A Cultural Expedition...

Hello lower 48! It’s been a wild few weeks leading up to the first week of school. Upon arriving in Kotzebue (pronounced cots-a-be-u), along the coast, I spent the first 3 weeks attending a culture camp and teacher orientation. I am currently in my village of Shungnak working as a Special Education teacher. School started just two days ago!

Learning and experiencing new cultures has always been appealing to me and having the opportunity to experience Inupiaq (Native Alaskan, pronounced "In-you-pack") culture before jumping into school was an invaluable opportunity. In some ways, my own culture coincides with the Inupiaq culture; quiet and short conversations are preferred and everyone is always working collectively as a village. I love the camaraderie and relationship focus of the village. Working hard is a cultural value as for generations it has been a necessity for survival.

One thing that I’m still getting used to is that the form of communication among the villagers is very indirect. Instead of being able to easily discern a comment, one must decipher a statement to discover the true meaning. For instance, someone may approach me and say “what are you doing tonight?” I would normally respond, “nothing, probably just chilling at home”, and then go on my merry way. However, the question is actually indirect hidden code for let’s do something tonight. The conversation continues in veils of mystery until one is able to crack the code and discover the activity that individual would like to actually perform. This is definitely new to me, especially if you know the blunt directness of the Deaf culture I’ve been a part of for the past few years.

This indirect form of communication is interlaced all throughout Inupiaq history. For thousands of years, village teaching has come, not from books, but from the older generation modeling the techniques for survival to the younger generations. These elders will model a skill and then transition to let the learner give it a go. However, my own schema of learning sometimes gets in the way. My analytical brain wants steps. Steps written down. In order. Often times a technique (like cutting fish) are simply demonstrated with little direction. If you make a mistake or need clarity (like where is the best place to cut the fish head off), elders will wait for you to ask for help and then model it again, not state the next step directly. I find that I’m catching myself from saying “what should I do next?… No, wait, don’t take the knife back...I just…ok show me again, haha”.

This same indirect teaching affects classroom learning as well. My students need to see skills modeled first. However, they also may not ask questions right away, or at all, if they need help. Instead repetition of the same skill again and again is most effective and culturally expected. It’s going to be an interesting year working as a special education teacher where my professors at Clemson pounded into my head the need for direct, explicit instruction.

My last cultural observation was something I just realized tonight observing the 7:30pm “open gym” game time. Students are able to play basketball or volleyball or tag in a whirlwind of frisbees and hula hoops for an hour. It’s pretty chaotic and if you’re not paying attention, you’ll take a frisbee to the face. During that hour, I saw siblings taking care of toddlers and even infants. Teenage boys would pick up, twirl, and play with unrelated toddlers. 4th grade girls are feeding their friend’s baby sisters, changing diapers, and rocking them to sleep. After some reflection, I realized that we as teachers often link intelligence to academic grades and book knowledge. Though many would label these bush kids as intellectually low, this does not mean they are not intelligent. These elementary school girls are entrusted with responsibilities and display maturity that surpasses the majority of kids in the lower of 48. To be able to properly change, feed, and care for, not just one but all my siblings, is a responsibility I have never shouldered. In fact, most students are shocked to learn I only have one brother. Most native Alaskan students have at least 5-8 brothers and sisters. One boy even had 10 siblings with some living in different villages.

Overall, it has been fascinating to experience this culture that so much of the world will never know. I feel I have only just begun to scratch the surface of this unique and precious culture. I am humbled to be accepted into the village of Shungnak (pronounced Shung-Knack) and eager to make a difference in this community. Thanks for tagging along with me…