I’ve always encouraged my students to follow their bliss.

THE CLASSROOM & LIFE ITS OWN SELF BY JOHN FOLEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 96

A kid ran into my classroom shouting, “Bears on the bluff!” All my students ran for the door, faces bright with excitement. I yelled at them to stop because I didn’t know if the bears were dead or alive, and a student getting mauled by a polar bear would definitely not look good on my teaching resume. The kids ignored me, though, so I grabbed my parka and joined them.

This was my first teaching post, in Gambell, Alaska, where I actually could see Russia from my house. Gambell is a rough Yupik village and the teachers generally only last a year or two. I stuck it out for two years.

The kids ran and slid across the frozen lake next to the village and up the bluff. A small crowd had gathered around two bears legally shot dead by local hunters.

I was disgusted, though I tried to hide it. Hunting was a big part of the Yupik culture, and the villagers would use the bears for food, clothing, and artwork.

I learned two lessons from the bears on the bluff. I deviated from the curriculum and got the kids to read about hunting, bears, and other things that interested them.

The second lesson was based on the kids’ joy so evident on that impromptu field trip. Since then I’ve always encouraged my students to follow their bliss, as Joseph Campbell put it. And I believe that was the best thing I did as a teacher.

This is my 29th and last year in the classroom. Part of me feels like I’m abandoning my post at a critical time, when the teacher shortage is especially acute. But I’ve decided to heed my own lesson and seek life elsewhere, because my bliss has left the building.