John Foley is a restless soul but a relaxed raconteur. That combination gave rise to "Tundra Teacher," his memoir of a decade knocking about Alaska.
He came to Alaska in 1989 from the Chicago area, beginning his northern adventure with a reporting stint at the dying "Anchorage Times." But journalism was losing its appeal, and he took classes at the University of Alaska Anchorage to earn teaching credentials. After student teaching at Service High, he was on his way to working in Bush schools.
Foley's newspaper days serve him well in this, his first book. He writes with a flow and clarity that carry the reader along, effortless and entertaining. He is, in turn, cheerful, sarcastic and reflective in a self-deprecating, almost offhand way.
The book contains a series of chronological anecdotes, most originally written as stand-alone short stories. Although essentially autobiographical, they skillfully portray the people around him and show
affectionate insight into Alaska's quirks.
For example, he astutely notes whiskey's prominent role in Alaska history, and ponders the significance of facial hair fashions:
"Sure, there were guys (Outside) with the half-committed mustache, the pretentious stubble, the satanic goatee, and the patch of hair that dangles from the lower lip like a forgotten piece of pasta. None of that nonsense is found in the true north. No, Alaskans don the Full Castro," he writes.
"In some ways the beard is a symbol of Last Frontier men: tough, rugged, pragmatic. And Alaska women ‹ unlike those Outside ‹ do not seem to mind going through the woods to get to the picnic."
The fascinations and frustrations inherent in relations between the sexes are recurring themes in "Tundra Teacher," and the most poignant passages deal frankly with failures in Foley's love life.
But most of the book talks about his Bush teaching assignments. He spent two years each in Gambell, a Siberian Yupik village on the Bering Sea's Saint Lawrence Island, and in Tetlin, an Athabascan village near the Canadian border.
This would be a good book for any teachers contemplating a move to a village school. Foley does not write explicitly about the myriad troubles afflicting education in Alaska's Bush, but through his anecdotes he reveals much about them on a personal level. Obliquely he alludes to alcoholism, teen pregnancy, bullying and the social chasm between villagers and the transient teachers cycling through their communities. He used his talent at basketball and his laid-back attitude to cope, and the stories reflect a sincere fondness for his students.
Instead of dwelling on the dark side of rural Alaska, Foley depicts the allure of the northern lights, the excitement of hunters landing a whale and the absurdity of local specialties such as honey buckets and Seward's Mount Marathon race. He writes of life in places where a person alone at night worries not about muggers, but about polar bears or even Bigfoot.
The author has moved away to Washington, but this book is full of wistful yearning for Alaska.
He writes, "My family never completely understood why I moved to Alaska. I would tell them about the beauty of the land, and climbing in the mountains, and meeting unusual and interesting people, and they would encourage me to move back to 'someplace normal.'"
"Tundra Teacher" is not a profound or even very informative book, but it is likeable. It is a breezy read that conveys with charm and wit the feel of coming into contemporary Alaska.
Anyone looking for an entertaining read about Alaska's quirks or seeking to enlighten distant friends and relations about why the state is special will find "Tundra Teacher" a rewarding book.
Shana Loshbaugh is a writer and former Peninsula Clarion reporter who now lives near Fairbanks.
