the pause before moving downriver

With less than three weeks left to the school year, this chapter of life in Marshall is coming to a close.  Before the moving boxes/totes begin to fill it is a good time to pause and reflect.  My gratitude to this adventure is full.  

What a school year.  Holy smokes.  

I cannot say that it has been my most challenging and difficult time.  My twenties have been riddled with them.  So, much like many challenges in life I will now give it gratitude for bringing me to the present.  Because the present, and future, is good.

 Marshall School.  

The facility is beautiful.  Built just a few years ago, it is well care-for and aesthetically welcoming.  Every classroom is full of light, stunning views, and well-equipped. 

But it is the excellent educators that make it great.  The elementary staff has been a huge asset.  I was lucky enough to spend my first year in the village next door to, Josh, a teacher in his fifth and with one down the hall, Krista, on her tenth.  And then there's Liz, a beyond awesome collaborative and cooperative teacher.  These three were always willing to listen to ideas and issues, offering encouragement, humor and a sympathetic ear.  Among that staff I am grateful to have been able to work under such an incredible administrator, Joe.  He is a constant reminder of the importance of listening and connection with students. 

 The [two minute] commute.

 Some days that commute, with -50 wind chills coming at you at 30mph, felt like an eternity.  Walking on ice is no small or confident feat in the pitch dark of blowing snow.

But then there are moments when you look up and see the night sky's fading aurora or the reflection of the full moon on the frozen slough.  In that two minute walk I have learned much about extremes and the importance of focus.  I have also learned that most of time putting on the snow pants [or ice cleats] is never a bad decision.

 Teacher housing.

Teacher housing in Marshall is newer than the school.  Yes, there are shifting floors and this and that.  But, home is warm, well-lit, and very comfortable.  But then I have had the luxury of a fantastic housemate.

Liz.  Living with Liz has certainly been a huge component to surviving this first year.  Even though I see the practicality of it, having a luck of the draw co-inhabitant in such an isolated environment is kind of nutty.  I am so beyond grateful I landed such a kindred spirit and ally.  We have been through so much together.  After spending a majority of nine months within 100 feet of one other it seems crazy that in less than three weeks she won't be just a holler away, in the room down the hall.  

 The tundra.

Just off of my front porch is the tundra.  All the windows on the front of the house overlook this openness.  Walking home, it is the view from my last few steps.  To see the hills in the distance adds smallness to days that are a bit too large to handle.

 It is a stunning morning reminder.

 Mount Piltcher.

This peak adds a focus to the vastness.  There is a bit of magic to watching the weather form around its top.  It is the backdrop to life in the village.

 The road to the airport.

It is high and vast.  The whole world is visible from this road.  At one point to you can see in every direction for miles.  More miles than I though possible. 

The road to the old airport.

For as open and vast as the walk to the new airport is, this walk is insulated and winding.  The dirt road reminds me of Indiana and Grandma Lillian's house.  

 

It is a slow beauty.

Once again I will be stepping into the unknown next year as I move to Mountain Village.  I do know that I will be teaching sixth grade.  This time I'll have a school year's worth of growth and learning about my students and life on the Yukon to begin the school year in August.  I also know that I will have an incredible partner for the journey.  For his presence in all of this I have the utmost gratitude.