Sometimes you can’t fight Fire with Fire.

I have hereditary high blood pressure. I have my Mom to thank for that and she has her mother to thank for it too. I’ve been on BP medication for over 10 years now. About two years ago, my doctors and I decided that we could go from two down to one pill. I haven’t been anywhere near a BP Cuff since coming to the Arctic. I did check it once when I was at home up at Wal-Mart – numbers were good.

I came to Alaska chunky and funky. I countered some late Spring anxiety with beer and comfort food. Besides, I was going to Alaska and knew that I wouldn’t be able to have regular fried food and bar burgers after a bad day. Coming here, I wanted to loose weight. I wanted to calm down.

I wanted to take back control.

I think I’ve been able to do those things. I eat better and am a long way from beer and burgers although we recently learned that Papa John’s could put a smile on our faces for a reasonable price. Actually, about two weeks ago I felt a wave of peacefulness wash over me. I don’t think it was the pizza. It might be the regular exercise causing it. The state of Zen is probably more likely due to the realization that I am, in fact, just a guest here. With my newfound piece of mind, I’m hoping the blood pressure follows suit but unfortunately, there are still trying times.

The principal has lived here in Kivalina since the 1980’s. She says that she has not seen the abuse of alcohol to this extent in all her time in the village. Unfortunately, Domestic Violence is at an all time high too.  Just recently, the Alaska State Troopers were here to cart off three adult males that, in an alcohol-induced stupor, beat the crap out of a female that they were partying with.

These houses are over-crowded. Spring Fever is tough enough everywhere but at least when Michele and I feel cooped up back home we can go to the mall or out to a movie. Here it is hard for me to find release. I think the same is true for the locals. The Arctic winter can be tough on a person’s psyche.

From Pre-K through High School, the children are a reflection of the pulse of the village. They mirror behaviors seen and learned at home. I could make anecdotal assumptions based solely on their violent reactions and spikes in misbehavior. In such a small school you can just feel when tensions rise. These past couple of weeks, the inmates have been running the asylum.

Some days are better than others, of course. And like always, I don’t want to paint a picture of all doom and gloom. The reality is tough though. I have a new definition of a “good day.” A good day might include sending a kid home for flipping a desk and punching a wall. A good day often includes 3-5 kids absent for the morning attendance but here right before lunch. A good day sometimes has us getting through only four Math problems or completely scrapping a Social Studies Lesson because I’m constantly "putting out fires." A good day has regular distractions interrupted by short windows of education.

The children crave attention and often beg for it in unconventional ways. Books thrown to the floor. Storming off in a fit of rage. Punching a wall. Slamming a door or flipping a desk. Acting out behaviors that scream, “Teacher come look at me. Listen to me and be with me. “

Others shut down completely. Head on their desk. Hoods pulled up and over. Faces buried in their elbows. Some resort to lying on the floor or crawling under a table or desk.

These are my regular days.

The “good days”.

Yesterday, in anger, a 10-year-old girl shoved me.

Remember for a second, I earned a Combat Action Ribbon fighting with Uncle Sam’s Marine Corps in Mogadishu, Somalia. In college I was the longhaired bouncer at O’Brian’s that gained a reputation for killer dance moves and zero tolerance for rough and rowdy behavior. I coach hockey and used to coach football. Lest I ramble on any more about my masculinity, let’s just agree that I’m no powder puff.

But this young lady put her hands on me. After not following my directions to take a time out in the hallway and calm down, she threw back her chair, screamed and came after me with a shove forceful enough to knock me off balance. The rest of the class let out a collective gasp. I closed the book I was reading and pointed at the door. She finally followed that instruction.

Her mother was called and the 5^th grader was sent home. Before leaving mom spoke to me and the principal about the difficulties raising 6 children all under the age of 10. Mom had sensed that her brood was frustrated from her being away for the weekend and expected to be called to school for her eldest son’s behavior, not her daughter’s.

Today, the little girl was back in school and right after I recorded attendance, I asked her to step in to the hallway…

And gave her a HUG.

Up here you can’t fight Fire with Fire. 

You just can’t.