife.  
6. Show up at the airport.  Thank Alaska Air for their liberal three bag free policy (when flying within the state of Alaska).  Slap the stickers on and board.  Pray that the village flight is not too full so that all of your coolers get to fly with you.
7. Unpack.  It's like Christmas.  Kind of.

Here's what are freezer looks like right now - stocked full for next school year.  

Mmm.  Frozen foods.

Angie did all the shopping.  Booyeah.

Dreaming of the spring

Alas, it's all in vain, but I want spring.  Most of the time, actually.  It's been a rough week.  Two snow days last week.  A late start.  I got to be acting site administrator for a day - a day that only 40% of the students showed up due to what probably should have been the third snow day.  Oh well.  Here's what I do to keep my mind off the endless winter wonderland.

Plants
My Alaskan answer to gardening.  Hydroponics up and humming.  At the moment lettuce (Romaine and red leaf), basil, green beans, and pumpkins.  Yeah, pumpkins.  They'll never work, but I saved the seeds from Thanksgiving, and what the heck, why not.

So little looking right now...

I also started flowers in the window.  As the days get longer I'm hoping for better results that last semester's attempts.  They blossomed, but half-heartedly, and the poor sunflower it bent and bent until it finally couldn't any longer.

An Alaskan Sunflower.  So nakleng.

Flowers, peas, and spider plants.  Oh and some avocado pits back there.

Food and Bread
Same old, but it's always a delight to have the smell of fresh bread wafting about.  Pretty much perfected a whole wheat sandwich loaf.  Bagels, also pretty legit.  Ciabatta and pizza - close to perfection.  Working on some others.

Muffalettas on ciabatta - a delight

Bread and bagels

Oh, and getting close to working my way through some of my faithful bulk items.  Ben and Sara - in case you were wondering -that 25 lb bag of black beans?  It's gone.  I ate them all.  Well, there was help along the way, but it's quite an accomplishment.  And almost done with the soy beans - both the end of the bag you so kindly donated and my own 25 lb bag.  The dried corn and pinto beans, however - not even close.

The last of the 25lbs of black beans

Dancing
Actually, watching dancing.  Our dance festival was a few weekends ago.  It's always a good time to see people outside the context of school.

A break in between songs

Tununak dancing

Photographing the Increasing Piles of Snow
I keep taking pictures thinking Wow, that's a lot of snow and then it falls again.  So here's a collection of pictures.  I'll try and caption them with dates.  
 

The BIA

What's left of the stairs - Feb 28

 

The snowmobile shed - Feb 28

  Daylight
It's getting to be perfect.  Of course this only lasts a week or two as we gain about forty-five minutes of sunlight a week.  But to wake up to sunlight streaming in through the windows is welcome sight. 
    

I AM AN ARTIST! I am?

Spent two weeks in Juneau, right before returning to Bethel for district-wide inservices, in what I look back on as Artist Boot Camp.  I had applied last spring for the Juneau Basic Arts Institute, as it's officially called.  I mean - it would be covered by a grant, I will get college credit out of it, and I get to learn some things that may be useful in my classroom.  Oh, and there would be four other teachers from my school attending.  Sounded pretty alright to me.

Then the syllabus came.  

And I started to get some doubts.  Dancing.  Ummm...  One out of the four classes would be devoted entirely to dancing.  Yeah.  That's a lot to ask.  Turns out, however, dancing can be fun.  Prancing around the room - yep - pretty entertaining.  Maybe on the simple fact that I'm only moving one-fourth of the time - the other three-fourths I'm watching my classmates.

Just doing a little igloo building.  Seriously.

In addition to dancing we did visual art, digital art, and cultural art.  Teachers were all wonderful.  Juneau was wonderful.  I made some things that turned out pretty well.  I learned some things that are proving to be quite useful.  And I got to see Juneau.

That's all my art.  Pretty.  Great.

Juneau is a beautiful city.  Located in Southeast Alaska, it is a major stopping point for the Alaska cruise ships.  As a result there are a number of things to do - restaurants, bars, shops, but the major attraction is the geography itself.  Mountains, rivers, the ocean, spruce trees, and the Mendenhall Glacier.  Fantastic.  So we hiked, climbed some mountains, saw about a hundred million bald eagles, about two hundred million spawning (ie dying) salmon.  Yeah.  Juneau is great.

Angie and Marcella after they ran a half marathon.

Hands down the best picture ever taken of me.  Angie looks good, too.  Email me - I'll send you a copy to post as your background.  It's that good.