After serving for several years in my role as a teacher of future educators at a Christian college, I never imagined that God would lead me to spend a semester in a small Alaskan village—home to only 91 people. 

But when the college offered me the opportunity to take a sabbatical in an elementary-level classroom setting to gain valuable teaching insight, I found myself stepping off of a plane in a remote place with no stores, coffee shops, movie theaters, malls, or churches.

I had no idea what God had in store or wanted me to learn there—in the middle of nowhere—but I was excited to find out.

My first few weeks were spent learning how to teach in a multi-level classroom that included five different grade levels while also attempting to understand village life. I quickly discovered how much my lifestyle and beliefs differed from those of my new community, but I genuinely wanted to find ways to connect with them and show them the love of Christ. Even though I was up for the challenge, I had no idea how I was going to accomplish it. 

Of course, it didn’t happen as expected, but over the next six months, God provided many simple, yet profound opportunities to love this community…  

One day, the grandmother of one of my students rode her “Honda,” aka snowmobile, to the school and proudly handed out a snack for everyone to share. I was thrilled because I had forgotten to order anything from the mainland, leaving us “snackless” for the day. When she got to me, she handed me some akutaq—also known as Indian ice cream or Eskimo ice cream. It’s made with whipped fat or tallow mixed with blueberries, salmonberries, and some sugar. The students gobbled up the light and fluffy treat while waiting for my reaction. I can honestly say I had never eaten, wanted to eat, or even thought about eating akutaq before that day. But, I wanted to build a connection with this community, so I ate it. One bite was all it took for this grandmother to pat me on the back. From that moment on, she became my most prominent advocate in the village. 

On several other occasions, I learned that even though I had carefully planned an agenda for the day, I had to be flexible. Many times, an unpredictable situation or a village tradition would take precedence, derailing my plans. When this first started happening, I got frustrated, but I learned to remind myself that I was living in my students’ world where flexibility is essential. Even though I was still in America, I was living in a part of America that doesn’t always have running water or sometimes has to find alternative ways to transport students to school because bears happen to be visiting the village that day. So, during these times, instead of getting frustrated because I couldn’t finish my lessons, I allowed the students to teach me about their traditions and lifestyles. God always helped me find a way to connect it back to the curriculum, and the students were honored by my respect and interest in their culture. 

Through this simplistic way of life, God revealed to me that these basic gestures are often the most valuable ways we, as teachers, can connect and tangibly share the love of Christ with our students. It can be so easy to skip these important daily interactions and focus solely on our curriculum. But many times, it’s the small acts of connection and acceptance that open the doors to our students’ hearts and minds, allowing for the greatest impact.

Now that my sabbatical is over, I'm back at the college where I teach, and my classes are getting ready to begin. Every year, I try to share new, profound insights with our future teachers. But this year, I will start with the basics—the simple things like making connections and learning to be flexible. I believe everything else will fall into place once these fundamental practices are in order.

Dr. Melissa Tucker, a Christian Educators member and college liaison, serves at Boyce College as the teacher education program coordinator.