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It is time to leave poker behind and get a life. With 10 credits in hand and a renewed teaching certificate, its north to Alaska. Three days later I rill into Anchorage, sleep challenged but with two live head lights peeking through a mobile mudpack. After a shower, a long winter’s nap and absolutely the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten, I pack off to the district office of education. “What do you teach?” the bland clerk asks. “Language Arts. K-12. Minor in math,” I recite. “Follow me,” she directs and disappears left...
