Snow Fest POV

March Break was calm and relaxing, filled with friends, snow, and a few parties. I also found the time to finally make my own pair of paluks (leather/fur mitts). A little big and slightly crooked but not bad for a first timer. The week passed too quickly, there was also the small matter of my birthday being celebrated at the end. Small cheesecake party with friends to celebrate, other than that I would have not acknowledged the day.

The next week was back to school, at least for a day and a half, then myself and two of my fellow teacher found ourselves on the plane headed for POV (short for Purvinituq). When I heard that there was a snow festival held there every two years, and that this year was going to be the next year I knew I wanted to attend. I mean really, how often do you get to go to a snow festival in the Arctic? We bought our tickets just after X-mas but never gave our students a hint that we were going to the festival. If they know that there is a chance that their teacher might not be at school they think they don't have to come, so it was a secret till the last day. It was funny, when we got on the plane it felt like we were heading off on our real March break, I guess it is the delight of just going somewhere new. A short flight later we were one the ground and trying to get a ride to my friend's house. We were able to call the bus but it seemed to be taking forever and a very nice fellow that worked at the airport wound up giving us a ride instead, always an adventure since all we had to go on was the house number and anyone who has ever been to the north knows that there is little logic to where the houses are. Finally found it and was able to get the key for the circus girl (there was a circus troupe in town working with the kids), settled in and headed out to explore a bit. First thoughts: POV is pretty flat, and the streets made it feel slightly like a maze, but we headed towards the water and looked for the biggest buildings as those are usually the Co-op store or the Northern. Picked up a few supplies and saw a former student who had recently moved from Inukjuak to POV, nice to see him and hear all his news. Home for dinner and got ready to join the fun at the community centre for the evening concert.

Wow, lots of country style music with a little gospel thrown in, some local rock bands, a history game show, and a fashion show. we tracked down some of our students who were playing in the festival and found out that they would be on at about 2am. So being good teachers we settled in for the night to support our students (they actually weren't bad, young and still need a lot of practice, but they were entertaining). Most nights the concerts were pretty similar, a few bigger names and some very traditional acts, highlights being the circus acts put on by the kids on the final night and some fiddlers from the south. During the days were the main events: igloo building, traditional nets fishing under the ice, a marathon, dog sled races, and most importantly the ice and snow carving contests.

The carvings were simply amazing. Taking the huge blacks of ice and snow and transforming them into such works of art. Traditional figures, each telling a story, carved over several days with a wide variety of tools. To see the carvings progress from day to day was like magic. I was happy when my favourite carving won 1st place in the contest. It was a beautiful piece of a boy climbing over a cliff to hunt birds in their nest. The artist was from Nunavut and usually does more abstract carvings of stone and other materials but for festivals he carve in ice. Stunning work. The week ended with a feast on the ice; frozen, raw meat and fish, and later the final concert night.

After finding our way back to the airport the next day we settled in to wait for our flight. Delayed of course as there were so many people trying to get to Montreal or home. At one point during the wait some of the musicians headed south got out their instruments and gave a bit of an impromptu concert. Before we knew it there were people jigging and clapping along to the music. After a wait that seemed to be forever we were finally able to board and head home. As nice as it was to be away, it was even nicer to be home again.

Dancing Lights

Today could have been better, for an easy teaching day schedule-wise I would not call it much of a success. Students were antsy, teacher was not feeling her best, algebra was seeming more difficult than usual, half my students were at the airport rather than class...sigh. Both teacher and student are counting the days if not hours till the glorious period of peace that is March break. Best part of the day was an evening call from my sister, just chatting and catching up on news, commiserating on our equally lousy days. Feeling restless, I try to settle down for night. Then I remembered that I had read something in the news about more solar flares which usually means bright northern lights. After checking the weather site, cloudy, and peaking out the window, stars, I figured a walk just to make sure couldn't hurt.

As I began walking around town I could see a faint glimmer of a ribbon beginning to stretch above the town. Not very promising but lights, or not, I figured a walk might help me sleep. The northern lights shimmered in a thin ribbon over the town, nothing spectacular but enough to make you smile. Just as I was turning towards home the ribbon seemed to coil in on itself and began to dance. I climbed the nearest snowbank and settled in to watch the show. Hovering above town the lights danced and swirled, at times looking like a rainbow piano keys tumbling. Light green, yellow and the faintest hint of pink lit the sky. It seemed as if the lights were dancing only for me. Snow machines buzzed by from time to time, an odd pedestrian crunched past, but no one seemed to notice or care about the strange teacher perched on a mountain of snow, smiling like an idiot as my scarf frosted over.

As I sat atop my mountain of snow, watching the northern lights, I reminded myself that this was one of the things I love about living in the north. I love the fact that it is possible to walk out my front door and see the Northern Lights. And after a crappy day there can be still something to make you smile and remember why you came up north to teach in the first place. The only thing I could have wished to have tonight was my camera, but the memory in my mind will have to do. The feeling of the snow, the wind, cold, and the light dancing just for me.

In the stillness of the 'white'

Morning after an 'almost' blizzard. The weather report had told us that we were under blizzard alert, but as we could still see the majority of houses in town no one paid much notice. As the evening progressed the winds grew stronger, I felt my house shake a little and allowed myself the pleasant thought that I might get a 'blizzard day' at school the next morning. Alas, I woke to the silence that comes after the storm. However, walking to school I was struck by the silence of the town. Too early for the snow plows and sand truck to be at work. No school for students meant few snow machines were out in the early morning, no school busses either. Just silence and new white drifts. The wind had blown old and new snow around so much that all paths and roads were hidden. White on white plays tricks on you in the soft morning light as you navigate familiar routes. You do not even notice a snow drift until you walk into it and find the snow creeping toward the tops of your boots. The snow makes things warmer, if you call -15 warm, and if you live up here you do (past few weeks have been hovering around -30 plus wind). The higher the sun climbs, the more depth and definition you begin to see in the pure whiteness that surrounds you. It often gives me the desire to take a running leap into a snow bank, only the knowledge that under the snow is hard, wind driven ice stops me. As the town wakes, the stillness is broken by the normal sounds of winter, snow machines roaring, and chains clinking. But for that brief moment in the early morning, all is silent and white the day after a storm.

An Exchange of Information (otherwise known as Report Card Night)

Waiting, listening, hoping; I sit at my desk. Waiting to for parents to come, listening for footsteps headed down to my end of the corridor, and hoping to get a chance to talk to the parents of the students who are struggling. It seems that sometimes during report card night, while you are glad to see all parents, the one you really need to see are the one you never do. It is always a pleasure to discuss a students progress with caring parents, even if there is nothing specific that you need to say about his or her work. But I can not help but wish that the parents of the students who skip class too often, or the ones never seem to find a way to not lose their work, or the ones who are perfecting their impression of a zombie while in class... I wish that they could find time to come in and discuss their child's progress. The phone calls later do help but they are not the same as sitting face to face and being able to show them exactly where their child is struggling. Maybe sometimes it is the 'face to face' that is the issue; sometimes until you actually have that piece of paper and a person physically explaining what is happening for it to become real. Reality is not always what we want to hear, preferring the possibility that there might have been a mistake. There is also that slight chance that a report card mailed home may never see the light of day again as it may be kidnapped by a fearful student. While I did have the chance to show my students their report card and discuss where they need the most work, there are a few whose parents I would dearly love to see. Tonight there is the added distraction of blizzard preventing some from coming in to the school, and I also know that a number of the parents are out of town at the moment, and sadly some parents are ill. I understand that is is difficult for some to have the energy after work to go out again, to fight the weather and wait, that many would rather just go home and relax. But there is always that hope that some might make the choice to come in and find out first hand what their children have been up to. For some there isn't that much time left. Tonight has not been one of my better report card nights, I have only seen one of the parents of my students, and sad to say she may be the only one I will see.

Sounds of Winter

Since coming back from Christmas holidays my mind has been thinking of an article I read some time ago describing the sounds of winter in the north. I wish I could remember the name of the author, but since I can't I will to make my own description.

Walking around town, to and from school, heading out on the land, they are all linked by sounds. In town we don't really have many traffic sounds, no horns blaring or the sounds of busses and transports laying on the brakes. Instead there is the buzz of skidoos skidding on the ice or cutting through the snow. Hondas have their own roar are they rip through town laden with kids joyriding or people out doing their shopping. The only big trucks we have are for sewage, water, and sand; linked by the rumble of their engines and the clinking of the chains on the tires. Mornings and evenings are marked by the sound of howling dogs; saying hello, goodbye, and anything else you can think of. It seems are if 7am is one of their best times to converse, if I ever sleep through my alarm I can always hear the dogs. Comforting thought in a way.

Then there are the noises we make. The kids calling and shrieking to one another as they play in the snow, sliding down the hills and snow banks, chasing the odd puppy or too around their house. When walking anywhere you become aware of the sounds that comes from your own movements. The material of snow-pants and parkas has a distinct swishing sound. The crunching and squeaking of boots on the dry snow as you tramp through the tundra. There is also an absence of sound from within the tunnel of a parka hood. WIth the hood up on my parka I find that my sense of hearing is almost completely deprived.

The final sound is the wind that often blows through and around the town. It lightly teases flags and fur, blowing softly, barely a whisper. It picks up, slapping cables against houses, snapping flags, pulling the breath from ones body. It builds to a howl that warns of and accompanies a blizzard as it roars through town, closing over and blocking out almost every other sound as people and animal take refuge from the storm. Until finally the quiet returns to signal the end of the storm and the town begins to stir again, digging itself out from the snow.

Many people have asked me how you live with the quiet of the North, and I have to laugh a little as I try to explain the difference in the sounds between north and south. For myself, right now I'd take the quiet sounds of the north over the constant noise of the south any day.

Blizzard!!

After weeks of strange and at times teasing weather, we have had our first blizzard of the season. All fall we have been hearing about how strange the weather has been this year, so warm and sunny, fall seemed to go on forever. Then we started to get a little snow, light dustings to frost the land but it didn't seem to stay. There was always a day or two of nice, warm weather that seemed to chase the snow away. I found myself getting excited for snow whenever there was a hint of dark clouds on the horizon thinking "finally, we are going to get our blizzard" only to be disappointed with a small flurry. It may seem strange to some, to be avidly hoping for a blizzard, but it is a part of living in the north that I have been looking forward to. Being raised in Canada, in an area that typically gets its fair share of snow in the winter, snow is a major part of my winter memories. Having spent winters in different countries that didn't get much snow (little if any), and finding myself becoming giddy and silly when we received the lightest dusting, I realized how much of a Canadian girl I am.

Back to Inukjuak. After a passing a lazy Sunday afternoon nursing a stubborn cold I was delighted to see the wind and snow picking up outside my window. I quickly checked the weather report and grinned when I saw that we were under blizzard and wind watch for the next few days. Now I do not always believe the weather man as he can be cruel teasing teachers with the possibility of a snow day and then not delivering, however I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt again. I settled in for the night listening to the wind howl around my house and peeking outside to see how much snow was moving around outside. The secret to a real blizzard is the right combination of snow and wind to get the whiteout that one is hoping for. By bedtime it was looking very good indeed, but there is always the possibility that a storm can blow itself out during the night. The next morning I woke to the sound of wind still howling around my house. When I peeked outside my window a huge grin appeared on my face, I could barely see a thing. Still I got ready fro school, just in case. I usually check my email while eating breakfast keeping an eye on the school, that most mornings I can see clearly from my window. Today was not one of those mornings, I knew it was there, fuzzy outline of it most of the time, but I was not looking forward to walking to class against the wind. Happily I did not have to. Administration called a blizzard day! YAY!!

It was such a quiet day. All the normal sounds of the town were missing. There were no snow machines or ATVs buzzing down the streets. No water or sewage trucks rumbling past. Even the dogs were quiet as they buried down to sleep out the storm. The wind howled and the house shook but it still felt quiet, like you were tucked in a safe place. Perfect for napping, and I am not ashamed to say that I indulged in this afternoon. I even had a pot of my dad's tomato beef stew on the stove simmering throughout the day, or at least my version of dad's stew. That is one thing I do miss about my parent's home in the winter, the soups and stews we enjoyed. Students are always hoping for blizzard days so that they can have a day off from class, never dreaming that their teachers may just want the same thing once in awhile as well. I had a very good day enjoying my first blizzard day in the arctic. Almost bedtime and the wind is still blowing, not much snow flying anymore but I checked the weather network again and we are still under a blizzard watch so who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Moving day up north

Wind picking up, light snow, a borrowed truck, a skidoo and sled, a couple teachers, and a few hired students. Ready to move, planned or otherwise, here we go. A couple of teachers here were moving into their new houses this weekend but it is not as if you can call the local moving guys to pack you up and haul your stuff to the new house. Pack it up best you can, slide it into the back of the pickup truck, and hang on. Roads were icy and snow covered, wind was picking up throughout the afternoon but we managed to get most of the stuff that was ready moved. A few funny moments of the day: seeing a couch moved tucked into the sled towed behind a skidoo, hearing the thump of a butt hitting the window of the truck when we stopped a bit too quickly for the boys in the back, the sheer silliness of moving in ever worsening weather. Ah well, what else can you do with your saturday up north?