fear of the unknown

For me, anticipation is half the adventure. If I am going on a trip, I look forward to it for weeks and weeks, getting more and more exciting for the pending fun. The same, unfortunately is true for things I am not as excited about. My anticipation, anxiety, nervousness, fear, or even dread will build and build and build until the moment arrives when all will be played out. Mysteriously I am usually calm as a cucumber when I finally stand up to give that talk or teach that first singing time or make that phone call. It is the waiting and anticipation that is killer.

Last night I woke up twice with a bad dream in which my first Upward Bound classes went horribly. The students were disrespectful and laughed at me. I spent all my time disciplining them into silence and then forcing work upon them while they rolled their eyes and passed notes under the table. After my imaginary first day, I slumped to my seat and hung my head in shame. I woke up with my heart pounding.

Yes I have been teaching all year long, but not these kids, not these books, and not Spanish. So I was nervous, unsure, insecure in my abilities to do well. It was the fear of the unknown.

I was again remarkably calm when the hour arrived this morning (at 9:25am). I tried my best to shake them awake and get them excited about what we were reading or writing or saying (in Spanish). And they were a good little bunch of kids. They did whatever I asked of them and took notes in their notebooks. They stared at me with wide eyes as I spoke and explained things to them in Spanish, pantomiming what I wanted them to do or understand. But it was hard. And I didn't feel as prepared as I should have (or could have) been. I am nervous again for tomorrow. But such is the way it goes, isn't it? The first few days are always uncomfortable and the following days and weeks seems to fall into place. I just wonder, will it ever not be hard at the beginning?

Rain Rain Rain

I love weather. I love the moodiness of it. I love clouds moving across the sky, scattering showers as they pass. The past three days there has been the perpetual threat of getting rained on. Twice I walked home only to put my clothes in the dryer. Each night I have fallen asleep to the pitter patter of rain on my roof and wind wrapping around my house. It makes me want to stay up reading into the night, and then roll over to listen to it when the alarm rings in the morning.

And because of the rain, Blanding has turned a brilliant shade of green. It's like Ireland in the middle of the desert. Grass glissins, heavy with dew drops. As twilight falls, the mist comes up to meet the swirling clouds in the sky.

And I stand all amazed.

And then there was one

Today all my underclassmen check out. I have spent the morning printing progress reports, searching through files of papers for ones I managed to not give credit for, asking students if they still have any of my books, and signing my name again and again.

And now I just have one class left. 7th period. I won't see them for two hours, however. In the meantime, I sit in my room finishing up grading, sorting through stacks of papers and books, and wondering where this school year has gone. So much has happened this year. But right now the minutes and seconds seem fused together. They slipped somehow quietly through my fingers and are gone.

Nine months ago I stood up at the front of this room and asserted my authority--trying my best to scare the living daylights out of them. I knew it wouldn't last long, so I had to give it everything I had. I stumbled over their names--Luscha and Vineishia and Jacoby. I looked in their faces and tried to memorize the differences. My stomach churned as I wondered what the year would bring.

As I sit here, I recognize Dallas Hall's laugh in the hallway. And the echoes of dozens of others rickoshaying around the walls that are covered with posters I made --and I smile at the familiarity of it all. My counters and filing cabinets are filled with handouts, assignments, and short stories. My desk littered with books I have scoured in efforts to be better and wiser. Empty baskets line the counter, no longer overflowing with papers or projects or assignments.

As they walked out today I called for them to have a good summer rather than the usual farewell of "have a good day." And just like the time, they themselves have slipped quietly from between my fingers. Out to other classes and other teachers and their other lives. And I wonder what it is they will take with them from this room. Will they remember the pages and pages we have read? Will they remember the papers they wrote? Will they remember my laugh during a laughing attack? Will they remember how excited they were to find out what would happen to Gatsby? Will they remember their devastation when Farquar's rope didn't break and he died in that split second? Will they remember Huck's assertion that you can't pray a lie? Will they remember the horror of Frederick Douglass' slave story? Will they remember how much I loved them? Will they remember that they are writers and must read like writers? Will they remember that "diction" is word choice? Will they remember the difference between transcendentalism and naturalism? Will they remember that reading can be fun? Will they remember their crazy teacher who loved to take walks in the wind and would rather read than watch tv? I don't know.

While I'm ready for the year to end, it makes me sad too. My first little flock of students. My first classroom. My first lesson plans and experiments. My first set of seniors to graduate. My first year teaching. And it's almost over. I'm sorry if this seems sad or solemn. I am sure by tomorrow I will be ecstatic that it's done (cheering and jumping, singing and dancing). But today, right now, I mourn the loss of a school year gone.

The Update

I feel like my life has become a soap opera or something. I know you all want updates (as does the ENTIRE town of Blanding), but I am sort of a private person by nature. It feels strange to divulge my thoughts and, well, my heart for the whole world to read. I don't know what exactly to tell you. But, to appease the masses, I'll just give you some basic info. His name in Jeremy. He served his mission in Argentina. He is originally from Blanding. He just came home from his mission in February (yes, I know, but actually it is pretty great) and we met at institute. And pretty much I was not intimidated or nervous because he just got home and I just assumed he wanted friends (and was picking me to be one of them... I really am that naive). We went on our first date (as you faithful readers may recall) to Valley of the Gods way back in March. And the truth is I was smitten then (although I did my very best not to let on at all, I do have journal entries to prove it). He is in every way fantastic--here are a few reasons why:

1. He is a first class communicator; he has no problem saying what is on his mind (and getting me to say what is on my mine)
   
2. He is inheritly good. He has good motives and high ideals. As multiple people in Blanding have told me, he glows. He works hard at putting the principles of the gospel into practice, and it shows.
   
3. We think a like. Some of you may have noticed that I don't think like a lot of people. I am sort of weird. It is refreshing to share the same perspective on so many things.
4. He is ambitious. This is actually one of my favorite things about him. He is goal driven and focused. He believes he can do anything, and I don't doubt for a second that he will.
   
5. He is extremely tolerant and compassionate toward other people. I rarely have heard him pass judgment or be critical of someone else.
6. Ok, I'm not going to lie, he is pretty good looking. I love it when he smiles because his whole face lights up.
7. He wears vans. Of course this is not a requirement, but dang it, I love those old schools he wears.
   
8. And, as I've said repeatedly, he makes me smile. A lot.
   

Ok, I'll stop there. I am already feeling uncomfortable with how much I've spilled; I will probably regret it in the morning. But for those chomping on the bit, I hope I have satiated your appetite--at least for the moment.

(I know I look like a crazy lady in this picture, but it's because I am laughing and you can't hear it. Pretend you can :))

Hmmm

I have been racking my brain all week to come up with something insightful or funny, intriguing or shocking, interesting or informative to share with you all. But try as I might, the proverbial bucket keeps coming up empty. The funny thing is, my brain is so jam-packed that I can hardly sleep at night, so how come I can't transfer any of it to the glaring white computer screen? I don't know, but here are a few snap shots of my week:

My philosophy on education: the teacher is no better than the student. At best I am a guide, a mentor, a facilitator, a leader. The minute I start seeing myself as better or smarter or superior to any one of them is the minute I fail at my job. I, in fact, must still be a student--reading, writing, inquiring--if I want to be any good as a teacher. I do have more experience, yes. I do have, I hope, more knowledge (at least in my content area), but I still don't have all the answers. And I must trust them to help me in my quest to figure them out (just as they must trust me in their quest--even if they don't know they are on it--to figure them out).

I love Jane Eyre. I have been rereading it this past little bit. I have not delved in as deeply or quickly as I'd like, but nibbling at the beginning has reminded me why this is on my all-time-favorite list.

We are shooting guns as our YSA activity on Saturday. I am apprehensive.

There is something inheritly good about good companionship. It is comforting, calming, exiting, reassuring, and just plain happy.

I still don't like failing students, but sometimes it is a necessary evil.

I love Elder Eyring's talk to the YW in this last conference. I have gone back and reread the last four paragraphs almost every night this week. He is so intent and sincere and powerful. Read it.

I don't like letting the seniors check out a week and a half early from school. It's much too early. And I got bored today with three prep periods. I know, I should just use the time to grade papers and not complain. Ok, tomorrow I will try harder.

Everything meaningful is painful. And that pain doesn't mean much unless we do something with it (gain patience, love, understanding, openness, or the willingness to remain vulnerable). I know I've said all this before, it's just that I'm still working on it.

I think the AP test was more stressful for the teacher than the students. Is that weird?

1. I love going to bed early, but I am not always very good at it. 2. I love getting up early, but 5:00 is too early (particularly if I am not doing 1.).

Elder Worthlin said in the October 2007 General Conference, "Now, for us, the measure of our love is the measure of the greatness of our souls." Wow. I rediscovered this talk at institute this week. I love institute.

Dang, that boy still makes me stinkin' happy.

The American Dream. We finished The Great Gatsby this week in my American Lit classes. Gatsby paid too high a price for a single dream. He wanted Daisy so badly that he did whatever it took to get her. I wonder if he even really loved her. I think it was just the idea of her that he loved. I don't want to do that in my life--get too caught up in false dream and then realize too late that it wasn't what I wanted in the first place. In other words, I don't want to sell my birthright for a mess of pottage.

I love my sisters. And I love it when I get to see my sisters.

I don't like to spend money unnecessarily, but sometimes it is nice to have enough to be comfortable and to do things for people or support activities or pay your bills without worrying. I am grateful that I do not need to worry too much about money right now.

Love is a choice. I am so, so grateful for agency. And for love.

So there you go. I could (or should) have probably hashed out any one of these into a full blog post, but aren't you glad you just got a peck here and a peck there instead?

Shannon picked me...

I am in the mood to do a somewhat mindless blog. Since Malory's tag requires that I take pictures, Shannon's wins. Rules: answer three things for each section:

20 years ago I...

1. wore a yellow home-made dress for my fifth birthday

2. moved from Long Beach to Westminster

3. would look longingly at the "big girl" books my sisters were reading, wishing I could read them too

10 years ago I...

1. took my first AP test (Biology--I passed with a four!)

2. went to a stake dance every weekend (rotating between Cypress, Irvine, Huntington Beach, and Orange)

3. went everywhere with Tasha in our 1974 olive green Datsun B210

5 years ago I...

1. was helping Tasha get ready for her upcoming June wedding

2. took 17 credits, worked 20 hrs a week, and pulled straight As! Whew!

3. unexpectedly learned I would serve a mission (I left five years ago come November)

3 years ago I..

1. came home from my mission (el cinco de mayo)

2. applied to work at the MTC and was hired to teach the welfare sisters

3. decided to move into the Gee House south of campus

1 year ago I...

1. worked full time at the MTC (teaching English and ESL missionaries)

2. started buying furniture and making plans to move to Blanding

3. lived with the most fabulous roommates, including: Katy O., Alli, and Summer

So far this year I have...

1. survived my first year teaching (my seniors have been checking out TODAY!), school's out officially next week

2. learned to live alone and not be too lonely :)

3. fallen in love with southeastern Utah

Yesterday I...

1. taught a full day of classes

2. graded a bizillion papers

3. went to my writing group for the second time (and received good feedback on a fiction piece I am working on. Now I need to figure out what comes next in the story...)

Today I....

1. finished entering all my senior grades and printed progress reports. So far I've checked out about half of my seniors

2. set up a table of food for my AP kids to snack on during the break of their AP test (fingers crossed for them!)

3. taught my other morning classes (so far, it's only lunch)

Tomorrow I will...

1. teach my American Lit (juniors) class... it's all I'll have left after today!

2. go to the temple

3. do something with Jeremy (um, this is usually everyday)

In the next year I may...

1. survive my second year of teaching

2. go to Disneyland with Paige

3. dang it, don't ask me what I am doing with my life right now! This feels like a turning point year, so who knows what curve balls are headed my way

Hooray for Provo

Well, folks. It was another baseball weekend. Last Thursday Jeremy and I drove up to Provo to watch some BYU baseball. This was a significant trip because Paige was in town this time. Oh how I love that girl. We ended up missing the Thursday night game, but made it in time for the ritual of going out afterward with everyone. Although this trip went super fast--Thursday night to Saturday afternoon (with games Friday and Saturday)--it was a nice trip because there wasn't too too much planned. We just sort of hung out and went to the games, stayed up late and slept in, and enjoyed each other's company. I love spending time with my family, and it was good to add Jeremy into the mix this time around.

There's our boy!

Fun in the motel...

Whitney was way courageous to do the hula-hoop contest. She was so good!

The Friday night game...

Dang it, not the best picture of me (I hate it when I scrunch my nose like that in pictures), but Jeremy looks pretty good. I sure do like this boy.

Saturday afternoon game.

ps. All of you just hold your horses, I'll post more info about this Jeremy boy one of these days...

Blanding, oh Blanding

I have been thinking a lot lately why I have come to love this little town as much as I do. So today, as I sit in my classroom chaperoning lunch detention and eating orange slices, I thought I would share them with you.

1. Foremost, I love the people in Blanding. There are so many good, good people. They have open hearts and friendly smiles. No matter where I go, people smile and wave at me. They stop me in the grocery story or pop their heads into my classroom. Their cookies end up on my doorstep and they lean over to chat with me during a high school softball game. They invite me over for Sunday dinner, stop in the church hallway to see how I'm doing.
   
2. I love the teenagers in Blanding. There are good kids in Blanding. They are funny and energetic and thoughtful. They take joy in shooting things and building big fires. They are aware of the goings-on in the world and in each others lives. And they often think I am funny (and I am always a sucker for that!)
3. I love the landscape in Blanding. Granted, I also love mountains and beaches and trees, but that does not detract from the magnitude of mesas and red rock and wide open spaces that I love about this corner of the universe. I love the stars that hang low and bright. I love the little purple flowers of the spring, the black-eyed-susans of summer, the relentless wind, the watching eye of the Blue Mountain. I love the variety of the houses and lawns. I love the raw open feeling of this beautiful but desolate land.
4. I love the quiet of Blanding. When I sit in my rocking chair at night, I do not hear rushing traffic or honking horns. Only the soft hum of a street light or the conversation of passing pedestrians outside my window.
5. I love the church in Blanding. I have never really experienced Utah church life before. There are members everywhere. I love institute and primary kids in the street waving and my home teacher two blocks down.
6. I love the high school in Blanding. I love how small it is--just 384 students. I love going to activities and knowing their faces and names. I love the trust of the administration and the ease of the discipline. I love my classroom-despite having no windows. I love the newly arrived OED. I love the secretaries in the office and the teachers down the all, around the corner, and next door.
7. I love the opportunities in Blanding. Like no other place, I find I am challenged to come out of my shell, to love people, to reach out and be good and kind. I love what I teach--juniors and seniors and AP--and know I could not teach it anywhere else. I love ways I am learning and growing with that new boy in my life. I love the opportunities I have to speak in church, develop my talents, have to time to read or sew or serve.
   

I am so constantly grateful to be here right now. I know it is silly perhaps, but I really do love this little town with all my heart.

So there's this boy

and his name is Jeremy. And he makes me pretty stinkin' happy.

Just thought you would like to know...

Senior ditch day

(Note: in Utah they call ditching "sluffing." But since this sounds like you are suffocating someone with a pillow, I persist in calling it ditching.)

I really had a somewhat pathetic high school career. I never ditched. Not once. You should feel bad for me (because I do). Once my junior year, Mr. Milne--who I TAed for--actually sent me home because I had a fever. I felt so weird walking all alone to my car and driving away with no one following me. It had honestly never occurred to me to leave when I was supposed to be at school.

So my senior year, after countless hours of dedication to school, when Senior Ditch Day rolled around, I felt I had earned the right to not come to school just one day.

No such luck.

All my teachers somehow felt threatened by the organized revolt of the senior class choosing to not come to school on the same day. And so, they all assigned huge projects, tests, and papers worth unnecessary amounts of points that could not be made up. We were to be in class or suffer a significant drop in our grades. My one moment of freedom was not to be. Like the dutiful student I was, I went to school.

Now, as a teacher, I find myself sitting alone in my classroom during my fifth period senior English class on Senior Ditch Day. And you know what? I am glad. I didn't assign a paper or project or test. I would have maybe given extra credit for those who came, but I just can't pass on the torture my own teachers inflicted. While I don't think my students are nearly as hard core as I was (and thus not quite as deserving), I'll still give it to them.

An exercise in writing

Begin with "I remember." Write lots of small memories. If you fall into one large memory, write that. Just keep going. Don't be concerned if the memory happened five seconds ago or five years ago. Everything that isn't this moment is memory coming alive as you write. If you get stuck, just repeat the phrase "I remember" again and keep going.
--Natalie Goldberg Writing Down the Bones pg 22

I remember being very small and learning that my GG (great grandmother) had died. My parents didn't take me to the funeral and I was sad. When I learned that I hadn't gotten to go, I went into our backyard and climbed up onto our picnic table and cried and made a song about her and how much I loved her. I was two. I remember wearing a yellow dress my mother made to my birthday party when I was five. I felt so pretty in it. I balanced and skipped on the stones that line the walkways of the Stearns house and felt special because it was my birthday and we were having a party just for me.

I remember my teddy bear. It was brown and faded and almost missing an eye. I let my little brother Blake have it for a night in his crib and never getting it back. I remember the year mom made me my Mary Jane doll. I opened the package and realized that I had the exact same dress my doll did. I wondered how my mother could have found time to make it without my seeing. I remember wanting to learn to read and being frustrated because I still couldn't. I was frustrated because they didn't teach us in kindergarden and it took so long to finally get to it in first grade. I remember the day I learned the word "was." I remember riding my bike around the neighborhood and going to my best friend, Kelly Hagberg's, house and playing make believe. I remember the day in second grade when she told me she was moving to Temecula. I remember being the "country mouse" in my first grade play and being cast that part because I was so shy and quiet.

I remember hating junior high because I didn't have any real friends. My one friend, Michelle, was always nice in class and after school, but she wouldn't always talk to me between classes or at lunch. I was so relieved when junior high was over and I knew I was going to high school finally and it would be so much better. I remember becoming friends with Leslie Hoyt my freshman year and hanging out with my sister, Tasha and her friends. I remember my 1974 datsun B210--olive green, mat finish. I loved that car. The day the clutch started overheating I tried desperately to get to the church parking lot so I could call home. There were weekend nights at Disneyland, riding Thunder Mountain in the rain, and throwing pennies into Snow White's wishing well. I remember being so relieved to finally graduate and excited for what would come next.

I remember my first day at BYU--before class even started, meeting Jodianne Frodsham and Lisa Christensen at a Freshman Academy meeting. We rode back to our dorms in Bethany's White's car and I began to feel comfortable. I would take a nap in the afternoon and Lisa would come in to wake me up from my puddle of drool. I remember moving back in with Tasha after that first year. We lived in Roman Gardens with Tracy, Steph, Katie, and Aubrey. I remember falling on the floor laughing and declaring, very surprised, "I am funny!" I remember living with Katie and Candice and Jenni and Wendi and dancing on the coffee table to Shedaisy and staying up late talking. Lisa lived in the green house and one night we sat in the rain on her front porch and sang into the quiet summer night. The night Tasha got engaged I had been out for a walk, thinking they would get back later. I came home to a glowing sister and her fiance.

I remember the sticky coolness of the grass where I was sitting when I realized with utter clarity that I needed to serve a mission immediately. I remember the dimness of the room where we were sitting on the floor when I told Tasha the news. I remember Paige's sobs when I told her a week later on the 4th of July. I remember the unending feeling of anticipation as I waited for my call and the outings and adventures of getting ready to leave, with my mom. I remember the plane ride from Salt Lake to Dallas, Dallas to Florida, Florida to Honduras. How alone I felt traveling all by myself with a missionary tag. Then, how much love I felt for the Honduran people as we crossed over those green hills and sparse houses to the Tegucigalpa airport. I remember my head hurting incessantly those first few weeks--along with my blistered feet and overstuffed stomach. I remember the dust covering the leaves by the dirt roads in the summer, the looming, magnificent green mountains, that first bite of mango, Hermano Cano's first plea for help. I remember the exhaustion, the ache, the determination. I remember the sinking feeling of driving away and the apathetic feeling of entering the airplane home. I remember the smiles amide a sea of red I saw as I was coming down the airport escalator.

I remember when I first met Katy Olson. I could see her through the front window sitting on our couch with a bandana on her head and a plaid shirt on. I remember thinking: "we will be friends." I met Katy Cullen and Nick Stephens the next Sunday at our first ward prayer. I remember my nervousness for my MTC interview, and my quiet confidence that I would work there. I remember how overwhelmed I was when I started, how unsure. I observed Evylyn Griggs those first few days and found the words and lessons needed to teach those missionaries. I remember studying and restudying the welfare doctrine four months later as I began teaching the welfare sisters instead of English elders. I remember the way my worries would slip to the back on my mind the 2-4 hours I was in the MTC each day.

I remember meeting Kit Mantz at the BYU career fair a year ago and talking to him about San Juan School District. I remember calling Tasha on the way home and telling her, surprised myself, that the school district I liked the best was in south east Utah. Who knew? I remember the drive down with Nick for my interview, the snow, the amazing clouds, the nervous feeling in my gut, and my confidence that again, I would be offered the job. I remember the quiet peace I felt as I decided to take the job and began making plans to furnish an apartment and teach high school English. I remember my total fear before the first day of school and the endless hours of planning and grading that occupied those first few months.

and the 25 minutes are up...