It might sound strange, but I love airports. They are hubs of possibility, promise, and expectation. I know what you’re thinking: the lines, the taking off of shoes, forgetting to take off your belt, the putting on of shoes, the low quality-high cost sandwiches, the last minute gate change, the carry on that won’t fit overhead, the “personal item” that won’t squish under the seat, the guy in the middle that takes up both armrests, turbulence, the wait to de-plane, the wait at baggage claim….ok, so there might be some aspects that are frustrating.  Honestly, I can usually overlook these in favor of the excitement travel brings. 

Soaring over the Turnagin Arm on the way into Anchorage. Photo Credit: J. Westrich

Yesterday, in Chicago, I stared up at the monitor searching for my flight and gate, hoping for time to grab a snack before my connection. All these flights. Then I made my way through the terminal, waiting in a long line for a bagel and coffee on the way. All these people. Sitting at the gate I watched families, couples, individuals, gather around me to wait for their flight. All these reasons to travel. Travel for work to score the big deal, to launch the new project, or to interview for a new job. Travel for vacation on a honeymoon, Disney trip, or a family reunion. Travel to study abroad and open yourself to learning from the world. Travel home; returning to the place you love, where you are loved. Travel to say goodbye; to a person, a place, or a version of yourself. Beneath the seemingly limitless amount of stress associated with travel, there is the thrumming heart of possibility.

It begins…arriving at my destination. Photo Credit: J. Westrich

I boarded the plane yesterday for all those reasons. As the 2023 Iditarod Teacher on the Trail™️ I have a job to do in Alaska, with responsibilities and professional obligations. This is work. While I won’t be soaking up the rays on a beach, I am taking a break from my job and home expectations. This is a vacation from real-life. Over the next month I’ll visit remote villages and see the Bering Sea. This is opening up to learn from the world. At the end I will return to those I love the most, and I will be as excited to see them as anything I witnessed on the trip. This is returning. I am only one day into this experience, but I know the 2023 Iditarod will change me forever – impacting my world view, creating new relationships, testing my confidence and perseverance, probably crushing my spirit, and hopefully building me back up. This is saying goodbye to who I was.

Obligatory Moose selfie at the Anchorage Airport. Photo Credit: J. Westrich

Airports hold potential but eventually you leave and, when the plane lands, your reason for travel comes to fruition. I landed in Anchorage ready to step away from possibility and excited for the reality of Iditarod 2023; embracing all that it will mean for me, the mushers, the volunteers, and the communities along the trail. Consider this post an invitation – your boarding pass – to join the journey.  Over the next month I hope you’ll follow along at https://iditarod.com/edu/category/teacher-on-the-trail/ and that this trip will support your classroom instruction, have you dreaming of an Alaska vacation, widen the world-view of your learners and staff, foster an appreciation for home, and promote student growth and change through positive risk taking.  Luckily, you can pack light, skip the lines, and never worry about missing a connection. I can’t promise it will be turbulence free, but overall I expect a great flight, and maybe you’ll even clap when we land. 

Baggage…

Benches…

Beautiful art at the Anchorage Airport.

Library Learnings: Each day, until the Ceremonial Start on March 4, I’ll pose a question that will help you learn more about the 2023 Iditarod mushers!  The answer will be posted the following day. 

Which musher has the longest flight from their hometown to the start of the 2023 Iditarod?

Hint: Explore the musher profiles at https://iditarod.com/race/2023/mushers/

Check back tomorrow for the answer…