Life Changing GPS

Yesterday I went to an all day science class for teachers.  We had a geology section, a biology section, and finally a technology section (That's a lot of -ologies on a Saturday).  During our technology training, we were able to check out and learn how to use a hand held GPS--a first for most of us.  We were searching for specific trees that had been pre-programmed.

Before we left to try our luck, the instructor said something interesting as he gave his final instructions for locating our trees:

"When you're using a GPS, you have to first go outside and get a signal--three bars at the bottom of the GPS, showing three references satellites that locate where you are.  After, you can locate your destination, the tree.  In order for the GPS to work (to have the arrow show you which way you're going), you have to be moving.  Now, some people might try walking slowly.  That won't work.  If you are stationary or walking slowly, the GPS won't read it.  You need to just walk and then you can see where you are and adjust where you're going."

Ready, I went outside, got my bars, and squinted at the little screen.  I could see the dot that was "Tree 1" but sure enough, I had no idea where I was in relation.  I picked a tree and just started walking toward it, only to look down and see I was going nowhere near the illusive "Tree 1."  I turned and went the opposite direction.  Now my path showed me going another way--another wrong way.  I changed course again, heading off to some other tree, until finally, I started to get the hang of it and found the tree.

As I thought about it a little later, I had a profound realization.
How often do I spend my life, seeing some "destination" I would like to arrive at (a future goal) and plant my feet firmly on the sidewalk waiting for that magic arrow to show me where to go?  I don't want to start walking in the wrong direction or end up at the wrong tree or mess up.  I just want someone to just tell me and then to do it right (the first time).

I have discovered recently in a new (but very real way) that most of the time in life, ANY time there is a big decision or a goal or some sort of uncertainty, the only thing to do to make any sort of decision or progress is to find something that might work (pick a tree, any tree...) and start walking toward it.  It is only as we take action--not slow, timid baby steps, but rather confident strides--that we will clearly see if it's the right direction or not.  Within a good five steps, I could see if my arrow was getting closer to my final destination or not and could adjust accordingly.

I will be the first to admit that my pathway to "Tree 1" went just about every direction it could have and at times I wondered if I even knew what I was doing with the GPS or would figure out how to read it, but with time, I started to see HOW to use the tool I'd been given and get to where I wanted to be.

Had I stayed rooted to the ground, however, waiting for something to tell me where to go, or some arrow to appear, I would have been stuck there getting nowhere closer to my end goal while everyone around me, through trial and error, would have wandered around like maniacs, but finally found their trees.

Rather than being afraid of choosing the wrong path, I am now choosing simply to CHOOSE a path and take it from there.  Progress comes as we move, even if we don't get it right the first time.  After all, who ever said we had to?  In the end, it's just about making it to the tree.

Utah, This is the Place

Today was the day we have all been waiting for: the 4th grade history program.
The kids sing songs about Utah, do skits about trappers, and have speaking parts.
I guess it's kind of a big deal.
Maybe someone should have told me that we were dressing up (since it was dress down day at school).
I decided there was nothing I could do about the jeans I had on (as opposed to the other teachers' dresses), so I just dressed up in Western clothes like the kids.

Handy my classroom is cowboy themed.

I pulled my cowboy hat off the wall and shoved it on my head.
Shoved is really the only word to use because I discovered (a little too late) the Western hat was probably given to DI after the "junior cowboy" who owned it went on to bigger rodeos.  I wore it through half the program before deciding that if I left it on any longer, I'd pass out.
I didn't pass out.  I just had a huge, red stripe around my forehead (which looked stellar to meet and greet all those grandparents).  "Hi, I'm your grandchild's teacher.  Yes, the one not wearing a dress, with hat hair and a giant stripe on my forehead.  It's nice to meet you."  It must have been a good look for me, because someone gave me the name of a boy I should date.  He's in medical school.

We made it through fairly well for the first little bit.  Everyone, even the boys, sang the songs.  No one forgot their parts.  They stood up straight, kept their hands to the side, and didn't even scratch their noses.

And then, before I knew what had even happened, one of my little girls came running out, her face entirely green and I knew it was too late.

So...there was a big space in her spot for the rest of the program.
I wasn't sure what to do.  I wanted to go check on her, but I was in charge of the music.  I thought we should maybe clean up before there was a chain reaction, but how do you do that in the middle of a program?  All I knew was that the girl beside her was starting to look not so good herself.
I have a feeling that ten years down the road someone will say, "Hey, remember when you got puked on in the fourth grade program?"

It seemed that just as everyone had pulled it together and moved on (although, truly, they did remarkably well.  Most of the audience didn't have a clue!), a boy in the front started "whispering."

"MISS WAITE!  MISS WAITE!!!"
Ignore him and he'll stop.


(More loudly) "HEY!  Miss Waite!"
Seriously, do you have to use my name?!


"My doctor says I can't stand on my leg for a long time.  I can't stand here.  I need to leave."
Your leg has been fine all week practicing.  You haven't injured it.  If you had, I think your mom would have let me know.


"MY LEG!"  Miss Waite!  Hey, Miss Waite!  I can't use my leg!"
Really?  Really, are you still having this conversation with yourself?  It is obvious I am not responding.


It lasted for part of a speaking part and an entire song.
I suppose he eventually figured out that he wasn't getting out of the program because his leg seemed to recover and he made it through just fine.

Somehow, I knew it would.
And really, it wasn't just his leg that made it through.  We all made it through.
Well...mostly.

Save Your Fork

I was visiting teaching this month and this was part of the message:

"During the construction of the Nauvoo Temple, a group of sisters desired to organize to support the building effort. Eliza R. Snow drafted bylaws for this new group. When she showed them to the Prophet Joseph, he responded: “Tell the sisters their offering is accepted of the Lord, and he has something better for them. … I will organize the women under the priesthood after the pattern of the priesthood.” ⁶ A short time later, the Prophet told the newly organized Relief Society: “I now turn the key to you in the name of God, and this Society shall rejoice, and knowledge and intelligence shall flow down from this time.” ⁷ The sisters were expected to rise to a new level of holiness and to prepare for the priesthood ordinances soon to be administered in the temple."  -Ensign, March 2011

It struck me for several reasons.
Here were women, doing what women do: noticing needs and deciding to do something about it-to help, to bless, to organize.  When they took their plans before the church and the Lord, they were told that while what they were doing was good and acceptable, there was something even BETTER in store, after which the Relief Society was organized with all the additional responsibilities and blessings that came from being connected to the Priesthood.

I began to wonder about life, particularly my life. 

What good things might I be engaged in without realizing the Lord has bigger and better plans for me?

I began to think about scriptural examples.


What about the Brother of Jared?  After the whole Tower of Babel thing, he and his family got their languages worked out so they could all communicate.  They went to the wilderness to the sea shore's edge.  They had been told by the Lord about the Promised Land they were to travel to next.  They'd been promised blessings.  It appears the Lord had let them know quite clearly.  

And then...they camped.  They pitched their tents and just...stayed.  For FOUR YEARS.  Not four years of boat-building or working or preparing.  Just living.  It took the Lord coming down and chastening the Brother of Jared for three hours (!) before it tells us that he (the Brother of Jared) "went to work" in preparation to sail for that Promised Land.  (And, well, wouldn't you?)

Why did the Brother of Jared and his people camp?  Did they doubt the promises that had been made?  Did they fear the journey ahead?  Did they think that their lives couldn't actually get better?  Was it just the work and starting over that would be required?  Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown, of stepping in a boat and just setting sail, knowing there was no return?  Whatever it was, they did not move on to that "something better" that really was waiting.

And so, after the chastening, they finally obeyed.  They exercised great faith.  The Brother of Jared even saw the Savior (! another exclamation mark here) during his preparations.  


When those preparations were completed (8 boats?  That must have taken some work), the obstacles overcome (No light? No air?  Solved!) and they set sail, it was nothing but an easy journey, right?  After all that faith and work and effort, they were rewarded for their diligence with a nice cruise ship to the Americans.  Right?  RIGHT????!!!!!

WRONG.  


It was a horrible journey.  It was about a year long (Think about everything that has happened--day in and day out--of the last year.  That is a LONG time!).  They were continually tossed by tumultuous waves.  They were sometimes above and sometimes under the water.     And the only thing to keep them going were the promises that:

1. They would have light continually (above or below water)
2. Nothing, no matter how bad, would mar or destroy them
3. When they prayed, they could be brought up from the depths of the ocean.  Not permanently, but enough to know that God heard their prayers.
4. There was a Promised Land waiting at the end.  



And so it is in my life.  I often expect that as soon as I make a right decision, exercise faith, take that step into the boat, that it will all work out.  Things will get better.  The blessings will come.  And what happens when instead of better, the journey only gets worse? 

Did we do it wrong?  Weren't we faithful enough?  Did God not keep His promise?  Was it all for nothing?  Was it even worth it?  



And the answer is, yes.  Yes, it is worth it.  When they arrived at the Promised Land (and they did), they gave thanks for the tender mercies bestowed upon them.  



If all good actions were immediately rewarded, it wouldn't actually be faith.  Faith and hope have a much longer reaching effect--knowing that even if it is not in this lifetime, the "better" things the Lord has prepared ARE worth it.


I asked my FHE group about it, about other examples, and they had some interesting insights:



*The early saints (the pioneers) were driven from place to place to place, with faith that God really was preparing something better.  They finally did make it to Salt Lake and it was something better-a place of freedom, a place where a temple could stand into the eternities, a place of peace...  And yet, it was not "The Land Bountiful" when they arrived after the arduous trek.  In fact, while teaching Utah history this year, I learned that some of the women, upon arriving, cried and said they would be willing to travel yet a thousand miles more to settle somewhere besides Utah, the terribly forsaken place that it was.  Not exactly the immediate reward they may have had in mind when Brigham Young declared, "This is the right place."  ("THIS is the right place?!  Are you sure you aren't just tired of traveling?  I mean, we can keep going if you need us to....")


 *The Jews were looking for a Savior, a "Deliverer" who, like Moses with parting seas and stunning miracles, would liberate them from their political rulers.  And yet, there was something even better.  It was good to look for one like Moses, but this "freedom" that came through Christ was not freedom from physical oppression (which lasted a lifetime) but from eternal death and suffering, from pain and sin and weakness.  For those not looking in the right way, they couldn't even see that the Lord had given them something better.

And so, I want to stop limiting myself to my own plan I have drawn up for my life (much like those early sisters' bylaws they drafted) and allow the Lord to make my life something grander, something more substantial, something greater than I am currently making it on my own.  He will help me, and I have to continue in faith that even though I can't see it, and often have a hard time believing it, the best really is yet to come.  

And so, I am going to: SAVE MY FORK.

"There once was a woman who was getting older and had been ill. She decided to speak with her pastor to prepare her funeral arrangements so that her family would not have to worry. As they were finishing up she said,

“Pastor, there is one more thing. When I die there is to be an open casket and I am to be buried with a fork in my hand.”

Confused, the pastor asked why.

“Well Pastor, I’ll tell you. In all my years of church dinners and potlucks, the best were when the ladies would clear off the tables, lean over and whisper ‘Save your fork.’ I would know then, the best was yet to come. So you see Pastor, I want to be buried with a fork in my hand, and people will ask why. I want you to tell them because the best is yet to come.”

Deal Breakers

Peleton (Alvarez, that's for you)

I had a friend tell me once that rather than having a list of qualities I'm looking for, it would be much more practical to just have a list of "deal breakers."  That way, as long as someone didn't violate any of the major crimes, they would still be a possibility, an option, regardless of what type of music they liked or milk they drank.  (Don't worry--those aren't actually on "the list.")

There ARE a few deal breakers.
I have recently been reminded of a few.

1.  You call me "Sister" or "Hermana" when you didn't serve with me?  Especially since I didn't get home within the last two weeks (although you may have....)
"Nice to meet you, Hermana!"
DEAL BREAKER

2.  You did know me as a missionary and years later refuse to use my real name or talk to me in English.  I mean, the greeting is one thing, but when you are whiter than I am and are loudly speaking in your "Chilean accent" in the middle of the store when we all know half the people understand you anyway?  That's just awkward.  Yes, I do keep up on my Spanish.  No, I will not be yelling it across Macey's.
DEAL BREAKER

3.  You end hanging out or a date with a handshake or high five.
Hey, if you're not ready for contact, I can respect that.

-Just wave and walk away.
-Stick your hands in your pockets and walk away.   -Give me an awkward side hug and walk away.

That could still be forgivable.  But you even think about starting that handshake?
DEAL BREAKER

I wouldn't risk adding anymore tonight.  After all, that might be someone else's...DEAL BREAKER.  ;)

St. Patty's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
My mom has been cleaning out the costumes at home and found a true treasure: a leprechaun outfit.  I guess she figured I (more than anyone else in the family) could use it.  And so I did....

I contemplated wearing it to school but decided that with 33 students, it might be a LONG, crazy day if I did.  Therefore, "the leprechaun" just had a one hour "guest appearance" during read-aloud and writing.


I tried to do the accent, but gave up thirty-six seconds into it when I discovered that:
1: My "Irish Accent" sounded strangely Latin
2: It is ridiculously impossible to say something like, "What are you supposed to be doing right now?!" with any authority and legitimacy in an Irish accent.  I mean, how intimidating can you sound?

It was fun, we all had a good time, Dave Horan (another teacher on my team) also dressed up, we had a green lunch at school, I came home and we had a green dinner with friends (where Tyler, my cousin, was also a leprechaun), and enjoyed the evening.  Hope everyone ate or wore something green and did something to celebrate.  :)

For you enjoyment:

Fourth Grade Team Spirit!  

My wig?  Definitely not real.  His beard?  100%!

Karen caught the leprechauns!

P.S.  A girl at school said, "Miss Waite!  That color looks really bad on you!  Like REALLY bad!!!  Is that a wig?"  Yes, yes it was.  

P.P.S.  Yes, I actually did dye my hair that color once and no, it DIDN'T come out in 4-6 washes like the box said...

P.P.S.S.  It doesn't look THAT bad does it?  hahaha

Gender

The Unknown Baby:
Janie...or Johnny?

Last month we worked on biographies.  We read them.  We did book reports on them.  We made posters of them.  We wrote them.

Rather than do long, boring, (horrendous to grade) biographies, I decided we would do classmate interviews and then write newspaper articles on each other.  Much shorter.  And February WAS a short month.

When the students finished, I was sharing the articles with the class.  There were so many funny things from students with fears of chairs, teachers, and snakes to secret desires to own Trafalga, own cars I've never even heard of, shape shift, and to meet/ask Jimmer, "How do you make those threes?"  But I must admit, the strangest (by far) was this article.  It certainly took the cake as far as its...unusual content is concerned.

The article went something like this:
When "Johnny" was born, his parents thought he was a girl.  He had so much hair!  And so, they named him "Janie."  They called him Janie for a whole month--until they finally figured out he was a boy!  Then they named him "Johnny."  Wow!  That's a lot of hair! 


Most of the class laughed and thought it was a terrific story.

Only one boy in the front said,
"Hey.....wait a minute.....
Can't you tell by......"

At which point I quickly said,
"Well!  That was a fun newspaper.  Who's next?!"

Bewildered, I pulled little "Johnny" aside later and said,
"Johnny, that was a funny article.  But your parents knew you were a boy.  I'm sure they were just joking about it."

"NO!"  he said adamantly.  "They really thought I was a girl!  I had a LOT of hair!"
Really?  I thought.  Were you a chimp?  And even still.....


And so, there you have it.  Maybe we should all just stick with "safe" names like Taylor, Alex, Pat, and Jordan.

After all, you wouldn't want to have to switch it after a month, when one little haircut could change everything.

We are NOT the Bronx

Breaking it Down--Math Style
I went to a teacher training meeting yesterday.  They reviewed why worksheets aren't the most effective teaching tool and gave us twenty other things we could do.  Using music and songs was one of them.

Inspired, today I downloaded a "Math Rap" to teach the standard system (because really, who can remember how many stinkin' yards are in a mile and how many pints are in a gallon?).  I thought it was brilliant.  The kids would LOVE it.  I mean, we would rap our way to perfect test scores, right?

Right.  If I taught in the Bronx.  Or inner-city Chicago.  Or D.C.  But wait...I don't.  I forgot that most kids have never heard rap (even if they are wholesome lyrics about inches and feet).  They went nuts.  Three got up and started doing what I can only assume was their version of break dancing or regular dancing or...something.  Everyone started yelling, "We're not going to learn this!!!!"  And, of course, it was right about then that a mom walked in.  Perfect.  The day was getting better and better.

I was so mad I turned off the whole thing.  I have yet to see whether it will ever make another appearance.  Talk about a waste of $2.99!  Perfect test scores may be down the drain with that money I spent downloading the song.  Although hey...look on the bright side.  The next time I do teach somewhere diverse, I'll be prepared.
_____________________________

What Kind of Biographies Do You Read?
Book reports were due this week.  The kids were supposed to read biographies and make a poster.  They also had to turn in their reading logs with what they had read and how many pages it was.

I knew I was in Utah when one student put "Book of Mormon Scripture Stories."

Hmmm...does that count as a biography?

So, what did I do?
Well, what could I?
I mean, I just said as I was explaining the assignment that a biography/autobiography:
#1Was someone writing about themselves or someone else
#2 Actually happened. It has to be true.
Last time I checked, Book of Mormon Scripture Stories appears to fit the bill.
______________________________

We All Have Bad Days

One student was giving his book report on Lincoln.  With all his sincerity, he said,
"He had a lot of really big problems.  Like...he even got assassinated--which probably really stunk."


Indeed.  It probably really did.


_________________________
Somehow, even on the hardest days, I just have to look back and laugh.  After all, it is kind of funny.