Originally, I wrote an entirely different post to conclude my 2022 Iditarod experience.  In fact, it’s sitting in draft, ready for just one final click of the publish button.  Then White Mountain happened. 

Two generations of Westrich girls volunteer at the Willow Restart!

My intended post was about the Iditarod as family.  There is a legacy and multigenerational nature to Iditarod, both mushers and volunteers. The post explores ways in which this aspect can be used to reach learners in libraries, community centers, colleges, and classrooms.  By creating a dynamic educational program that targets learners of all ages we can pull them into the Iditarod family.  I think it is an important post.  But not right now. 

Right now I think we need to talk about quitting, giving up, scratching – whatever you want to call it:  the strength it takes, the self-awareness, the understanding of our limits and our capabilities, and the acknowledgment of the power of the natural environment.  Right now we can use the Iditarod to teach our students about difficult choices, asking for help, and the value of trying. 

Brent Sass With Leaders Slater and Morello (Photo Credit Dave Poyzer)

This week, we watched the mushers make their way to Nome and witnessed the true spirit of the Iditarod.  Brent Sass finally won, after multiple prior successes in the Yukon Quest.  Living legends like Seavey, Redington, and Smyth crossed under the burled arch.  We cheered as icon Jeff King ceded in the final stretch to his protégé Amanda Otto, allowing her to finish first.  Yet no one was prepared for the group of back-of-the-pack mushers to encounter a ground storm that destroyed their race in the final 75 miles to Nome.  When KattiJo Deeter, Jeff Deeter, Sebastien Dos Santos Borges, Gerhardt Thiart, Bridgett Watkins, and Sean Williams left White Mountain they weren’t expecting to be thwarted by weather – crushed by mother nature, in a way that exemplifies what it takes to dog sled across Alaska. 

So when is it OK to quit?  We tell our students not to give up. To persevere. To keep trying. But how is that real?  When Gerhardt Thiart pressed his emergency beacon – his last ditch effort for help – how did that feel?  What was going through his mind as he realized he had no choice but to rely on others to save him and his dogs?  When Bridgett Watkins called Nome, and White Mountain Search and Rescue was deployed, what was her mindset?  There are times in all our lives when we will need to give up and ask for help.  

What if we taught our students that lesson?  What if we told them, “Sometimes it will be too much, too hard, too scary.  Sometimes you will need help.  It takes a strong person, a self-aware person, to reach out and say, I can not do this on my own, please help me.” 

Heavenly Cup in Anchorage, where the baristas made good coffee and gave great advice.

Many of us have taught students who muddle through, hiding their deficiencies until they find themselves in a hole, with no idea how to get out.  They are afraid to ask for help, fearful of being seen as weak; independence and self-reliance are perceived as strong. Yet one thing I witnessed during my time in Alaska was a bizarre, undefinable kindness and generosity in everyone I met.  People in Alaska are aware of the desire to live independently, yet they inherently know that Alaska requires a willingness to rely on your neighbors and community, more than most people in the lower 48 can comprehend.  Can’t find what you need in the lower 48 – Google it.  In Alaska?  Ask your barista, grocery store clerk, or waitress.  They’ll help you – better than any search engine ever could.  

The official Volunteer hat for the 50th Iditarod.

What I learned at the Iditarod is that the race exists and survives because of helpers. Volunteers give their time to make sure this race runs smoothly, safely, and fairly.  People look out for each other, going out of their way to guarantee the best experience for all.  During the IditarodEDU conference I received a call from Patty in Iditarod Volunteer Registration.  At this point in the week she was probably one of the busiest people in the hotel, yet she took time to reach out because, as she looked over the shuttle list, she worried that I was registered for the wrong bus to the restart.  “I want to double check, I don’t want you to miss it, and of course being here – I want you to have the best time.”  At this point I had yet to meet Patty in person, but I had no doubt that she genuinely cared.  Iditarod provides thousands of examples of the importance of offering, asking for, and accepting help.  

For the six mushers outside White Mountain it was a little more complicated, because asking for help also meant scratching; the end of their Iditarod run.  Our students can relate.  They have spent the past two years tackling disappointment, encountering challenges that have never been experienced before. So many students worked for years to see their dreams dissolve in 2020 – graduations altered, birthday parties called off, college on-line, Halloween cancelled.  Yet we encouraged students to push forward, make the best of it, persevere.   What if we took a lesson from the Iditarod?  What if we said, “scratch.”  Yes, you worked your life for this.  Yes, you wanted it badly.  But safety, timing, and uncontrollable factors (like the weather in White Mountain or Covid-19) prevented progress.  It is time to ask for help.  It is time to take care of yourself.  Use the Iditarod in the classroom to support students as they navigate disappointment, failure, and loss. 

The mushers out of White Mountain didn’t quit.  They chose differently, based on the information and situation at hand.  How can we educate our students about stopping what they are doing – a sport, a project, and extracurricular activity, a book they are reading, or a college major – as an acceptable choice because they are self-aware enough to know it isn’t the right fit?  Continuing in the storm wasn’t the right fit for mushers or dogs.  Quitting is giving up, choosing differently means using the knowledge and resources available to make a better decision and we can use the Iditarod to differentiate between these concepts. 

The six mushers who scratched out of White Mountain, all the mushers who scratched, are brave and smart.  Brave enough to attempt the difficult run of the Iditarod.  Smart enough know when they reached their limit.  They knew when to ask for assistance, taking the hand held out to lift them up, and guide them home.  It is brave to speak up, it is strong to admit weakness.  Understanding our limits and accepting help is truly what makes a champion.  And behind every champion is the classmate, friend, teacher, or stranger who helped them succeed.

Ryan Redington Talks to Insider at Puntilla Lake (Photo Credit Insider)

We will all encounter times we need to scratch, start over, reset.  If you look at the list of Iditarod finishers many had a year in which they scratched.  Ryan Redington, grandson of Iditarod founder Joe Redington, Sr. and basically mushing royalty, scratched in his very first Iditarod in 2001.  In fact, out of the 14 times he’s run the Iditarod, he’s scratched 7.  Redington came back and tried again, corrected for errors, and took another shot at finishing the race.  This year Redington finished 9th, cracking the top ten for the second year in a row.  We can encourage our students to embrace the idea that when they face a challenge they may not be successful – yet.  In fact, they may even need to scratch.  Using the lessons of Iditarod we can guide our students to persevere while honoring their need for self care, recognize the benefits of asking for and accepting help, choose wisely based on the information at hand, and apply a growth mindset so they can try again.  I hope to see the names of the six mushers scratched at White Mountain in the musher roster of Iditarod 2023.  You can bet they’ll be the ones I’ll be rooting for to finish and cheering for the loudest.

KattiJo Deeter, Bib #19 Off and Running on Willow Lake (Photo Credit Dave Poyzer)	Jeff Deeter at 2021 Race Start	Bib #2, Sean Williams Takes the Countdown for Iditarod 50 (Photo Insider Video)

Teachers: What does it mean to quit?  When is it ok to scratch?  How do you balance giving up with safety, health, or wellness?  What does it mean to choose differently? Ask students to consider a time they wanted to quit.  Who helped them through that difficult situation?  Can they think of people in school or the community they depend on to help them in times of crisis?  Consider writing letters to those individuals to let them know how much they are appreciated and valued. 

Ask students to identify a list of “common” examples of when they help each other in school – tie a shoe, share a pencil, pick up a dropped book, reach something on a high shelf, push on the swings, etc.  Record each time a student performs one of these “helping actions” for a day or a week.  Use the collected data to create a bar graph or pie chart to organize your findings (or get creative and come up with a new way to illustrate the data.)

It took skilled, knowledgeable individuals to help the mushers in White Mountain, but what can your students do to help in the school or community?  What skills or abilities do they have to contribute?  Brainstorm ideas and put them into action – collect for the local food bank, run a garage sale to raise funds and buy books for the library, donate toys to the children’s hospital, create a recycling program, read to the Kindergarteners, make cookies for volunteer firefighters – the list is limitless, and so is the power of helping.

Gerhardt Thiart during the 2022 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage. (Photo credit: Tegan Hanlon/Alaska Public Media)

Bridgett Watkins with her dogs Razz (left) and Jefe (Photo courtesy of Bridgett Watkins/ Alaska Public Media)

Sebastien Dos Santos Borges into McGrath 2019 (Photo Credit Terrie Hanke)