Window PAIN.

The days are getting longer here and the sun is getting stronger. It’s a welcoming feeling to see a hint of daybreak when I break open the qanichaq (Cunny-Chuck) door for my morning commute to McQueen School. When basketball practice is done and I’m headed home at about 6:45 p.m., I’ve even noticed that the sun is still up and working it’s magic on the snow, the ice and my soul.

Those that recognize the seriousness of my “Ouija” story might understand my apprehension at using words like “magic” and “superstition”. I’m just being honest, the Inupiat are skittish about things that they don’t understand. Kids and adults alike are easily frightened or scared and they even have a word for it.

“You tuppaq’ed me.”  (Two-Pucked)

If you’ve ever come around a corner and meet someone that you didn’t see coming, the feeling you get is a “tuppaq”. When I have my kids concentrating so hard on a timed math fast facts sheet, I sometimes signal the end of the two minutes with a sharp command. If I can catch them off guard it’s usually worth a good laugh as everyone tries to settle back in to their seats.  They got tuppaq’ed. Being tuppaq’ed is usually followed by a smile of recognition that “although you caught me off guard, I’m better now.”

Usually.

Sometimes being tuppaq’ed results in full-blown hysteria.

Kivalina hates bugs. This village can drop to Deathcom Level 6 at the mere mention of a possible Bed Bug siting. I have seen the high school lockers emptied while gallons of chemicals were dumped in and wiped down because somebody heard that someone’s house had a bedbug scare. No Joke - The kids pulled garbage bags over their shoes and duct taped the tops to their calves. It was like a bad scene from “E.T.” or “Outbreak”.

Lice – nobody likes lice – I get it. But it’s not worth the over-reaction that consumes this village. I’ve had kids kept home from school for days turning to weeks because of mere rumors about lice. There are children that are instructed to keep their parkies and snowpants in garbage bags while at school. Some of these kids are expected to bag their belongings daily, even without the threat of bugs.

More than one adult has told me, “They jump.” All bugs. I even got an email from a parent outlining her specific instructions about who can and can’t stand next to her child in line at school.

The paranoia is difficult to deal with sometimes. Like today. The kids got tuppaq'ed.

With the warming sun comes the inevitable reawakening of houseflies. Once dormant, these harmless creatures seem to appear overnight. The presence of one in my classroom though can tilt their already delicate attention spans from slim to none in a heartbeat. Here, as in most schools, there is a standing rule about wearing hats in school. Don’t do it. The same is usually true with the hoods of their ever-popular hoodies. Keep them off your head. You can be a gangstar outside of the building all you want. In here, be respectful and keep your head un-covered. But all caution is completely thrown to the wind if a single black housefly takes leave of his winter prison. Arms get pulled in to sleeves and hoods are on and there is no changing that.

Usually these houseflies are restricted to banging their heads against the windowpanes from which they came from. But heaven forbid that one sets out searching for a way to freedom in the open air of my classroom. By the time a single student has detected a stray nuvivuk, there’s no hope in calming the class until one of two things happen: #1-Death to the pesky fly or #2-The buzzard flies out of sight.

Nuvivuk. (Nuh Vee Vuck = common black housefly.)

I’ll concede that they are big. Bigger than a regular old house fly. Everything is bigger in Alaska, right? Or is it Texas? Either way, you and I know they are harmless. But their flight sets off a panic in the Inupiat in my room. If you read that correctly you picked up that I didn’t say just students. Every villager in my room becomes unglued. Adult aids as well as 9 and 10-year-old children look to the ceiling and wave their arms, hoping that the nuvivuk won’t spread its infectious disease on them.

As far back as September I had to adjust our classroom rules to include accommodations and consequences for leaving your assigned seats to either hunt or avoid nuvivuks. The cooler months slowed down the number of classroom encounters we had but the recent warm spell is bringing the flies out in droves.  I kill when I can. Sometimes I just stand at parade rest, with my hands clasped behind my back, and shake my head. There really isn’t much I can do at this point. Their fear isn’t just ignorance it is a learned behavior.

Today we were lucky enough to host a Ranger from the National Park Service. Ranger Tyler was throwing out all kinds of interesting facts and figures about the Western Arctic Caribou Herd and my kids we enjoying the artifacts and visual aids he brought with to pass around. Their excitement was squelched by the sudden appearance of one rogue housefly. Hoods came up. Kids cowered. All eyeballs and attention were off of the poor Ranger and locked on the buzzing bug. I unsuccessfully tried to intervene and then I completely lost all local control.

Two of the native women, that are paid to help in my class but rarely do, only compounded the situation by over-reacting themselves. While one woman cowered, the other stood and began waving a white board in the general vicinity of our winged enemy. But while she did that, the autistic boy that she should have been tending to moved to the table at the back of the room. Her relentless pursuit of this meager fly only served to aggravate not only the bug but also the boy. In seconds, my autistic boy was in full hysterics. He was crying uncontrollably and shaking both of his hands in front of his body as if he was covered in swarms, not avoiding just one.

I ran to his side and tried to calm him. At this point, Ranger Tyler and his National Park Service presentation were on full hold. All attention was on the escalating situation with the Kivalina Air Force and an 11-year-old autistic child. I ran for the Special Education room and quickly summoned the help of our grandmotherly SPED teacher. She sense the urgency in my voice and luckily, the fella responded to her soothing voice and followed her out of the room. In the chaos, the fly retreated to its safety zone and I did my best to refocus the students on the task at hand. Most were still worried about the nuvivuk.

I’m not sure whether it was the same fly or not but we were visited a couple of more times today by rogue nuvivuks. I never got the confirmed kill that I was looking for today. Tomorrow morning I’ll be conducting a security sweep long before any students cross the threshold.

Honestly, I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.