For Days When You Hate Your Job

I love my job.  Of course I do.  Why else would I have gone to four more years of school and become "college educated" to get paid so little?  Clearly there was something behind it.

Nevertheless, no matter who we are, what job we have picked, how much we love it, or what we get paid, I think we all have days when we hate our jobs.

I hear you, Alexander.  I hear you.

Friday was one of those days.

One of those days when I needed: 

-a long weekend

-some quiet time without anyone bugging me and 

-the dream of never seeing a late assignment or stack of papers to be graded again.

It's days like that when I have to remember the funny parts of my job.  

After all, there are few things a good laugh and a three-day-weekend can't fix.

These are some of the funny things that have happened in the last couple weeks.  Here are a few:

We have been talking about Native Americans.  The kids got pretty into it.

Boy:  Uh...do you think I could become an Indian?

Me: Well, I'm not sure you can just...become one.

Boy: But, like, do you think they would let me join them?

Me:  I'm not sure.  Maybe you should ask them.

Me: Spanish explorers sold some of the Indians as slaves.  It wasn't just people from Africa who were slaves.

Girl: I wouldn't wanna be selled because I'm precious.

Me: This tribe of indians thought bears were their ancestors!  That's why they didn't hunt them.

Boy: Well, what if they did genealogy and found out that just wasn't true?!

Boy: Yeah, in scouts we learned all about that stuff.

Girl: Miss Waite, my sister asked me why boys get to do scouts and go hunting and girls learn all the gospel stuff.

Me: When it says "Father" in the book, it is talking about a person who is Catholic.  "Father" is a word like "Priest" or "Bishop."  It's a title.  

Kid 1: Oh.  Well, what do you call a girl Catholic?

Me: They have some women who are nuns.

Kid 2:  Nuns?  Oh yeah!  I've heard of them.  I even met one.

Me: That's great.  For those of you who haven't met one, you may have heard of some or seen pictures.  There have been some famous nuns, like Mother Teresa. 

Kid 2:  Yeah!!!!  That's her!  She's the one I met!

Me (trying not to laugh): Wow...Isn't that nice?

(considering she died at least six years before you were born...)

Boy reading his journal to the class: ...and then we went to Pizza Pie Cafe.

Another boy raises his hand: Well, was there are girl there wearing a shirt that said, "Stop Checking Me Out!  I'm Not On the Buffet!"  Because that's my sister.

Me: It was complicated between the mountain men and the Indians.  The mountain men shouldn't have stolen their stuff or killed a man, but the Indians shouldn't have pretended to come in peace and then killed the whole group of mountain men (except the four who got away).  They both had good things and bad things that they did.  

Girl, very thoughtfully: Well, don't you think if they would have just had therapists back then, none of this would have happened?

So true.  Where is Dr. Leo Marvin when you really need him?

Me: Name some rainy day words.

Girl 1: "Rainbow!"

Girl 2: "Umbrella!"

Boy 1: "Shoot" and "Awwww....."

Boy 2: "Beeeeeeeep!"  

Girl tattling: Yeah, he was being mean to him.  But it's weird because they'll be friends, but then they won't.  It's like....It's like they're frenemies.

Me: Is the book scary?

Girl 1: No, I don't think it's scary.

Girl 2: It's not scary, exactly, it's........I don't know the word.

Me: I think it's more creepy than scary.

Girl 1: But isn't that the same thing?

Girl 3: So it's.....screepy?

There you have it.  The next time I have a "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day," I will remind myself that I should do my genealogy and keep a therapist nearby, so that things don't turn out as horribly for me as they did for the "precious" Indians.  

Of course, if I were an Indian I would still probably just have to learn the "gospel stuff" while the boys figured out how to survive, which I'm guessing would make us frenemies.  

That's alright.  As long as it didn't rain, things would probably still turn out okay.  But Awww, beep!  Rain is a little screepy.  Maybe I should find Mother Teresa.  She'll probably make me feel better.  And if that doesn't work out, I will just become an Indian.  

Coming to Know God--Through Atomic Bombs

My brother Brett is featured in a lot of these.  Maybe it's because he was the first child and my parents learned all their profound lessons on him.  Could be because I was right behind him so they used him instead of me when giving me examples.  Either way, I remembered a lesson I learned years ago that has helped me again in coming to know God.

When Brett was young--probably in kindergarten or first grade, he had a boy in his class whose last name was Baum.  Brett heard him telling kids that his grandpa had joked about naming him Adam, but that wouldn't have worked because then he would have been Adam Baum.  (I know, tragic name for a cute little brunette kid, right?)

My brother came home that day and asked my mom, "What's an Adam Baum?"  

My mom wondered how she should try to explain an atomic bomb to a five year old.  I mean, what could she say other than, "It's a really big bomb that can kill a lot of people," that would even make sense to a five year old's brain?  He couldn't understand bombs, let alone atoms and particles and the chemistry of it all. He knew what a bomb was, but what did that have to do with being named Adam?  What's so bad about an Adam?  What was an "Adam" anyway?

There was probably nothing she could have said that would have made sense to him to explain why this boy was named Donny and not Adam.  

And so it is with us.  There are so many questions in this life, so many whats and whys that we want answers to.  But with our limited perspective, with our child-like vision, I think even were God to explain it to us, we wouldn't understand.  So often, we don't get anything better in terms of answers than my brother got that day--a simple explanation that we might not be satisfied with, and a promise that someday, when we know more and are older, it will make more sense.  

It's not that my mom didn't have answers or that her answers weren't real.  They just weren't answers that a five year old was ready for.

I believe that God is a Being of perfect understanding and answers, that every why has an answer, and that He hears and does respond--at least in some form--to all the questions we have.  I believe that He loves us and as soon as we are ready and can understand some of the answers, He will tell us.

And until then, line upon line, precept upon precept.  Milk before meat.  

So, I am working in my life not to become frustrated when I don't always get the answers I want or have enough of an answer or always understand the why.  Maybe if God did explain it all to me right now, it wouldn't make sense.  At least not yet.  But someday....

Someday it will.

Coming to Know God--Through Breakfast Cereal

A friend asked me one time about God and Agency.

"It doesn't make sense," she said, "that we supposedly have 'agency' and can choose whatever we want, but that God knows what we're going to pick anyway and it's all pretty much planned out for us.  I mean, if it's already set what is going to happen in our lives, what is the point of even making choices?"

It was a good question.  I mean, how does that all work?  Do we choose?  Do we just follow some pre-determined path?  And if there is some pre-determined path, what is the point of life?  Why did we have to come here to prove what is already more or less set in stone?

As I thought about this, I remembered asking my Mom the same question when I was younger.  Her answer made sense to me--and still does.  It gives me faith that my Father knows me perfectly, but also that it matters what I choose.

My brother Brett loved Life cereal as a kid.  In fact, I am pretty sure we have some funny pictures connected with that...him asleep in a cupboard or getting into a cupboard or eating cereal in the dryer???  I don't know.  I just know he really liked it.  A lot.

Parents know their children--their likes and dislikes, their personalities, and the way they think--pretty well.  My mom told me that she knew, absolutely knew, that if she sat my brother down at the table for breakfast and gave him all the choices of cereal, letting him pick whatever he wanted, he would pick Life.  No matter how many choices there were.  No matter what the other choices were.  If you put Brett at a table full of cereal, he would pick Life.

It wasn't that anyone was "making him" pick Life.  No one even suggested it.  It was that there weren't other options or he couldn't pick something else.  He could have whatever other cereal he wanted (Although honestly, seeing the cereal options the last few times I've been home, it's little wonder he picked the Life ever time....).  My mom just knew her child.  Knew him well enough to know what he would decide.  Was it possible he would pick something else?  Sure.  Could he?  Sure.  But did he?  No.  Of course not.

It's not that God has picked what my whole life will be.  He just knows me so perfectly that He knows what I will choose given a certain set of circumstances.  To be honest, a lot of times He knows what I will pick when I myself don't even know.  Isn't it crazy how sometimes parents know you better than you even know yourself?

I strongly believe that God, knowing us and our strengths and weaknesses, gives us opportunities to be in specific places at specific times with specific people so that the most people can be blessed and benefitted.  He helps coordinate and arrange opportunities, know things we may not even know about ourselves, to ensure that we grow and are happy and that we get the desires of our hearts.  Knowing who we are, He lets us choose--whatever we want.

We need it.  We need to live our lives and makes choices so that we know that we chose, so that we get exactly what we picked in life, so that we figure out who we are and what we can become.  But it doesn't mean that someone doesn't know us so well that He has a pretty good idea of what paths we will take.

While I am sure agency is much more complicated than a bowl of Life cereal, it is what makes sense today.

Coming to Know God--Through Long Division

I have been reflecting lately on coming to know God--not just know things about Him intellectually, or read or hear things people believe about Him, but really coming to know Him and His nature.
For myself.

I am a person who comes to know the abstract, unseen, and unknown by connecting to the everyday experiences that are known.  It may seem strange to people that tabernacles help me understand and accept change, or that airplane rides help me face adversity with a better attitude, or that a GPS can help me move forward into the unknown, but for whatever reason...that works for me.

And so, in my quest to know (or perhaps just remember) someone I can't see, I have recently had some experiences-as well as remembered past experiences-that have helped me understand a little more.  Here is one:

MATH TESTS--Oh, the Horror!
I love my job.  One of my favorite things is finally being on the teacher side of school and getting and seeing everything from a different perspective.  It is funny how my favorite days of the year as a kid can now be some of my least favorites as a teacher (i.e. Any day with a large party.  You teachers know exactly what I mean).

Like most--hopefully even all--teachers, I am a teacher who really wants her students to be successful.   In fact, there are times I lie awake at night trying to think of the best way to help these kids figure out hard concepts like long division--how to teach them, have them practice them, and really get them to internalize them--so that they can not only pass the test at the end, but have the information become part of who they are.  

I never give a test--ever--without doing everything in my power to prepare each student to successfully take it.  With math, we break down every single principle into concepts-and then we take a day or two on each little piece.  We build, step by step, getting just a little bit harder each day.  Students take home homework and practice.  They get help from people who are more experienced.  They learn different strategies and try to figure out what works for them and makes the most sense.  When they still don't get it, I find additional help and they get one-on-one time or small group time with the aide or with me.  The night before the test, I send home a pre-test that looks very similar to the actual test.  We go over it.  We talk about it.  They practice.  I give them the answers to it.  They study it.  And then, after all of that, they are faced with the test.

They like to whine a lot about how "hard" things are and how they're not ready when, in truth, they are ready and they have been prepared, one step at a time.  Were I to give them the actual test in the beginning, most of them would fail.  However, by helping them figure it out little by little, by the end they can succeed.

Of course, if they choose not to do the work or learn along the way, if they don't do the homework, if they don't listen to the people who already know or find a strategy that works for them, I cannot make them do it--nor can I give them the answers on the test.  I simply have to sit back and watch them fail.  But up until that moment I will have done everything in my power to ensure that they will succeed.

And even then, even when some of them fail--whether or not it is their lack of effort that caused it--I work with them again, give them more time, more help, more instruction, and let them do a "re-test."

So, this last two weeks as I have taught, re-taught, practiced, reinforced, corrected and tested long division, I began to see me, us--little students here in our school called Life and Earth.  I am beginning to understand a bit more about the way I think God sees us and understand how He feels about us.  As much as we like to complain about how hard life is, there is nothing challenging that hasn't had some preparation preceding it.

Just like in school, life's challenges also come with help, a little at a time, life experiences building on previous experiences, allowing us to grow and stretch and struggle and start to "get it" before we're given more.  Sure, it's frustrating.  Yes, there are times we want to quit.  But there is Someone who understands the importance of what it is He's trying to teach us who will give as much help as we are willing to take.  I imagine Him looking at us and seeing us the same way I see my frustrated students.  When I see that glazed or panicked look in their eyes (especially after the first few problems) I simply say, "Don't panic.  Just keep watching.  Keep listening.  Pay attention to what I am saying.  It will make sense.  Don't whine.  Don't just tell me you don't get it.  Ask me questions.  Tell me which parts you need help with.  Keep trying.  Keep practicing.  It will come."

And it does.

If they will choose to keep trying and not shut down, if they will be patient, if they will do the simple steps over and over and over and over, it does start to make sense and become clear.  It does get easier.

But what about those kids in my class who do listen, who do keep working and still don't get it?  Or those who choose not to listen and don't get it?  Of course it makes sense that there was and is a plan set up for those of us who don't always get it right or get it as quickly as everyone else or have chosen not to be as diligent as we should.  There had to be some sort of way for us to try again, to take more time, to get additional help, to do better, to work harder, or to have a chance to prove ourselves again in the future.  And because God sent his Son, there is.

All I want for my students is for them to be successful.  I want them to learn what they need to learn and to have the confidence of knowing that they are able to do challenging and difficult things.  I worry and I work and I plan to make that happen with every single kid.  I don't want any of them to fail.

Believe it or not, my energy and thoughts don't actually go into dreaming up how to torture them with the next test.  I don't laugh to myself as I think about them doing hours of useless homework just because I can make them do it.  The only purpose is to help them learn so they will be ready and successful for what comes next.

I guess for a Father who is the perfect teacher, it wouldn't be any different that all His energy in creating this Earth and sending us to be tested on it is not to make us miserable or be unfair, but to help us learn and prepare us for what is coming next.

"For behold, this is my work and my glory--to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."  -Moses 1:39

If It's Good Enough for Mr. Rogers...

ODE TO THE CARDIGAN
*Karen and Caitlyn, this one's for you.

I love cardigans.  There is something about them that just makes me happy.

Happy enough to sport them probably...mmm...I'd say about five days a week.  Give or take.  Conservatively speaking.

And it's not just me.  We took a guess the other day in my apartment.  Between the three of us, we have at least fifty, but probably more.  Yes, for those of you who can still mentally divide, that is a LOT of cardigans per person.  (**Note: We just went and counted.  Official count?  64--although only 15 of those were mine...)

My sister thinks it makes me "look like a teacher."  Could be.  I can't help it if other teachers seems to have the same great sense of style.  I mean, we all drive Toyotas too, but no one calls those "teacher cars."  It just means we are practical people who know something good when we see it.  And cardigans are definitely "something good."


Now, when I say that I love cardigans and that they make me look like a teacher, I would like to make a clarification: Please do not confuse them with the Ms. Frizzle-like cardigans your kindergarten teacher wore.  There are no bells, flashing lights, pompoms, or sewn-on designs to match each holiday and season, nor are any of my sweaters vests.  No, no, no.

That would give people a reason to beg me to stop looking like a teacher if I ever wanted to have a chance in life.

(Not that those types of sweaters aren't awesome--to all those kindergarten teachers, people over the age of 40, and extremely secure individuals who are probably unaware that someone wore a matching one to an ugly sweater party this past Christmas.)

Oh, the teddy bears....

Dancing snowmen?

Nothing says "First Day of School" like a good sweater...

Here are my TOP TEN REASONS for loving cardigans:

1. Sometimes it is too cold inside for short sleeves but it looks stupid to wear a coat indoors.

If only I had a cardigan....

2. They hide whatever you want to hide and can be very slimming.

See?  I knew this cardigan would hide everything!

3. They are the most versatile piece of clothing you will ever own.  You can wear a cardigan with anything: jeans, dress pants, dresses, shorts, etc.

This cardigan even goes with my motorcycle!

4. You can wear them all the places that you can't wear a hoodie.

See, I told you my hoodie wouldn't have worked with the pearls!

5. They are classic.  They never go out of style.  Jackie Kennedy rocked them and Michelle Obama rocks them still.  
(Note the picture above.  I mean, does the woman ever not wear a cardigan?)

6. They can be dressed up or down depending on what look you want to go for.

Hmmm....Maybe this post doesn't count for men...

7.  They work year-round.  At least if you live somewhere that it still cools off at night in the summer.

I just KNEW this cardigan was perfect for the beach!  

8.  They are perfect to go over tank tops and create fewer strange looks than just wearing a t-shirt underneath.
(In other words, a giant, neon sign saying, "Welcome to Utah.")

What?!  I think it looks good!

9.  They aren't too bulky to be worn under your winter coat.

Wahoo!  I don't look like the Michelin Man!

10.  You are in good company when you wear them.  
Hey!  If they are good enough for Mr. Rogers, they are certainly good enough for me.

Won't YOU be my neighbor?

If you haven't already, do yourself a favor:
Rock the cardigan.

If you need to borrow one to get you started, I may know some people who have a few.  :)

Dear Soldier

For Christmas this year, students in my class wrote letters to soldiers who would be overseas for the holiday. One of the boys in my class had a dad who spent Christmas in Afghanistan.  They thought about what it would be like to be away from family and then began their cards.  Here is what they came up with:

Dear Soldier,
Do you want to be at your house on Christmas day?  Oh, and also Merry Christmas!  Even though I don't know you I bet you are very nice.  Do you have a wife and kids?  Well if you do then I'm pretty sure you want to be with them right now.  (Picture of two stick people)  Choose which one you are: boy or girl.  From ______  (Boy)

Dear Soldier,
Hi, my name is ________.  I am very thankful that you are serving for freedom!  I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.  If you could have anything you wanted, what would you have?  I would probably have a lot of money!  Because then I could go and get WHATEVER I would want!  :)  What's your favorite holiday.  It's okay if you have two or three because I have two!  Mine are Christmas and Halloween!  :)  I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.
Love Your Pal, _________

Pick a Holiday, any Holiday.   Or two or three...

Dear Soldier,
I hope you have a great Christmas.  I'm a REAL (underlined three times) girligirl.
Love,
______________

Dear Soldier,
I hope you have a great Christmas!  My name is _______.  Thank you for serving our country.  Guess what, my grandma gave me this jar and puff balls and if you do service you put a puff ball in it and I would put in like 15 if I was in the army!  Have a good Christmas.

That's right.  I got all these just by being in the army.  Beat that!

Dear Soldier,
I hope you are having fun.  My name is _______.  We are not having fun cause we are going to stay home.  Is it fun traveling?  I don't like it cause it is so boring.  Just sitting bored.

Dear Soldier,
Hello Sir, or Ma'am.  My name is _______!  I like soccer!  I feel it is like war.  You train for awhile, then you have a game or something to get you ready!
Your Friend,
___________

Hello,
You are the best soldier in the world.

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.