In the heart of Alaska, where the Arctic Ocean lies underneath a thick blanket of ice, a unique educational experience unfolds. This April, Utqiaġvik welcomes a group of eager eighth graders for an unforgettable sea ice field trip, highlighting the wonders and challenges of our changing climate.

As boots crunch into the snow, preparations are underway. Surrounded by tents, each representing different aspects of sea ice research, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement. Gear is meticulously set up, and a Starlink device hums along, connecting students from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, 3,000 miles away, to this real-time immersive class.

Armed with a phone, I share the gripping sights of drilling ice cores and scraping algae, while students back home fire off questions. They’re fascinated: How thick is the ice? 1-3 meters, I reply. Structure and knowledge exchange flutter across the icy expanse, where science and tradition blend seamlessly.

A group plays with a kite designed to map ice features and reveal traditional whaling routes, emphasizing the importance of Indigenous knowledge. Meanwhile, laughter erupts from a hot dog station, the students' cheeks flushed against the cold as they relish warm food amidst their scientific explorations.

My expertise as a remote sensing scientist usually focuses on analyzing sea ice through technology. Yet, standing directly on it, I engage with vibrant local stories. As we swap terminology—'freeboard', 'melt ponds'—they share the joy of harvesting a whale, enriching this educational exchange.

As the day winds down, I gaze over the sea ice while the sun dips low, painting the horizon. Soon, this ice will drift away, yet the memories created here—of footprints, community stories, and laughter—will linger in my heart, enriching my future interpretations of the Earth's frozen surfaces.