Unfortunate Lily Maid

However Hard and Long the Road

2012-01-30T22:44:00.003-07:00

It isn't often that I write publicly about something relating to my more personal trials, particularly when they are trials of faith. Mostly I find that that type of writing is best saved for journaling and not nearly as conducive to the healthy dose of snark and cheek I like to include in my public writing. (Does mentioning "snark and cheek" in and of itself count? I don't think so.)

But I'm standing on the edge of something that is making me nervous, and I'll never sleep tonight until I write. And since I so rarely share my feelings of faith - I figure now is as good a time as any to start.

From when I was very small, I was told - like many Latter-Day Saints before me, that going to the temple was an important goal. The temple is a very sacred place for members of my church. We believe that temples - there are more than 100 around the world - are the physical representation of God's home on earth. It is where we make covenants with God to live a righteous life and learn more about Him. It is where families are sealed together so that they can be families not just on this earth, but after death as well. It is where we perform sacred ordinances for those who have died so that they too can receive the blessings of covenants. It is a place of prayer and worship and service.

Because of the sacred nature of temples, members are not allowed to enter without first declaring their worthiness before local clergy members. What's more, there are age requirements. Youth can enter at 12 to do baptisms for the dead, but not to make their own covenants or do other work. The rest of the temple is reserved for older members.

As a child, I assumed that I would go to the temple before a mission (at 21) or when I was married (before I graduated from college like everyone else, obviously.) Well, 21 came and went. A mission didn't feel right for me. I watched boys go through at 19 in preparation for their own missions and swallowed a little bit of my frustration, but figured I wouldn't have to wait long.

But 21 came and went, followed by 22. . . 23. . . my fridge was littered with an assortment of wedding invitations that rotated in and out as (what feels like) all of my friends married and I remained home on the weekends more or less content with a me-date of reading and movies. It got harder to be denied a chance to go to the temple, something that I could do, at least, because I was worthy, not because I was waiting on the agency of someone else.

Girls aren't typically recommended to go through the entire temple until they are married, go on a mission or reach the ripe old age of 25 (which honestly, to me, always felt like a subtle euphemism from the church as a woman past hope of ever getting married, so they may as well be sent through.)

Not that this stopped me from asking my leaders to consider anyway. I'm stubborn like that, I suppose. I have always been active in my church. I have lived away from my immediate family for nearly a decade and have remained active on my own in all of that time. I believe that my church is true and good and has blessed my life. I honor the covenants I have made and strive my best to lead the life the Lord would have me lead. But each time I approached a leader I was told without much conversation at all that they wouldn't consider it until I was 25. No conversation about why, or time to think about my worthiness - just a no. So I have a hard time swallowing the pill of watching the circumstances of everyone else be a good enough reason for temple attendance, while my lack of circumstances but great desire has not been sufficient. It has hurt. Greatly.

I do feel a little guilty hurting, actually. You hear so many triumphant stories of starving families in third world countries selling everything they own to go to the temple just once in their lives while I, who know I will eventually get to go at little/no financial inconvenience hundreds of times in my life am only asked to wait until I'm "old". And I know that a good dose of my frustration is that part of my personality speaking that absolutely despises being left behind, particularly when it feels unjust. I also feel that feminist part of my soul just annoyed at the sheer number of immature boys who go through the temple simply because they are going on missions, and spend their whole life just expecting it to happen, so it does. (And then I feel guilty about that too, because missionaries do great things and ought to be blessed in that way no matter their age.) ((And then there are the 18-19 year old girls marrying the boys and that gets my gander up even more. But I digress.))

That quarter-century mark is just around the corner for me. I made my appeal again. This time I was (finally) put through to speak with the Stake President. He gave me about 600 pages of reading to do. Somehow in the middle of working what is essentially two full time jobs and assistant directing the school musical and, you know, trying to keep my sanity, I found time to read it all in about three weeks. This Sunday I will have the chance to speak with the Stake President again to determine my fate.

I'm nervous.

Nervous about getting my hopes up too high after years of disappointment. I'm scared to even hope. Hope is equivalent to joy and I don't dare even let myself think about flying on the wings of anticipation this time because the thud is unthinkable. Honestly, I'm actually praying mostly for the Lord to tell me if it is the wrong choice in advance so that I can have my privacy as I try to move on, instead of having to face someone else with that grief. I know that I am too strong and stubborn to let a "no" break my testimony of the church, but I'm terrified of what will happen if he asks me to wait longer after all the work I have done to prepare and all the prayers I've offered begging for answers, because deep down I know that it isn't my choice to make, or the Stake President's choice - it's His.

In the middle of all this I am hoping either way for a bit of understanding. I don't understand why it has been this way. I don't know why these blessings seem to come as easily as putting socks on in the morning for some people and feel like wandering in the desert with the Children of Israel for me. But with every last fingernail of faith I can find I am clinging to the belief that someday this will all make sense to me, and that I'll have the courage to accept whatever solution is reached on Sunday.

In the mean time: I'm watching this.

Fill in the Blank

2012-01-20T11:29:00.002-07:00

I'm starting a new writing assignment next week with my English classes. I've taught the project before which is wonderful - it means a little more security in knowing what I'm doing each day in class. The project is a research paper where they will research words. To get them excited, I wanted to get them playing around with language so that it didn't sound quite so boring. I found a worksheet I was given by another teacher a few years ago that she had used in her junior high classes in a project similar to this one. The paper involves sentences with blanks in them. Students are instructed to find the best word they can to fill in the blank - the most descriptive word is preferable.

Of course, I made the mistake of not reading over the page before I handed it out to my older students, who can sniff a euphemism from a mile away.

It started off normally enough. . .

"When his parachute failed to open, John (precipitated) to earth." (Like Voldemort at the end of the last Harry Potter movie?)

"Mary (flailed) over the cat which was in the middle of the hallway."

But then I started reading the sentences with the blanks and seeing that things just were not going to go anywhere good when you get sentences with awkwardly placed blanks such as. . .

"The class (molested) the teacher onto the bus." (Whoops.)

"The reporters (licked) the celebrity until she gave them a statement."

"The hunters (slapped) their prey until they could get a clear shot."

"The servant (fondled) the lady of the house; she seemed like a goddess to him."

They all left begging for more worksheets like this one. I left thinking that I would make sure to read over papers I used for junior high students a little more carefully before I used them on high school students again. Oh man.

Do What I Know

2012-01-10T09:19:00.004-07:00

I have recently decided that I am too talented for my own good.

(I'm mostly being sarcastic.)

((But seriously, though.))

Talented, I suppose, isn't quite the right word for the mess I've found myself in. Interested in far too many things and not trusting enough of other people to do the job the right way (re: my way) is probably a bit closer to the truth, at least some of the time. As a result, I've found myself teaching a full schedule in school (I have one official hour off a week. Most teachers have one of those a day.) I am assistant-director for the school musical. I am helping to set up a new "honors" program for my school and am responsible for looking after the academic requirements/support for said program. I was recently given a calling in church in which I was told by my supervisor "the last person who had this calling was so relieved to be released so that she can spend more time with her family. We're all so excited that you're single so you will have time to help us more!"

Oh, and did I mention that I am co-owner of a company that writes and grades curriculum for home-schooling families? And that I have two shows I intend to audition for before the school year is over? And that I am currently making my way through several books in the hopes of going to the temple this year (finally)?

(Oh, and that I want to keep my sanity?)

So yes. My life is legitimately busy.

Though, of course, I really shouldn't complain at all because a good number of the things listed above are things I volunteered for in the first place.

You'd think that in the middle of all that scheduling madness I wouldn't have time to think about goal setting or adding any more to what I'm already doing, but I did think about it. I thought about setting goals on getting more sleep, for example. On reading a book I want to read but don't have to teach once a month. But I know that putting myself on some kind of schedule for these things will just add stress instead of take it away, so instead I am doing what this woman suggests and am going to put my focus on doing what I know.

For instance, I know that when I make time for the Lord in my life, I find time I need for everything else.

I know that when I am stressed and I make a to-do list and a calendar, then the stress is more manageable and I function better than when I stew in my stress pot.

I know that I'm on the Lord's timing and shouldn't waste (too much) of my time stressing over things I can't control.

I know that I feel better when my day is filled with fruits and veggies and (probably too much) bread.

I know that things are hard for me right now, but that I can do hard things.

I know that no amount of grading and planning for and obsessing about my job will cover for time not spent with people. (Especially adult-like ones after a day of teenagers.)

I know lots of things. And this year (since it is the end of the world and all), I intend to dedicate myself to doing what I know.

Year End Review

2011-12-31T16:14:00.003-07:00

I remember reaching the end of 2010 and feeling completely overwhelmed with gratitude for the blessings I'd been given. 2010 was a good year. 2009 was as well, for that matter. I'd gone to England, started and finished my first year of teaching, got a new job and reached the half way point of my second year of teaching - I'd made some incredible, life-changing friendships and had the privilege of performing one of my dream parts on stage. I felt closer to the direction and guidance of the Lord than I ever had been in my life. Things were good.

This year. . .oh this year. My Christmas newsletter write up last year was way too long. This year it looked something like: "Joni worked. . . and worked some more. She hopes next year involves more theater and travel." Two sentences. That's it. I look at the end of 2011 and am quite tempted to spin the clock forward a few hours in an attempt to welcome a new year. 2011 was hard. It was emotionally and physically draining. A year of solid work with very few breaks, even during the summer. No theater. Only minimal travel. A seemingly endless battle with my own emotions and trying to conquer feelings of inadequacy and depression that were almost cruel at times. Not easy. Not fun.

But with all of this not fun-ness and depression comes the opportunity now for me to rest. To stop for a moment and look at how far I've come and realize the hard-won blessings and growth of the year.

For example, I'm learning for the first time in my life to love myself as I am. My talkative and confident public persona often hides a person completely unsure of herself. Combine that with a genetic born desire to please others and you have a recipe for a person easily confused and pressured into doing and feeling things to please others. I don't mean to say that this year has made me more selfish - but I do think I am leaving this year less easily swayed into trying to please everyone around me by being what I think everyone wants me to be. It's a valuable lesson. For the first time in a while, I feel peace with who I am now, not just focussing on who I want to be in the future.

For another, I'm learning to be happy with where I am in life. It is easy - so easy - in this part of the world to look around and feel behind. To feel as though where I am now is less important or valuable to me than if I were to be doing what everyone else around me seems to be doing. But I like what I do. I love teaching. (I love, heaven forbid, being single*.) And instead of seeing these things as temporary or unnecessary or of less worth to me than a life of changing diapers, I've seen the value in embracing the journey I am on, not the one Jane Doe across the street is on. I still have goals and dreams and desires for the future, but not having those things here, now, is no reason to feel guilty about being happy with things I have now that I really do like. I'm done feeling socially guilty.

So, 2011. . .you were a bit of a pain. One of those years that I'll look at years down the road and be really grateful for, I'm sure. But for now, I intend to blow an obnoxious celebratory horn quite loudly at midnight and drink a glass of Martinelli's in honor of your death. Then I'm going to cuddle with 2012 until it succumbs to giving me the theater time I am in desperate need of.

Happy New Year!

*Most of the time. On laundry/cleaning/shopping day, it would definitely be nice to have some help. Also when my bed is a little too cold.

Ode to the Butterflies

2011-12-13T10:51:00.003-07:00

Recently I was asked to Assistant Direct the school musical where I teach. (It's not the same as being on stage, and the show is one that I would do just about anything to be in, but it's a step warmer to the stage than I've been for the last year!) Auditions start today. This particular show will involve approximately 25 people - 1/3rd the number of the show from last year. You can feel the anticipation so thickly in the air you can cut through it.

I remember back when I auditioned for my first school play. I was a seventh grader, seasoned from years of pretending to be various characters in my living room and bedroom. I was sure that the director would cast me. Why shouldn't she? I was, quite obviously, the best choice. I remember watching the clock slug its way on all day, waiting for the cast list to be posted. A mere nine people in the entire school were going to be involved. I knew I was going to be one of them.

Except that I wasn't. My first (though certainly not last) great defeat. I was crushed.

The next year things went better. I managed to scrape by as villager number two and snagged myself three short lines by virtue of the fact that I went to every rehearsal whether I was scheduled or not.

Since then I've been involved in many shows and will, I'm assuming, add to that list. But I am very happy to say that my years of auditioning as a student in high school are behind me. Auditioning in community and regional theater is hard, but auditioning in school is worse. So, so much worse. You can't escape it. If you get the part you want, you're walking on air, but if you don't - and the odds are infinitely not in your favor towards getting what you want - then you watch another person do what you wanted to do, and, if you don't get cast, spend the next several months praying for the show to end so that you can move on. You're surrounded by it. Happiness you so wanted, but won't get. There's nothing worse.

So, dear auditioning students, know that I feel your pain. That I have been there. And that I do not envy you even a little. I too will be auditioning at least twice in the next few months. It's hard. It's embarrassing. (It's addicting.) But it is so, so worth it.

A Thrill of Hope

2011-12-04T22:55:00.003-07:00

I've always had a great love for Christmas music. As a child I don't think I loved any time of the year more than the time when the sounds of The Carpenters, Andy Williams, Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller. There is joy and hope in Christmas music. (And a fair bit of annoyance when it comes to songs about hippos and Christmas shoes, but I digress.)

The older I get the more appreciation I have for the hymns of Christmas. What Child is This, for example, paints a beautiful parallel between choirs of angels raising "songs on high" while, at the same time, Mary sings a lullaby to an infant. I love the contrast in that. It's poetic. It's peaceful.

This year, though, I've been thinking about the first verse in O, Holy Night over and over again. I think in the midst of the opportunity for showing off and belting that song usually provides, I've never really paused to consider what the message of that song actually is. Look at the first verse again:

O, holy night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error, pining,

'Til he appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

It's the last four lines of the song that hit me the hardest this year. Last year I felt was one of tremendous blessings from the Lord. I was given wonderful opportunities, new friends, and some wonderful, merciful experiences that were so perfect that I felt likely to burst out of my own skin. Life was so good that my family finally asked me to stop talking about the parts of it I was so happy about because it was getting on their nerves.

This year has been different. I've been battling challenges professionally and personally that have left me feeling trapped inside my own weakness. I've spent much of the year in great debate over much of what I hold most dear. I've battled against the bonds of depression harder and longer than I've ever done in my life. I've been holding on by the tips of my fingers, fighting to keep myself afloat.

It's hard to live the gospel. It is hard for me to be single in a church that doesn't quite know what to do with me all the time. It's hard for me to watch my friends go to the temple when I can't yet because of circumstances out of my control. It's hard for me to try hard to fight against the foibles of the natural man monster in me. But a friend reminded me recently that I am imperfect but not inadequate. I am full of sin and error, but because of the birth of my Savior, my weary soul has worth and great cause to rejoice. This song, then, speaks to me not just of the hope of the night the Savior was born, but the hope of a new year, the hope of Christmas, the hope of the gospel in my life.

One for the Memory Book

2011-11-23T21:03:00.003-07:00

When I was young, summertime meant a trip to visit the grandparents. Until the last half a decade, my grandparents lived within a handful of miles of each other, which was incredibly convenient. Inevitably, though, we'd stay with my mom's side of the family. It was a practical choice - they had more room, more toys, and a generally more kid friendly place to be. This meant that visits with dad's side of the family were always more formal, forced and - to a kid wanting a movie to watch that wasn't about airplanes or the history of Utah - quite boring.

It wasn't until I grew up a bit that I started appreciating visits with both sides of the family for the different benefits they provide. Mom's side of the family comes with impulsive trips, casual chaos, and lots of silliness. Dad's side of the family comes with intellectual stimulai, good food, and determination.

It wasn't until I went to college that I think I fully appreciated how lucky I was to have two sets of living grandparents. Even at eighteen they seemed, if not invincible, then at least young enough to not be in any real danger of death anytime soon. The majority of my friends did not have four living grandparents, or at least not four living grandparents who were all still independent and relatively healthy. Grandparents who travel and watch Napoleon Dynamite and buy iPads and Wiis (no joke.)

But in recent years it has slowly dawned on me that I would be naive and ungrateful to ignore the opportunities I have with my grandparents. They are limited, after all. I watch hands shake as they eat at dinner time. I see tables with medicine and hear about more surgeries and count my lucky stars that those days in my life are not in the immediate future. But they will be. Give me another forty years.

I say this because this Thanksgiving I've been with my dad's parents. I've not spent Thanksgiving with them since my uncle died twelve years ago. My dad's parents are particularly appreciative when I come to visit them. Unlike my grandparents in the north who have family decently close by to come visit them often and regular family vacations, my grandparents in the south live in relative seclusion from family. It means a lot to them when I come.

It's not a complete picnic. My grandpa shares my love of language but is often oblivious to the effect that he has on the people around him when he gets on a storytelling spree. The first day I was here, for example, a "quick question" turned into an hour and a half long string of stories and anecdotes. It can be utterly exhausting to keep up with him. He wants me to look at his stories and listen to his poetry and I would selfishly rather spend time quietly reading a book and relaxing from the stresses of my job.

But when I step back from my own selfish desires I realize that the inconvenience of now won't be around forever. I don't want to regret the chance to hear my grandpa's convictions about life and to miss out on the chance to collect some memories from him. So I tried a different tactic this weekend: I started asking him questions before he could ask me. I asked him about how he met my grandma (at a dance). What it was about her that he liked (she could dance well and is, apparently, a good kisser.) I talked to him about the town he grew up in and the traditions of his house. Slowly, I'm starting to get a glimpse of the personalities of my great grandparents, something I've never had before, and what my grandpa was like as a boy.

I can still say with honesty that three hours of conversation with my grandpa too many times in a row can be exhausting - but I can also say that I treasure knowing that my grandpa is proud of me, and cares enough to want to share his story with me. Who could blame him? Everyone wants to be remembered.

Be Not Ashamed

2011-11-19T09:34:00.003-07:00

I had the chance yesterday to watch an edited version of The King's Speech after school with the movie club I sponsor at my school. Although I rebelliously prefer the unedited version, the movie is still worth watching either way. I know I've written about this movie before, but each time I see it something new about it touches me. It's a powerful story.

This time I was reminded again of how much effort it took for Bertie to overcome his problems, which he never really overcame, by the way. He spends the entire movie fighting against his speech struggles and comes out of the movie a little better, but still struggling. He is able to gain more confidence in himself and he's able to get through the speech at the end, but he's never on par with his German counterpart, Hitler. That's what most movies would want to do. Pit the underdog against the champion and have the underdog either surpass or at least match the champion at the end. You don't have that luxury in real life. Sometimes there are wounds and weaknesses that never quite go away. Sometimes you have to fight.

I think everyone has a handful of these problems. For me it's a social life.

It seems contradictory, really. I'm very obviously quite verbal. I'm not (or, at least I don't think I am) hugely awkward in social situations. I just have never really liked them - particularly when it comes to dating. I have some kind of overwhelming fear when it comes to dating that I can't seem to get over no matter how hard I try. It always works in the same pattern: I start out excited for the first date, I go on the second date and have a good time, but between the second and third date my brain starts to panic, and by the time the third date call rolls around I'm looking for any excuse not to answer the phone or to delay returning calls or to run. Last time this happened I tried actively to fight against it by forcing myself to agree to a third date, only to spend the rest of the evening in my room with my head under a pillow, frustrated that I can't just be normal and allow myself to enjoy life for once.

I should be complimented, right? I should be flattered that someone deems me interesting and nice enough to take out more than once. I should be able to do what everyone else seems to do and to just have fun. But to be quite frank, dating scares the heck out of me. Just writing about it right now is making my shoulders tense and my stomach turn.

I can come up with all sorts of logical reasons for why I am this way, if I want. Fear of abandonment stemming back to the sixth grade. Few positive dating experiences in high school leaving me unprepared for the serious business of college dating. Too much social or internal pressure. Fighting against the chains of depression and feelings of inadequacy in general, not just in my social life. Circumstances that put me on the spot when I'm much happier when things are casual and I don't feel like I have to act a certain way or feel a certain way when I don't - guilt for not wanting to act a certain way or feel a certain way when I probably should. . . it's all very complicated.

I recognize that many of you who read this could quite easily either relate or think I'm being overly dramatic. I get that. I'm not exactly proud of this side of myself. It's a very conscious battle I'm trying to fight here. But guilt isn't really helping me move on, and pressure to get over fear immediately is only making it worse.

Back to The King's Speech connection - one of my favorite scenes is when Bertie is preparing for his coronation at Westminster. He finds out that his speech therapist (Logue) is not government certified and is frustrated, accusing him of lying and being a fraud, even though Logue argues that he never once claimed to be a doctor and has not advertised himself as such. At one point Bertie turns his back on Logue - when he turns around again Logue is sitting in Saint Edward's chair rather cheekily, which makes Bertie furious. Logue tells Bertie that Bertie himself did just say he's not king, so it shouldn't matter, when Bertie shouts that he has every right because he has a voice. It's a real turning point for Bertie, who has been feeling for what may have been his entire life up to this point that because he struggled with speaking, he could have nothing to say that anyone would want to hear. He believes in himself for the first time. It doesn't cure his problems, but it helps.

I'm not quite there yet. But I am, at least, very tired of feeling ashamed that this is hard for me. It feels on the outside like something very silly to struggle with that is all in my head because so many people around me seem to have the socializing thing down in spades, but feeling guilty is not helping me to find a way to heal. It's time to start being a little more patient with myself.

For Bob

2011-11-10T08:23:00.003-07:00

As a warning - I'm not really sure what the purpose of this particular post is. Usually I have some sort of goal or idea I'm focused on.

Today's a little different. It's November. This year marks another anniversary since the death of my uncle way back when I was in junior high. Twelve years.

To be honest, it isn't something I think about all that often. Bob and I didn't have a terribly formal or frequent relationship. I didn't know anything about his personal life and only really remember seeing him two or three times in my life, even though I know it was more than that in actuality. I remember the last time I saw him the Christmas before he died - how excited I was, and how excited he was, to see us. There's a great picture I have of him carrying me and one or two of my cousins all at once. I remember going home that night and feeling so terribly lucky to have an uncle as cool and fun as Bob.

I also remember how still my house seemed the night I came home from a babysitting job just under a year later. It was silent. But not silent because my younger siblings were sleeping - that awful slow motion type of silence. I remember my parents coming downstairs from their bedroom and my dad looking about twenty years older than I thought of him as being. I'd never seen him like that before. It was jarring. Dad never lost control like that - at least not to grief.

I remember going out to the funeral and gradually learning bits and pieces about what had really happened, according to my cousin, at least, who had either heard it from her parents (who didn't censor as much as mine) or made it up for shock value (both of which are very possible.) I remember feeling totally unsure of how to respond to everything, feeling in a kind of limbo because everyone around me was more sad than I was and feeling pressure to do. . .something about it.

In the years that have followed since Bob's death I've learned more about him. He was Bipolar - manic depressant, they call it. Active and reckless, never quite settling down. High on life one day and contemplating suicide the next. He was an avid sportsman and photographer - when I think of Bob, I think of the outdoors. It's kind of laughable to think of him at a cubicle, actually. In my mind, I don't ever picture Bob still. I think he'd be bored by it.

When I was younger I took up photography and my dad let me use Bob's camera. It was a beautiful piece of machinery that camera, and I took care of it like it was sacred and only gave it up last year when I could finally afford a digital camera that could perform as well as the old film one did. Every time I used the old one - and when I use the new one too - I feel like I'm stepping in where my uncle left off. This imaginary relationship I've built with him since his death that I never had with him in life always feels so close when I'm taking pictures. Maybe it is all in my head. But I think he'd like to know that I take pictures for him.

That wasn't all I inherited from Bob, though. I don't suffer from depression the way that he did by a long shot - but there are days every month or so, like yesterday, where I get a glimpse of understanding. Days when I have to step back from the lethargy and despair and recognize that, logically, nothing in the day has been that despair worthy. Days when I force my way through knowing that, for me at least, the next day will be better, because my "dark days" don't last nearly as long, or come nearly as often.

I don't think Bob would be, or is, happy to know that the legacy of depression still runs in the veins of my family. But I do think he would be happy to know that since his death, we have been able to put a name to it, and that makes it easier to fight. I know, now, how suicide rips at a family - but I also know the spiritual strength and care from the Lord that does come when tragedy strikes so unexpectedly. It is an awful way to gain that understanding, but I am glad that I have it.

So, Bob - this November as I spend Thanksgiving with my own brother and your parents, I want you to know that I am grateful for you. Because your memory has inspired me to fight. To not give in when days are hard. To get outside more and tell my family I love them more and - most of all - to love myself enough to tackle my weaknesses honestly and confidently.

It's not a secret, right?

2011-11-07T19:11:00.003-07:00

I had a chance to go to Disneyland recently on a whirlwind weekend trip that involved two glorious days away from school, approximately twenty eight hours in the parks themselves, less sleep than I have had in a long time and the best food ever. Given the novelty aspect of this trip and the summer of hard work it represented, I decided that I ought to get some kind of souvenir. Only. . . I don't collect pins. Or wear hats. Or need any more t-shirts. And if I want a Disney movie, I'm not going to buy one in the park, I'm going to buy one used online for half the price or less. So I found a cute ornament for my Christmas tree and. . . being me. . . a book. (That's right. Some people buy all kinds of assorted Disney memorabilia, and I buy a book.)

The book, Brain Storm, is written by Don Hahn, one of the executive producers on many of Disney's most successful films (including Beauty and the Beast.) I've not finished it yet, but it's broken into easily digested sections so odds are I will. His goal is to talk about the creative process and offers some practical advice towards gaining a greater understanding of creativity itself. Coupled with my reading of Ken Robinson's Out of Our Minds, my brain has been working overtime on this idea of creation over the last few months. Not just the idea of creation, but the common misconceptions of it.

For example, I had a parent request of me recently that I send home an example of a "perfect" essay. To be honest, I didn't really know how to respond. As an essayist myself, a "perfect" essay is something of a joke. No essayist that I know of (or have read) would ever admit that such a thing exists, at least not in their own writing. Writing isn't an art that is perfected, it is explored. But this parent didn't see writing as an art form - it was a checklist. Eventually I mailed home an essay from the internet that I didn't even read all the way through.

I give this example because it is a nice symbol of a common problem I see (and others see) cropping up more and more often in the way parents and students (and people in general) talk to me about the way they approach learning. It is a series of things to check off a list. Skills are things that you used to not know and then, after a lesson, you have mastered, and you can move on with "real" life. The "art" of gaining an education in any field, whether it be math, science, English or the arts, are being sacrificed in favor of fake rewards that don't mean much and "skills" that are forgotten within days. Teachers don't assign homework because students won't do it and parents won't make them. (This is, incidentally, one reason why the arts are so valuable in schools - you can't fake your way through the arts. If you can't sing well, everyone knows it.)

In Hahn's book he points out how easy it is to be intimidated by the great thinkers of the past - men like Edison or Disney himself - men like Steve Jobs and DaVinci who seem to have that creativity thing down in spades. But, Hahn argues, the great thinkers of history (with the possible exceptions of Disney and Jobs) didn't have access to the same tools we do. We have the world of information available for free to us so long as we have a computer with the internet on it. In under ten seconds, I can find out nearly any fact I want to know.

But that's part of the problem. It used to be that having knowledge of a subject guaranteed you a job, because having that knowledge alone was rare. But not in this world. To enter any field that involves creative thinking - everything ranging from engineering to graphic designer and back again - employers want people who can come up with ideas and follow through on them. The world is moving too fast for any business to stop evolving, and it takes people to make that happen.

This is good news, really. What it means is that anyone with the right set of skills can find success, college education or no. The tools you need to be successful are pretty simple: it takes hard work, and a passion for what you do that is not swayed by setbacks.

But somehow in our "Occupy ______" nation, those skills are drowning in a sea of excuses and people lazing around from one task to another. Here in the valley, I'm not sure how this functions elsewhere, "stress" has taken on the label of "overwhelmed", which means that parents are now requesting students be excused from assignments or late work (and then wonder why their kid doesn't know how to do basic tasks at the end of the year.) If a student doesn't know how to do something, or has a learning disability, or has problems at home, then all of these things (sometimes combined) become the barrier that keeps a person from even attempting to try. Which is fine. Everyone's got problems. But it's no secret that if you don't do the work you don't get the reward.

Unless, of course, you whine about it long enough that someone gives you a gold star or a cookie or an "everyone wins" trophy to make you feel better about it.

Pay Day Part the Second

2011-11-02T15:42:00.003-06:00

Remember all those blog posts I've done recently demanding that teenagers are better than we give them credit for?

I was right.

I've been frustrated for a while by the way one of my classes has been going. The students in the class are great, but something just wasn't registering. Part of the problem was quite clearly in my obsession with organization and inability to just relax and enjoy what I was doing. But that wasn't the entire solution.

Then, today, my wonderful class council did exactly what I've been hoping they would do all year by taking class into their own hands. They were as aware as I was that something wasn't right. And they've presented a perfectly reasonable and well thought out solution that is exactly what the class needs. They were right. And they presented themselves in a way that was very clearly with the intent of working as a team - the whole class, me included. This isn't students against evil teachers who won't see reason or teachers against lazy students just trying to get out of work- this is good, rational human thought from two sides of a problem both trying to reach the same goal: a class that is both fun and challenging and not a waste of time (or a burden of time either.) This is trust on both sides that we can address problems instead of ignoring them. This is maturity.

Class today went better. Students left feeling understood and I'm leaving today feeling a huge weight lifted. I am so very proud and impressed of the way they have handled this. We're pointing in a good direction. We're going to be better because of this. And I'm teaching the best students ever.

Teacher Pay-Day

2011-10-26T16:18:00.003-06:00

The universe must know I'm about to go on vacation, because today was rough. Opposition in all things, right?

Today was rough. A particular parent who has been making my life a kind of hell for a while sent (yet another) personal attack email that left me shaking, angry, and thoroughly discouraged. A million angry retorts came into my mind in one boiling flood that I had to stem rather quickly to preserve the professionalism for the class I had to teach. (Side note: I, apparently, need to stop responding to emails in the middle of the day.)

So today it was time for the Teacher Pay-Day folder. Now that I teach mostly high school classes, this folder hasn't been added to quite as often, but I taught junior high English my first year of teaching and the folder got lots of use. This is a hanging file folder where I keep particularly nice notes or artwork or other (paper) trinkets students drop by my desk. I pulled it out today and rifled through a few years worth of letters and cards. The notes - some funny (the girl who wants to be an actress and was inspired by me? She used her acting skills to promote her hypochondria. I kept that note for a laugh), some sincere (the boy who told me that he never liked to read until he came to my class), to heartfelt (the few who told me that I made them feel important and loved.) It was exactly what I needed today. I love that folder.

So it's time to put the frustrations aside and start actively loving what I do, not just saying that I do in an attempt to convince myself. I'll let the school handle this abusive parent, and turn my attentions instead to the things that matter. Like relaxing. Taking some time in the day to enjoy what I do and not worry about the paperwork. To compliment students more often and have fun with them regularly. I'm a better teacher when I do, and they're better students. All the baggage and frustrations and accusations are what they are - but none of them should be allowed to take away from the satisfaction of a room full of teenagers who actually listen to you, trust you, and want to be better because of the time spent with you.

How-To Guide

2011-10-20T09:24:00.007-06:00

Sometimes I feel like all I do on this blog is gripe and complain about my career. I swear, I love what I do. 97.4% of the time, my job is wonderful. Part of that 2.6% of annoyance comes in the morning when my alarm goes off too early. Some of it comes in the form of students who are just draining in their pestering. The largest portion comes in the form of parents who seem to misunderstand their role in the relationship of teacher to parent and what the goal of that relationship actually is.

One day I'll write about how much I love what I do.

(Today isn't quite that day.)

What I have for you today is a "How-To" guide of sorts on Parent-Teacher relations:

1) Most important: parents and teachers are on the same team. Both want for the student to succeed. The problem comes when parents and teachers have different ideas of "success". These problems, if they do come up, should not be handled in front of the student.

2) If a parent feels as though the teacher is not a good one, they should either move the student to another class or, if that isn't possible, find ways to compensate for the teacher's deficiencies at home. One of the things that baffles me most about a parent is when they seem to find something I do inadequate or unfair (usually when their student doesn't get a good grade), but they still keep the student in my class. If you don't like the teacher, then find other options. We're not offended. We're actually relieved, usually, to get us off our backs so we can focus on students (and parents) who are doing well with us.

3) That in mind, just because a student doesn't respond to a teacher does not mean that the teacher himself/herself is incompetent. Teachers are human. Students are human. Neither of us are required to get along with everybody.

4) When dealing with a teacher, please remember that we are professionals. Whatever your beliefs about education or educational degrees, the majority of teachers I know do their job because they care about what they do. We have our different personalities and strengths and weaknesses, but we are not ignorant or naive about what our job entails. Please do not treat us like you know better. (If you believe you know better, then refer to rule number two.)

5) While we're talking about professionalism, please keep in mind that a teacher has the right to tell you "no" if your requests are unreasonable or being resolved in other ways. Most teachers are willing to help you, but telling teachers how that help will be given is rarely the best way to get the job done. We respect that you know your student at home, but we see them as students and know that side of them quite well. You may request something of a teacher that is already being done only in a different form. You may also request something of a teacher that doesn't really solve the problem or would make our lives much more difficult than they are already, which brings us to. . .

6) Most teachers are teaching at least two different classes (or preps) these days, often more, depending on the school. At a charter school, I am currently teaching six different classes, four of which involve creating curriculums that I have not taught before. I see around 100 different students a day. (In a public school, this number is likely to triple for your teacher.) Whether your teacher is working with a large number of students or a large number of different classes - we have a lot to remember. We have individual needs of students to keep in mind (particularly those with IEPs.) We have lessons to plan and prepare for and grading to do. I answer dozens of emails a day, and I answer them efficiently. But the strength of our organizational balance often comes from routine and a good deal of practice. This means that if you ask for a teacher to go out of their way to do something - it is no small request. The task itself (sending another email, printing an extra copy, etc.) may seem small to you - but adding it to a lengthy list of things to do is not as easy as it seems for us. Please be patient and reasonable in your requests. If possible, find out what the teacher is already doing, and see if you can come up with a solution that works within the system already in place.

7) Remember that the goal of school is, on its most practical level, to prepare your student for independence, whether in college or in a job. Individual subject matters are secondary to this goal. (We know that not every student will love our subject. We don't love every student - it's only fair.) But this means that every time you turn in an assignment for your student, and every time you request notes from class, and every time you argue a grade on behalf of your student - you are enabling that child to be weak. Teachers know that students need to be led to responsibility occasionally. For some students it does not come naturally. But as a parent, please find ways to make your student accountable for the work that they do and encourage them to take care of problems themselves. If you have to walk them into the room, that's fine, but they should turn in the assignment. If you need to bring them to my room to talk with me about needing more time on something, that's fine - but let them do the talking. Unless you want your student living with you forever - you need to get them used to functioning in the adult world. Doing all this work for them is crippling. (And usually results in requests to me to describe everything we do in class already - I'm not going to re-teach the class to you.)

8) Finally - and this last one may be a bit selfish - but if you appreciate what your teacher is doing for your student, tell them. Silly gifts at Christmas that we can't possibly eat all of are nice and we appreciate them, but not nearly so much as an email during the week that lets us know specifically what we have done that was well received. It helps us to be better teachers, and it encourages us to do more when we know that our efforts are working.

The Perfect Storm

2011-10-12T15:23:00.008-06:00

Once upon a time the perfect storm came and tried to ruin everything.

It involved about forty hours of grading essays in a week, doing everything possible to have them done before a trip home.

It involved putting off projects and readings that needed to be done in favor of pushing forward with every last inch of sanity to finish those essays and get them back to students before their next essay test.

It involved death bed repenters and desperate parents wanting to put bandaids on gaping wounds.

It involved a frantic Friday after school rushing to get things done and make it to the airport without falling asleep at the wheel. Boarding a plane and feeling like - finally - I'd have an excuse to relax.

It involved a delayed - and then cancelled flight. Followed by a missed airport shuttle. Followed by a sleepless night in a cold and kitschy hotel room. Followed by a way too early morning. Followed by a flight in the world's smallest airplane. Followed by a two hour ride home instead of a fifteen minute home.

It involved a not nearly as relaxing and enjoyable trip for me or for others in my family as it should have been. Long week + long weekend = an unfortunate conglomeration of out of control events (translation: I was not in the world's most enthusiastic mood. Further translation: I think the weekend was a disappointment for those, including myself, who like me slightly better rested and fed.)

It then involved returning home to an individual blaming me for purposefully grading hard to prove a point and more or less claiming that I am not intelligent enough to do the job I have.

It involved me wanting very much to throw up the proverbial white BANNER of surrender. To yell to the world that I cannot possibly be everything for everyone, or do all the right things, or please anyone, and that I may as well not try any more, because what was the point? My imperfections felt so very close to the surface and frustrating for me and inconvenient for other people, and it was beyond my mental and physical stamina to handle it any more.

But then. . .

I drove home and saw a sight that looked almost identical to this.

I took a little time to visit . . .

(She's been missing me lately. It's been mutual.)

And suddenly life doesn't seem so unconquerable any more.

I'm still imperfect. I'm still overworked. And stubborn. And maybe a little delusional sometimes. But mostly, I think, I'm like the majority of people in the world trying to get by the best they can - sometimes meeting success and sometimes not. Rough weeks happen. Sometimes weeks are more overwhelming than others. But they end. And we move onward and upward and, with any luck, gain more than just some sore muscles by the time we reach the top of the peak.

Dear Students. . .

2011-10-05T22:12:00.002-06:00

You may not believe this when you get your first set of essays back, but I believe in you.

I mean it. I see your potential. I see the good that you are doing and the good you have within you to do. I'm not making things up when I tell you you're great. I'm not making things up when I tell you that you should care about your life and do something about it. I wouldn't lie to you about that. It would be cruel.

The world is content with you being substandard, lazy, and self-obsessed. They'll encourage it, actually. It'll be on every magazine and in every teenage drama that focuses only on cheap jokes and "self discovery" that doesn't end up leading to a place of value at all. In fact, the world expects you to be rebellious, lecherous lumps of flesh that only ever look for ways out. Now. . . some of you are. Some of you seem to spend most of your time working to get out of work. You do it magnificently. But most of you - and you know who you are - actually care about who you are and who you are becoming. You have dreams and ambitions and goals that are more important to you than any party you might go to, for example. You have direction and purpose.

I think the thing that amazes me the most as your teacher is the way that, every so often, I see more of your potential than your parents do. I don't mean to suggest that I know you better. Your parents, after all, have lived with you for upwards of thirteen years. They've cleaned up your vomit and taught you how to spell your name and instructed you on how to be a good, functioning human being. But sometimes I think they might love you so much that they're afraid to let you fail. It's why I tell you not to take your writing to them for advice. Most of the time they tell you it's wonderful and you don't learn anything from it.

That's where I come in. See, I love you too. In my own way. Not in the "please add me on Facebook" way, because I won't let you. But in the "I want you to succeed in life, but if you fail you aren't my financial responsibility" way. It's the separation between us that allows me to critique you honestly. That allows me to fight for you to have the opportunity to learn what it is to make a mistake and pay for it. That wants to tear you down a little every now and then because there's no other way you can learn.

Your parents are wonderful people. They care about you and want you to succeed. But they will, every so often, want you to find success in excuses. Excuses don't solve the problem. Knowing you're not good at something doesn't make you good at that something. Relying on weakness to get by will never make you stronger.

(To be honest, I wonder sometimes if this is why God set up the universe the way He did. Giving us parents here that love us and care for us to a fault at times where He - in His wisdom - is able to teach us more honestly because of a slight separation.)

So please - tell your parents that we're all on the same "cheering for you" section. But remind them I'm not in the stands like they are. I'm on the front lines. I'm your coach. And it's my job to fight for you to have the chance to be wrong every now and then, or being right won't mean anything to you.

Love -

Some of Someday

2011-10-04T10:39:00.004-06:00

The last few days have been mentally and physically taxing ones for me. I'm drowning in approximately 175 essays to read (in addition to the rest of the homework I need to grade.) I have an online class I need to film for and grade. I have friends who want to spend time with me. I have a bed who dearly misses me. I have a handful of very needy parents to deal with. I have a somewhat neglected spiritual life that I have been making strides to enhance again. I have personal insecurities and outside pressures to somehow conquer or, at least, learn to put up with. My life, at least right now, feels a bit like the trash compactor in Star Wars and I'm doing everything I can to try and stop it, or at least get the trash out, but I've been fighting to stay on top while I do all this and it. is. hard.

Then I read this.

It's written by a good family friend that I knew growing up. I've been a long-time reader of hers because she has such a way with words that I can't help myself. Today she said exactly what I needed to.

Because - the thing is - in the middle of all this cultural pressure, I find myself looking at my own "someday" and feeling, on the whole, quite satisfied with what I have.

It used to be that someday I would graduate and have a job and teach and be financially independent and be married and have a family and do everything well. Now a good portion of that is here. I did graduate. I have a fantastic job. I teach. I am completely financially independent. I'm not married and I don't have a family and I certainly don't do everything well, but I am happy.

And, if I were being perfectly honest, I think I would be absolutely suffocated if I were home right now with children who couldn't speak yet. I'm not ready for that. I'm content with my room full of noisy teenagers who can mostly take care of their own body fluids. (Though, to be fair, this is likely the partial result of a stomach flu going around school that resulted in a hallway mishap recently. I don't hate small children. I'm just glad I don't have any right this second.)

So much of what I've written about in the last several years of having this blog has been about my convictions on love or dating or social lives in general that, for all my trying to escape the pressure, I've only ever been stuck in a world where I have felt inadequate and unappreciated as a single woman. As though my marital status has been a deterrent in my value or worth, or, if not a deterrent, then not as important. It has left me feeling torn and pressured into doing things for the entirely wrong reasons, just to attempt to relieve that pressure. It's no wonder I can't have fun when I go out on dates: I'm not dating to please myself, I'm dating to please others or to meet some cultural standard.

It sounds selfish, but I don't mean it to. I only mean that my mind has always been in the wrong place. It hasn't ever been: "someday I'll find someone that helps me be happy" - it's always been, "someday I'll find someone and that will make _____ happier with me." Or, "someday I will find someone and then I can have a life like ______."

What I'm trying to say is. . . I can wait. I'm ready to shed the pressure and just be for a while. I like where I am. I'm happy where I am. I don't want to live someone else's life. And I think, for a little while, before I dive back into the fray, I need to take a bit of time to appreciate the life that I have. I do look forward to my "someday" when I am not single and have all it entails in my life, but I am, for now, content with the "some" of "someday" I have.

"You with the camera?"

2011-09-25T15:53:00.003-06:00

I am an out of the closet theater snob.

I'm actually quite blunt about it. Hopefully not in a way that drives people crazy, but when I go to the theater - even the community variety - I find ways to let the people that I'm going with know that I dress for the occasion. This was something that was instilled in me both by my parents and my high school drama teacher who set the standard. When I saw my first big broadway show (Phantom of the Opera in second grade), my mom made me a new satin dress for the occasion. My high school drama teacher was the one who talked openly and frankly about respect for the arts, and how, even for auditions, you come dressed professionally. To this day, I tend to go to auditions dressed more formally than those around me who come in jeans and a clean shirt instead of the skirt and nice top I tend to wear.

This attitude leads to a healthy amount of frustration in me when those around me don't keep the same standard. To me, a night at the theater (or symphony, or other formal occasions) is something special. It costs a lot of money, it takes a huge amount of time and focus in performing no matter how professional the production, and it's an event that demands a different level of refined behavior.

Granted, I often find myself somewhat alone in this. I remember seeing The Lion King years ago with a friend who had invited me to come and see the show with her on the third row of the theater. You don't get seats much better than that. The man sitting down the row from me? Yeah, he came in a budweiser t-shirt and ripped jeans. I remember seeing a show last spring at a local high school in which a member of the audience had a camera and tripod out and took approximately 43 pictures with flash (not that I counted on my program or anything. . . ) in the second act alone without anyone telling him to stop. Clearly, the "night out to the theater" mentality is not shared by all.

(I suppose I should mention here that very horrible, dark, embarrassing part of my past in which I, as a traveler to London, found myself with tickets to Wicked and no time to take the Tube back to my flat to change before the show started. I attended the show in jeans and heard - because irony is like that - the couple behind us talking about awful tourists who attend shows in jeans. I wanted to jump up and shout "I'm not normally like this!! I'm so embarrassed!" but refrained. . . )

Really, though, I think it all stems back to the honor and love I've always had for the arts. For that time I have to turn off my phone (good luck trying to reach me - ever - if I'm rehearsing for a show) and to dress up and feed my soul. I don't understand why a person would spend upwards of $50 for a night at the theater and then spend it with their nose in a Facebook feed on their smartphone (re: girl next to me last night at the symphony.)

But if you're still reading - this is where it gets good. Last night I witnessed something truly awesome. I've heard of things like this happening (and have felt tempted to do it myself - re: the woman who came to the front of the stage when I was Wilbur in Charlotte's Web and took pictures with a disposable camera), but have never actually seen it until now. It was fantastic. It was so choice. I wish I had a video of it - but that would be somewhat counter-productive, as evidenced by the following:

I went to the symphony last night to hear one of my favorite pieces (Beethoven's Emperor Concerto). The guest artist had just started playing the first movement when I saw him turn his head toward the audience and glare bullets right at. . . something. Couldn't tell what. He mouthed something, but I couldn't tell what it was. I was just looking for the smoke from the ash remains of whoever had just burst into flame under the power of that glare. After the first movement ended, the guest artist paused, turned and looked right at the audience member again, and said quite sternly: "You with the camera? What we are doing is very difficult and takes a great deal of concentration, and you are distracting us and about two thousand other people who are here."

Oooooh yeah.

I clapped along with the rest of the hall and thought rather haughtily that I sincerely hope that said audience member (who had to have been sitting somewhere in the $50 ticket range) was embarrassed. And I hope - one student at a time - I can find a way to make a dent in the culture of theater going. "You will see people there dressed in jeans," I tell my students. "But it will never be you."

But maybe I'm just a snob.

Revisiting Gatsby

2011-09-20T18:43:00.003-06:00

I feel like all I write about lately is my experience in my classroom. It is true - much of my life right now is dedicated to what goes on at school. I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about and preparing for the hours I spend with my students. I love it. I remember being told that if you could get through the first three years of teaching you could do anything - and while that may be true, I've found it to be a complete joy.

Well, almost complete.

I find that - even more so than when I was in college - I spend more time reading for school than I do for myself. Case in point: I started reading Harry Potter again last spring with the intent of finishing before the last film came out in July. These wonderful books that I finished in under 24 hours each the first time through. . . yeah, I'm stuck in Prisoner of Azkaban.

Not that I haven't been reading. I read (or re-read) several books over the summer in preparation for teaching. I read The Sword in the Stone, Treasure Island, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Anthem, The Hobbit and others. The latest re-read comes in the form of The Great Gatsby.

When I was in high school, I took Early American Literature instead of Late American Literature with the sole intent of escaping Gatsby. I heard absolute horror stories about this book and put up with The Scarlet Letter instead (what was I thinking!?!) I think, though, that I'm glad I didn't read Gatsby until I got to college. I don't know that I would have appreciated the magnificence of Fitzgerald's language until later.

As it is I am absolutely devouring this book. C.S. Lewis said once that words phrased well sound like music, and he was right. Gatsby is symphony. A beautiful, chewy sort of symphony full of more description than a person would ever need, but not nearly as much as I want right now. I am loving this book.

Vivaldi vs. Ives

2011-09-12T17:58:00.004-06:00

You'll have to forgive the lack of posting recently. The start of this school year has been a particularly challenging one where time management is concerned. It's a good thing I have a closet full of time turners and an endless supply of energy, right?! (Ha.)

I've been reading Boyd K. Packer's book on teaching recently in an attempt to refine my personal teaching methods so I can more confidently inspire my students to become better, not just to remember facts. A good portion of the beginning of the book (I haven't finished yet) has been about the usefulness of metaphors and similes in teaching difficult, intangible subjects. One symbol he uses is the piano.

The gospel, he says, is like a large piano. If a person were to play only one key (say, the doctrine of faith) without the help of the other keys (works, for example), then that one key would grow out of tune with overuse and the individual playing the key would not benefit from the range of sounds offered by a piano when more keys are played in harmony.

That was the word that stopped me. Harmony.

Small change of topic: I've grown up listening to classical music in my home, and considered myself decently well versed in who composed what and when until a friend of mine started introducing me to the musicians rarely found on your average compilation CD. I went from a love of Vivaldi's soothing, harmonized seasons into the world of Mahler and Charles Ives, a man influenced by what happened when different marching bands played at the same time - a far cry from the typical use of a stringed instrument. Ives is excited by noise. He wants lots of it. He's interested in experimenting with what happens when two things that don't normally belong together are suddenly forced into the same space, and the results are often incredible and inspiring (and insane in the best sense of the word.) And my Ives education is only beginning.

Going back to the word harmony. If the gospel is like a piano, and people want things to be harmonized pleasantly, is there room in the gospel (or, perhaps more specifically, the culture surrounding the gospel) for the Ives' of the world? We are very comfortable and accepting of those who harmonize in normal ways - the Mozarts and Beethovens and Vivaldis and Strauss' of the world but are we as comfortable with the Mahler's and the Ives' who play the gospel piano, just differently? Should we be?

I know my answer.

Broom Cupboards and Ballrooms

2011-09-04T18:43:00.004-06:00

I've been thinking a lot this week about an article by Hugh Nibley called "Goods of First and Second Intent." It was from an address given to a group of retired teachers more than twenty years ago, but it is still true. The article discusses the different desires that we can have - goods of first intent that are what make life worth living and you can never get enough of, and goods of second intent that are good for you, but only if you use them to obtain goods of first intent. If they are not used properly, you can become addicted and harmed by them. (Money, for example, is a good of second intent.)

At one point in the article, Nibley points out that most people spend far too much of their time pursuing goods of second intent and neglect the things of eternity - he refers to Arthur Clarke's description of a man who had inherited a magnificent palace but instead preferred to spend all of his time in a broom cupboard.

I've been thinking about this because of an experience I had this week with a parent who, to save you all the frustrating and ridiculous details, pulled her child from my class because I was being too effective. I hold an optional mentoring/study session once a week for students in this class that her son would not be able to attend because of other commitments. After a very interesting conversation the result was pulling the child from the class entirely because she didn't want the child to miss a single breath of what went on in class. (I believe the phrase "I am having difficulty with this 'students are to be responsible' concept" was used.)

This is such a typical attitude in certain circles of my community. They imagine things they way they think it should be, and then one thing shifts or changes or moves the cheese, and the solution is not to adapt, but to throw out everything. The baby, the bathwater, the bathroom, the whole house or neighborhood if necessary - but it all goes.

It baffled me. It still baffles me. It baffles me that this woman would, presumably, have been happier of the study period was a waste of everyone's time instead of a valuable asset. It baffles me that her solution to missing part is to miss all, when her child - as far as I've been able to tell - would be perfectly capable in this class with or without the extra reminders on assignments. It reminds me of an experience I had last year when a student was pulled from my class in the first few weeks of school because the student was stressed about doing well - but mostly because the parent just wanted the kid at home more often. (The kid wanted to stay in class, and would have done well.)

These examples are of parents - who should be the greatest advocates of their children learning and growing in independence and skill - secluding their children away into broom cupboards by force. That makes me feel sick enough as it is. But how often do the rest of us voluntarily turn away from new opportunities or places for growth and stay in symbolic broom cupboards for the rest of our lives? Seems downright claustrophobic to me. There is a world of truth and light out there just waiting to be explored, and I, for one, look better and feel better in a ball gown than I do in rags.

Uplifting vs. Clean

2011-08-27T10:27:00.003-06:00

I stumbled upon this article on the Deseret News this morning. It reminded me of this article that was recommended to me by a friend a few months ago, which also reminded me of some discussions I've had with parents and students in the past about media/literature which meant I had to write about it.

Both of the above linked articles mention a very similar principle: lack of questionable content is not necessarily the best indication that a work is worth your time, though it is often marketed that way. Just because a film/book/song is void of bad language or illicit sexual relationships or otherwise immoral behavior does not mean that it will teach you anything valuable about life or be anything but Wonder Bread style entertainment: not bad for you, but not exactly nutritious either. (The example used in the second article is "The Waltons". Think 50s style entertainment where conflicts are easily overcome and challenges are silly or not really challenges.) There is media that is (what I would consider, at least) perfectly clean and more like whole grain bread, but it seems to be in the minority.

On the other hand, media that does contain bad language/immoral behavior isn't necessarily evil or bad for you, though lots of it is. It doesn't take long to look through the programs on TV, browse through Netflix, visit a bookstore or listen to the radio before you realize that much of what is presented now is complete, wasted garbage. Immoral people being praised or excused in their immorality, destructive lifestyles being laughed over, fantasy escapist worlds that distract from reality - it's all there. But there are many examples of books/movies/shows, etc. that contain uncomfortable material that are still highly moral and contain valuable lessons. But they are also in the minority.

So what's a consumer of media to do? Many (at least in this area of the world, it seems) try to hide from media altogether. As though escaping it is the answer to the problem and if you avoid it well enough it will, eventually, go away. This is a little ridiculous in my opinion. Media isn't going to go anywhere, and not learning how to use it for good is irresponsible.

On the flip side, I have a number of friends who - out of rebellion for those who are afraid of media, I think - will watch and read anything they wish just to prove a point. I don't think that's quite the solution either.

Douglas Callister's speech "Your Refined Heavenly Home" argues that if we are to be refined, then we need to be aware of creations that have stood the test of time and been long respected by educated, refined individuals. Orson Scott Card's article (see above) claims that everyone approaches a work differently and that some will find spiritual upliftment while others will find the opposite - all from the same work.

Does this mean that one person is more righteous than the other one? Can a book/movie etc. be in and of itself either evil or good and if a person interprets that incorrectly the fault is in them? Particularly if one person would consider something evil and another finds spiritual enlightenment from it - has the one receiving the good had the wool pulled over their eyes, or can the spirit actually teach one person through ratifying the media and another through the condemnation of it?

What do you think?

Be Ye Therefore Perfect

2011-08-22T07:02:00.002-06:00

I was up this morning listening to the news when one particular story caught my ear. Today is the first official back to school day for most people across the state, so they had a brief news story on not overbooking your student. Fair enough. There are lots of opportunities in schools and it's a good idea for a student to balance themselves so that they have time to take care of all their responsibilities. I get that.

But then the person they were interviewing said one thing that made me a bit chagrined. She said that it is a myth that every student is exceptionally talented. "Exceptionally talented students are the exception," she said. Instead of trying to expect or encourage exceptional things, we should expose students to a wide variety of activities, she says.

Huh.

First of all - isn't exposing people to a wide variety of activities what often leads to overbooking?

Second: I hate that many parents will listen to this and use it as an excuse for not having their students commit to the tasks they agree to do. I've seen this at every school I've taught at in the last three years - parents model a kind of behavior in their students that encourages partial commitment to any task and end up using church activities as an excuse for that partial commitment.

Third: If said woman belongs to the same church that I do, then a phrase that says "Be ye therefore perfect, even as I (and your Father and Heaven - depending on the location of the quote) am perfect." I'm fairly certain that the idea of perfection could more or less be acquainted with the idea of excellence. In fact, I think they're probably pretty good friends. I seem to remember LDS Prophet Gordon B. Hinckley saying, "Mediocrity will never do, I am capable of something better." But this woman seems to be encouraging parents to expect their son or daughter to be only normal.

Well, that's a load of junk.

I'm not a parent, but I am a teacher. I agree that "exceptionally talented" students are rare, but "exceptionally capable" students are not. So often people use lack of talent as an excuse for mediocrity. But this is not good enough. The LDS church teaches that we are, through following Christ, capable of becoming like God. This life is not a time for us to accept our own mediocrity but for us to learn how "to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield" ("Ulysses", Tennyson.) So why are we encouraging this in our youth? Why are we satisfied with letting them - or ourselves - be given symbolic trophies for little or no real accomplishment? Gold stars and stickers are all well and good - but if we are to become truly great, then we need to seek for a better world - and that takes focus, hard work, and determination.

I am. . .

2011-08-16T22:43:00.002-06:00

. . . a teacher.

And I am not ashamed of this. Nor do I regret it. In fact, I think I have the greatest job in the world, because I get to work with the greatest people in the world.

When I tell people I'm a teacher I get very mixed reactions, usually leaning on the "oooh. . . well, that sucks. . . " side. I get the "you're so young to teach high school!" and the "Oh, I'm sorry - I'd never be able to teach teenagers, they're so awful," and the "Well, SOMEONE has to do it." Every time I wish I could let these naysayers see what I see.

I remember being a teenager. I got sick to death of hearing people saying that I would understand when I was in the "real" world. (What about my life wasn' t "real"?) That I was part of a selfish/entitled generation. (I had a job, turned in assignments on time, and helped make sure my house stayed clean, among other things.) That teenagers were rowdy, rebellious and underdressed. (I was none of these things.) I didn't like the stigma of irresponsibility, and nothing got up my gander more than people ignoring my opinions or patronizing me. I see the way people look at teenagers this way still.

But it isn't what I see. It never was.

I see a group of people who are full of possibilities. Who don't need to be pitied or pandered to or appeased - but a group of people who, even in their most disillusioned and jaded attitudes, don't want to be in a class that is boring. I see a group of people who want to learn and take on real-world problems. I see a group of people who are fun and smart and capable of so much more than people think. They come with limitations and baggage and inexperience, but when they come - and their time is not wasted - most of the time they will grow and excel beyond what any awful bureaucratic system would be able to measure with a scantron sheet.

Today I greeted a variety of students and parents at back to school night. Some of them I knew from past classes. Many I did not know. Several people from both groups - the known and the unknown - have come to this school because of the class that I team teach. People who are coming from as far as 30 minutes away, every day, because they believe in this class. It is humbling, a huge honor, and further proof to me that I have picked the right career. I love it. I love being a force for good. I love the reassurance I get from students and parents that what I do is valuable. It is an absolute honor to have been blessed with the chance to work with so many who believe so much of me, instead of so little (as seems to be common in schools any more.)

So, new school year? I'm ready for you. Not with all the materials I need and units prepared, perhaps - but with enthusiasm and determination to do great things.

Grasshoppers and Ants

2011-08-14T22:45:00.004-06:00

Embarrassing personal disclosure time:

My mother gave me an excellent book of essays by Louise Plummer recently called Thoughts of a Grasshopper. She thought I would enjoy it since, I, she says, am a grasshopper.

The title refers to the old Aesop tale of ants who spend all summer working (ha!) and then, when the cold winter comes, they are prepared. The grasshopper, on the other hand, spends all his time singing and dancing and playing on his violin and when the winter comes is hungry and left out in the cold by the selfish ants (Aesop), or welcomed in after a lecture by the ants (Disney.)

Given my work situation this summer, I wasn't quite sure how to take this. But I continued reading the article and found that, although I am not wholly grasshopper - I'm far too responsible and afraid of trouble for that - there were some definite comparisons. On my study abroad to England I preferred to hike alone in the back of the group - I revelled in the hours of free time I had to spend day dreaming and letting my thoughts imagine whatever they felt like. When I was a kid I took great pleasure in being the last one at home so that I could put on whatever movie I wanted and, for a little while, pretend to be Anne Shirley or Jo March or Maria Von Trapp or whatever other character I was obsessed with at the moment. I preferred books to recess and writing to socialization. In general, my favorite things involve little human interaction.

Which, perhaps, explains some of the difficulty I have in relationships, romantic or otherwise. I lose interest quickly and move on when the effort doesn't seem worth it any more. Friends move away and I lose touch almost before they leave. I am not unkind to people I don't find interesting, but I don't exactly seek out their company either. I'm not a social recluse, but I'm not a social butterfly either. I'm happiest with a small but close group of friends.

I only say this because it was after I thought about this part of myself that I realized that I do have some grasshopper in me after all. I may be a more prepared responsible grasshopper, but when it comes to relationships, I'm maybe a little too independent for my own good.

This isn't to say that I don't like people. I do. I just - perhaps unfortunately? - seem to approach relationships in the same way that I do books and movies and plays. A friend of mine put it this way, "You just don't want to be the smartest one in the room." This was almost a completely true statement for me. When I'm with my peers, my favorite mode of conversation is intellectual banter. I'm a talker. (Those of you who know me well will be shocked by this, I'm sure. . . ). If good conversation were a "love language", it would be mine, hands down. I'm not as interested by acts of service (and certainly not touch) as I am in a good long conversation. If I perceive that a person can't keep up with me or doesn't want to, then I get bored and move on, or at least don't seek out opportunities to foster a lasting friendship. If a person does enjoy that kind of conversation, that friendship will last a lifetime.

Probably not the most Christlike thing about me, in retrospect.

But is there room in this world for socially reclusive but still talkative and confident intellectual grasshopper types? And - here's a better question - where are all the rest of them? Am I just too much of a snob to find them, or are they really that hard to find? (Could we perhaps focus on the talkative and confident intelligent single male variety grasshoppers?) Then I could have a socially reclusive chatty grasshopper party and make my parents (and myself, for that matter) feel better about my social prospects. . .

Cohesion vs. Anarchy

2011-08-07T01:31:00.002-06:00

I've been getting materials put together to teach Treasure Island this next school year the last several months. It's a great book that can be enjoyed on several levels. Most people teach it as an adventure novel, but teaching it alongside the Revolutionary War, I'm focusing most of the discussion on the two political organizations presented in the book. It's had me thinking all week.

In Treasure Island the hero Jim is presented with two potential groups to follow - the English Captain and his crew or the charismatic Long John Silver and his mutineers. The English are organized, uniform, and predictable. They follow orders, get the job done, and are always aware of what their roles are. They're also boring. The pirates have absolutely no order whatsoever, and little control over their own minds thanks to large quantities of rum - but they live in an environment where people can do what they are excited about. Because they have no clear government telling them what to do, they can pursue what they're interested in. The result of Jim's adventure is unclear - you're never really sure which world he chooses, if he chooses either of them.

Thinking about this in context of a blog post I read recently on The Mormon Child Bride, I've been thinking about how, like Jim, we are faced with many opportunities to decide which "world" we are going to pick. Are we going to actively choose the comfort, security, predictability world or the world that is more lawless but full of creativity? How do you take the strengths of both groups and insert them into the world of religion, education and politics? Is it even possible to have a world that is organized to promote creativity, or is creativity by its very nature best served outside of the world of organization?

I don't believe so. I still believe quite firmly that creativity can thrive in an environment that is organized. In fact, I think an organized society is best for a creative environment because of the stability that comes from organization. Aristotle would, I think, call an organized world the business that needs to come before leisure can be truly obtained. Hugh Nibley would call it honest recognition of goods of first and second intent. There are very good examples of businesses (like Pixar or Apple or Google) who do a particularly good job of organizing creativity. But the balance is precarious.

In education, for example, it becomes quite tricky to encourage a student to discover what they are best at when the state (and now the nation) dictates how and when a student should achieve certain skills. The state also dictates which classes a student must take in each subject with only one or two periods a day available for "electives". The organization is set up to squash out creativity and individualization.

The culture of the church occasionally has the same problem. A mother who works is a sinner. A father without a traditional job is frowned upon. Come to church dressed differently and you risk being a social outcast. Decorate your house wrong or watch rated R movies or have a strange hobby and people wonder about you. I wonder sometimes if people imagine Zion as a place like the community in Lois Lowry's The Giver - everyone has the same house, the same number of children, the same allotment of food each week.

I don't know the answer to this. Robert Louis Stevenson doesn't give any answers. But I do think that we have a responsibility as people to fight against systems that squash opportunities for creativity and individuality to grow. I also think that we need to resist the temptation to become an anything goes lawless society. I think the immediate application means following the advice of church leaders in avoiding judgment of the lives of others.

Shameless Self Promotion

2011-07-30T17:50:00.006-06:00

Several of you have asked me lately about what I've been keeping myself busy with all summer. I've spent a decent amount of time this summer mourning the loss of the arts in my life and alluding to the fact that I'm busy working on other important things, but have not actually expanded on what that means. For those of you who are interested: Here's the break down.

Teaching:

I am still teaching. I will be teaching live classes next year at a new school which I am very excited about. (New school to me, not to the world.) I will be teaching Shakespeare and Literature and Film for fun, but will also be taking the seminar program as well. The seminar is a class I started teaching with a friend of mine (Greg Duffin) last year. It is a combined English/History class with emphasis on developing culture and personal responsibility for education. It's a wonderful class that is an absolute honor to teach. Our emphasis this year is on Modern US History and the theme "Who Are You?". All of our literature this year will focus on developing your individuality and then making a difference to the community. (Books like The Scarlet Pimpernel, Anthem and Warriors Don't Cry, plays like The Glass Menagerie and Pygmalion.)

Online Classes:

Greg and I also own a company called Vigilance Media. We produce the online equivalent of our live class for homeschool families. Our model is something of a mix between an exercise video, Sesame Street and Facebook: Our classes are meant to be accessible to the entire family (there are separate classes for elementary, junior high and high school - but all cover the same basic material just at different levels so that families can learn together). The upper classes (that we actually teach), are based on short lessons and communication between students - we don't want anything push button or lazy - we want students engaged with the world around them. Last year we produced a class focusing on the Ancient World (Egypt-Greece) and applying ancient values to a modern world. This year we're doing Early American History (through the Civil War) and the Hero's Journey. It involves lots of short instructional videos, discussion boards, and interaction between student and teacher. You can find out more about those classes here.

Website:

One of the last projects I've been working on this summer is a website to house information about all the things I've been working on. Vigilance Media, then, is also a website with suggestions (primarily for teenagers, but for everyone as well), on articles, movies, books and other things that people should see if they want to build a culture of refinement around themselves. This website is still a work in progress but will be updated approximately once a week with new suggestions.

So there you go. That's what's been cooking up in the bat-cave all summer. It's been a lot of work. I'm excited to see real live people again when school starts. But I am also very much excited about these projects. Hope to see you around the website - we'd love suggestions on things to showcase that have influenced you.

Review: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 7.2

2011-07-22T19:33:00.004-06:00

This is a review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 7.2. (Duh.) It contains spoilers for the film. If you haven't seen it, go.

I have long been a fan of the Harry Potter films and the books. This, for some people, seems contradictory. I've heard people fight adamantly on both sides. Most commonly, you hear people who say that they liked the movie well enough but they'll never stack up to the way they felt about the books. I suppose all of these are fair responses, but as an avid student of adaptation theory, I've liked some of the films, and loved others of them in similar and different ways to the books, and I'm ok with that.

For example, one thing I really loved about the sixth film (Half-Blood Prince) was the way the film was able to parallell the journey of Draco and the journey of Harry. The books, by necessity couldn't tell Draco's story as he fought to find a way to complete the task given to him by Voldemort. The books are narrated from Harry's perspective, and, barring a few chapters at the beginning of the last few books, if Harry isn't there, the audience can't see it. But films are different, and the sixth film allows us to see the parallel journeys of Harry and Draco. That particular telling of the story gave me a different perspective on a story I already knew.

This means that when I go into a film adapted from a book I've read, part of my brain is turned on to comparison (what is different from the book, and why did they make the change), but most of my brain is dedicated to following the story that the movie is telling. That long-winded introduction in mind, this is what I thought of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, parts one and two. I already wrote my review of the first film (albiet, hastily.) This review will be more conclusive about the impact that they have as a pair.

I realized a long time ago that the Harry Potter films were going to select which stories to tell based almost entirely on the impact that storyline had first on Harry, and then on the friendship of Harry, Ron and Hermione. You can see this in the way that (almost all) of the movies end with the three of them looking off into the distance. This meant that other storylines that were important in the books were scrapped in the films. Dumbledore's background. Many of the Voldemort memories in the sixth film. Hermione's political activism with SPEW and Rita Skeeter. Ron's Quidditch experiences.

This made, I think, for more angry fans in the earlier movies who saw some of their favorite book plots scrapped. It did, however, make it slightly easier for them to adapt Deathly Hallows. I remember thinking that Jo wrote a pretty daring final novel. While so many people would have been tempted to make the last novel an adventure tale a pure detective novel with one explosion after another, Deathly Hallows is, for the most part, a remarkably quiet book. In fact, the destruction of the horcruxes - which everyone thought would be the focus - was almost entirely an afterthought. Harry doesn't witness the destruction of one of them. One horcrux gets destroyed by accident. He is only personally responsible for the destruction of one of them. Deathly Hallows is a book first and foremost about the power of friendship and fighting for those that you love.

I was a little afraid, I think, that the films would forget this. Hollywood, being Hollywood, would be tempted to make a bigger deal out of the action than they might have needed to. We saw this in Goblet of Fire, for example, with the fight Harry has with the dragon. I was a little nervous that the intellectual focus required for the first half of the film would be sacrificed with long intense fights. I was worried that the second film would be one big long explosion.

Instead, I was relieved to find that the writers and director David Yates were daring enough to make the movie that ought to have been made. A sincere and dedicated duo of films on the power and challenges of friendship and relationships of all kinds, healthy or not.

One thing that the movie brought out that I hadn't ever quite connected after reading the books was something a friend of mine noticed that we had a really great conversation about afterward. We talked about the symbolism of each horcrux and the individual most related to each object and the lessons learned from each object. Each horcrux and it's purpose/destruction/relation to an important person in Harry's life became a pretty great symbol that I suppose I could have picked up on through the reading of the book, but the visual element of the film brought it out even more.

The diary and its connection to Ginny brings up the element of where you put your trust and who you put it in. The ring and Dumbledore remind both Dumbledore and Harry not to dwell in the past. The locket and Ron remind us again about trust, but more specifically the trust of those things you hold most dear and being more open about what you feel. The trophy is Hermione's, and Harry's, possible temptation into the world of recognition and accolades and fighting against the threat of pride. The diadem is, I think, one of the more interesting connections because it is not really finalized - it's connected with Draco and the shared position Harry and Draco have as only sons and privileged children with many opportunities. Its accidental destruction showcases the relationship between Harry and Draco that won't ever be settled or more than cordial. Neville's destroying of the snake Nagini is a nice symbol of the way he stepped up to fill Harry's place in his absence - he destroys Voldemort's right hand, so to speak. Most important, of course, is Harry's destruction of himself - his symbolic conquering of his own weaknesses and foibles to protect the ones he loves. Wonderful. It was a fantastic conversation, and I have the films to thank for it. (This friend hasn't finished reading the books. Yet.)

There were a few things changed from the books that I missed, but the substitutions in the film were good. I appreciated the moment where Harry said good bye to Ron and Hermione. I thought the presentation of Snape's memory was a masterpiece (HUGE shout out to Alan Rickman, who was brilliant.) I even thought the final battle between Harry and Voldemort was good - it was a good visual representation of the mental battle they have in the book.

Ultimately, though, the real test for me on this film was that it left me feeling almost exactly as I had when I finished the book - utterly bewildered about what to do with myself. I felt as though I had just been through war. I felt as though I, too, had accomplished something great. And now the world expected me to do something as simple as closing a book or leaving a theater and . . . what. . . sleep? Eat? It didn't seem big enough. I didn't want to say good bye. I wanted to honor a story that had meant something to me - both through written word and through a final film pair that was everything it could have been and more. I can't wait to see it again.

The "Opening" Night

2011-07-22T14:07:00.004-06:00

As has been made abundantly clear in just about every post I've written this summer: I'm not doing theater. I wish I was. I almost did. Nothing's worked out. It was part conscious decision not to put myself in that world, and part result of a myriad of shows in the area that I don't want to audition for anyway. Rotten, terrible, no good combination.

But I've come to terms with it. (Mostly.) Funnily enough it was Harry Potter 7.2 and a biography of J.K. Rowling that did it. I was reminded that what I have been doing all summer instead is something I am passionate about, that I believe in, and that takes full attention and energy. There will be shows again, but the time I've had to dedicate to this project may never come back in such a way again, and I've needed to devote myself entirely to it.

And that's ok. It's more than ok, actually. But even the best of things come with a price, and the price for me this summer involves putting off travel and stage until another time.

It's still left me a little morose, though, and yesterday could have been the most difficult of those days. It was opening night for a good portion of my friends in a show that I didn't audition for by choice but ached for anyway - if only because I missed the rush of theater for the sake of itself. I kept watching the clock.

5:00. (I should be going to the theater now to get my hair done and mic on and props set.) 5:30. (I should be finishing my hair and stretching right now. Eat a banana and a granola bar.)

6:00. (I should be running through scenes and dance steps. I should be standing on the stage, staring out at the empty seats, taking a breath, and being grateful for what's coming.)

6:30. (I should be getting makeup done.)

7:00. (Last minute check of everything. Brush teeth. Director notes.)

7:15. (Dressing room prayer, followed by listening to music and pacing the dressing room alone, personal prayer.)

7:30. (Curtain. Heart starts rushing a bit. Pacing continues and I think again about how lucky I am to be where I am again. How glad I am for the talents I've been given. The joy they bring.)

7:45. (iPod away. Grab book. Go backstage right. Wait for end of song. Take a breath - showtime.)

I had to do something. Something to honor the opening night I wasn't having. I got together with a friend, and watched scenes from a show we were in. I was a little nervous about this - I don't like watching myself on stage under the best of circumstances, but this particular show had been very important to me, and it was the only thing I could think of to do.

And you know what? I was good. I don't say this to brag - I say this out of genuine surprise. I watched this show and remembered the hard work and hundreds of hours I had spent preparing for this role, and was proud of the result. It was a relief. I actually enjoyed it. And it was healing. It reminded me that when all of this is over, my talents and gifts in the arts will still be there and can still be used for good in the world.

So today it was back to the bat-cave to continue work on this project for the last few weeks before school starts. Only today I came feeling again that rush of knowing that I am a capable, talented person. And my life, for all its frustrations right now, is still wonderful.

Dear Mr. Potter,

2011-07-14T14:22:00.005-06:00

The following is an admittedly sentimental tribute, but one that I felt needed to be written anyway.

I always hated how long it took for books to come when I ordered them from a book order. Now when I order books as a teacher, they come in less than a month. The benefit of online orders, I suppose. But when I was in school, a teacher had to wait for all orders to be turned in, mail the order, and wait for the books.

I don't think any wait was quite so long as the wait for you.

Maybe that's just because now that I know what I was really waiting for, the wait seemed extended. Maybe it was actually longer. (I did, after all, turn my book orders in as soon as I could. I'm a bit anal that way.) Either way, real or projected memory, the wait seemed interminable.

I have to be honest, though. I ordered you because of your cover. There wasn't much in the book order that time that looked interesting, but as an early teen without a job and only a small allowance, buying my own books was something of a luxury. I have another confession: I didn't read the first story first. All three were, I think, available in the book order - but it was less expensive to buy the second and third books in a set than it was to order them individually, and I couldn't afford them both. So I missed out on that story until a bit later. Luckily, it didn't make any difference.

By the time I discovered your story, I was too old to believe that Hogwarts was real. I didn't, like I had as a child that knocked on the back of wardrobes, start writing furious letters to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall demanding to know why I hadn't been admitted to your school - but for all the time I spent in your world, I may as well have been.

Because that's the thing - whether it was real or happening in my head, that world made a difference to me.

For one thing, it made me see that answering lots of questions and getting homework in on time and loving to study were not bad things. I loved school dearly and always had, but knew that I was often the butt of jokes about being a teacher's pet or being too smart for my own good, or being a nerd. But I wasn't trying to be a teacher's pet - I genuinely loved and admired those who opened my eyes. I didn't think I was too smart for my own good - I thought I had so much to learn that there wasn't time to waste not asking questions. As for being a nerd, well, that was probably true. And while you weren't really like that - Hermione was. From her I learned that a girl can be both smart and kind, passionate and vulnerable, independent and reliant. I'm still learning from her.

For another thing, I learned how to look at life for the meaning it held. When things were hard, I was able to step back and see myself as the hero of my own story to try and figure out what to do next. I remembered the wise words of advice from Professor Dumbledore when he said that our choices matter more than our abilities, and that who we are born doesn't matter as much as who we grow to be. As a person often insecure in her own strengths and even more afraid of her own weaknesses, I gained perspective that allowed me to not be so hard on myself. To allow myself room to improve.

But, to be fair, I learned these lessons from other stories as well. I did learn them, perhaps, more potently from you, but I did find them in other places. There is, though, one lesson that I think can be directly linked to the years I spent waiting for your stories to come, and it was probably the most important lesson of all. Your books linked me to my family and to my friends. They gave me memories. See, I can be a pretty solitary person. I like people, but I don't often get attached to them. When life changes and people move on, I let them. I don't hold on to something that doesn't exist any more, or that I've grown out of. This is, perhaps, a virtue and a vice. But your books are connected to some of my most precious and treasured memories. For example:

-The first time I went to a midnight showing of your movie with a group of friends who, after a rocky few years of being very lonely, liked me for who I was.

-Waiting for your stories to come and spending hours discussing what we thought might happen to you or what things might be important with another group of friends. We eventually branched out into doing this not just about you, but about everything. It taught me how to think.

-Waiting up all night for the release of the fifth story, reading in the living room of my friend, and getting up early the next morning for a matinee performance of a play I was in. She got to read backstage and I didn't - I was horribly jealous.

-Perhaps most treasured of all - going to get the last book with my younger brother. It was one of the first times we really, honestly spent time together as adults, and I wouldn't have wanted to share that night with anyone else but him. Later that day our entire house was silent - everyone was reading. We had four different copies of the book at once, so that everyone could read. In a technology happy house like mine - that silence was one of a kind, and really special.

Your books didn't make a reader out of me - I'd loved to read since before I really knew how. But your books did make a scholar, a friend, an adventurer, and a more determined person out of me. I may not have attended your school or been there in reality - but I felt like I was - which means your story changed me.

Tonight I'll gather with friends and dress up and eat pumpkin pasties and drink butterbeer and, for the last time, trek to the theater to watch a midnight showing of a movie about you. It's hard to believe it's nearly over. I'm going to miss it terribly. Our journey started more than ten years ago. And I think it's left us both better off. Now all that's left, I suppose, is for both of us to take the lessons learned and do something about them. Make the world better.

So thank you, Mr. Potter - and you, Jo - for the honor and pleasure of your company. It's been an incredible ride. Thank you for including me on a journey that included millions, but felt so very personal.

-Me

Or there's always damnation. . .

2011-07-12T15:29:00.002-06:00

I would not necessarily consider myself a feminist. Not in the traditional/stereotypical sense, at least. I don't think that women need to take on all male jobs to be worthwhile, I don't think all men are chauvinists, I'd love to have a family some day and a little girly part of my soul likes it when couples get together in books and movies. I also, erm, would rather wear all my clothing (seen or unseen) than not.

But every so often, there's a part of my soul that rears its feminist head that cannot be stopped.

A good friend of mine posted something on Facebook as a status that looked something like this:

"I want to become something or do something great. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm looking!"

There followed a handful of responses that all looked something like this (including spelling errors):

"Ur the mother of a great baby! You can't do better than that!"

"But your a mother and a wife and a really great friend. Your already great."

(That low rumbling that sounds like thunder? That would be my feminist monster head waking up from a nap before its had enough sleep.)

Now, you might look at me and say, "Hold the phone. Those are nice responses. It is after all, good to be a wife and a mother. What's wrong with being great already?"

My response?

This friend of mine is already certifiably great. I won't argue that even a little. She's been gifted in many different areas of her life and I've always admired her for her grace, generosity, and charity. She's legitimately great already. These responders aren't wrong.

Those responses may have been meant to comfort my friend into acceptance of her life as it is, but it didn't look to me like she was looking for comfort. It looked to me like she was looking for progress. Like she was looking for something beyond what she already had. Wanting to find a way to influence more of the world for good. Being a mother and a wife are wonderful, but the process of buying a ring and producing children and earning the titles "wife" and "mother" do not give women a "get out of progression free" pass. These responses may have been intended for comfort, but the culture around such attitudes reeks strongly of: "Don't worry about getting better, God loves you just as you are right now and you don't need to work or try to be like Him." (Which, last I checked my Bible Dictionary, shimmies rather close to the definition of "damnation." Lack of progression? Check.)

What is it about our culture that wants to treat the act of getting married and becoming a mother as the peak of achievement a woman can make? That once those things are done, we cannot possibly do anything else with our lives that would influence the world for good? Why do we, as women and as a culture, feel the need to patronize ourselves into boxes so that we can justify who we are?

Next you might say, "Well, this is all fine and great. But 'no success can compensate for failure in the home.' Right?"

I'm not arguing. What I would like to suggest, though, is that our definitions of "failure" and "home" might be a little different. It is, I suppose, a certain kind of success for a family to be well fed and decently fond of each other at the end of the day. But the real triumph of a family is when they are then able to, as individuals and groups, go into the world and make a difference. If they were fond of each other at home forever and never went into the world, that wouldn't be a very successful situation. That seems obvious. But shouldn't that apply to every member of the family, not just the children and the father? For the mother/wife to be fully successful in the home, doesn't she need to be the greatest person she can be outside of it as well?

(The petty part of me would also like to suggest that the above quote was not directed only to women, but to men as well, and I don't remember anyone telling men recently not to enhance their talents and abilities. In fact, I remember a specific instance where they were commanded to expect more and do more. But I digress.)

I think that monster is starting to feel slightly better about the world. Maybe it's just a touchy subject for me and I'm overreacting a bit. I am, after all, a successful, happy single adult woman in a culture that sometimes sees those traits as incongruent. But I took no shame whatsoever in posting my own response to my friend in which I said something to the effect of: "______ - I think it's wonderful that you want to learn new things and be great. Go for it!"

Patriotism

2011-07-04T12:26:00.004-06:00

(Photo courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons)

It was a Sunday afternoon in mid June, 2007. I had been traveling through England for the last two months, living a dream. Two months of hiking and sheep and cadbury and trips to the West End had stopped a few days before and I was missing my friends terribly, wishing to be back in London instead of in France, which was crowded and not nearly as pretty as I wanted it to be. All the same, I wasn't ready to go home. A few more days and I would be back in America, biding my time until school started again in the fall, working at a temp job at my dad's company doing data base entry. After a summer spent hiking approximately 25 miles a week, sitting at a desk and staring at a computer screen doing mindless work sounded like torture. I was not looking forward to going home.

The weather mirrored my mood. It was sticky and raining like mad, limiting my ability to explore the beach. I stayed instead next to the seemingly unlimited rows of grave markers honoring those who had died on June 6th, 1944, ready to cover my head with my jacket and run for cover if (and when) the rain started up again.

Sure enough, I had only enough time to take some pictures before the downpour started again. The closest escape from the rain was a monument honoring American soldiers. I dashed toward it and stood underneath part of the monument where a map was displayed, depicting the battle. There were about twenty people there total - all American and (mercifully) speaking English. It was a strange kind of relief to have the luxury of eavesdropping again.

I looked at the map and back out at the rows of gravestones and wished that I felt something. I understood logically the reverence of a place like Normandy, but my England loving heart had never really understood the diehard patriotism of being an American. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy my country and I was certainly grateful for the freedoms I enjoyed, but I longed for the history and museums and culture of Europe, something very much lacking from my midwestern upbringing.

The clock chimed. When it had finished, the speakers around the monument started playing "The Star Spangled Banner". Almost in unison, every person standing around the monument, escaping the now drizzle of rain, turned and placed their hand over their heart to listen. All conversation stopped. I looked around at the group and then up at the monument, out at the graves, and back to the group, suddenly very honored and proud to belong to the country that I did. It was the first time that I ever remember feeling truly, honestly patriotic.

I don't think that my country is any more perfect than others around the world; and we do suffer from a severe lack of decent chocolate (though with Magnum Bars on sale now, maybe times are changing) - but I do honor and respect the freedoms that we have been given here. There is something truly wonderful about belonging to a country that was built with that purpose in mind. Though a large chunk of my heart will always belong in England, I can still say that I am proud to belong to this country.

Happy Fourth.

O, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand, Between their loved home and the war's desolation! Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation! Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto: "In God is our trust" And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Mule Child

2011-07-01T18:08:00.004-06:00

I'm good friends with a three year old who has been waiting for approximately his entire life to see Cars 2. He owns everything related to Lightning McQueen and knows the name of every car and occasionally says "I eat losers for breakfast!" It's pretty great.

But, to be honest, that's about as far as my Cars enthusiasm ever went. I love me some Pixar, but the story of learning to find peace in slowing down and reminiscing didn't ever really hit home for me the way it did other people. My favorite bits of nostalgia hit about ten years prior to the "Radiator Springs" era and generally reside on the other side of the world. (Re: 40s. London.)

When I heard that Pixar was doing a sequel to Cars I was a little disappointed, but prepared to jump on the bandwagon because ultimately what made the first Cars watchable (if not re-watchable) for me was the strength of the story. I didn't relate to it personally, but I could at least respect the way the story was told. It had heart, a good center, and interesting characters and tractor tipping. I could buy it. So I bought my ticket to see Cars 2 expecting not to fall in love, but at least to be entertained. It is, after all, a Pixar film.

To be perfectly blunt, it's a mercy the funny short "Hawaiian Vacation" came before the film because people should see that, but I sort of wish that it had come at the end of the film instead so that I could have left on a note of relief instead of a note of: "Pixar - you are worth so much more than this!"

Instead the film was a bit of a mess. It couldn't decide what it wanted to be - an action spy farce, a story about friendship, a mystery, a quirky comedy, a story about travel. . . there were so many possibilities rolling around. Individually, they all could have worked. Instead the story lacked focus and direction. It meandered all over the place and got nowhere.

I think the biggest problem with Cars 2 ultimately was the need for a reminder about the lesson I try to teach my writing students each year: character development. When you're writing a personal essay or a short story, it is extremely hard to pull off a story where your main character is static. I'd say very close to impossible, but I've read a handful of stories where it has worked. But those stories are extremely rare and hardly ever for children. The center of Cars 2 wasn't Lightning McQueen, it was Mater. The problem with this isn't that Mater isn't a nice sort of character (though I do find him utterly obnoxious in large doses), it's that Mater is alright with who he is. He is the definition of blissful ignorance. It's what makes him the perfect sidekick.

But this film attempted to force a storyline on Mater that would make him not alright with who he is. Through a series of mistakes that he makes, (and the helpful reminder of a montage of those same scenes, just in case you missed it) Mater gets a brief and small awareness that he's not "normal". But there's no real attempt on his part to try and grow out of that. He doesn't try, for example, to mimic the accents of the British cars. Or adopt their vocabulary. He notices his difference and is a little sad by it, but doesn't really do anything about it. In the end he realizes that who he is is just fine, but it's a small won prize and a bit of a letdown in the end. He's too static a hero to be a hero.

The real story - Lightning McQueen learning to be alright with who Mater is - would have been awesome. Accepting friends as they are and not as you would like them to be is a fantastic lesson. Unfortunately, it was cut short. Shame.

(And is it maybe a bit sad that during the London section of the race, all I could think was: "that's not how you get there!"?)

In brighter news, the film for next year, Brave, looks awesome. I still love you, Pixar. Let's just put the mule child film back where it belongs and forget this ever happened and go back to what you do best: tell a real story with characters people care about.

Literary Elitists: Updated

2011-06-30T11:55:00.008-06:00

Recently I had a friend ask me to write an article about "reading and writing". This hugely vague and broad topic in mind, I scoured past blog posts for something I might be able to revise into something worth reading. I came across a post I wrote in April of 2009 and sent it off, thinking that if the bare bones of what I wrote two years ago was worth reading then I'd take the time to update it.

Apparently it was really well worth my time as about a day and a half later I had an email from Orson Scott Card in my inbox asking if he could reference my post in a few places. Being the slightly obsessive person I am, I said yes - and then desperately wished that my revised version was available, because it's better, not written out of frustration, and includes two more years' experience.

So I am including that version here. You will also be able to find this version on author Kristen Randle's Website.

A few years ago as an undergrad I took a literature class that very nearly sucked all the life out of me. The class included a plethora of post-modern literature. It meant a semester with authors like Cormac McCarthy and Toni Morrison - authors that other people (re: not me) found genius because of their innovative writing techniques and mystical storytelling. It also included spending a huge amount of time with a professor who, while certainly very qualified in her field, drove me absolutely batty with her elitist views on literature. The books that I was even tempted to enjoy were so destroyed by class discussion that I started a countdown to the end of class.

Now, for you to appreciate any of this, you must understand that my favorite thing in the entire world to do is to talk about what I’m reading. As a student I was an overactive participant in every class discussion (including this professor’s.) As a teacher in my own class, my primary method of inspiring life-long reading in my students revolves around discussion. I still believe that talking about books is a fun and productive way for people to enter into the world conversation. For a teacher to out-discuss a book to me takes a huge amount of work. Somehow, by her focusing more on commentaries on the book rather than the book itself, I managed to leave her class every day with the mad desire to never touch another book again.

But then, at the end of the semester, we were assigned the book Mr. Pip by Lloyd Jones. It was one of those “kindred spirit” reads that so resonated with me that I simply could not bring myself to write what I had been writing all term to please my professor. Before, I had played the game and written exactly what I knew she would like. It was the kind of high brow writing I could do well, but didn’t enjoy. This time, this one last time, I wanted to write for myself just as I had read for myself. So I presented a plan to my professor. I reminded her that I had done spectacularly on all her other assignments and suggested that perhaps I could try a different style this time? Specifically a personal essay instead? My professor nodded, said that would be a fine idea, and I tripped off home to write.

I wrote about how the story of Mr. Pip had resonated so closely with my dearest reading experiences. Those times when you read a book that takes you away to the point where, upon returning “home”, you feel as though you’ve left it and aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. I wrote particularly of my time with Anne of Green Gables, the dearest and most personal of my reading experiences. I wrote about how, like the main character in Pip who had grown obsessed with Great Expectations, I felt closer to Anne than nearly any “real” person. The resulting essay was a fairly sentimental tribute, perhaps, but I meant it. Throughout my college experience I had enjoyed analyzing the symbolic and historical significance of great works of fiction very much, but this time I wanted to honor it.

Knowing that my professor was often rather forgetful and was likely to need some reminding that she had, in fact, approved my experiment, I included a cover page to my essay. I thanked her for assigning the book and let her know how much I enjoyed it. Then, feeling more than a little cheeky and daring and fed-up after a long semester, I included the following quote:

The elitists are such boneheads they think literature exists to be admired. Wrong. Literature exists to create memories so true and important that we allow them to become part of ourselves, shaping our future actions because we remember that once someone we admired did this, and someone we hated and feared did that.

Literature matters only to the degree that it shapes and changes human behavior by making the audience wish to be better because they read it.

It becomes importantly bad only to the degree that it entices the audience to revel in actions and memories that debase the culture that embraces it.

Next to that, questions of how one literary work influences other literary works, or how the manner of writing measures up to the tastes of some elite group are so trivial that you marvel that someone who went to college could ever think they mattered more.

(Orson Scott Card, July 29, 2007, “Uncle Orson Reviews Everything”)

This was, admittedly, a very foolish and risky thing to do. My professor, after all, was a bonehead literary elitist. But given the subject matter of Mr. Pip I figured that, in spite of the jab, she had to be fair enough to see that the quote was actually supporting the lesson taught by the book she’d assigned me to read. If she had a soul at all - she had to see reason, right?

Wrong.

On the last day of class when my portfolio was returned, I pulled out my essay to see that it didn’t appear to even have been touched. There was no crease by the staple, at least. Only the cover page had any response to it. Next to the quote by Orson Scott Card was written, “Not true. This is a very silly remark. See if you can figure out why?”

I left class that day absolutely fuming. Even now, two years later and well out of this woman’s grasp, I still get frustrated thinking about it. I hated her for being such an elitist that she’d forgotten why people should read to begin with.

If you ask people why they read, I would imagine that very few people would tell you that they enjoy reading because they enjoy high faluting literary commentaries. That may be part of the reason. This essay, after all, is a commentary on literature. I don’t think literary analysis is bad at all - I think it’s what helps to keep a book alive and relevant. But if you talk to most readers about their favorite books, the analysis will only matter to them if they have connected to the book individually as well. If that book, as Card says, “shapes and changes human behavior by making the audience wish to be better because they read it.”

I’ve realized this even more now that I’m on the other side as a teacher myself. For the past two years I have been the one to present students with books they will be forced to read and then graded on. I’ve fought to make sure that I find books and plays that I love and have tried to pass that on to my students. Because I teach a combined English and History class, I also try to find books that will make particular connections that can link to their immediate reality. Studying To Kill a Mockingbird and Asian philosophy together, for example, provides a nice discussion on how to live your life in a way that is at peace with difficult decisions. It is rewarding to have class discussions where students do what the state educational system wants them to do - demonstrate understanding of important themes and symbols in literature. But the greatest compliment I receive as a teacher is something that could never be measured - it’s when I hear a student say they love a book I’ve assigned them to read. To hear a class refer to Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird), Reuven Malter (The Chosen), Jonas (The Giver) or Napoleon (Animal Farm) as examples of people they do or don’t want to be like. And these are all people (and a pig) who never technically walked the earth.

I remember being in second grade and coming to class every day with a pile of books as tall as I could carry. I would read one chapter from the book on the top of the pile and then put that book on the bottom and take the next one down and so on to maximize the number of books I could read at a time. I remember falling asleep with my mother’s copy of Anne of Green Gables when I was young, flipping through the pages long before I could read the words on them, aching to be old enough to read it. I remember getting my drivers license and going to the library for my first drive alone. I remember staying up until way past my bedtime reading books by flashlight. I remember the first time I read Jane Eyre. I remember finishing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and immediately starting the book again because I wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet. The first piece of furniture I ever bought for myself was - what else? - a bookshelf. I remember packing my emergency kit when I was young and agonizing over which book I loved most to save if I had no time to save them all.

That is why we read, isn’t it? Because we want to fall in love. Because stories matter. They take us away, they bring us back, they touch our souls and enlighten our minds. At their best, stories inspire us to be better than we could have been on our own steam.

I look across my bedroom and see Mr. Pip on one of my bookshelves now, situated in alphabetical order between The Turn of the Screw and Ella Enchanted, two completely different works of fiction. One I read to work out my brain and for the pleasure of words perfectly formed, one I read for the pleasure of a simple story well told. I wonder where Mr. Pip sits on the shelves of the office of this old professor of mine. I wonder - hope, really - that she has a book that she reads every year just because she wouldn’t feel complete if she didn’t. I hope, too, that she read a book this year not as a teacher preparing for students but as a human being that needs to be connected to other human beings - even if they are fictional.

The Paradox of Self Reliance

2011-06-27T12:30:00.002-06:00

I taught a lesson in church last week on the principles of self reliance. It was a lesson I spent the better part of the week preparing for because I was slightly afraid that I'd get on too big a soap box and offend everyone in the room. See, self reliance is one of my pet topics. And my ward, being where it is, consists primarily of people still living with their mommies. In fact, I think I'm one of the great minority in that I am 100% financially independent from my parents, a college grad, and have a career instead of a "job". I was afraid that, being me, I'd go off on a tangent that would throw off the spiritual groove. So I prepped extra.

And I found some things about self reliance this week that I hadn't quite put into words before that I think are pretty glorious. Let me share:

One of the biggest reasons people say self reliance is important in lessons like that one is that when you are self reliant you have more time to develop spiritually because you are not so worried about temporal things. There is some definite validity to this. When you're hungry on a regular basis or stressed about finding a job, or not sure where you're going to sleep for the night, there's not much time (I'm assuming - I've never been in a position like that before), for studying gospel principles. Or at least not much time. And that's fine. President McKay and President Grant have both spoken on that idea more than once. It's why the LDS church has a welfare program structured the way that it is.

But this idea doesn't quite account for the great Christlike demonstrations of charity you hear about from those who live in third world countries or in poverty. Study of the gospel by sitting down with the bible in your hands is not the only way to learn to follow Christ, after all. What I found so interesting as I studied the reasons why self reliance is so important is because of its relationship to agency.

When a fully capable individual decides not to take care of himself or herself temporally or spiritually, they are handing their agency over to someone or something else. They are choosing not to choose - which is a passive slap in the face to the principles of agency that Latter Day Saints believe were bought with a huge price. When a person chooses to act for themselves, however, they grow in more than one way. They grow in confidence and ability, but they also gain more appreciation for how much they really do rely on the Lord in all things. The more self reliant you are, the more you realize how reliant you are - and the less self reliant you are the more you attach yourself to sources that will crush your freedom rather than preserve it.

The Problem with Ariel

2011-06-25T16:38:00.005-06:00

My grandparents have a rock outside their house that is slightly slanted. When I was about two feet tall it seemed enormous and exactly perfect for playing Ariel on. You know the part. The end of the "Part of Your World" reprise with the water splashing up at just the right time for dramatic emphasis. I'd crawl up there and pretend that I was by the ocean and not the road and getting sprayed in the face with water and not occasional gas fumes.

As I grew older and the rock grew smaller, my love of Ariel waned a bit. She seemed selfish instead of admirable (and it was easy to get distracted by her gravity defying 80s hair.) Her catch phrase of "I WANT MORE!" made me want to smack her upside the head. "You have gadgets and gizmos and whosits and whatsits and thingamabobs and you want more?!" What kind of role model is that for a girl?

But I've started to re-examine Ariel recently. You can certainly look at her story as being somewhat selfish and obnoxiously teenaged where a father doesn't stand up to his daughter and instead indulges her whims, but this year I've gained new appreciation for what happens when parents actually hold their children back from progressing and achieving and becoming the best version of themselves that they can.

For instance, I've worked with students who have been pulled out of normal classes because their parents are afraid they are spending too much time out of home. I've had students pulled out of classes because they are too stressed. I've had students who are very talented in certain areas express frustration when their parents don't understand the talent they possess, and, as a result, criticize their hard work.

Now, I'm not a parent. I'm very well aware of this. I also recognize that I am not an insider to either families of my students and am not the best qualified to make decisions for them. So I'm going to go back to Ariel. If you look at Ariel another way, she's not wanting more for the sake of wanting more - what she wants is experience. She wants the chance to try something new. Her father's insistence on keeping her where she is and holding her back in her case only magnifies the problem and forces her into the rebellion he was hoping to prevent. She goes to drastic measures (re: selling her voice to Ursula) to get what she wants and nearly ruins herself as a result. Fortunately, it turns out well for her in the end, but the real application of this story is that parents who shelter their children run the risk of creating exactly what they try to avoid: rebellion.

One thing Ken Robinson discusses in his book Out of Our Minds is that one of the quickest ways to stifle creativity and progress out of people is to force them or encourage them to avoid something they are passionate about. He argues that if a person is interested in something, they are much more likely to do a better job with what they are given, even if it is hard. This is all fine and great on electronic or physical paper. Yay for people pursuing their dreams! But what if said person's dream is to become the world's greatest mass murderer? What do you do then? Obviously that's a bit of an extreme example - so what about something smaller and less destructive: what if this person's dream is to travel the world as a nomad selling homemade trinkets to pay the way and to get to know the cultures of the world by experience instead of by book? What is a parent to do then?

Well. . . I'm not a parent. I don't know. But I do know that God values agency so much that He was willing to let us fail and take chances and make fools of ourselves. I also remember a conversation I had with my mother once about a family friend whose child had struggled for many years but had recently pulled her life back together. Our family friend had a conversation once when her daughter was young where a well meaning person had told her that she would struggle with her daughter because she was so stubborn. Our very wise family friend responded correctly that she couldn't control her daughter's agency and wouldn't try. What she would do is teach correct principles and know that, because the principles are true, they would win out in the end. And she was right.

Moral of the story?: We should have a little more faith in our children and in our faith. Also, Ariel was on to something.

Today. . .

2011-06-24T12:06:00.008-06:00

I want to be here:

Or here:

Or here. . .

(Last two photos from Wikimedia Commons)

Or with this beautiful girl. . .

(Who turns twelve today, by the way.)

But instead I am here. . .

(The "Bat Cave")

Up to my ears in . . .

So that I can do this. . .

(Last three photos from Wikimedia Commons)

In the fall.

It's a really good thing I love my job.

"Mindless" Entertainment

2011-06-17T09:49:00.005-06:00

Being the theater lover that I am, I look forward to the Tonys every year. I love the opportunity to watch snippets of shows that I rarely get to see and enjoy the chance to scope out new musicals and audition songs.

This year, though, I didn't tune in. Partly because there weren't any shows that I was in any way interested in, and partly because - liberal in the arts as I can be - I didn't really have much of a desire to watch The Book of Mormon musical writers crow over what they've done. It felt like a little much. I have a hard time stomaching theater of any kind that, as was put so well by John Mark Reynolds of the Post, debases or mocks an already debased or mocked group. Artistically it's just a cheap laugh; religiously it makes me sick.

The reaction to this musical has interested me on both sides. Predictably, people outside of my faith call the musical funny or use this as an opportunity to bring up more reasons why my church is hard to understand. Inside the faith there are generally two responses: scripture quoting about the last days and a symbolic "turn up the nose", or excuse the musical as "mindless" entertainment and move on with life.

For many people, either response is good enough. The leaders of the church have asked us not to engage in debates but to kindly abstain from patronizing the musical and to move on with life. Recently, in fact, the church has launched a kind of advertising blitz on the city of New York with their "I'm a Mormon" campaign - commercials designed to introduce you to the everyday Mormon involved in many different things. It's a nice, user friendly way of getting rid of some stereotypes.

When I start getting a bit frustrated, though, is when those who patronize the arts or produce it (or claim to) in our church do nothing but bash the corruption in Broadway/Hollywood/Literature or turn away from it but do nothing to fill the void. It's all fine and great to say that Hollywood is a mess of political, sexual, provocative trash, but the fact of the matter is: they have better writers and better producers than we do, so we can't complain. Same with Broadway. Same with literature. Until members of the church can fill the void with something worth seeing/reading/listening to, we can't sit back and whine about the trash and expect it to suddenly go away. From where I stand, right now we are mostly combating one form of "mindless" entertainment with another form of "mindless" entertainment.

Think about it: what do members of the church really have that speaks to those outside of the group? More specifically, out of the Utah Valley group. Single's Ward is, perhaps, the best known LDS comedy and likely isn't nearly as entertaining to those outside of the culture of a Utah Valley Single's Ward. The best known drama may be The Other Side of Heaven, which wasn't even produced/primarily acted in by members of the church - it was Disney. And if Saturday's Warrior is the best musical we have to offer . . . well. . . Even the music of the church - while the Tabernacle Choir is certainly a notable exception to this rule, LDS pop music is generally quite sentimental. (I should add that I would definitely also make Orson Scott Card an exceptions to this rule - Ender's Game, for example, is both broad in audience and smart, unlike Stephanie Meyer who manages one for two - and not the better one of the two.)

Maybe I'm just a snob. But where are the LDS artists capable of writing something as powerful as The King's Speech? Or writing books as powerful as To Kill a Mockingbird? Or music as moving as The Rite of Spring? We complain about the bad culture of the world - but the most beautiful, revered, and touching forms of art that reach people are ALSO produced outside of the church. Does it have to be this way?

My point is this: there is no such thing as "mindless entertainment". Whether we are watching and interacting with the arts actively or not, they are changing the make up of who we are by influencing the culture to which we relate. If we as members of the church intend to help promote goodness in the arts, we have some re-examination to do. We must build and refine our culture beyond the trite, vinyl lettered world we love. We need to look into expanding and refining our own culture so that we are capable of influencing others better. (I have many ideas on this, most of which probably should not be written about until I've got them organized. For now, though, read Douglas Callister's "Your Refined Heavenly Home", a speech given at BYU in 2006. It's completely genius.)

I'll end with two thoughts. The first is this: I wish that members of the church could find a way to write about our faith the way Chaim Potok writes about Judaism. His books are deeply religious while still being very universal.

My second is this: it is not enough for us to stand by and watch the arts of the world be corrupted. Music, dance, theater and literature are and always have been powerful tools in touching the lives of people. If we are to make a difference instead of just making a fuss, we need to remember the words of Handel who stated after the first performance of the Messiah, "My lord, I should be sorry if I only entertained them; I wish to make them better." Them, in this case, I believe - can apply to the individual, and to the art form itself.

Wait. . . I thought you were a cooking show . . .

2011-06-08T00:20:00.004-06:00

I listen to the news when I get ready in the morning. I like having at least a general idea of what's going on in the world and like to get different views on the world that sometimes the Deseret News doesn't quite provide in the middle of its Osmond obsessed super right-wing conservatism. This means a daily dose of the Today Show, which is wonderful for the most part - or, at the very least, something to listen to.

During the school year I never hear more than the first half hour before I'm off to work, but now that I'm working more in the afternoon than the morning I occasionally hear some of the more petty or strange lifestyle reports. Today, for example, boasted a vest with a lining like a fishing vest in which your father could store his iPad, a thing of Tic Tacs (people still eat those?) and other assorted oddities.

It wasn't until after the news that things got particularly disturbing.

I've never watched Rachel Ray before and I've never really had much of a desire to. I know she is primarily meant to be a cooking show, but I've never seen her actually cooking on her show - every time I flip past it she's got some kind of talk show going, which is odd, but what do I know? I don't watch talk/cooking shows.

Until this morning when I was in the middle of doing my hair and didn't take the time to change the channel. Her show featured a section today on sexual compatibility. From what I heard, the show had taken two people who had been dating for two months but had not yet had sex and gave them a sexual compatibility quiz to determine whether or not they were sexually compatible. Fortunately (?) the maker/distributor of this quiz determined that they were and, yay for standardized testing, they were encouraged to continue their relationship.

Now, to the credit of the young woman in this couple, she said more than once that she did not intend to sleep with her boyfriend until they were 100% sure they were "ready". They also said they were glad they took the quiz because it helped them see how much they really did need to talk with each other about sex first, which is also good. But Rachel and her fellow commentator (I believe the person who gave the quiz?) seemed to think that the waiting thing was a bit insane, suggesting that the most important aspect of a relationship is sexual compatibility and promoting the idea that all this can be determined by a quiz.

I am fully supportive of the idea of couples talking openly about their physical relationship, particularly when their relationship is more serious. A physical relationship is an important part of a full relationship and, lest either party wonder about whether or not the other person is happy, important to be open about.

What I do take umbrage with is the idea that a couple should base the future of their entire relationship off of sexual compatibility, whether it's determined by a quiz or not. This, I think, is a symptom of what Ken Robinson (and holistic medicine) calls in his book Out of Our Minds the "septic focus". A "septic focus" is when a problem is examined in isolation from its context. My suspicion is that many couples who are frustrated (sexually or otherwise) in a relationship are happy to find a scape-goat for the real problems at hand. My other suspicion is that couples who complain of not being "sexually compatible" with one another are almost always thinking of themselves before their partners - not just physically, but in other ways as well.

Now, this is not to say that I'm coming at this problem with a world of personal experience (obviously.) This is also not to say that physical attraction isn't important (because it totally is.) What it is trying to say is that standardized tests are crap at predicting job aptitude or emotional aptitude or sexual compatibility, and that there are no shortcuts to any place worth going, and that people really should just TALK MORE.

Changing Education Paradigms

2011-06-05T17:17:00.004-06:00

Over the summer, as mentioned before, I am mad at work taking over the world. Part of this plan involves working on how to better encourage students to get out of the box. The world is changing at a rate that it never has before - the last ten years have been particularly fast paced, and many of the systems that worked for many years are now either irrelevant or on their way there. Education in particular is caught in this trap.

The modern system of education is primarily designed on the factory model created at the turn of the 20th Century. With so many children in cities like New York in need of education, it was a practical choice for the time. Now, though, the system of factory-like education becomes a crippling force for creativity because everything is taught to standardized tests and imposed state (soon to be national) standards of what it means to be "educated". The system does not encourage students to think outside the box and there is rarely a mechanism for them to do so, and teachers who think outside the box have little motivation or reward. (And don't even get me started on the teachers union.)

This in mind, I've recently picked up the book Out of Our Minds by Ken Robinson. I'm sure there will be many essays in the making as I read more of the book, but for now, feast your eyes on this RSA Animate called "Changing Education Paradigms" that gives you a small piece of the informational pie Robinson has to offer. I find his points very interesting and thought provoking.

NOTE: The first clip has lots of cool animation and is nice and short but mostly discusses the problems without posing solutions. You can find the solutions he suggests in the book, or by watching the full version of the original speech.

. . . you want me to do what?

2011-06-03T15:55:00.004-06:00

I realized in the last few years that of all the many gifts and talents I have, dating is not one of them. I don't enjoy it. I never did. I find it embarrassing and inconvenient and frustrating to spend so much time with people I'm not interested in.

(Yes, I know. This is the part where you want to tell me that you just have to put time into it and work a little harder and some people aren't interesting right off the bat and to be patient and that life isn't always convenient and I will smile and nod and say, "Yes, I know. I'm imperfect. I just said about five sentences ago that I'm not good at this. If I were, this post would likely be irrelevant.")

But let's be serious for a moment here - I want the chance to be fair to myself. Because being a single adult outside of college is not nearly so easy as it is in college, and it's not a piece of cake for everyone in school either. Suddenly I don't just have a job, I have a career. I have responsibilities. And I have to have them - I can't sit around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my life to start. My life has started, it just doesn't include any significant other in it. And you know what? I like my life. I love it, actually. I don't regret for a second the way things have turned out for me.

Not that this means I've given up on the idea of meeting some man to sweep me off my feet. I'm not in the least opposed to marriage. I just recognize - unlike some people around me - that if dating was complicated before, it's much more complicated for me now. As a student dating a student, neither person is tied down to a particular path. As a non student, my life is bound by commitments and obligations. Suddenly there are things in my life that make some aspects of dating not just inconvenient but prohibitive and a bit of a waste of time.

Ok, you say. So what? Why are you telling me this?

I'm telling you this because tomorrow I will have the "pleasure" of driving an hour to meet someone I'm being set up with. This individual will also drive close to an hour from the other direction. And were it not for the extreme love and respect I have for the person who has set me up on this experience, I would laugh and say "NO WAY" and have a perfectly good blind date free Saturday.

I suppose this is the place where I should be gracious and kind and stop whining (which I should) and acknowledge the fact that even if this date were across the street I would probably not want to go (which I wouldn't) and that I should have a better attitude about all this (which is definitely true.) I suppose this is also the place where I should acknowledge, again, that this is something I should put more optimistic effort in and not be so picky and to stop hoping that life will convenience itself in my direction.

But then, this is also the place where I should be fair to myself and look back to last year when I was trying desperately to get OUT of Utah for the sake of being in a better single's scene, and remember that not only did the Lord direct me NOT to do that, but also directed me to move to a decently small area away from most people my age and in my situation in life; at which point I told the Lord that if any of this was ever going to work out I was going to need a little bit of help, because it just does. not. make. sense.

But that may have to wait until tomorrow when I've cooled down after spending $10 on gas and two or three hours of my life on something frustrating and put it all behind me.

Purging vs. Purification

2011-05-29T18:25:00.005-06:00

One of the things about Utah Valley that I struggle with more than almost anything else is how easy it is for people to be sheltered. This became all too clear to me (again) this last weekend while driving students home from the symphony. Several students in the back of the car started talking about how before taking my class they didn't know that there was such a thing as other religions.

A friend of mine told me about a conversation he had with students who believed quite literally that there are people in the world who are not good enough to be with them. (Seriously).

I grew up in an environment that was much more openly diverse. We had to learn quickly that if we were going to have friends, we would need to see beyond the difference and to the parts of that person that made them good.

I was reminded again of this lesson today in Sunday School when studying the story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was the Chief Publican - a supervising tax collector, if you will, who was very likely excommunicated from the church by the rest of the Jews because of his profession. In the story, Zacchaeus, who must have been rather short, hears that Jesus is coming and climbs a tree to catch sight of him. Jesus sees him, tells him to come down, and says that he would like to stay in Zacchaeus' house while he is in the city. The Jews that are with the Savior are confused by this - why would Jesus want to stay in the home of a sinner? Well, for one simple reason: Jesus is a purifier, not a purger.

Zacchaeus, though a Publican, is not wicked. In verse eight Zacchaeus tells Jesus that he gives away half of his belongings to the poor and if he makes any mistakes in his tax collection he returns the money plus four times extra for the inconvenience. He is a man with a strange choice of career in the community, perhaps, but Jesus isn't interested in what he has done wrong, he is interested in what he can become.

The teacher pointed out that there is a difference between purging and purifying. Although both words come from similar roots and are often used synonymously, there is a big difference. To purge something is to focus on getting rid of the bad. For example, when you have the flu, the entirety of your body seems to focus more on getting rid of what is bad than on supporting that which is good. When you purify something, your focus is on seeking out the good so that you can enhance it. The best example probably comes in refining gold, which is heated to a very high temperature. The layers of dross are pulled away until the metal is free of impurities. The focus is on the result, not the cause.

Essentially, purging and purifying accomplish the same thing. But the focus is the important part. When we deal with people (or books, or movies, or new experiences, or food, or. . .) so focussed on getting rid of the bad that we don't have time to focus on the good, or are we so focused on enhancing the good that we find that the impurities have separated out of their own accord because they no longer belong?

It's all about perspective.

It's (Almost) the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2011-05-24T12:20:00.003-06:00

Do you remember that commercial that used to (maybe still is?) be on TV this time of year where there were images of kids running out of school, tossing papers into the air while the Christmas favorite "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" played? I thought about that commercial when I got up this morning, thinking to myself, "That is so true! I LOVE being a teacher!!"

And I do. Not just in June, July and August, but during my official working months as well.

Most of the time.

The last week of school belongs to a very special circle of hell for a teacher who actually intends to do anything related to school work. I suppose I was foolish enough to count myself in that group this year. But what choice did I have? Between state tests and field trips and assemblies, there were only about four available days for me to have projects due. Today was one of those days. It was supposed to be a field day for the younger students (my school covers K-12), but the field day was cancelled for weather, and wasn't supposed to impact my students until the last hour of the day anyway.

But then, somehow, magically - everyone started disappearing. Teachers started putting on movies in their rooms and playing games and it turned into a school-optional day. I had to corral students back into my room and coerce our very kind secretary to announce over the intercom to my next class that if they wanted a grade they had to show up. I had to not so very kindly inform my writing students that their portfolio, which we had been talking about EVERY day for the last month and a half, was still due today, and not the last day of school. I was met with very blank 'are you serious?!!' stares and panicked pleas to call home and requests to turn in assignments on the last day of school and suddenly the end of the school year (which is a mere two days away) could. not. come. soon. enough.

I've learned more than a little bit this year about the different cultures of education in our country. When I was in high school, I lived in a very comfortable 'you either go to a private school or a public school' mentality, and thought that if you had a good public school you were lucky and if you went to a bad one it was unfortunate but you couldn't do anything about it. Now I teach with schools that have many more options for students and families who want flexibility in how they educate their children. On the whole, I don't think this is a terrible thing. I think it is good for families to be involved in who and where their kids are taught.

But I do start having issues when the culture of school, then, carries out that mentality of 'optional'. When going to class or completing assignments or showing up on time is only done in the spirit of convenience and not out of duty or honor. What you decide to do, you commit to, and you do it well.

Ugh. I don't like using this as an opportunity to vent. I'd rather spout of random philosophical theories and talking points and write something actually worth reading. But you know what? Sometimes life is just frustrating and obnoxious and people are stupid (and they can't help it, especially when they're 13. . . ) and two days from now. . . it won't be my problem any more.

Summer? Thank you for (almost) being here today!

Stamp in my Passport

2011-05-20T22:25:00.007-06:00

If you've been following my blog over the last few months, you'll have picked up on a bit of summery angst from my corner. For at least the last ten years my summers have involved world travel or theater or both, and this year it involves neither. The farthest distance I am likely to travel this summer is roughly three hours by car. Not terribly exciting compared to the last few years. Big bummer.

But I'm determined not to be battered down by this. The next few months of my life have a few significant changes in store for me that will provide me with the ability to, if I wish, take a fantastic trip wherever I wish to go next year. With any luck, it will look something like this:

I'll get together with my closest friends. We'll buy a ticket to, say, Dublin on June 1st and a ticket from, say, Berlin on June 30th. Or maybe later than that. I'll arrange for a place to stay in Dublin and . . . no where else. We'll just go wherever the wind takes us that sounds like fun. Typically my stress levels would be way too high to travel that way, but I'm feeling ambitious and impulsive and I have the mad desire to go to approximately EVERYWHERE. (With special emphasis, as always, on my beloved UK. . .)

Stourhead Gardens, Tuscany, Tyrol

Tintagel, Sherwood

Salzburg, Schiltach (Black Forest)

Kensington Gardens

Amsterdam, Loch Lomond, Oxford

Grasmere, Edinburgh, Cork County

The Social Network vs. The King's Speech

2011-05-10T10:41:00.006-06:00

I'm starting to look at summer projects to keep me busy. The last ten years of my life (at least) I've either traveled or been involved with theater during the summer and this year I won't be involved in either. (Don't worry. Next year I intend to make up for lost time by finding a way to split my body in half and spend half my time on stage and half my time exploring Europe.) So I've been looking into things to do that are not just for work. I need something for me. I need something fun. Something snarky.

Lo and behold: the friend's ex-boyfriend of dogmatacism. Said individual enjoys finding ways to spread his firm faith all over the interwebs in one way or another, typically in a way that is not to promote conversation but to promote supreme righteousness. (It's all said with a smiley-face, though, so it's ok.) (Sarcasm sign.) And the idea comes: I should DO something about this.

After talking with another friend of mine, the plan was formed and a super cool project is in the works to examine the EFFECT of media instead of just focusing strictly on the content of media alone. It's a topic I feel strongly about, one I know more than a little bit about, and one that I'm more than a little excited to talk about.

One such facet of this project will involve movie reviews.

See, here's the thing. It should be no secret to anyone by this point that I don't necessarily worship the ground the MPAA walks on. I don't think they're evil or unnecessary or in any way detrimental to society. But they're not a moral organization. Not that the people involved aren't moral, but that isn't their purpose. The MPAA is like the standardized test center of the film industry. They have to be objective. They have to have a checklist of qualifications to back up their ratings because they serve a population with a huge range of moral standards. So they can't look at something morally. They have to look at it based on content alone - not the effect of the content or the purpose of the content.

But this doesn't mean that we as a people shouldn't judge the effect of media. Not just movies - books and music and television and theater should all be judged not just for their entertainment value, but for the moral values they promote or encourage, whether because the media itself involves the actions of moral people, or because the media involves immoral actions that in turn promote discussion and debate from those that view/read/listen with that intent.

Now sure, there are plenty of people out there who watch/read/listen just to be entertained, but I'm not one of those people. And I'm certain that there are other people out there like me. So I think it's time the moral implications of media were addressed more openly - particularly in this corner of the world.

Take, for instance, The Social Network vs. The King's Speech. Both movies were hugely popular in the 2010 awards season and deservedly so. They were well filmed and written. The Social Network was relevant and punchy - filled with great acting and a quick, ruthless plot. The King's Speech was more typical of the Oscar winning set - a classic (British) story with big name actors and somewhat controversial content. Social Network was PG-13, King's Speech was R (though they've released a PG-13 version now.)

Many members of the LDS community would refuse to see King's Speech simply because of the rating. They would hear good things about the film, but the language (and the rating) of the film would scare them away. Those same people would probably have no qualms about seeing The Social Network. With it's wonderfully safe (and ambiguous) PG-13 rating, it would be a much more kosher film to see.

But look for a moment at some reasons why the films were given the ratings they were:

As far as I can tell (via. IMBD), the MPAA ranks films based on five different categories. Films are given scores out of ten for each category to help determine the rating. Total ratings of films are not necessarily based on the total "score", however, as there are certain areas of content that will push a film over the edge regardless. Keep in mind that PG-13 and R movies can have all the same things, they just can't have too much in any one category. (So a PG-13 can have more total content in each category combined than an R movie, but not so much in any individual category to push it over the edge.) You can read more about why movies get ratings they do here, though if you look for specific movies, the MPAA will refer you to the parents guide on IMDB.

The following information, then, is taken from imdb.com:

The Social Network

Sex and Nudity (6/10)

There are scenes involving strip poker, women in their underwear, implied sex and brief implications of nudity, there's a scene with oral sex, several scenes involving sexual innuendo and a scene where two women make out.

Violence and Gore (3/10)

One character seeks revenge on another by starting a fire, police draw guns on a large party, riotous party scenes where objects are smashed and thrown, one character destroys the laptop of another character, and a character is seen vomiting.

Profanity (6/10)

Two uses of the "F" word, and many uses of other forms of profanity used throughout the film.

Alcohol/Drugs/Smoking (6/10)

A character sniffs cocaine off of another character's torso, nearly half the movie involves characters drinking, several characters smoke and many characters get arrested for excessive (illegal, if I remember right) drug use.

Fighting/Intense Scenes (3/10)

Two characters fight near the end of the film.

Total Score: 24/50

The King's Speech (R version)

Sex and Nudity (3/10)

Two characters have an affair, but nothing is shown (only discussed). A married couple hugs and kisses (all brief and chaste), but nothing happens.

Violence & Gore (3/10)

A character works to control his temper but struggles, there is a theme of war but nothing is shown, a man mentions abuse from a former nanny.

Profanity (6/10)

Several (approximately 17) uses of the "F" word used all at once (in the context of therapy, and primarily in one scene), several uses of the "S" word (mainly in the same scene), 1 use of the word "b-----d" and 3 of the word "d--n". (Note: in the PG-13 version of the film, the only language that is changed is the "F" word, which is only used once. I have not seen this version of the film, so I don't know which scene it is in.)

Alcohol/Drugs/Smoking (No score)

Some smoking shown, but is openly frowned upon (and discussed) for causing cancer. Alcohol is consumed in some scenes but not to excess.

Frightening/Intense Scenes (No score)

The opening scene of the movie involves the main character giving a public address which highlights his speech impediment and is very embarrassing. The same character addresses his difficult childhood in another scene.

Total Score: 12/50

One movie got half the score of the other. One movie is about the greedy, backbiting, selfish lack of communication in the business world and one is about triumph over personal weakness and the importance and power of good communication. But the MPAA can't show that in one to four characters of rating systems. That's for viewers to determine.

And this viewer is far more offended by movies that encourage people not to think at all (mindless entertainment), movies that glamorize and promote immoral living, and movies that are just bad. I don't think the MPAA is without its place in our society - but I do think that our society would do well to start approaching life with the attitude of "what can I learn from this" instead of "what am I going to have to run away from".

. . . but this post is far too long now - and that's a post for another time.

The life I imagine, the life I lead

2011-05-03T12:30:00.004-06:00

I realized recently that the life I imagined for myself as a child and the life I've led are not the same. I'm sure everyone has this experience, but I had it again this weekend. When I was younger, I imagined that - of course, being the beautiful and amazingly smart and engaging individual that I am - I would have to beat suiters away in droves and that I would have my pick of the best of the best. Instead I've found that my confidence and intelligence are sometimes intimidating and that while I am far from ugly, I'm not showy enough to get that much attention. I've also found that I wouldn't have wanted it anyway, because hoverers make me nervous. I used to think that I would marry while I was in college and live a poor early married life in a run down but pleasantly sunny apartment and that after graduation we would traipse off wherever the wind took us (outside of Utah) and we would be gloriously happy. Instead, I'm living right in the heart of crazy conservative Utah Valley in a new house with two nice (female) roommates.

I've also found (much to the dismay of some people, I'm afraid), that the life I'm living right now is making me gloriously happy. Most of the time.

My wonderful cousin got married last weekend in Southern California and I got the chance to go down with the rest of my family to celebrate the event. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. Not that I'm not happy for her, but that selfish side of me that gets lonely sometimes saw it as nothing but a chance to be reminded of my perpetual singleness and lack of permission to enter the temple for myself yet. I saw myself sitting outside with people seven plus years younger than me and felt more than a little trapped by circumstance. It put a frustrating sort of magnifying glass up against where I am and created a huge source of inner turmoil in the months and weeks leading up to the weekend.

See, being a single person (particularly a single woman) in the church is a precarious sort of place to be. Finding balance is difficult. For example, I am told (often in the same lesson) to be satisfied with my life and work hard, but to be looking for a husband. I am told to expect to be treated well by the man I will marry, but also reminded that many men in this modern day don't know how to treat women and need a little help. I'm told that I am worth a great deal single or married, but told that the life I am leading now is not the best way to be living compared to taking on housewifely duties and a family of my own. I'm told to be strong and independent and educated, but to make sure that I'm not TOO much of those things or I'll risk being scary to the boys. The clashes of advice are often quite overwhelming and even more exhausting.

You see - I am very happy with the life I lead. I love my job. I love my students and my coworkers and the sheep I drive by every morning. I've enjoyed the friendships I've made in the ward I attend. In many ways, I am perfectly content with my life. I take great satisfaction at providing for myself and love the freedom I have to set my own schedule. If this ended up being my life for the next ten or twenty years, I would be content and know that I'd done some good in the world and lived a good life.

But then I attend weddings like the one last weekend and those feelings of guilt start creeping back in. Wondering if I've grown so attached to the excitement and joy of my job that I'd ever be satisfied doing anything that involved watching small children all day and cleaning bathrooms. Wondering if I should be doing more to find that companion or if I should trust that doing what I'm doing will be enough. Trying to figure out what my role as a single woman in the church is really worth. Battling against pressure and teasing from family and friends. Recognizing that I feel peace in what I do and feel as though I'm where God wants me to be, but knowing that other people may see it as wrong or strange or temporary or of less worth or importance in my eternal progression than other things I could be doing. Recognizing that some people just don't understand, and trying to be ok with that.

I guess I'm not looking for answers or advice or anything at all except a brain dump into the void. And perhaps a greater sense of validation and comfort with liminal space.

Ode to the Motherland

2011-04-25T10:49:00.006-06:00

Hiking in Yorkshire

For me, I think, it started with a Fox.

A fox of the Robin Hood variety, that is. It was the accent that did it. And the debonaire style of rescuing fair vixens. And the arrogance. (And the cross. . . dressing. . .?)

What am I referring to? My hard core sense of Anglophilia and extreme love of England. It started with Robin Hood. It moved on next, I believe, to The Secret Garden. And so on and so on. I grew up thinking that England was, and would always be, the greatest place on earth. I was (am) convinced that I was born in the wrong country. I spent nearly the first two decades of my life wishing and praying that I would get the chance. But I knew (or suspected) that I'd never be able to see the England I wanted to see most of all - because most people go as tourists and see the requisite number of things in London and take the appropriate pictures and then move on - but that wasn't good enough. I wanted to walk through fields of sheep. I wanted to watch the sunset in Cornwall. I wanted to wake up in the morning and see the mist over the moors.

Then I found out about the England and Literature study abroad. I applied. I made it. Four years ago today, I boarded a plane and flew overseas for the first time in my life. And for two and a half wonderful months I lived that dream. I hiked through the Scottish Highlands, the Lake District, the Moors, the southern coast. I've seen more of England than the majority of the English.

Since the trip ended I have written about it in an essay that won me lots of money, I've talked about it more times than my family and friends would ever want to hear, and I've dreamed about going back. For today - I'll settle for some pictures in honor of my fellow Englanders and sing a round of "Will You Go, Lassie, Go" and the John Bennion song while eating a Magnum Bar.

Lake District

Robin in Wordsworth's Graveyard, Grasmere

Christ Church College, Oxford

Yorkshire

Moors

Southern Coast

Keswick

Kensington Gardens

On the beach in Weymouth.

Top of Ben Lomond

Ode to Thespis

2011-04-21T15:45:00.004-06:00

This blog post is not about anything profound. Occasionally I use this space to randomly send out my philosophies and ideas on life into the great void that is the interwebs, only rarely hearing anything at all about whether or not people care about what I say. It is the plague of the unambitious blogger, I suppose. If you want any real readership it requires more work.

But it hasn't stopped me from using this as an outlet to, at the very least, get my own thoughts in order and stated as clearly as I can. If people read it, well, that's part of why it's here. So, dear imaginary readers, if you are here, this one is a bit more indulgent.

I auditioned for a show yesterday.

Let me tell you a little bit about my life over the last year, and the magnitude of excitement I have over this audition will make more sense to you:

I have a rather consuming job. I teach, yes, but I'm also in the works right now of reviewing a business contract. I've got plans for a book that are going to be tackled this summer. I help manage and create an online school program for distance education students in the area. I don't know what spare time is any more. I've got my hand in so many pots that sometimes I feel quite disorganized and forgetful. In the great golden realms of memory, I seem to remember a time when I could keep track of all my students and what they needed to do and be days ahead in my planning. These days are, I think, gone for good.

Not that I am complaining. Quite the contrary: I love my job. I feel a great deal of satisfaction in the work that I do and hope that it actually makes a difference. But it has left me very little time to develop my own interests and abilities - at least during the months of September-May. To help counter this I set reading goals for myself and try to write as much as I can, but nothing - NOTHING - substitutes for those glorious months of rehearsal and performance.

This year, though, it didn't look like a show was going to work out. Nothing felt right. Every theater I looked at was doing a show I was either disinterested in or didn't feel good about auditioning for. So I turned my excitement towards a potential trip to Europe over the summer instead. Again - didn't work out. My summer was starting to look much like my school year - lots of work and planning. The only difference would be less time with students. Not different enough.

But then - the audition notice of audition notices. A show that I love, a good location, a good director, a good time. . . everything clicked into place. Five days after finding out about the audition, I went. I sang. My music cut out and I kept singing anyway. I got a very enthusiastic "wow!". I left the audition with winged feet and practically flew home.

Except, to a degree, I felt as though I'd left home. There are few places in the world I feel as comfortable as the theater. The thrill and joy of rehearsal. The energy of a performance. Even the anxiety I feel right now, waiting to hear about what happens next. (Do I get called back? Do I get the part? Do I get theater in my summer or was this all a strange detour on the road of where I'm going?) It's all part of that world that I love and adore so much.

So many of my greatest and most treasured memories are on the stage. The friends I've kept the longest. The experiences that have changed me as a person the most quickly.

I remember walking onto the stage where Music Man was going to be performed for the first time last year. I remember standing alone in the semi-lit auditorium and feeling my fingers tingle in anticipation and nervousness and glee. This, I thought, is my territory.

I used to think there would be a time in my life where theater would become just a distant, lovely sort of memory. But I have realized since that theater is something that I couldn't ever, ever give up without feeling a great deal of pain. Because theater - being on stage - it's part of who I am. It's not just a hobby or just a fling - it's in me.

Oh, theater. How I adore you.

(Now. . . please be kind to me again?. . .)

Oh, the frailties of (looking like a) youth. . .

2011-04-07T16:50:00.003-06:00

One of my earliest memories from my childhood was the very keen feeling of absolute frustration whenever anyone treated me like a child. To me, it always felt as though they thought me incompetent or insignificant or silly; but my ideas and realities were so real to me that I didn't understand why anyone would treat them without respect.

I think this is where some of my bossiness came from. Not so much now that I'm older, but I remember being quite forceful with my opinions when I was younger - mostly, I think, out of a desire to prove myself as worthy. I thought if I came across as smart then people would take me seriously.

Fortunately, I've more or less grown out of the bossy side. I won't deny that my opinionated personality probably comes off as being a bit brash or harsh to those who aren't used to me, but I've learned to control it and temper it better as I've learned to read people more. Even so, I still have a huge amount of trouble keeping my frustration under wraps when people treat me like a child.

For example, today I was teased about graduating from high school last week. (Har har.)

A few weeks ago the high counselor for my ward spoke about how much he loves the youth of the church. (I'm sorry - I'm a college grad, working full time, living entirely on my own income about 1000 miles from my parents. I'm not a youth.)

I had a conversation with a boy a while ago in which the phrase: "What? I thought you were 19!" was uttered. (Seriously? Do I not date much because I look approximately five years younger than I am, which means men who should be in my dating pool don't ask me out because they think I'm barely legal?!)

I recognize that there will come a time in my life when I enjoy looking younger than I am. I look forward to that day. At the moment it's just frustrating.

Leisure, Business, Amusement

2011-04-04T16:14:00.005-06:00

In the high school humanities class I help teach we spent some time this year talking about Aristotle's theory on how you should balance your time. It leads to some fairly interesting discussions about how each of these categories (leisure, business, and amusement) are necessary and needed in your life when used in proper balance.

By definition, business is the stuff you take care of to stay alive. This doesn't just mean a job, though it could - typically business is stuff that you don't inherently like or dislike, you just do it because you like the result. Like brushing your teeth, for example - most people don't brush their teeth for the fun of it, they brush their teeth because they like the clean teeth/peppermint aftertaste. But the action of brushing teeth alone is not one that people typically have a huge opinion one way or the other about. Business can include things you don't enjoy as well, but ultimately business is about basic survival.

Amusement is typically a bit more mindless - it's purpose, according to Aristotle, is to give you a break so that your work (business) is more productive. This is the kind of thing most people do to unwind when they get done with a day of work. Taking a walk. Watching a sitcom. Taking a short nap. Reading a silly book. Amusement is good for you, but only if it doesn't take away from your productivity as a human being.

Leisure, then, is the best parts of amusement so long as those elements uplift and inspire your mind. Leisure is time that is nobly occupied. It is time for your mind and creative powers to be free to explore.

I mention all of this because of a conversation I had recently with someone who mentioned that they loved movies that left them feeling entertained. I could hardly fault this person. Heaven knows I love a good book or movie and enjoy feeling entertained, but I realized a long time ago that that isn't quite good enough for me. I've reached a point in my life where movies that are mindless or books that are poorly written are not even amusing to me. I'd much rather read something or watch something I can talk about.

I suppose this could give off the impression that I'm a bit of a snob, and maybe that's true. But I actually think it makes me more diverse. Where some people get corralled into one genre ("I like chick flicks"/"I like action movies"/"I like romance novels"/"I like country music"), I do not. I'll watch or read just about anything if it makes me think. The artistry is the greatest trump card. And I think this is important, because this mentality so often feeds modern Mormon culture.

Modern Utah Valley/Mormon culture is particularly happy-clappy about happy, pretty endings. I find this kind of intriguing since The Book of Mormon is not a particularly happy book. (Actually, it skips over all the happy parts pretty quickly.) But, in spite of that, it's an incredibly uplifting and inspiring book. I suppose this is another essay for another time.

I guess the real point in all of this is that one of the greatest joys I get in my life is in finding things that make me think. Escapism just doesn't do it for me the way it occasionally did when I was younger. And while I'm certainly not above watching something just because it's a good amount of fun (a latest obsession has been BBCs Merlin - available on Hulu right now) - I'm also not in a place where the greatest goal I have with the way I spend my time is just to leave feeling temporarily entertained.

Maybe this is why I have such trouble being social sometimes. . .

To Be or to Do?

2011-04-04T15:53:00.003-06:00

Last week I had a very curious conversation with a parent who had a kid doing a decent amount of make-up work. My perspective on this make-up work was that it would be something akin to personal tutoring and a chance for the student to actually learn what they had missed over the term. The parent quite bluntly told me that they would be satisfied if the student just turned things in so that the checklist could be completed and taken care of and signed off and gold starred and whatever. I was more than a little miffed by this; probably because it was directly related to writing and I get frustrated when people insult the amount of work it takes to be even half-way decent at writing. But I was more frustrated than that for a completely different reason, which was stated much more eloquently than I ever could this weekend during the Sunday afternoon session of the LDS General Conference by Lynn G. Robbins (follow the link for a video - the talk will be available in text form soon.)

Elder Robbins talked about the difference between to-do lists and to-be lists. In essence, it's very easy to check things off a to-do list when you're grocery shopping or attacking things to do at work, but not so easy when it relates to actually becoming someone. (The example he used was, if I remember right, being a better husband. Not something you can be 'done' with.) I found myself half wanting to shout at the screen: "ARE YOU HEARING THIS, DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION?!!!" It was exactly what I was trying to tell this mother.

See, the modern education world will say up and down that they are about turning students into life-long learners and that they are educating people and individuals not just groups of robots, but you'd be hard pressed to recognize that in the way most assessments are structured. Any more you have to have mathematical proof for learning - good judgment just doesn't fly. But people aren't to-do lists, and 'becoming' is an eternal process. It's one of the parts of Mormon doctrine that bewilders and interests me the most - that God can be a perfect being while still eternally progressing. So while there are definitely things that can be mastered once and for all (I don't ever have to re-learn the sum of 2+3, for example), there are many, many more things of even greater importance that are never mastered or finished.

In other news, I love General Conference.

The Jig is Up.

2011-03-30T15:23:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I think that people have a hard time with the idea of consequences. Our culture breeds the idea that if you are mediocre or try really hard, then the universe should give you a cookie and a hug and a shiny letter A and a gold star and a one way ticket to success for the minimum amount of work. It's the Music Man "That's my Barney on the Clarianet!" idea - just because you're cute and you blow your instrument with vigor, you should be amazing.

I've never really sat well with this idea. I think much of this comes from the fact that I've spent so much time in the arts, particularly in the worlds of writing and theater. In theater this principle is quite easy to spot: a person can love the theater as much as they want and practice as hard as they want but at the end of the day, if they're not good, everyone knows it. Trying just doesn't cover it. You see this all the time in audition segments of shows like American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance - people can dance with as much heart and excitement as they want, but if they don't have the technique, they're out of luck. In the real world - you have to have both to be successful. A friend of mine puts it something like this: "I can give your kid the grade, but it doesn't change who they are or what they are actually capable of."

But there are plenty who would try and tell you otherwise. And, to a degree, there is a place for these people. (Heck, most of the time we call these people "mom" and "dad". These are the people who are stuck with you and should honor what you do for what it's worth.) When you're trying to change or influence the world, though, you have to be a little more accepting of reality. Mediocre is simply not good enough. It's not an insult, it's just life.

You see this principle outlined pretty clearly in The Social Network - a movie which, for what it's worth, I didn't really like. Personal opinion aside, the history is pretty clear: Two people, two ideas. One was better than the other. Thus, we have Facebook and not. . . whatever the other idea was. The other idea is only relevant because the movie has made it so. If the movie hadn't been made, almost no one would know (or care about) the difference. If you're going to make a difference, you have to be better than the next person - and that takes work. It can't happen by checking things off a to-do list.

So, to the individual(s) involved in making my day more stressful and frustrating and obnoxious: please remember that my job description requires me to teach. Furthermore, my humanity encourages me not to settle for mediocrity. I'm sorry if yours does, but if I'm going to do my job with any level of integrity, it means being a bit of a hard nose sometimes.

Absolute Purity and Entertainment

2011-03-18T15:31:00.003-06:00

I taught Huckleberry Finn in one of my classes this year, and at one point asked my students how they determine whether or not entertainment is "good" or "bad". Being the wonderfully conservative creatures that they are, most of them repeated lessons they've learned (I'm sure) from their parents and from well-meaning Sunday School teachers who insist that one bad part of a movie ruins the entire thing.

We've all had the lesson. Someone bakes brownies with a bit extra salt. Someone serves ice-cream with mud instead of chocolate sauce. The point of the lesson is to prove to us that if there's an ounce of wickedness in something, then it's evil and needs to be shunned.

I've always hated this lesson. I think it's a terrible way to teach what they're really trying to teach, which is that we need to keep our thoughts pure, and viewing things that aren't pure (heedless of context) is frustrating to me for three main reasons:

1. First, it's a little too easy for people to say that there is absolute evil in the world and absolute good and not acknowledge the grey. OR, they acknowledge the grey and then discount it, too, as not worthy. This becomes a problem when you consider. . .

2. That the majority of people and what they create and how they live on this earth lives in that grey area. I've never met a person that wasn't flawed. I've also never met anyone so wicked that I couldn't find at least something good in them. Maybe I'm sheltered. Maybe I'm naive. But I doubt it: people aren't all good or all bad. And if we teach our youth to treat entertainment that way (don't watch it unless it's 100% free of anything that might in any way taint your thoughts), then how do they end up treating other human beings? Well, at the extreme, like the former students of a friend of mine who end up believing - truly, honestly believing - that there are people on this earth that are not worthy to be with them. I find that rather tragic. In fact, it goes very harshly against the values that the Savior set for us.

3. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I am infinitely more offended by trite, boring, cheap "clean" entertainment (books, movies, TV) than I am by entertainment that earns it. I mean the kind of stories generally produced by a large number of LDS Filmmakers or playwrights or authors. I mean books that emotionally manipulate or films that don't honestly earn the story they try to tell. I find those stories more offensive because they cheapen the beliefs I have fought so hard to earn and to maintain. I find them frustrating because they scratch the surface of human existence. Not that every movie with violence or swearing or sex is good by comparison - that's not at all what I'm trying to say. What I mean, ultimately, is this:

The brownie/ice cream metaphor is not completely without merit. It just needs some tweaking. The dirt brownies only apply to entertainment (or people) where there is an extreme that can't be ignored or associated with. Pornography. Mass murderers. These are things that just can't have any place at all in the brownie without ruining it completely. The better metaphor is this. Ingredients like baking powder or flour or salt or even chocolate and eggs all belong in a brownie. They are all good ingredients. But they need to be used well, and in appropriate amounts, and with appropriate context to be understood correctly and appreciated.

The King's Speech, for example, has a scene in which King George VI lets loose a string of F-words that is quite long. The movie is rated R because of it - but not because of anything else (except incidental drinking, I suppose). Many people would see the rating or hear about the language and absolutely turn it down just because it exists. What they don't take into account is the context of the scene (therapy), or the context of the man (George VI is not a swearing man) or the context of the language itself (it isn't used crassly or insultingly or crudely - they're just words.)

Ultimately, I suppose what I really mean to say is that I have a very hard time understanding how people of faith, particularly those of LDS faith, can honestly allow themselves to be sheltered conveniently away, content with everything they have, when the foundation of our church was built on the power of a single question (and continued to expand because of more questions.) If we are not a people willing to question, to learn, and to grow from everything around us - even those things that are not absolutely pure - then we are holding ourselves hostage to acquiring knowledge. We would do well to remember that the glory of God is intelligence - and we have a responsibility to acquire it.

Talent and Work

2011-03-14T16:01:00.003-06:00

I should be working on grades right now. They're due tomorrow after school and I have a ridiculous amount of late work to grade this term because I was out with the plague of death for so long that I am showing mercy (even though I don't want to) to death-bed repenters. But I can't focus right now because something is eating at me, and until I get it out. . . there will be no focusing.

In all my time involved in theater, I have had many opportunities to greet an audience after a show and have many nice people say how much they enjoyed the show. In all this time, I've hoped that they meant it and weren't lying. None of those opportunities meant more to me than my time in Music Man last summer in which I hoped so dreadfully to hear people say what I wanted them to: "I get it now! Marian isn't an idiot for falling in love with Harold!" When people said that - life was gold. It meant that all my hours had paid off and that the show had touched someone. It was wonderful.

On the other hand, nothing made me more internally frustrated than to hear someone say: "Oh, you're so talented!" This may seem a strange thing for me to be annoyed by. And to be honest, annoyance isn't quite the right word. I know that what they're really saying is: "You're so good at what you do" - which is not a bad thing to hear at all. But there's something about the word "talent" that gets in the way of people understanding the amount of stress and hard work it takes to truly perfect something, even when you are naturally "talented" at it.

Theater, for instance. After looking through my calendar and estimating that I spent approximately five hours a day rehearsing roughly five days a week for three and a half months (and even a bit once the show opened), that meant around 350 hours of rehearsal (and it was more than that once we started Saturday rehearsals, plus pre-show runs that we would do to make sure we were still on our game.) That's got to be at least 400 hours of rehearsal alone - for one little community theater production. I'd gladly have put in more time than that if it had been at all possible, because I knew I needed it. That's not counting the 15 ish years of time spent in theater learning the craft before then.

But not many people see that. Even people who see that don't often see that. People in the ensemble of shows rarely see the number of hours put in by the leads, so it's not always easy to appreciate the weight they have on their shoulders. I've been on both sides of the coin long enough to know that it's almost always a labor of love for those who really care - you do it until the job is done, no matter the cost. I got very tired last year of people assuming that because they didn't see me, I wasn't supportive of the cast or I wasn't working. Unfortunately, this time and energy and stress is often reduced into a single word: Talent. Talent is fine and wonderful and great but without work it can only take you so far.

I've had students use the "I'm not good at it!" excuse with me before. My response (in my head, if not out loud) is generally two fold: First, if you aren't good at it, that's fine. It just means that you have to work twice as hard. It's not an insult, it's just how things work until you get better. Second, even if you were good at it, it wouldn't be easy. When you're good at something, it means you're better able to spot the flaws and less able to live in delusions of grandeur. It means setting a higher standard of achievement.

It's so easy to look at the accomplishment of someone else and assume that they must be naturally talented at it which is why they're so good. But that's ridiculous. That's not how things work. In the parable of the talents, harder work leads to greater reward. I used to think this meant more talents in terms of a greater variety of skills in different categories - but that's not the only thing. It means expanding your ability to use (or "spend") your talent. And the only way to obtain more talents is to get out of the dirt and go do something about it.

There. Now I can get back to being responsible. I can take a breath and let it aaaalllll go. . . .

Stapling Lessons

2011-03-07T16:27:00.002-07:00

I've been thinking lately that I ought to take some time at some point to make a list of things that I've learned teaching Junior High students. Mostly silly things, I'm sure. Like how you have to be careful when telling stories or mentioning animals or vacations or holidays or weekends or anything interesting or risk getting a barrage of maybe slightly a little bit related stories. (Last year I learned to always preface acknowledging a hand raise by asking "is this a comment or a question?" If the student had to think about it, we moved on.)

But one "lesson" in particular has been making me giggle lately, because my team-teacher didn't believe me when I said we'd need to teach them how to do it. That's right. I'm talking about stapling.

I'm pretty sure that junior high students (and upper elementary, I'm sure) are responsible for keeping staple companies in business. In fact, if I ever leave my job as a teacher and get hired on by a staple ad campaign, I will base all of my advertising entirely on that age range of students. Because they are utterly fascinated by and incapable of using staples correctly. It got to the point last year where I threatened to take points off assignments if a student had more than one staple in their paper. And if the paper was stapled ANYWHERE but in the upper left corner (re, the middle, the right, the top and center, the bottom - all happened), I'd refuse to grade their work until they fixed it.

You think I'm kidding? I can provide evidence if needed. Students don't know how to staple.

Yes. I recognize that I'm a little bit organizationally obsessed. But it saves me valuable grading time and sanity and it's a good lesson, right?

Sometimes. . .

2011-02-28T12:02:00.002-07:00

. . . I hate my job . . .

-When I have a cold and all I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep for, oh, I don't know, the next year?

-When I assign homework over the weekend and three (THREE) people in the entire class have finished said homework. (Why am I here, again?)

-When a student spills anything (pencil shavings. . . popcorn. . . crumbs . . . ) and leaves them for me to clean up.

-When I have a raging headache and students talk over me.

-When I walk into school and am immediately told by a (well meaning, I'm sure) student: "You look miserable. . . "

-When I hear my alarm go off in the morning and know before I get the chance to turn it off that it's going to be one of those days.

-When students give excuses for why things didn't get done.

-When I give an assignment that no one does the right way and I can't figure out if it's because my instructions were crummy or students weren't paying attention or . . .

. . . I love my job. . .

-When I wake up in the morning and remember that I have basically the best co-worker(s) ever to plan/take over the world with. It's nice not to have to fight the system alone.

-When the girl in the room next to mine tells me every day she sees me that I'm beautiful and her favorite teacher (even when I don't have her in any classes, and never have.)

-When students get excited enough about the book we're reading that they ask to read ahead.

-When we make it past February and know that March (and April and May) will, eventually, make an appearance.

-When I had discussion time over to students and they take over with what can pass as intelligent responses.

- When it's lunch time and I get to watch Wonder Years episodes.

-When I plan "profound movie" afternoons and students come (voluntarily) to watch movies produced before the 50s, or movies that are more than 4 hours long (re: BBCs Jane Eyre).

-When, like "the Jimmer", my name (and the name of my team-teacher) becomes a verb/adjective/adverb in overheard conversations.

-When students get it. (And then DO something about it.)

Motivation, Responsibility and Idealism - Oh my!

2011-02-16T14:44:00.004-07:00

There's a popular phrase that says "you can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink". This is true, it seems, everywhere - except for modern public education. The government's latest philosophy on education seems to be, "you can take a horse to water, but if it won't drink then shove its head in, and if it won't drink then, give it an IV. The horse WILL BE HYDRATED."

Every day in my job I see a series of educational dichotomies. It's difficult to wrap my head around the solution - but quite easy to see the problem. It's no wonder the problem of education in this country is so over everyone's head. . .

Problem One: Motivation

What the "education world" says: The educational world will tell you that it is the responsibility of the teacher to motivate students. Students are naturally unmotivated, greedy, grade hungry buggers and they only want to "come, eat and leave" so to speak. Your responsibility as a teacher is to (without referring to specific value sets, but still referring to values somehow) teach in a way that is inspiring to students so that they will somehow eventually be motivated. You can take credit for this motivation. If a student leaves your room unmotivated, this is your fault. Also, you will need to find a way to prove this motivation or lack of through numbers and charts.

What the laws of nature say: It is not my responsibility to motivate anyone, even if it was possible. I have agency for myself. I can create an environment that fosters motivation, but that doesn't mean I am a failure if there are students in my room that are unmotivated. I can't prove that students are or aren't motivated through charts, but I can use my head and my common sense to see if they are motivated or not. If a student is not motivated, it may or may not be my fault. I should not sacrifice time and attention on motivated students in favor of coddling or babying students who are not motivated.

What I see: In my classroom about two hours ago I could have divided the room very quickly into students who were motivated, students who weren't but could be, students who refused to be, and students who weren't mentally capable of it. This isn't based on any degree in medicine or even on my degree as a teacher - it's based on life experience and what I know of my students. Am I a perfect teacher? No. Are there students in my class that I have probably judged unfairly in either direction? Almost certainly. But that's life, isn't it? There are people you get on with and people you don't. People you work well with and people you don't. As a teacher, though, I have the strange responsibility of finding a way to make my personality and life experience resonate with everyone in the room; something I wouldn't ever have to do outside of my job because it just isn't logical. Unfortunately with the way the system is set up, my students (and myself) are both punished by the arrangement, when it's often not the "fault" of either side - it's just people.

What's the solution?: Well - it goes way deeper into American culture than the government would like it to. The thing is: kids have no reason to be motivated. If they don't graduate from school they can get welfare. If they fail, someone will sit them down and tell them exactly what to do. We live in a country where failure isn't an option. Because there are no consequences, there is no reason for responsibility or motivation. To fix education - we have to allow consequences.

Problem Two: Responsibility

For Failing Students:

What the Educational World/National Government says: No Child Left Behind! By 2012 all students everywhere in our country must be passing. This means that we can prove through charts and elaborate systems of standardized testing that every student in our country no matter their educational background won't fail. This will prove our worth as the greatest nation in the world. This also means that if a teacher or school has a student that is failing, they are not adequate (or good) and need careful babysitting. The failure of a student is not the fault of the student. It is the fault of the teacher or school.

What teachers say: If a student fails it is because they are lazy and don't turn work in. In order to accomodate NCLB, I now use only multiple choice tests and completion grades in my classroom. By handing in every assignment, even if it is poorly completed, the student can still feasibly earn a C. It shouldn't be my responsibility to chase after students who aren't turning work in, but I have done so anyway and it still doesn't come in. It isn't my fault if a student fails.

What the laws of nature say: Our failure or lack of failure is our own responsibility. It should not be the responsibility of anyone else - and you should care more about your own future than anyone else. Each person, then, should take accountability for their performance. This means that if a student has a teacher that does not teach well enough, the student should be allowed the right to find a teacher who will teach them well. This means that a teacher should not be responsible for hunting down under-performing students. What's more, the "system" should be accommodating to the variety of types of student there are - some students are more capable than others (for some reason it's easy to acknowledge this in sports but not so much in school), and that is not a crime.

The Implications: Schools should be established in a way that allows students to take responsibility for their education. It should not be the responsibility of teachers to hunt down students who do not turn in work or who do not understand materials. Schools (or at least, more schools) should also not lower their standard - whatever it is - to accommodate those who are not capable of the work required. Grades should mean something and indicate actual competency with skills. Parents should take more responsibility for nurturing their child at home and setting a high standard.

The Problem: Students come from so many backgrounds and cultures that it would be nearly impossible to assume that all will receive parental support. The culture of grades right now is that "A" has become the new "C" and there is no reward for students who are truly brilliant (or real consequence for those who are not.) Students who are not capable of higher level thinking (whether through technical mental disability or not) need places where they can find success without being punished for a lack of "book smart" skills. Schools need funding and if they cannot accommodate a large number of varieties of students it's hard to keep the school open.

There are more that I could write about but I should probably get back to planning my lessons for tomorrow. Suffice it to say that I don't know what the solution is. I don't think that teachers should be blamed for a student's failure if they're a good teacher. I also don't think that every student is meant for every teacher, and that students have a right to a teacher that will reach them. I don't think that unmotivated, impassionate teachers should have the right to the name. But I also don't know what the solution is. It's not an easy one, whatever it may be. But I'm going to continue working as hard as I can to make my job something worth keeping, and to fight for a world where my students can be respected and given the opportunities they have worked so hard to have.

Injustice

2011-02-12T13:52:00.005-07:00

I've been thinking about the role that the arts have played in my life more so than normal of late. It's been simultaneously making me feel both terribly lonely and frustrated while also filling me with a very keen sense of gratitude. It's hard to explain. I'll do my best.

When I got to BYU I formalized a decision that I'd made in high school by applying for the English Teaching major: I would not make a living out of theater. Not that I didn't want to. What better place in the world for an LDS actress than BYU to get experience and support in both building technical skills and connections that would allow me to maintain the standards that I've set for myself? At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm no acting slouch. I'm not perfect, but I've been involved in shows since I was about five: I know more than most. But it didn't feel right. I didn't feel like it was the best decision for me to make. I'm always more comfortable when I don't feel obligated to do something I love, and making a career out of theater would have, of necessity, made it critical for me to occasionally do a show I didn't care about so that I could eat. Some people can live with that kind of decision: I just couldn't do it. I needed more stability.

So I stepped away and moved instead toward my other passions: reading and writing - and did what most female English nuts do: teach. And I've loved it. Adored it, really. It was the right choice. It's stable. It's fun. It's hard. But always, always rewarding in the end. The theater part of my life became something I would have to content myself with only developing to the extent I could in the occasional show. I won't ever be as good as I want to be - but at least it isn't a permanent severing. Just a temporary one.

Last summer gave me the biggest break a community theater actress could have when I was cast as Marian in Music Man - a part I've wanted to play for as long as I can remember. It was some kind of dream world, last summer. For four blessed months I got to walk in the shoes of Marian Paroo. It was incredible and life changing - it reaffirmed to me that God has not neglected my desire to keep the arts in my life.

But this year, it seems, will be different. I have looked up and down the valley for a show worth doing and there aren't any. Literally. Disney's Camp Rock. Seussical. Hairspray (in Utah? Where are you going to find any race?!) Jekyll and Hyde. At least two theaters are doing Joseph (again.) It's as though last year God placed me in a show and this year He is closing every door - directing me somewhere else.

And I'm alright with that. Well - no. It hurts. It makes me want to claw at things and throw pillows against the wall out of frustration. But it will be alright. I can live with it, because I know that when doors close, it usually means that God has something in mind for me that I couldn't find on my own without help. I can be patient.

At least until the show I saw yesterday. A high school production of a show that I'm not hugely fond of but when to anyway to support some members of the cast. I always go to high school shows expecting a huge amount of parental excitement and enthusiasm to look over the flaws because everyone has worked so hard. I expect a director to glow and rave about how proud they are of the students for what they've accomplished. Instead I experienced the most frustrating night I've EVER had in theater, and it wasn't the fault of the actors. There were several students on that stage who had more than earned the right to be there. Oh no - this time, it was the director.

Let me explain: for one, the director was there in what must have been his pajamas. A sweatshirt and sweat pants. If this wasn't sign enough of utter disrespect for your show, then what follows is certainly confirmation: the set was more or less cardboard, students wandered around upstage behind set pieces consistently, the tech was a disaster, there was at least three minutes of flashing strobe lighting in a strange attempt to look flashy, and - to cap it all off - a parent sitting in the middle of the theater with a tripod and camera out taking pictures WITH flash. Not once or twice - at least forty times in the second act alone. And the director did nothing about it. And those are only the things I can say without giving away what show it was. What a complete insult to those of us who want to be in theater and are willing and passionate enough to care about it.

So for now I'm fighting to regain my sense of peace about the lack of arts in my life right now. I envy my brother for being daring enough to make a career out of music. I am frustrated with myself for being practical. I am resolute in not giving away everything that I am for the stage and desperate for it at the same time. I am angry at this director for abusing the right to teach. I am in mourning for those students who deserve better.

Mostly - I miss the stage. And I am holding to the belief that somehow - somewhere - the talents I have been given will be put to use again.

The "Good Parts" Version

2011-02-07T12:35:00.002-07:00

I had a conversation recently with a fellow teacher who had the following conversation with a parent:

Parent: You studied human sacrifice in class?

Teacher: No, we studied the Aztec civilization. I mentioned human sacrifice but did not go into detail about how or when, nor did we do any demonstrations in class. It was brief. No pictures - just a mention.

Parent: I can't believe you would do that with my child in your class! Our family does not approve of any form of violence.

Teacher: . . . so. . . what do you do about The Book of Mormon? What about the scene where Nephi kills Laban? Ammon?

Parent: (Matter-of-factly) - Oh, we take those parts out.

Umm. . . excuse me?! Since when was it acceptable to censor The Book of Mormon?! Is it even possible to censor The Book of Mormon? Do they only read part of 3rd Nephi and the half of chapter one in 4th Nephi? And how the heck do they handle the Bible?

Remember when I told you that my school is full of crazy strange conservative people? I don't understand this mentality. I just don't. They do realize that if they wanted to live in a glass house free of any danger or sin or scary things at all that they did have that option, yes? And that our Father in Heaven, in his infinite wisdom, said "No. You need to live in an environment where there is light and dark?" Come now.

In other news - two of my classes will be reading The Giver in the next few months. I am very curious to see how that works out. . .

The King's Speech

2011-02-07T09:40:00.003-07:00

This particular blog post is about The King's Speech. If you don't want to be spoiled because you're planning on seeing it, then don't read. If you want to be convinced to go see it because that "R" rating scares you, then keep reading. If you think I'm a sinner for seeing a movie that's rated "R", then that's fine. I'll get over it.

Every so often a movie comes along that lives up to the hype surrounding it. It's a pretty rare thing - usually someone talks up a movie to the point where I think: "Yeah. Right. There's no way." Not that I don't love it when I'm wrong, but I do tend to go in cynically when I get recommendations from people that I don't trust.

Fortunately, I went into The King's Speech with almost nothing except the bare basics of information on the plot: King George VI getting over his stutter and - as far as the title told me - so he can give a speech. Pretty straightforward.

What I didn't quite expect was a film that would so gracefully and powerfully touch me and relate to me, and, I think, to anyone with any sense of self reflection that sees it. Let me explain:

1. George (AKA Bertie - Colin Firth) is an immediately sympathetic character. The opening scene involves an address at Wembley Stadium where a very loud speaker echos ever halt and sputter he makes to the entire crowd and all those listening on the radio. It would be bad enough if he was just afraid of crowds and got nervous - but the stutter went much deeper than that. As the plot goes on, you see pressure from his father, the teasing of his brother, his abusive nanny, his own lack of confidence. You see that he's been struggling to speak for himself since he was young. He's tried everything he (or his wife) could think of but nothing has worked. He finds a therapist, he learns, he gets better, but he's never quite perfect. The climax of the film is his address to the country after war is declared, and even that speech involves a battle for each and every word. There isn't a miraculous recovery. He doesn't suddenly sound perfect. In fact, the movie tells you that he always needed the help of his therapist for the speeches he gave throughout the war. His weakness became a strength, but strength doesn't necessarily mean that something is easy.

This was something that I so related to. So often I've felt like my entire life I will be battling against certain parts of myself that are not in any way easy to get over. Not that I'm denying the power that God has to make weaknesses into strengths - what I am saying is that there is nothing in scripture that says strengths are easy or that we won't have to continually work to keep a strength strong. There is nothing in the world that I know of that, with abandonment, stays just as easy for a person. That's just not how life works. I appreciated that reminder that I am not a failure if I am in process.

2. There's a moment where Bertie gives his therapist a shilling by way of inside-joke apology. He looks at the coin and tells his therapist that his father is still watching him. The therapist looks back and tells him that he doesn't have to carry his father around in his pocket.

This line hit me right over the head. There is a person in my life right now that is bound and determined to make my life miserable. Now that I've stepped back from the situation a bit I can recognize the signs of emotional abuse in what this person is doing to me, but the situation is one that makes it difficult for me to completely escape it. What's more, I've been asking myself over and over again: How can you be charitable and Christlike to a person that you need to break contact with? I don't have the answer yet - but in the mean time I've appreciated the reminder that I don't have to carry this person around with me everywhere I go either. I can put the metaphorical coin away and move on with life.

Now, as for the film's rating: to be honest, if I hadn't known it was R, I would have thought it was a soft PG for the first 3/4ths of the movie. There is one short scene and half of another scene where Bertie's character does swear quite a bit, but it isn't crude or crass swearing and it's all over rather quickly. If you don't want to deal even with 30 seconds or so of swearing, then it will be an easy enough movie to edit later on because there is literally no other instance of swearing or sex or anything else at all in the rest of the film that should cause problems. If you can handle it (it's actually a rather funny scene), then go. Just do. It was divine.

Really?

2011-02-03T11:55:00.003-07:00

Sometimes I think teaching would be a much more pleasant job if there weren't students involved. Less grading. Less noise. Less questioning. Less opportunity to fear for the future.

It is because of this that I have determined that today will be an opportunity for me to play my own version of SNL's "Really?!"

Exhibit A: I walked into school this morning and found, crowded around a computer in my "office"/Multimedia Room a large group of students watching the same film over and over again and being very loud. Down the hallway, there was a group of people banging haphazardly around on some drums. (Really?! Because some mornings I only want to be responsible for students between 8:45-3:15).

Exhibit B: After a month of preparation, students in the Drama class are about to perform their monologues at a mock audition in the upcoming week. Students have been told for the last week and a half that this will be a work day. As soon as work time is dismissed, students crowd around my desk. First student: ". . . what are monologues?" (Really?!)

Exhibit C: Second student: ". . . I don't have mine." / "We perform next week. Are you at all concerned by this? That you're not ready?" / ". . . should I be?" (Really?!)

Exhibits D-H: See Exhibit C. (Really?!! Are we sure that this is in any way worth my time?)

Exhibit I: Lunch time. 11:10-11:40. Sacred non-student time. Lunch. Adult conversation. Student refuses to leave after being asked more than once to get out and eventually cuts into five of those precious minutes. (*headdesk*. Really . . .. ?)

Exhibit J: Creative Writing. Students are shocked that we are. . . wait for it. . . writing. In a WRITING class. (Are you serious?!!)

. . . and so goes the day. I still have at least five more hours in this building and five more hours full of opportunities to work with students who are working their hardest today to try my patience and - unfortunately - succeeding. I remember being a student/kid and feeling as though adults (especially teachers - it was different with parents) were immune to annoyance, or should be if they weren't. Now I am beyond that ridiculous bit of ignorance and able to recognize that annoyance isn't something you grow out of.

But we're one step closer to the weekend. And I have a good book to read. And I'm playing the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my classroom. And the bell is ringing and the student who is sitting on the couch staring at me because her writing is "perfect" and doesn't need help is not going to bother me any more. And I'm going to eat a lemon bar. And I'm going to see a movie tonight (and tomorrow) with fully competent, delightful, responsible adults. And remember that adults were children once and. . . with any luck. . . these children will one day become adults.

If there is anything. . .

2010-12-22T21:17:00.005-07:00

". . . virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."
Articles of Faith: 13

I saw Tangled with my family tonight. It's the second time I've seen it and I thoroughly enjoyed myself both times. It's a clever movie that I wasn't expecting to do much more with other than a mental pat on the head - a "awww. . . you're such a cute Disney movie!" sort of gesture. Instead it struck a pretty big chord with me that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since. Probably because I think it's a hugely important film for the families of students I teach.

Let me give you a bit of background. I teach in one of the most conservative communities in the country. My students almost entirely come from the same family and religious background. Nearly all of them come from families where the parents are very involved in their lives in all aspects - and very concerned about each of those aspects. To these families, the world is often seen as a dark, scary place that needs to be constantly censored and filtered before reaching their children. Above all, the family is the most important thing, and keeping kids home as often as possible is important. Many of these students don't attend school full time so that they can be at home. In some cases, students are actually pulled out of class if it is seen as an environment that might be stressful. Most of these students are wary of what is new or different because they have been taught (either directly or indirectly) their entire lives to be cautious about the unknown.

Now, to be clear, this post is not meant to totally discount that method of parenting/raising a family. The world is often scary and certainly filled with darkness. It's not a hidden fact that the pornography rate in Utah is higher than any other state in the Union, for example. And families are very important - they are central to the Lord's plan, after all, and should be valued and strong.

What I do fear is the censorship. Typically the goal of censorship is to keep a child (or a person) innocent - but what censorship typically breeds is not innocence, but ignorance - and those are not parallel virtues. Ignorance breeds naivety - and those who are naive have no means with which to change the world for the better. The answer to evil is not hiding from it and pretending that it doesn't exist.

This is why I bring up Tangled, which was brilliant and beautiful in many respects, but mostly in the message that it gave of the dangers and problems of what happens when you shelter someone from the bad things. In the movie, Rapunzel is kept away in a tower (as per tradition) by a woman claiming to be her mother. Under the guise of "protection", Rapunzel is kept in this tower for the first eighteen years of her life until an arrogant (and hilarious) thief makes his way up her tower to escape a horse that thinks it's a dog/general.

So - as with the traditional story - Rapunzel leaves. And she discovers that her mother was right - the world is full of scary, frightening creatures. Not everyone wants what is best for you. Not every creature or place is safe. But she also sees and experiences beauty and fun and joy that she never would have had if she hadn't left the tower. If you can't have the bitter, you can't have the sweet.

And that is why I ache for so many of my students. For so many people I see around me who live their lives in constant fear. I think they see their life as a boat in the middle of the ocean that keeps springing leaks. They've used all their fingers and toes and elbows and any other resources they can to try and plug the leaks, but they keep breaking through. I would be absolutely miserable if I lived my life in constant fear. Fear is a disabler - it keeps you from moving forward. And it is not the way the Lord wants us to live. We are meant to progress, not hide away. We are meant to influence the whole world - not just the walls of our homes. And if we are going to influence the world, we need to be in it - aware of it, and we need to love it as God does. And he does love it - because he gave his son for it. Mormons (particularly those in Utah Valley, where the gospel of the church and culture of the church mix so crazily at times) are fools if they think they have a corner on God's love for the world. And I think it's about time they owned up to this and started becoming a more powerful people.

I Love Snow (Or, the post in which I repent for venting)

2010-12-15T16:48:00.002-07:00

This morning was terrible.

It was obnoxious, really, because I was determined for today NOT to be terrible. I reached a milestone on a project I've been working on for work yesterday and was too grumpy and tired to celebrate it, and I was determined to be in the mood for celebratory activities today. I even went to bed nearly two hours early in the hopes of being rested enough for such things.

But then I woke up and went outside and saw a gallon of snow on the ground and I was running late and I had chosen to wear a skirt and slippery flats and had no time to change. So I took off my shoes and attempted to make it to my car in bare feet and then had to scrape off the gallons of snow off of my car and realized too late that I probably should have just grabbed my boots, and drove to work with feet that were burning from cold. Lame.

The parking lot at school was not plowed (even when I got there late at 8:15) so I found a parking spot of course and prayed I'd be able to get out, and walked (again barefoot) into school, only to realize that - my students being from the families that they are, odds were they'd all be late and we'd start a half an hour after we wanted.

And then the snowplow came. And it slid into my car. And put a dent in it. (Yes. My brand new, beautiful car.) And to tell me this, a swarm of teenage boys decided to deliver the news in varying levels of dramaticness. It wasn't until I was able to shut them up that I was able to get the real story from an adult who told me that while the plow had run into my car, it only hit with the tire (how?!) and that they were able to push the bumper back into place and that it didn't look like there was any damage to it (and there isn't. Not a scratch, not a bump, not a hair out of place.)

And I felt like Lorelai in Gilmore Girls in that episode where she declares that she and snow are THROUGH. I was frustrated and annoyed and overwhelmed and irritated because I had wanted SO BADLY for today not to suck. I was cursing the sky and thinking that God was having a little too much fun with me, only I was tired of the game and wanted to play something else.

But then my wonderful co-workers took the time to make sure that I was ok - not just that my car was ok - but that I was ok. And I watched The Wonder Years at lunch and A Christmas Story after work, and read some really awesome (and hilariously bad) student essays and suddenly. . . the world didn't seem quite so bleak.

The irritating parents and lazy students haven't gone anywhere, but this teacher has her happy hat back on and is ready to tackle the last two days of school with metaphorical bells on her heals before heading home to enjoy the holidays with her family.

Benefits of Failure (Or, the post in which I vent.)

2010-12-12T00:00:00.003-07:00

Ahh. . . the last week of school. The week in which students who never cared an ounce for my classes up until now will suddenly care very much, and I will have the pleasure of telling them, and their parents, 'tough luck, Tiger, you're too late.'

I hate this week.

For personal and slightly selfish reasons, I hate this week because it is the week in which parents will very apologetically recognize that I have better things to do with my time, but could I please just this once make an exception for their student? It's the time where I will feel pressured guilt trips about students who failed to get work in all term and now that they're going to fail it will suddenly be my fault. It's the time where I will receive emails begging me to attempt to remember daily writing prompts from over two months ago. It's the week where I will already be swamped enough with final projects and places to be and things to prepare for that involve my OWN life (because I will actually have one in the next week.)

For other reasons, I hate this week because sometimes, (in my non-parental naivety), I wish that parents would allow their student to fail. Because what does the child really learn from death bed repentance? Well - for some, it will be that if you do the work the first time then you don't have to do it all at once. And that's not a bad lesson. But I also suspect that for many others, the lesson is, "Hey - I can slack off all term, do crappy work in the last week, and still somehow manage to scrape by." The lesson is short lived.

This isn't to say that I don't support or encourage make-up work. But I do think there are definite benefits to parents allowing their kids to face up to the consequences of their actions, even if it is embarrassing or frustrating or causes set backs. Because that's how life sometimes is. School is, and should be, a safe place to fail because your life/livelihood doesn't depend on it like it would in a job, for instance - but I do think there is a balance between teaching your kid responsibility and letting your kid face the music. I think the culture in this valley leads to too many kids who are coddled and used to making excuses - "I couldn't do my homework. I had other homework." or "I couldn't do my assignment. I had young women." To which I want to reply, "I couldn't grade your assignment, I had other assignments to grade." Or "I couldn't plan a lesson for you today, I had to take my car in for an oil change and then I had to do laundry and then I had to make myself dinner."

. . . Ok. So this isn't the most eloquent writing I've ever done. Mostly I'm just venting because this week has been one thing after another piling down on me and making me feel as though I am getting absolutely nowhere as a teacher.

So for now, I'm going to allow J.K. Rowling to say eloquently what I can only vent about. It is an article that I think I've referenced before, but I'm doing it again because it is just that good. (Though, in a sudden burst of irony, this article did make one student think that I am nigh unto Satanic because apparently Ms. Rowling is a devil - but you can be the judge on that one.)

In other news: sometimes being a teacher is annoying. Also - grades are a farce. These parents (and students) can whine and complain their way into whatever letter they want, but it won't change anything about what they've really learned or the kind of student they are, and it's about time they learned to face up to that music.

A Little More Conversation, a Little Less Knee-Jerk Reaction, Please.

2010-12-07T13:47:00.005-07:00

I grew up in what I like to call a morally conservative, artistically liberal household. This means that our values were faith based, but our experiences were not often censored. This is not to say that we spent time running around like hippies - there were still boundaries - but we were given room to explore and determine for ourselves what was and was not right.

I've spent a good deal of time thinking about this lately. How grateful I am for trusting parents who didn't immediately rip books like Go Ask Alice out of my hands because the book is "dirty" (which it is), but instead trusted that I would talk with them about what I was reading and use the experiences of others as a way to find more strength in my own belief system.

I mention this because I've seen more often than I ever have before in my life recently the idea that the world is full of dark, evil things and that the best way to keep evil things from corrupting you is to hide from them completely and not explain why to those around you (particularly in the form of parents talking to their children about the world.) For example, I had a friend tell me of an experience she had at school in a class where a girl (high school junior) was convinced that babies grew in the stomach (and wondered why pregnant women didn't have a baby-sized tumor on their side.) She was corrected by another student who said that babies ACTUALLY grow in the small intestine.

But it's not so simple as basic reproductive understanding, either. There's also a great deal of fear for what is out there. I've seen parents terrified of their children finding out about certain lifestyles or reading certain books that talk about what they don't agree with. Not that there isn't a good time and place (and age) for certain bits of information, and there are certainly books that are inappropriate or full of garbage - but it seems to me that those who live in this way don't understand the basic tenants of Mormon faith.

Our church is founded on the idea of learning for yourself. The church itself would not have even been established if Joseph Smith hadn't been curious. If his parents hadn't allowed him to attend other congregations to try and find truth. It seems to me that people who live this way (or parents who force their children to live this way), are afraid that the truth of the gospel will somehow not be strong enough or true enough to stand up to the diverse ideas of the world. Or perhaps these individuals simply think that the LDS faith has a corner on truth and that there are no other means by which truth can be found or expanded on. (For example, I've known my share of people who don't seem to understand that my faith is strengthened through fiction.)

Ultimately, what this leads to is a population of people who breed fear of the unknown. People who take one look at something that is unfamiliar and immediately interpret it as wicked or somehow 'wrong'. They don't want to talk about or try something new because it might be what they fear it to be. To which I say: Yes. It might be. But it might NOT be. It might be something you could actually talk about. You might actually be strengthened by reading/writing about/listening to/watching an idea that is not like one you currently hold. It's no wonder so many people in this valley live in fear - it's easier to assume the worst and refuse to talk about the truth than it is to actually talk openly about things. Bad things happen when people are left to wonder.

As for me, I feel like my life would be not quite worth living if I spent all my time and energy trying to keep bad things out. I'd rather spend my time seeking out good things, because - as we all know - light will always overpower darkness.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part One) - Review

2010-11-19T20:34:00.004-07:00

Note: This post will likely be revised after I see the movie a second time and am better able to consider the specific film making details that made this movie awesome (which it truly was). For now, here are my (somewhat disjointed) thoughts. Naturally, there are spoilers.

First: This year, due to the nature of my now responsible "I need to be an adult" job, I was unable to go see the movie at midnight (*sigh*). I was serendipitously transferred (much like Harry) back into a state of reminiscing - waiting all day at school (like I did for the first movie) in anxiety and then rushing to the theater the second I could get out of the building. Of course this time I had access to Facebook and reviews from friends. Cynical as I am, when I saw reviews from a few people who had seen the movie at midnight and enjoyed it, I actually got worried. Generally, these individuals are the kind who are bugged if the movie is not exactly the same as the book, whereas I am a huge fan of movies being adapted so that they are good movies, not good 'copy-paste' attempts.

Fortunately for me, this is a movie that is both beautiful and true enough to the book that both sides should be satisfied.

I do laugh a bit when I have looked at reviews where filmmakers complained about how the movie feels unfinished or slow. Well. . . that's how it should have been. The movie isn't finished. We've only seen half of a whole. And it should have been slow, because for the first time - we have a movie dedicated not to action and clear cut adventure - but a movie dedicated to building relationships and and overall feeling of being lost and confused about what needs to be done. Which is, essentially, exactly what the first half of the book is about. Many readers cheekily called the first part of the book Harry Potter and the Extended Camping Trip. If viewers leave that movie feeling as though they lost or have been through a long, confusing adventure - well. . . that's probably exactly what the filmmakers wanted.

My greatest excitement for this movie came in realizing that, for the first time, I felt like Radcliffe, Grint, and Watson were equally yoked as actors. They were all given good things to do, and they all did them well. In the past, Watson has read lines rather awkwardly, or Grint's character has been reduced to the stupid sidekick. But this time - they were a team. It was really great to see how much they had matured and grown into these parts with such confidence. They managed to carry a movie that was incredibly difficult to pace and, at times, laborious in how lost it was. They were great.

I appreciated how this movie didn't pander to the latecomers. In the past, some of the movies would spend so much time on exposition that a viewer could have seen the film cold and more or less understood what was going on. It was wasted time. This isn't James Bond - it's more or less a 20+ hour long movie that ultimately tells the same story. This movie is not for newcomers. If you hadn't seen the others, you'd be hopelessly lost and bored.

The animation: The animation was glorious. The way they handled the Tale of the Three Brothers was fantastic. Dobby and Kreacher were unbelievable. They made Gollum look like a cartoon - which is saying something, because Gollum looks pretty great. But Dobby and Kreacher were seamless and beautiful. Bravo.

The film was funny. It was sad. Ultimately, though, what made me love this movie so much - and what made it, in some ways, blow the other films out of the water - was that its core was a film that had heart. There was such love for the characters. Such care for what happens to them. The movie was handled with such obvious adoration for J.K. Rowling's creation and the fans that worship every word she's written that it would be impossible for me not to respect the accomplishment. You can see why they were so keen on splitting the film in two. It isn't for more money (though that's nice.) It's because the story is too good to do it the injustice of cramming it all into one film.

Was the film perfect? No. There were a few lost opportunities. (Did they ever explain the origin of the mirror? I also wish that they'd have left the conversation between Harry and Ron after the locket is destroyed.) But, on the whole, the film was wonderful.

How great is it to look back on the last ten years and know that I've been at every Harry Potter movie on opening day/night? To know that I've grown up with this series and now have the privilege of seeing it get another send off is fantastic. To loosely quote James Hook. . . "What would the world be like without Harry Potter?!"

Open Letter to the Deseret News

2010-11-19T09:21:00.007-07:00

Dear Deseret News,

You are a delightful newspaper. I enjoy reading your articles. They make me chuckle. They keep me aware on long nights of work that there is, in fact, a world out there. I thank you.

But every once in a while, you do something so delightful that I cannot resist commenting. (Or, rather, I try to comment. But your registration feature has apparently read my mind, anticipated me words, and has kept me from obtaining access to your comment board on several occasions.) This particular day, I would like to thank you for helping to clear out theaters of Utah by taking quotes out of context, perpetuating non-existant scandal, and by continuing to remind would-be ignorant movie-goers of it in more than one article.

I am speaking, of course, of the article claiming large amounts of nudity in the new film Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part One). By taking a quote (and a scene) out of context, one of your writers managed to incite such fear and disgust as to leave many parents convinced that neither they, nor their children should be allowed to watch such filth. This will, I am assuming, leave plenty of room for us sinful movie watchers to enjoy the film without the cynical, pure aura of the angry part of your readers in theaters over the next few weeks. I thank you for this.

Sincerely,

Me.

So here's the deal. I work with many students that come from very conservative families. I'm ok with this. I respect that parents have the right to raise their children in the way that they see best. This is a scary world and there are lots of nasty, not so good things out there. It's natural to want to protect your children from garbage. Do I think nudity is necessary in films? Most of the time, no. Particularly in films that are going to be seen by kids. But all of this ridiculous, false Harry Potter advertising (I'm not going to go into great deal about it now, just read the interviews/go see the film) has got me thinking about the arts and the role that they play in my life and the lives of the people around me and I've been frustrated by the hypocrisy that I've seen.

I am more offended by movies (or art, or literature, or music) that are dumb, or fluffy, or cheesy than I am by movies (etc.) that approach the heart and the depths of a human soul. Shutting out or being afraid of evil shuts out and protects you from the light as well. It's an Asian philosophy (if you are going to create good, you are going to create evil) - and a religious one (opposition in all things).

It is, to be perfectly frank, one of the things that eats at me most about the prominent culture in Utah Valley. People here seem more ready to accept fluff and chintz and 'safe' things, and less willing to actively seek after things that are 'virtuous, lovely. . . of good report or praiseworthy.'

I recognize, of course, that everyone has a different standard of what constitutes as virtuous (etc.) But it does make me sad when I see people living more with a feeling of fear for what is bad and less a feeling of joy over searching and finding things that are uplifting. I don't think that the Lord sent us to this earth to have us spending all our time running away from scary things that we don't have any time left to search out the glorious. That's not my job, at least. My job is to recognize that there are not good things out there, and to spend my time looking for those things that are uplifting.

And for goodness sake - this is Harry Potter we're talking about. They know their audience. They've made six more than good films and they're not going to put out something pornographic now. Use your brains. Go see the movie (or talk to people who have at the very least) before you start judging. Not to mention that this is the last (or second to last) of the Harry Potter stories - one of the most powerful and uplifting pieces of fiction I have read. A book about the power of evil - and the greater power of good. Give me a break.

Arg.

(Plus. . . there is a very cheeky and cynical part of my own head that wonders how many of these people who are scared about the 'filthy' parts of Deathly Hallows are Breaking Dawn readers looking forward to a particularly exciting vampire sex scene next summer. . . *eyeroll* Give me good literature over that garbage any day. . . )

How to Date a BYU Co-Ed

2010-11-09T12:44:00.002-07:00

I gave my Creative Writing students a "how to" writing assignment recently where they are supposed to satirize something that they go through. I decided to do this writing assignment myself, and, very cheekily, wrote up the following. . .

How to Date a BYU Co-Ed

The first thing you need to do is plan your approach. This is not something that should be taken lightly. You, as a man, want to make sure that the female specimen of the modern day knows that you know she is intimidating and frightening, so it is best to plan your approach from a distance. Don’t ever talk to her in person. This makes things very scary for you and makes her feel as though you are manipulative. Don’t call her on the phone because that may make her feel as though you consider yourself worthy to speak to her. The best way to ask a girl out, especially the one you know the name of but don’t ever encounter on a daily basis, is by TEXT or FACEBOOK.

NOTE: This is especially true of the female who was kind to you and spoke to you once but has not talked with you since then. It is best to send her an impersonal message through impersonal means because you have an impersonal relationship with her, and you wouldn’t want to take things too fast, now would you?

After you have sent your text message or Facebook event invite, the best thing you can do is wait approximately 24 hours for a response, then ask again. It could be that she did not get your message the first time. It could be that she has been stewing in awe of the generosity of your request and she needs to know that you are not, in fact, scary. Be sure to send a new request in the appropriate way.

If she turns you down: Note - the best thing you can do at this point is to not give up hope: odds are if you ask her again for another night, she will be more free and willing to grace you with her presence. She may just have needed time to warm up to the idea. Do not give up heart! Try again.
If she accepts: Congratulations! You now get the chance to proceed to step number. . .

The planning of the event: Remember. The modern woman knows that everything - your entire future of a couple - depends on the first date. Like the male peacock, your job is to ruffle all of your glorious feathers. You must let her know that you are willing to devote hours of your time, and all of your money, strictly to her entertainment. You must take her to every desirable location in one evening. This requires planning and intense concentration. You must be sure, like the male peacock, that the female peacock knows that your feathers are sure to be the most attractive. This is especially true of the Utah Valley BYU Co-Ed, who has been raised from birth to believe that a person only dates to find a mate. You. Must. Be. That. Mate.
The event should include. . .

Eating at an expensive restaurant
A clever activity in which you, as male peacock, can show off your masculine ability, and she, as female independent 20th century peacock, can demonstrate her intelligence.
Dessert (Euphemistic or otherwise.)
Followed by the in apartment movie watch. The date should never end until you have had the chance to sit on an uncomfortable couch and entertained yourselves by some viewing pleasure.

On the day of the date itself, remember that the event is the most important part, followed shortly by the looks of the female herself. Your job is to flaunt your impressive planning skills, not your hygiene. Nothing will intimidate an intimidating woman more than a man who looks better than she does on a date. (Plus, she might think that you are, in fact, gay.) Thus, to prove your straight-ness and your consideration for her beauty, do not spend more than approximately ten minutes preparing yourself. Spend approximately five of those minutes showering. Find whatever shirt is clean, put on the running shoes you’ve had forever, and whatever jeans seem most appropriate for the event. This should take you no more than two minutes. Spend the remaining time brushing your teeth. (The “look no better than she does” exception does not extend to smell. The female creature loves it when you make it very clear that you do, in fact, wear aftershave and cologne at the same time - particularly if you are going to drive for long distances.)
During the date, let her do all the talking. And only use one syllable words if you should feel the need to speak.
After the date is over, be sure to send the appropriate text message thanking said female for her time. Then, should you feel the need, be sure to invite her out for the next weekend on an activity of similar grandeur. If you slack off on the next date, she will know you are a fraud. You must shower this female with every trick up your sleeve all the time to remind her that you “care”.

Happy Dating!

Follow the Prophet

2010-10-10T10:53:00.003-06:00

Since last weekend's LDS General Conference there has been quite a bit of discussion on President Packer's talk about standards of morality and the power of repentance. Opinions have been shared and debated and protests have been staged because the talk was seen as a step backward for the church as regards the way we approach the LGBT community.

I have my own opinions on the matter that I don't really feel the need to express here. Suffice it to say that I have been in theater long enough (and in the world long enough) to have made several friends who associate with that community. I've enjoyed and treasured their friendships and valued the mutual respect that we've had for the beliefs we share or disagree on. This is true of every friendship I've had, really - the need for mutual respect and understanding even when you disagree.

I don't wish to discuss the political ramifications of President Packer's talk. Members outside of the LDS community are not always in a position to understand our beliefs as well as we would and they can't be blamed for that. What makes me nervous is when members of the church start calling the Presidency of the church and the Apostles 'out of touch' or 'misguided' or 'misinformed'. When they start asking for the Presidency to re-think or re-phrase what they have said so that it is more comfortable to hear. That is dangerous.

The Lord has made it very clear that he speaks through his prophets. There is no room for debate on this. Blaming age or so-called naivety for the reasoning behind any official message of these men is a sign of a lack of understanding or faith in that doctrine. Are these men perfect? No. Would the Lord allow them to make statements on His behalf that were contrary to His plan? No.

I understand when people outside of the church misunderstand or misread what the apostles say because they do not hear with the same experience that members of the church should. They listen to these words as politics because - for most other churches/religious organizations - that's how messages are given. But when members of the church willingly say "well. . . I follow the Prophet, but sometimes he's a little out of touch. . . " - that is dangerous. The Lord did not tell us to follow the Prophet when it was comfortable. He did not tell us to follow the Prophet only if we understood everything that He said. He did not say to follow the Prophet, but you can pick which members of the Apostles are crazy - He said:

"What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same."

As members of the church we have a responsibility to be kind and understanding to all of God's children. We can't be comfortable with naivety about the state of the world. We have to associate with and love those who do not share our beliefs. We also have to recognize that the doctrine of this church is not always comfortable. It does not fit with the standards that the world would set or the way that knowledge is constructed and categorized in this world. The gospel is manifest in ways that can't always be measured or seen - but it can be felt and understood.

So there it is. The Lord does not excuse Himself from what needs to be said, and it is not my responsibility to excuse Him (or his servants) either.

The more I love my dog. . .

2010-10-08T15:35:00.003-06:00

This. . .

. . . is Schatzie.

She was, for all intents and purposes, my replacement. When I moved out of the house, my parents allowed her to take up residence. As I no longer spend large amounts of time with my immediate family at home (excepting Christmas, of course, and the odd vacation here and there when I'm lucky), I do not get to see her very often. Lucky for me she always remembers who I am and, thanks to my conniving methods of hour long belly rubs and the promise of beef jerky, she will allow me to hold her. She'll sleep in my room and keep my feet warm. She'll pee on the floor when I come in for excitement. She'll lick my face. She'll give me high fives. She'll look up at me expectantly when I tell her to stay, then put a treat on the floor, and stand there like a cruel slave driver, watching her patience, waiting for the command to come.

I've been thinking a lot about that particular moment recently. Those times when we test her training to see how long she will wait when the treat is not only promised, but in full view. My otherwise crazy and impatient dog will, because she wants so badly to please us, stay in her chair for extended periods of time until she is told to eat. If we walk away, she will come looking to me for permission before she eats the treat. It's funny how powerful the words of 'stay' and 'come' can be.

Not that she's perfect. I highly doubt that her patience would last if we, for example, asked her to stay, put the treat in the tray, then left the house for an hour or so. But maybe it would. Although she can be naughty and she doesn't always want to be bothered - I think Schatzie's ultimate desire in life is to please each of us.

There's a powerful symbol in that, I think. At least for me in my life and my situation right now - I feel at times like my poor dog, sitting on the floor in comfortable but foodless chair, watching the rest of my friends partaking of feasts that I have not been invited to.

Now - don't get me wrong. My life has been so abundantly blessed in the last several months that there are no words for me to adequately describe the gratitude I feel to my Heavenly Father for the guidance I have received. I have a job that I love. I have real, sincere friendships that have built me up and made me feel so wanted and loved that it's like having family close by again. I am blessed.

But occasionally, like Schatzie, I feel as though I am being relegated to a chair while others around me feast on food that I am not yet allowed to eat. It's this constant battle of wills inside of me: that feeling of overwhelming gratitude for the life that I'm leading, and the desire for the part of life I'm being denied for some reason that isn't quite clear to me yet.

So in the mean time, I'm going to try and be a little more like Schatzie. I'm going to work a little harder to please the one responsible for giving me all good things, and I'm going to (at least try) to keep my focus on those things that I have been given.

Self Reliance

2010-09-09T13:59:00.004-06:00

I have little patience for impatient students.

It's a little contradictory, and probably a bit unfair, but it drives me absolutely up the wall when a student of mine spends thirty seconds on an assignment and then complains of boredom.

I have one such student in one of my classes. A writing assignment was given today that said student claimed to have finished in approximately a minute and a half. I asked if this was the best work that could be done. The student nodded enthusiastically. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes and say "yeah, right," I gestured to the turn in tray.

Said student then proceeded to bug me about every five minutes for the remainder of work time. May I sharpen my pencil? May I go to the bathroom? I don't know what to do! What should I write about? I've written about everything that interests me!

ARG!

There's almost nothing in the world that bothers me more than a student that wastes his or her own time (and mine - and the rest of the class) by not being self reliant. Students who don't use their resources or ask questions about every trivial thing make me seethe.

I think this is because, recently, I've felt the joy of being almost entirely self reliant. I have a job that allows me to provide for myself without parental assistance. While I certainly don't jump up and down every time I send money off to pay a bill, I do take a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that I can provide for myself. I consider myself to be a fairly resourceful person, and for a girl living on a second year teacher's salary of all things, I'm doing pretty well.

Oh, if I could only teach that to my students. It always amazes me when, in the same day, I have several students freaking out over an empty numbered list on the board (Student: "What's THAT for?!!!" Me, sarcastically: "I'm never going to tell you. I just put it up there to confuse you."), and even more students in the same day begging to know when class gets out, to which I point at the bell schedule that has been on the board the entire YEAR but they have not noticed.

So, to sum up my day, I bring you a quote from Gilmore Girls:

Lorelai: Michel, the phone.

Michel: Mmm-hmm. It rings.

L: Can you answer it?

M: No, people are particularly stupid today. I can't talk to any more of them.

Let us oft speak kind words about each other. . .

2010-09-02T19:03:00.003-06:00

"I resolve to speak ill of no man whatever, not even in a matter of truth; but rather by some means excuse the faults I hear charged upon others, and upon proper occasions speak all the good I know of everybody."

Benjamin Franklin

Why Suzanne Collins is a Gutsy Writer, OR, Why The Hunger Games is a smarter series than Twilight

2010-08-29T16:59:00.002-06:00

Warning: This post will contain spoilers for each book in The Hunger Games series. If you have not read them before and would prefer not to be spoiled, then get them read and then come back.

It's no secret that I don't like the Twilight books. I have made that abundantly clear in various blog posts and personal rants over the years. My primary complaints rested in the weakness of the main character, whom I found altogether to repulsive to like, and a male lead, whom I found far too sappy to be in any way tolerable. Other complaints rested in Meyer as an author completely unaware of her own message and the cop out of having her main character be so spineless and unwilling to consider consequences for actions.

Ahh, but then I discovered The Hunger Games.

It was such a breath of fresh air to read a book - probably the first since Harry Potter that managed to find a book that lived up to the mass hype it had received. It was bold, entertaining, and so wonderfully different that I couldn't stop talking about it. It was one of those books that mattered. A book that could be read by a person at any age and still mean something.

The trouble was, Collins gave herself an almost impossible set up for American readers. Americans are big fans of tight, happy, fairy tale endings. It's all part of that American Dream mentality. We like the couple to get together. We like what Miss Prism in The Importance of Being Earnest calls fiction: for the "good to end happily, and the bad unhappily." But it wasn't going to be that easy in Panem - not with the complicated set up Collins gave herself. Panem wasn't a nation that had barely entered some kind of complicated, oppressive government - Panem was a government with a 75 year long tradition of sick, public mutilation. Obviously the ultimate goal of the book series wasn't just to survive the game itself alive, but to survive the government - surviving the game wasn't good enough.

That's a huge task, particularly in a government so intricately structured and varied and unpredictable as the one Collins created.

This is why, I think, the last book in the series will raise some eyebrows. Is it perfect? No. Is it still pretty darn brilliant? Yes. Is it going to please most American readers? I'm not sure. Most of the Twilight obsessed teen crowd will likely be disappointed by the lack of romance in this book compared to the others. In fact, the resolution of the "will she or won't she" conflict between Katniss and the two men was almost an afterthought, because it really didn't matter as much as everything else (though I still think I could have done with at least a proper send off for Gale. Not that I thought Katniss should be with him - I didn't - but I felt as though his character deserved more credit than he was given.)

All the same, Collins dared to write a book that was not happy and did not end entirely happy either. Readers who wanted a story full of hope without the taint of dread that it was all too good to be true at the end were not going to find it in Katniss, who, as a narrator, had enough scarring after the first games she participated in to make her suspicious of every good thing for the rest of forever. Katniss is wary, and with good reason. Things weren't ever going to be cleanly finished.

But that isn't the point, is it?

As far as I'm concerned, the most important part of that last book was in the transformation of Peeta, who has always represented the hope for a better future. No matter what has been thrown at him in the past, Peeta always managed to keep his chin up and find the bright side of things, without being Pollyanna like, but by being practical. He was an incredible judge of character. Until the Capitol got hold of him and addled his brain. Throughout the entire book he is fighting for himself back - trying to figure out what is real and what is not real. It's even turned into a game. Isn't that the point Collins has been making all along? The importance of asking yourself what is and what is not real? In a society so steeped in "keeping up appearances" and glamorizing the grotesque for the gain of others - isn't that the whole purpose? If that was her purpose, then she accomplished it wonderfully.

Did the government miraculously turn pure and clean overnight? No. Will Katniss and Gale and Peeta and all the rest of them ever lead "normal" lives? No. But have we as readers learned a little something about where our values are? Hopefully. Is there hope for their future - and ours? Definitely.

So thank you, Ms. Collins, for writing a series that took nerve. Thank you for making me think. Thank you for providing me with endless conversations with friends and students about the value of entertainment and the value of reality. Your books are masterful.

Reverse Angle

2010-08-26T14:18:00.003-06:00

In film, a reverse angle is when you film something from the opposite side of what is considered "normal". For example, a dinner table scene is usually filmed from one side of the table only. To film from the other side is disorienting and a bit harsh on your audience.

I feel like my life is a pretty decent representation of a reverse angle at the moment, because it is so, so very different from last year. Last year I came home after the first day of school overwhelmed and worn out and not sure I would be able to handle everything that went along with teaching three classes of seventh graders. I honestly didn't think I would survive until May. This year I came home after my first day of school thinking: "Gosh, I love this - I am glad to be back in school!"

Such a strange thing, but so refreshing. Do I love planning lessons for four classes I haven't taught before? Not particularly. Do I love grading? No. But I do love working with students and trying new things and seeing excitement and growth and enthusiasm. I love the chance that I have to be a complete unabashed dork for the sake of keeping teenagers entertained and interested in a stupid syllabus.

In other words: life really is wonderful when you are doing something you love. I have nothing more profound to add to my life right now except a strong, wonderful sense of contentment. What a luxury that is - how many second year teachers have this feeling? I don't know. But I do love that instead of teachers treating me like I don't know anything, they're treating me with high expectations and excitement. It's such a delightful little shift.

In other other words: *smile*.

Music Man: A Recap

2010-07-29T16:34:00.006-06:00

I'm in mourning for the loss of my obsession. I still feel the need to run lifts and scenes, even though the show closed earlier this week. This was such an incredible theater experience - I had to write it all down. I'm sure as I remember more things the list will expand, but this is what I have for now. . .

Things I Will Miss. . .

My wonderful costumes! Clothes these days just aren’t the same. . . plus, I looked awesome. I really felt beautiful.
The thrill of singing some of the most wonderful and iconic songs in musical theater, and knowing when they sounded nice.
Walking around everywhere in my bloomers. On stage, off stage, grocery stores, restaurants. . .
My Paroo family. Mama calling me ‘darlin’ and both Winthrops giving me hugs to wish me luck.
Making the audience laugh when I was being sly or a bit snarky.
Hearing such genuine compliments after the show from generous audiences.
Working so hard to make Marian and Harold a couple you want to root for – and then succeeding.
Shooting marshmallows out of my mouth.
Everything about Marian the Librarian (especially that vest. . . )
Late night (mostly focused) quiet scene rehearsals
My power ranger boots
Lift-a-palooza
Wearing the completed footbridge dress for the first time. It was the first moment when I really thought "Wow. I look like Marian."
Watching characters come to life on stage – like the first time Rob went off on the school board.
The challenge of developing a difficult character so completely from one end of the spectrum to the other.
Waking up in the morning with my cheek stuck to my pillow because of tape residue – because it reminded me that I’d been in a show the night before, and it was satisfying
Rehearsing Shipoopi and bonding with the cast
The cast carwash, in which I managed to thoroughly soak many people, and get soaked by just as many
The fireflies and smoke during the footbridge – I never got to really see it, but it looked like it looked beautiful
Symbols and metaphors happening on accident (the color of the handkerchief, people carrying books around that trusted me from the beginning).
Lindsay’s snort during Pick-a-Little, and the look on her face/Chris’ face during their solo of Shipoopi
Craig's sound jokes and obnoxious kissing noises from the booth.
Being able to yell or say mean things without having to repent afterwards ;). (I'm mostly joking!)

Things I Won’t Miss. . .

Non-scripted drama.
Mic tape giving me hives behind my ear.
Stage make-up making my skin break out.
Fake eyelashes.
The debate over my stage make-up in general and the great eyebrow debacle of 2010
The door to the Paroo house
“Like two junior high kids in the back of a movie theater!”
The "Did you really kiss my daddy in the show or was it pretend?" question. . . Yeesh!
Hairspray. (The product. Not the musical.)

Things I Want to Remember. . .

Seeing my name on the call back list for Marian and shaking for about a half an hour afterwards from excitement
How over the moon excited I was when I got the call from the director telling me that I got the part – and adding again to that excitement when I found out that Greg got the part, because I had so much fun with him at call backs (good thing that continued. . . )
The moment in call backs when I thought “. . . I might actually be able to get this part!”
The first YOPTC night
The huge feeling of accomplishment I had when I finally committed to all parts of Marian’s journey. It was an emotional triumph for me, and a healing experience.
Lawrence Welk-ing the footbridge ("Never a peaceful moment in the -" "Yeaaaah!")
The director pulling Greg and me aside after the final show and telling us that he was afraid that he would only ever compare us to Robert Preston and Shirley Jones, but that now he will compare all other performances of Harold and Marian to us. That was a huge honor.
"I couldn't kiss him! My acting skills are NOT that good." (Re: The "other" Music Man.)
Steve Black telling me with such enthusiasm that we had nailed the transformation of both characters. His high opinion of the show was, at least for me, the moment I really knew I had succeeded!
Scores of people telling us that they had never understood why Marian loved Harold before they saw our version and knowing that the months of hard work had really, honestly paid off the way we hoped it would.
Greg’s wife telling me that her favorite song in the show was “Till There Was You” – pretty much the last thing I ever expected, but it was a huge compliment! She also said she likes my voice better than Shirley Jones – which is also a great thing to hear, even if I think she’s crazy.
The night I was offered my job. I thought I was in some kind of trouble. I was - but a completely different kind of trouble than I thought.
Walking into Maple Mountain’s theater for our first rehearsal there and thinking “ooooh boy. . .”
Showing off Shipoopi for the first time to the ensemble – mainly because I didn’t have many scenes at all with ensemble in them and it was my first chance to really show off what I could do! The reaction was pretty fun.
Slapping Greg at rehearsal (mostly on accident).
The “Sadder But Wiser (Budwiser?) Girl” dance at tech rehearsal.
Lady in the Tramp hair at intermission
The development of the hummingbird fascination.
Being so giddy over finally rehearsing the library that I couldn’t stop from grinning at how much fun it was to perform. That was always my favorite scene in the movie, and performing it every night was one of the greatest thrills ever.
Realizing how completely the Lord loves me to lead me to the show – not just because playing Marian was fun, but because it changed my life in nearly every way: with friendship, with opportunity, and with some major personal growth.
The emotion of closing night – feeling everything so much more keenly than I had in any other rehearsal or show because I knew it would end.
Watching the pick-a-little ladies can-can during the entr’acte music before the curtain opened. So, so entertaining!
Watching Lindsay sing “Columbia, Gem of the Ocean” off stage so that I could laugh all I wanted without being seen.
Larisa’s excellent “Baaalllzac!” during the pick-a-little reprise
The joke we played on Lindsay. We texted her during notes on one of the two days that she wasn't at rehearsal and told her that she might want to get to rehearsal fast because our director had just told someone else to start memorizing her lines. We thought that she would roll her eyes and laugh, but instead she panicked and burst into tears and her whole family started planning a siege on the school. Whoops! It was really funny, though - in spite of how mean it was! Fortunately she's still talking to all of us.
“I thought so.”
The blessing of being surrounded by priesthood holders when I needed them.
The care that so many people took to make sure that I was taken care of – feeding me and bringing me food and helping me in so many ways on and off stage. It was comforting to know that people cared about me enough to notice when I needed help or encouragement.
How hard it all was – I’ve never had to work so hard at making a part good. It took rehearsing nearly every day for three and a half months to feel worthy of playing Marian. I only missed one rehearsal during all of that time, and I came every other day whether I was scheduled to or not because I wanted to get it right. The responsibility and pressure of being a lead in such an iconic show. It was so, so worth the work – but it was hard.
How fun it all was – to take such pleasure in saying lines I’d known for years from watching the film, to talk for hours about character development and how to take Harold and Marian from one place to the next in a way that is uplifting and praiseworthy, to have all the fun perks of being a lead – riding on the float in the parade, kids giving me hugs after the show, custom made costumes and a quiet dressing room, interviews and pictures in the paper – it was definitely a selfish bit of fun to have that kind of attention!

Seeing the Good

2010-07-25T21:56:00.007-06:00

"It is a terrible injustice to be falsely accused." - Anne of Green Gables

I'm going to toot my own horn for a second and seem very contradictory. You'll have to forgive me.

One thing I realized about myself several years ago is that, on the whole, I'm pretty good at assuming the best in other people. Those of you who know me well might look through the files of your brain and find moments where I haven't been that way, but ultimately I think that, as a person, I'm generally good at assuming the best in others and assuming that they see the best in me.

This means that it always comes as a bit of a shock when I'm confronted by accusations of poor behavior on my part, whether those accusations are valid or not.

I had such an experience recently and it's brought to mind lots of random thoughts that I'm going to attempt to string together here. . .

The "grass is always greener" mentality can be quite frustrating when you know the grass isn't greener, it's just a different kind of grass. Being cast as a lead in this play has been, then, both a wonderful experience and an extremely stressful one. I have been around the theater business long enough to know that everyone experiences the stage differently. When you're in the ensemble, particularly if there are long breaks between backstage and stage time, it's a great time for you to play games and socialize. I knew before getting this part that as a lead you'd have lots less of that time because so much of your time would be spent on stage. What I hadn't realized was exactly how emotionally and physically taxing that can be.

It's true that everyone in the cast is at the theater for the same amount of show time, but I've never been so drained in a show before this one. Staying "on" and being completely in character for two and a half hours is hard. It's a completely different challenge than any other play I've had the chance to participate in. It's been a very welcome challenge, but a difficult one.

What I really didn't understand, though, is how hard it is to walk that fine line between putting on a good performance and being a good friend to everyone in the cast, especially with the part that I have. Marian doesn't socialize much. Nearly all of my time on stage is spent in small group scenes. This means that I haven't had the chance to get to know as many people in the show as well as I normally would in any other position. I noticed after we started rehearsing that people treated me differently because of the role that I had, and I tried to counter that by being as kind and complimentary to people as I could. No one should have an ego built on community theater of all things. I'm just another small fish in a very big and very insignificant pond doing my best to perform where I'm placed. But in spite of all that, people will still interpret distance for arrogance and think that things come easily where they don't. It can be frustrating.

Which brings me to the point of the day: It is easy for humans to criticize what we don't understand and allow ourselves to be annoyed by what we haven't experienced. It is easy for us, then, to back bite and sneer at the success of other people. It is easy for us to imagine that there is a cap on success and that the success of another person is, in some way, inhibiting our own success or potential for success. Instead, we should remember that we are always happier when we are excited for others and supportive of others. Jealousy is a waste of time, and holding a grudge even more so. We should observe before judgement, and give others the benefit of the doubt. I'm of the firm belief that rational people generally act out of good intentions.

So there it is. I feel better after a bit of venting. This ride as Marian Paroo has been rough. It's been a huge challenge for me in the actual performance, but - in some ways - a larger challenge in terms of how I relate to my cast. I hope that they know, as a whole, anyway - how much I appreciate and admire them. I hope that I've been easy to work with and generous in complimenting. If I haven't been as good at that as I would have liked to have been, or as people might have needed me to be, then I hope that there will be a spirit of understanding and forgiveness. After all - we're really all in the same boat.

Good Enough

2010-05-24T16:54:00.002-06:00

I am a person of many insecurities. Not that people would always know it by looking at me. I'm told that occasionally my "confidence" is so overwhelming I intimidate people (working on that.) But that confidence isn't always as pure as it might seem. I'll blame it on years of the "fake it until you make it" mentality - or perhaps just better than average acting skills that I possess.

I bring this up because recently I've been faced with the kind of perfect challenge that is at the same time catered to some of my greatest strengths but also leaning on some of my insecurities and weaknesses. This particular challenge calls for me to place said insecurities and strengths in front of large groups of people and hope for the best. I can't really blame God for any of this, seeing as I volunteered for the thing in the first place, but recently I started to feel the pressure kind of getting to me. That nagging "you don't really think you can do this. . . " voice of discouragement that makes me want to quit the whole thing and just avoid the potential for failure at all.

So this is the pep talk I've been giving myself: The devil wants us to hide our talents, even our weaker ones, because weaker ones can become strong ones. Right now my talent might just be good or passable, but the Lord will make up the difference and make it great. The only way this is going to happen is if I stop trying to improve this talent out of some desire for personal acclaim or recognition, and only if I remember where I got the gift in the first place. I also need to remember that my weaknesses make life interesting and give me something to work for - and that as a person, I'm good enough because I am His.

Pep talk over.

Lead Kindly Light

2010-05-02T10:47:00.003-06:00

Three years ago, right now, I was sitting in Fitz Park. Fitz Park is a small but happy little place in Keswick, England - one of my favorite towns in the entire world. Keswick is in The Lake District - an area in the North Western part of England known for their, wait for it, lakes - and their untouched countryside, mountains, and the general sense of peace there. I don't know if I could ever live in Keswick permanently - it's a bit too small for a girl who grew up in the suburbs - but it is a place that I will always have a soft spot for. It's a beautiful, remarkable sort of place to just be.

I was in Keswick that time around for my study abroad. On this study abroad, our theme hymn was "Lead Kindly Light", a song that I'd always loved but understood better after actually walking across the moors and having my feet be so literally far from home. Since then it's more or less been my favorite hymn. This morning I turned on my church music playlist on iTunes and "Lead Kindly Light" was the first song to come up. Normally I'd smile and think about how much I like that song and move on with getting ready for church, but I stopped today, thinking instead about how appropriate this song is to my life right now.

Several months ago I decided I was moving. I decided that I was ready to be done with Provo, that I didn't want to do what everyone else does in sticking around Utah forever, that I was tired of living where I am and needed change - that the best way to get it would be by going somewhere entirely different and new. A clean break. I wanted Seattle. I went to visit for a week in April. I went again the next week for a teaching fair. The second I got off the plane - or soon after, anyway, I knew what I'd more or less known and been stubbornly denying the entire time - that it wasn't where the Lord wanted me to be. I had been - like the song said - trying to choose my own path.

So much of that decision was based on how completely miserable I was for nearly all of February and a good portion of March as well. I was feeling suffocated. I was trapped in a place I didn't want to be without very many real friends around. I holed myself away and threw myself into my teaching. A worthwhile thing, perhaps, but the Lord hasn't ever been entirely content with my hermitting. Neither have I, though I might not always have the gumption to fight against that tendency.

What I am meandering around to say, then, is that I realized again this morning that I am glad that the Lord chooses paths for me instead of allowing me to choose them for myself. I have a great capacity to dream and imagine great things, but the Lord has always known better. In the last several weeks, a string of things has happened that I never thought would have, but they are better than I ever would have imagined them to be on my own. I have made dozens of new, positive friends to replace pessimistic ones. I have opportunities lining up in front of my eyes that I never would have found without meeting those same people. I am in the right place at the right time. These blessings have been months in the making - going all the way back to last August when I first told the school that I wanted to help with the play. Going back to being placed at this school in the first place.

I don't know why the Lord has blessed me in this particular way. I think about the ways that other people are blessed and so much of this feels unnecessary and extra. I don't really need to travel as much as I have, do I? I don't really need theater, do I? Aren't there other ways that aren't quite so elaborate? Ways that don't make me feel this happy? Perhaps - but whether that's true or not, today I am feeling decidedly grateful to my Heavenly Father for caring enough for me to guide me to where I am right now. I am overwhelmed.

Theater

2010-05-01T00:07:00.003-06:00

Theater has taken over my life.

I knew that it would. It always does. The second I get cast in a show I don't even bother trying to deny the fact that everything (nearly) takes a back seat to making the show good. I obsess over it. I think about it. I re-think about it. It goes on and on because I am determined to never do a half baked job in a show. Music Man is definitely no exception.

It's all got me thinking though - about my entire "career" in theater, what got me to where I am now and why it's all so important to me that I would devote everything I've got for several months at a time to a production. Recently I was asked to write an article about why the arts are important for schools. These are some of the things I've come up with, most of which will be related specifically to the arts with theater, since it is what I know best.

1. This one is a bit cheap, but you can't cheat your way through the arts. If you're a smart enough student, you can cheat your way through many things. I know this. I will proudly admit to being an expert essay fluffer. I can mooch my way through any last minute essay and still do well on it once I've learned how to give a teacher what they want. Any English major worth their salt can do that. I'm sure that such skills translate into other areas of study as well. But you can't do that in the arts. You either know the song or you don't. You have your lines memorized, or you don't. Now, there are levels of perfection, certainly, but you can't cheat off anyone else's work. You have to put the time in yourself.

2. That said, you learn to work as a team, and, if you're smart, learn that the success of the team is better than anything you can do on your own. I've spent years getting cast in the chorus. Many, many years being cast in the background with small showcased moments or a line here or there. Every now and then I've managed to get a lead. All along the way I learned that nine times out of ten I cared more about being in the show and being on stage and doing my best than I did with getting the starring role. People who learn to really care about the arts, people who learn the lesson that they have to teach, will recognize the truth behind the cliche of there being no small parts. The arts - on stage or off - teach the same lesson taught all around the world in religious education that you are both everything and nothing at the same time. The arts are - or should be - a grand lesson in humility and hard work no matter your place.

3. The arts teach you to trust others. One of my favorite quotes comes in the movie Nicholas Nickleby at the very end when the narration says that "family need not be defined by those with whom we share our blood, but those for whom we would give our blood." The best shows - the ones that have meant the most to me - have been ones where life long friendships are built. You have no choice. In a short period of time you have to place yourself at the mercy of total strangers, risking yourself emotionally and physically as you get to know them. For someone like me who is generally very guarded and wary of people I don't know, theater as taught me to trust that other people will do their part, and that they will not let me down because I will do my best not to let them down. The bond of a solid cast is remarkable.

4. The arts teach you how to walk in someone else's shoes. I think one of the reasons that the Lord has blessed me with so many opportunities on stage is because I learn about myself when I play someone else. I learn about my flaws and my strengths - not just in terms of acting or dancing ability, but because making an effort to really understand another way of thinking refines your own. That kind of intense character study and analysis has taught me to be careful about pre-judging others.

5. It's just fun. Heaven knows how much I love to analyze things to death. I could spend the rest of eternity picking apart books and movies and never tire of it, but being on stage gives me the chance to do something just for the thrill of performance. There's something intensely exciting about the accomplishment of seeing a show progress from start to finish. It's fun to put on a great costume and sing your heart out when saying it just wouldn't be good enough. There's a kind of energy that comes when you know the audience is eating out of the palm of your hand, and that they will leave entertained, or changed in some way.

I am in awe, sometimes, when I think about how lucky I have been to have the theater experiences that I have had. Recently, especially, I've been completely overwhelmed at the weight of it all, grateful that the Lord has seen fit to bless me with experiences that bring me such a huge amount of joy.