Retiring teacher, coach urges Colony grads to ‘find their 68’
By Jeremiah Bartz Frontiersman.com A football coach using a hockey reference as the centerpiece for his keynote address may
What a difference a year makes.
This time last December, Jonathan Hursh was scrambling to make ends meet, trying unsuccessfully to not burn through his savings after being fired from his teaching job because of behavior that school officials deemed ‘inappropriate.’
Nov. 8, 2016 began like any other Tuesday, but it ended with Hursh “taunting” Hillary Clinton supporters by offering to give them a Donald Trump campaign sign. The downtown incident was recorded and broadcast on an Anchorage television newscast.
“I was celebrating the win by my president,” Hursh said recently in a telephone interview.
He claims he hadn’t had too much to drink that night when he left Flattop Pizza + Pool after Trump’s victory was announced and headed over to the Williwaw where a group of Democrats were holding their watch party.
Hursh was filmed asking attendees inside Williwaw if they wanted a Trump sign. Some laughed it off; others told him to get lost and to “F” himself. The footage showed a bouncer shining a flashlight in his eyes and Hursh walking out of the building with Williwaw staff following him. The Iraq War veteran says he began to ask why he was being harassed and why he was being denied the right to express his opinion.
He admits the incident was dramatic. He wishes he had been clearer about what he was trying to state.
“But I don’t think I did anything wrong,” he said. “It is OK for me, as an American, to be excited about my choice winning the election.”
That was then.
In between then and now, he travelled much of the Lower 48 with various veterans groups, started his own travel blog and website – JonathanHursh.com. Supporters sent him money to keep travelling and attending various veteran-oriented rallies.
Within a few months, he began disillusioned with what he saw as systematic corruption after attending various political rallies and went to live and work with his uncle in Denver, just to get back on his feet financially and return to Alaska. He worked a $10-an-hour job at a pizza joint in Anchorage, but that wasn’t enough to stay afloat financially. He started a lawn-mowing business last summer, but he knew that was only a seasonal fix.
He heard rural Alaska needed teachers. He applied and received ten job offers.
Today he has found new purpose as a third and fourth grade teacher in the Bush – geographically far from Anchorage proper but thanks to technology, still actively linked to his friends and social media followers as he continues to promote his own brand of conservatism.
“I get to be me,” he said. “Yes, I am in this more isolated place, but here I get to work on loving myself and growing as a person while I help the students in this village.”
Arriving in Alakaunk last August has been a long journey for the 33-year-old. His dual diagnosis of PTSD and bipolar disorder present daily challenges. He struggles to combine self-care with his desire to help others and continue a career as a teacher.
He has to discipline himself to take his medication. He has to discipline himself to get adequate sleep each night and not stay up in to the early morning hours surfing the Internet. He has to stop listening to self-inflicted negative thoughts about his abilities and has to keep telling himself how his past mistakes do not need to define who he is today.
On top of that, he’s had to fight a long-distance battle against squatters that moved in to his East Anchorage home this fall.
“So, I don’t know how much my life really is rebuilt,” he said jokingly. “At least I am making good money now, but I still have debts to pay off and I cannot get these people out of my house.”
Hursh might get the opportunity to deal with the squatters during the holiday break. But his first priority is spending time with the love his life – his 8-year-old daughter, Viviana – a bright-eyed blonde who lives in Anchorage with her mother, Hursh’s first wife.
“My daughter means everything to me and so when she tells me she is proud of me for the changes I have made and the steps forward I have taken, that is all that I need,” he said.
But first he has to finish this semester.
His current class has 13 students and he teaches all subjects.
He took on the role of the school’s junior high school basketball coach because he knew getting more involved in the school’s extra-curricular activities is a step toward acceptance among the village’s Yupik Eskimo residents.
“And then they made me the school’s technology coordinator,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess I am super-involved here now.”
Socially speaking, he is a busy guy after school.
He’s been fishing and hunting with local residents. He shot a moose and filled his freezer.
At six feet, four inches tall and as pale as anyone can be, Hursh stands out in the village. The students follow him around town asking him to play games. He doesn’t mind.
“Every now and then I have to say, ’no, not now,’ because I need some Jonathan time, but for the most part, I am here for them,” he said. “I cannot be with my daughter right now so I try to treat each of these kids like they are my own. I am going to do what I can to make these kids feel they matter and have a purpose in their life. I am going to the best I can while I am here.”
The village children are waiting on his front porch. They know he will give them something to eat when they are hungry and ask him. He can’t let them in his school-owned housing, but he often passes a hot meal through the window.
Most days, Hursh makes at least three posts to social media.
Some of his posts detail village life in Alakaunk, which is located 15 miles upstream from the Bering Sea on the southern channel of the Yukon River, where Hursh is now employed with the Lower Yukon School District.
Some pose life questions.
Some mock national politics.
Many refer to his strong belief that God has a purpose for his life and his encouragement to others to accept themselves and love themselves for who they are.
“It has been a constant uphill battle for me, all my life,” he said. “But I am learning.”
