The Jig is Up.

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

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

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

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. . .

. . . 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!

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

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

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

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?

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. . .

". . . 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)

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.)

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.

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

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

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

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

1. 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.
1. 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?
2. 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.
1. 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.
2. If she accepts: Congratulations! You now get the chance to proceed to step number. . .
3. 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.
4. The event should include. . .
1. Eating at an expensive restaurant
2. 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.
3. Dessert (Euphemistic or otherwise.)
4. 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.
5. 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.)
6. During the date, let her do all the talking. And only use one syllable words if you should feel the need to speak.
7. 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

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. . .

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

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.