Star Shaped Tupperware

Sometimes I hate Tupperware.  I mean, is it just me, or it is a nightmare every single time you attempt to find a lid for leftovers?  It's not that it should be that hard, necessarily.  I mean, you get a plastic container, stick something in it, pop a lid on, and stick in in the fridge, right?

Yes, at least in theory.  So WHY is it such a pain?

Well, my friends, because if you're like me, there are roughly 5-8 brands of so-called "Tupperware" in your cupboard, along with a drawer or container somewhere full of lids that may or may not go to anything that resides in your cupboard.  In fact, they may be to something you threw away years ago, something the neighbors left when they brought you food, or something you melted when you forgot it was on the stove.  Tupperware is like socks.  Keeping it matched is...challenging.

The other day I was at my sister's apartment dropping off some food.  I found a nice, rectangular Tupperware and stuck the food in, quickly scanning the large shoebox full of lids for something that might fit.  Blue lid?  Too big.  Red lid?  Also too big.  Green lid?  Wrong shape of rectangle.  Clear lid?  Obviously a different brand entirely.

Seriously, people!  This is not supposed to be rocket science.  I just wanted a lid for some ham!

Growing more and more frustrated, I tried lid after lid as my sister's roommate sat by watching.  Finally, exasperated, I asked, "Do you know where the lid to this is?"
(I think she must have been enjoying watching me battle a box of plastic, especially since I was losing.)

"Oh...that one?"  she replied.  "Mmmm....I don't think it has a lid."

Doesn't have a lid?!  Then what in tarnation was it doing in the cupboard in the first place?!  I grabbed another container, found the lid, and then transferred the food, threw it in the fridge, and left.  Tupperware-1.  Melissa-0.

On my drive home, I thought about something my friend Owen told me at a party awhile back.  We were joking about different people getting married and how some people just can't seem to find "The One."  THE one?  Forget that.  They can't seem to find ANYone!  OR...they date a million people and somehow none of them "work."  And then they are surrounded by all these people who are happily married, as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

"It's like this," Owen said.  "People are like Tupperware.  Most of them are just regular square and rectangular shaped.  So there are all these lids that look like they are going to fit.  And they just keep trying lids and trying lids and trying lids until something fits.  But other people are like star shaped Tupperware.  They are such a unique shape that it is really easy to find their match.  I mean, how many star-shaped lids are there?"

Hmmm....He had a point.  I mean, it doesn't take long at a medieval festival to realize the handsome knight across from some fair maiden probably made his own chain-mail armor, link by link, too.  Some people were just made for each other.  Absolutely a perfect fit--and it is apparent from the first few moments.  That is the kind of love you can spot through a million old rectangular lids.

"Oh honey!  I can't wait for Couples Jousting!"

And for all those rectangles?  I guess they just have to hold their breath, keep trying lids on, and hope they find something that works (before they throw the box, say bad words, or find out there is no lid).  It would appear that the more they try on, the better their chances that something JUST MIGHT someday fit.

Of course, if they are brighter than I am or have a little more reasoning sense, they may even be able to eliminate a good majority of the non-fitting rectangular lids before they even pick them up.

All that being said, I decided over Christmas break that I would once again take on the Tupperware.

See why Tupperware is so frightening?!

Attempting to be helpful one night after dinner, I took the leftovers and approached the cupboard.  Clearly not learning from past mistakes, I just grabbed something that looked like the right size, put in the food, and started looking for lids.  The first three were clearly NOs.  Not even close.  The fourth time I got it.  Or at least close.  Close enough.  I kept squeezing that lid down waiting for it to click.  I opened the fridge door and quickly put it in before the lid could decide to pop off.  Curiously, I peeked in the fridge...just to see.  Sure enough, the lid had popped off.  For as close as it was (and believe me, it was), it was not the right lid.  Close.  SOOO close.  Mad that I had been bested by Tupperware again, I marched back to the lids, determined to find the right one.  I grabbed one and put it on.

Snap!  Just like that.  No maneuvering.  No trying to force it down on each of the corners.  It was so easy.  I put it on.  It fit.  I put it away.

"Hey!  Brett!"  I called to my brother with a challenging tone.  "YOU try to find a lid for the next one."
"Okay," he said.  He walked over, picked up a lid, snapped it on and threw the leftovers in the fridge as I stood by and watched, utterly flabbergasted.

What could I say?
Some people have all the luck.

World Hunger, Year 2

Every year, many of the teachers at my school have a Thanksgiving party.  They have feasts, or try real foods they actually ate on the first Thanksgiving (bleh!), or wear pilgrim and Indian hats and learn about the history.  I like those ideas, and have seen some pretty awesome stuff, but I decided for the past couple years to do something a little different.

The truth is, I would love to do a giant "Hunger Banquet," where guests come in, pick a country, and get their seating arrangements and food accordingly (First world countries have like a 3 or 4 course meal and sit at tables with tablecloths while the third world countries are on the floor eating beans and rice).

However, the thought of trying to pull something like that off with 34 nine-year-olds in the middle of the school day has thus far proved much too daunting to even begin to attempt it.  Therefore, I have decided to go with my own version of it in a way kids (hopefully) understand.

I feel very strongly about it--especially in an area where they have lived such privileged lives.  They, for the most part, live in very nice and stable homes.  They go to golf and horseback riding lessons, gymnastic meets and dance lessons.  They tell me about their new iPod touches and how they are asking Santa for an iPad.

While my idea in choosing this over a party has always been a deep desire to open their eyes to the world beyond themselves and their bubbles that they think are most people's realities, I have been surprised at how much my own eyes have been opened in the process.  If you want to learn why the world is the way it is, just watch a group of nine-year-olds.

This year, I have a fairly calm, well-behaved class.  I anticipated they would be much more generous than last year's class and we would have a great after activity discussion on giving.

I began by having everyone be "born."  They randomly drew a card with a continent on it.  They understood that they did not get to choose where they would go, they would just get what was dealt them.

We went out to the hall where we had divided up continents with masking tape on the floor.  They went to their areas and waited.  I let them know we'd be having a party, which got them pretty excited.  I said they would each get a bag of cookies and could eat them and talk for a few minutes, and then we'd go back to class.  I began to give them each their bag of cookies and it didn't take long to realize that Africa was sharing a couple little Keebler elf cookies and North America had...uh...ten, twelve, fourteen (?) giant pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the two of them.  I had to tell one boy he couldn't "move to North America," and settle a few kids down, and then we went back in the room.

As we were going in, my upset students kept saying, "It's not fair!  How come they got a whole bag just for them?"  I calmly responded that they were probably just better and smarter than everyone else and they deserved them.  Outraged they said, "That's not true!  That's mean!"
"No it's not," I replied. "They deserved it."

We then began talking about whether or not they had liked our class party.  Before long, I heard some of the most interesting things I've heard this year.
The most shocking was when I talked to the kids representing North America and Europe.
Me: "Why didn't you share your cookies?"
North America: "I don't know. Because they were ours.  They belonged to us."
Me: "But couldn't you see that they had less?"
North America: "Yes..."
Me: "And you still chose not to share?"
North America: "Well, they were our cookies..."

Boy in Asia: "We started a war."
Me: "You started a war?"
Boy in Asia: "Yes, because we wanted their cookies.  So we started a war."
Me: "And how did that make you feel, Europe?"
Boy in Europe: "Well, it made me kind of mad.  I mean, if they had just asked nicely, I would have maybe given them some.  But they were just trying to take our stuff.  They didn't even ask.  They were just taking."
Boy in Asia: "Yeah, but we wanted some cookies!"
Boy in Europe: "I know, but you were just trying to grab them out of my hands!"

Kid in class: "So, do we all get cookies now?"
Me: "No, the cookies are gone."
Kids: "What?!  They're gone?  I only got one bite?!"
Me: "Well, when we started, believe it or not, there were 34 cookies.  There were enough that every single kid in the class could have one.  Everyone could have had a cookie."
Kids: "WHAT?!  No!  There couldn't have been.  There were enough cookies?  Then why didn't we get one?"
Me: "Because some of the continents had more cookies."

Me: "You may not realize it because you haven't had a chance to visit a lot of other countries, but many people do not live the way we do.  When I lived in Guatemala, there were a lot of people living in boxes, or in cinderblock houses with a tin roof."
Boy: "That's really funny."
Rest of class: "That's NOT funny."

Gracie: "I think, the real problem, is that maybe sometimes we're just selfish, and we're more worried about ourselves and what we want and we don't think about other people."

And I think in the end, that was the most insightful comment of all.  She nearly made me cry.  Because in the midst of all the wars and the people trying to take what is "just" and the people who feel it is not deserved or taken in the right way, those who don't know the reality of life in the world or are so far removed it seems funny, in the end, it comes down to us--each of us--and the way we choose to see beyond ourselves, or if we see at all.

It seems only appropriate that the girl who summed it up best was named Gracie.  In this season of Grace, when we think about the only person who perfectly loved, who gave everything selflessly, that we spend a little time worrying less about ourselves and more about other people.

So, the lesson, as always, didn't go exactly as planned.  I was surprised once again, and saddened to see  that after all our talking and everything we felt, the little girl who was North America asked if she could go put "her" cookies in her backpack and took them home, ignoring her begging classmates who asked if now, after the lesson, she would share.  Someone asked if I would make them share.  No.  That would defeat the whole purpose.  Because in this life, the only way anything changes is when we ourselves choose to give.  "North America" may not have been changed that day in class, but I know the things I felt as I watched, and I was.  I know I can't fix everything, but I am committed to look around beyond my own little life and do something.  Because anyone can do that.

Ode to Tig

November 4th, as I was on Facebook, I noticed I had a reminder for birthdays.  Scanning through, there was a note that my cousin, Tyler Pulsipher, should be celebrating another birthday.

Now, I suppose you can't blame Facebook for not getting the memo that people who have passed on--while they are still "on a mission" in a sense--are probably NOT getting any Facebook-checking-P-day-time, so it really would be fruitless to try to say happy birthday.

Nevertheless, seeing the reminder right there before my eyes (rather than make me sad like I thought it would) brought back a lot of happy memories that just made me smile.

And so, while I was not able to celebrate another year with him, here is an ode to Tyler Pulsipher.

Tyler "Tig" "Puls"ispher

To the man who always danced to the beat of his own drum

And sometimes even danced with no drum at all

Quirky, funny, crazy...

Volunteering, serving, giving

In the quietest ways--

teaching chess to elementary students,

listening,

blogging,

helping people struggling with cancer

and their families

Constantly reading intellectual books that would take me a dictionary

and probably a year to get through

Staying up on politics, sports, and world events

with an opinion to share about each,

Always cheering for BYU sports

as well as other sports--

especially baseball,

the true American sport.

Here we are last St. Patrick's Day, 2011

There will never be St. Patrick's Day I won't think of you--

Red beard, green tie, taking pictures as the leprechaun. 

No one could pull off Hulk Hogan or Moses quite the same way

as you managed to on Halloween.

Rocking the Moses Costume, Real Beard & All

For the man who, though small, 

lived in a very big way.

Who decided to "get busy living" rather than "get busy dying"

And courageously faced setbacks with humor 

To the "homeless man" who graced BYU Women's Conference,

The missionary in Cambodia,

The party planner with the disco ball and backdrop,

The karaoke singer, 

The mathematician, 

The adventurer, scholar, and thinker.

To the man who inspired me become better 

but still love and accept myself 

Without worrying about the things I cannot change:

Thank you.

That's right, folks.  I caught the leprechaun.

My life is better because you were part of it.  Thank goodness you always will be. 

Happy Birthday.  

Elk Don't Do Drugs

Kids are funny.
Period.
They make me laugh every single day.
I wonder what goes on inside their heads.  But usually, they just tell me, so I don't have to guess.

Spelling
Every week for spelling, the students have to write the words and draw a picture to go with it.  The word was "fact."  This is what I got:
Fact: Gorillas don't eat mud unless they are hungry.  Really hungry.

I'm so hungry I could eat some mud!

Red Ribbon Week
Remember the whole week you used to spend reminding your nine-year-old-self to "just say no" to drugs and alcohol?  Well, they still have it.  This year, my students each drew a picture on a notecard for our poster in the hall.  These were some of them:

Say no to drugs if you are a elk.
I REALLY want to put the picture of this one.  A guy is offering an elk a cigarette ("Drug?") as he yells, "NO!"  I don't know about you, but I feel safer knowing that elk in our area are getting the message.  After all, the bottom says, "Elk don't do drugs."
The rest of you who aren't elk?  Party on....

"No thank you.  I will not take those drugs."

Don't do drugs.  I'm drug free so be like me.  
Awesome.  That was easy enough.  Everyone just be like Trevor.

Don't do drugs.  You'll be a bad driver.
Oh, is THAT what's wrong with everyone in Utah?!  I'm so glad it finally makes sense.  All that time I thought people just couldn't merge or use a blinker, and here they were, using drugs the whole time...

Don't be dumm don't do drugs.  (Arrow to trash)  Tis is were it should belong
Yeah, you got that?  Don't be dumm....

Don't do drugs or you'll look like this: (Creepy guy saying, "I should have never done this.")
Don't worry kid.  You're actually pretty close.  There's nothing scarier than the meth billboards they post all over Idaho...

Before: (picture of guy holding cigarette)
After: NO!  Yuck.  I hate it!  Can't breathe.

I guess you could say we've got a pretty clear picture on how it works with drugs around here.  If the elk would let those Utah drivers know that drugs are bad, then we wouldn't have creepy looking people who just can't breathe.  I would say Red Ribbon Week has once again done its job.

Cool Guys and Cookies
And finally, we have "Cool Guys and Cookies" this week.  It used to be "Dads and Doughnuts," where dads would come read with their kids for a half hour (while, of course, eating doughnuts).
If you need evidence that the economy is just not what it used to be, note that our doughnuts are now the much cheaper cookies, which of course forced the name to be changed too.  Although I still don't feel like it has the same ring to it.

Conversation:
Me: Don't forget Cool Guys and Cookies is this Friday at 9:15.
Girl: Uh, Miss Waite, it's also Crazy Hair Day on Friday.
Me: Yes, it is.
Girl: So...could our dads wear crazy hair too?
Me: Mmmmm....I guess if they want to, but they definitely don't have to.
Concerned boy: But...what if your dad doesn't have hair?

Valid concern, my boy, valid concern.  Somehow, though, I think he will be able to both read and eat a cookie with or without hair.  Unless he gets hungry (really hungry) in which case he can just eat some mud.  Fact.

Because I Was Little Once Too

Every single day, my students write in journals.  Supposedly, it is a great way to help them become fluent in writing and allow creativity without monitoring them critically all the time (in other words, who cares if they spell things wrong?  It's their journal).

Last year, I would get so irritated as I'd walk around and see what some of the students were doing.  One would get bored and write, "I'm bored," about 50 times.  A few would make up secret codes or write backwards.  Some would write the alphabet.  Others would talk about how boring school was.

I went home a few weeks ago.  My mom has been cleaning out the house, so little "treasures" have been appearing in my room back home.  One of these was my--you guessed it!--journal from elementary school.  The front says: "Melissa Waite #28 (proof they had large classes even back then).  Year 93-94 (third grade).  School and Summer.

Excited, I opened it to see what it would possibly contain.  I don't remember too much about third grade, but I know I'd been a pretty good student.  "This is great," I thought.  "I can show my students MY journal when I was a kid and how priceless it is now."  

Much to my horror, do you know what I found?  Strange drawings.  Several entries on how BORED I was.  A secret code.  Doodles.  Backwards writing ("Cool, huh?").  And lots and lots starting with, "I don't know what to write."

I couldn't help myself.  I laughed.  I realized that kids are kids and some things will always be part of being kids.  And that's okay.  I teach nine year olds, not 45 years olds (and I would dare to bet, there are still 45 year olds out there doodling on their notes who would love to start writing in secret code.)

Life if too short to take all of it seriously.
Here are some of my favorite entries:

Not my journal. Mine was hot pink.  

9-1-93
Today I am starting Fellinghams (a singing group I was in when I was little).  I'm not that excited at all.  Since Brett has to pay some money for sports.  So he told my mom It's not fair.  I pay and she doesn't.  So now I pay a dollar a month.  I have 32 dollars and I will have about 19 dollars at the end.  My brother does all the jobs for money.  He said, "You aren't saving up for something.  I am!"  Well I just want money.

Somehow that it even funnier if you knew me or my brother as kids.  I was the kid who, with her firm sense of justice, started getting fined a dollar by my dad every time I said, "It's not fair!"  I was also the kid who was...um...to put it kindly, kind of a miser with my money.

September 15, 1993
Today was have a subsatoot.  (Love that creative spelling!)  Today Brian brought his rabbit. His name is Marshmellow.  He has red eyes.  He is white.  He is cute.  I wish I had him.  Kind of.  Not really.

Too bad I couldn't have a pet rabbit!  Well, on second thought....

September 27, 1993
In the newspaper we saw a school with 17 kids from 1st to 8th grade.  Only 17!  Well a girl was getting her coat and she came face to face with a raddler.  They had to close the school because of snakes.

(Kind of makes you wonder where I was getting my material, right?  Current events day at school?  If only I had known that the next year we'd be moving to a town not much bigger.  Wow...)

November 11, 1993
Today is Veterans Day.  We are suposto write about it.  Both my Grandpas were in a war!  Even though one Grandpa is dead.  I'm thirsty.  I want a drink.  I got a drink.  Much better.

Wow.  Way to really delve into the descriptive details there.  Nice, Melissa.  Nice.

November 29, 1993
We HAVE to write about what we're thankful for and why.  I'm thankful for food because so we can live.  I'm thankful for my house because it keeps me warm.  I'm thankful for my family because they care for me and help me do my things. Boy this is boring.  

I really have no comment for that.  Nothing like a grateful heart....

November 30, 1993
We went to Burley, Idaho for Thanksgiving.  Yesterday we had a fire in our classroom!

What?! How do I not remember this occasion?  Where were the details here?  Nope.  Not who started it.  Not why.  Just casually throwing out that we had a fire...You'd think a pyro like me would have provided a little more info.

January 4, 1994
Today is in a new year. Well, who cares?  You just get mixed up on the calendar.  

That's the New Year spirit! :)

January 13, 1994
"You are to write all the time."  I don't know what to write about.  OK!  For breakfast I ate scrambled eggs, Tang, toast, hashbrowns.  I have a bad cold sore.  Yes!  Time's up!

Only funny because a boy last year wrote the lunch menu every single day for his journal.  "Today for lunch is....."

January 19, 1994
I'm being Chip (We were doing Beauty and the Beast in school).  I don't want to be Chip.  But I have no choice.  I'd rather be a girl that loves Gaston with Kylee.  Even though Kris is Gaston.  

Trust me.  Life is tough when you're a girl playing a boy tea cup.  Once again, life was JUST SO UNFAIR!

January 26, 1994
I have to go to rehersal today.  I don't want to.  It's stupid.  It stinks.  I wish we weren't having a play!  It's too stupid.

Reminds me of a boy this week's journal: "I love golf.  I hate school.  School is stupid.  School is for losers."  (Yes, son, losers like your dad who are putting you up in that half-a-million-dollar house and paying for your golf lessons.  Losers like him.)

March 9, 1994
Tomorrow is our field trip to UVSC.  It might be fun.  But on the other hand maybe boring.

Glass half full, glass half empty.  Nice.

Nothing makes your day like a little blast from the past.  :)
Somehow in that whole year, I didn't seem to mention any of these treasures from 1993, but you might remember them anyway:

1993
-Bill Clinton was elected president of the United States.
-Beanie Babies first came out.
-Popular movies included Jurassic Park, The Fugitive, and Sleepless in Seattle
-Whitney Houston came out with I Will Always Love You
-Mariah Carey hit it big with Dream Lover

So, I wasn't writing about politics, movies or music.  I just cared about pet rabbits, the injustices of life, and figuring out why a GIRL would end up as a teacup in Beauty and the Beast.  
What were YOU doing in 1993?

My Job...

Tomorrow and Thursday I have SEPs.  I still have no idea what that means (Student Evaluation Plan?).  All I know is when I was growing up, they were called Parent Teacher Conferences.
No matter what they're called, I will spend all day working, and then will get to see parents from 4:00-7:30 both nights.  At least the PTA provides dinner (and yes, I do know what that acronym stands for.  That name hasn't changed in my lifetime..).

So, I was getting ready for SEPs and had my students fill out a survey.  One question said "What can the teacher do to help you?"  (As in: Work with me more in math or Explain grammar better.)
Imagine my surprise when, looking through them quickly this afternoon, this one caught my eye.

Q: What can the teacher do to help you?
A: She can help me learn tricks.

Wow!  I'm not sure what all that even entails.  Magic tricks?  Hide from your younger siblings tricks?  Make everyone think you're smart tricks?

I just know it made me laugh.  Can't wait to show his mom that one.  :)
And maybe she can let me know just what type of tricks we're talking...

Photo courtesy of:
http://magicalillusions.org/learning-magic-tricks-10-reasons-to-start/

Something Better

I remember the day the Provo Tabernacle burned.  I was headed to work early, and was headed out on 500 North.  I saw smoke billowing up to the south and wondered what was on fire.  It wasn't long before I heard the news that the fire was actually the historic Provo Tabernacle.

 A sad feeling seemed to settle over Provo.  Facebook was full of messages of sadness, pictures, newsclips.  How could this tragedy have occurred?  What about all the history within the Tabernacle?  Few people who have spent time living in Provo did not have at least one memory inside its brick walls--a concert, a conference, a fireside, an awkward stake conference on marriage (not my best memory, for sure, but memory nonetheless....)

I have driven by the vacant building countless times since then, reflecting again and again on the tragedy that took place and seeing the shell of what once was.  No one seemed to be rebuilding it, and yet no one had bothered to take the remaining walls down.

A few weeks ago, I read in the news that the Church had purchased a restaurant and hotel just south of the Tabernacle to "give themselves options."  I wondered if perhaps they did plan to rebuild it after all or if they were going to put something else there.  I knew that they'd probably paid a fair amount so something had to be planned.

And then, the moment came that we discovered exactly what the Church's plan was.  Saturday morning, I was sitting on my comfy couch listening to conference when the announcement came that not only would they be restoring the building, they would also be turning it into a temple.

As I drove by the old beloved Tabernacle later that day, I saw helium balloons along the fence line with a sign in front that read simply, "Happy Day."

Happy day indeed.

So all that Tabernacle stuff got me to thinking.  About life.  And I realized something not only about life, but about MY life.  There are times when, engaged in good and worthwhile things, my life suddenly "goes up in flames," so to speak (not that I've had a lot of those in twenty-six years, but there were a few times that came to mind that sure seemed to feel like it right in the moment).

And so, for awhile, life feels empty, vacant, hollow.  We reflect on the great tragedy that has befallen us.  We wonder why something happened that we didn't deserve.  We mourn all the good times and all the times that will never be.  For me, it happened once when I had worked very hard and was blessed to find a good job--which I got to keep for all of four whole months.  Right when I had found a career, right when I had settled in a little, my job was gone and I was emotionally trying to figure out what to do next.  I applied to what felt like a million jobs (it was probably more like 50).  At the same time, I was sure something would still work out with my original job.  I didn't want  a different job.  I was happy where I was, happy with the job I already had.

It shouldn't be surprising to me (and yet, sometimes still is) that the "fires" of our lives are often just moments that allow us to look at opportunities and options that we had never before considered, things we never would have even needed to think of had life kept humming along the way it always had.  Without devastation or change or difficulty, we could just sail along the same way we always have.  That Tabernacle could have gone on for decades yet to come as simply the beautiful Tabernacle it was.

And so, in these times of re-evaluation, of creativity, of listening more intently, of being open to things that were never before even considered, we often find the greatest miracles.  It is when we look at how to rebuild, that often the plans for rebuilding create something much more incredible than we started with.  There are so many times when He who knows us perfectly sees what we have the power to become when we ourselves cannot see it and are happy to continue the way we are.

That is how it worked with me.  I found another job, a job I wasn't sure I wanted and a job I had never before considered.  I thought, "at least it's a job.  I can always switch later."  It is now in hindsight that I see that that opportunity was given to me by someone who knew there was something bigger for me out there than I had even been able to see myself when I began.  I am so much happier than I imagined I could be and have become something better than I would have become had I been allowed to continue the way I'd planned.

Because of that, I think I will smile every time I pass that Tabernacle, knowing that a brick building that thought that it would house concerts and conferences will actually hold within it the power to give those who enter the gift of eternal life.  I would say that in the long run, that was worth a fire to figure out.

When life burns down a Tabernacle, God rebuilds a temple.
Something to think about as we look for our own temples among life's ashes.