Leading My Students Astray

It's important to me that I am a good example to my students. Sure, I can be mean and sarcastic on my blog (for you guys!) but in real life I try really hard to be a model of good behavior for these kids. I fear that this week I may have failed.

A few girls hung back after class to talk to me. Two of them are my buddies. One girl was just kind of hanging out, putting things away and chatting with us.

"Hey, Mrs. Holdaway? What are your favorite chick flicks? We're having a marathon this weekend!"

"Oh, man. I don't know. I don't LOVE chick flicks... but I'd have to say... Princess Bride. Probably #1 of all time. I like My Best Friend's Wedding. My sister likes How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, so I've seen that one a bunch..."

"Oh yeah we love those!!!"

"What else... I really like 10 Things I Hate About You..."

"What?!!! That movie is so bad!" - random 3rd girl.

I halted immediately and all our eyes flew to her.

"Yeah! I started watching that once and turned it off in like, less than half an hour! It was so bad!" she firmly stated.

I pressed my brain, wondering what terrible things I had overlooked. All I could think of was their dad preventing pre-marital sex with the pregnancy suit. Which I guess is a little scandalous.

"Oh.... well... It was the 90s...." - lamest excuse ever from me.

The other girls looked at her out of the corners of their eyes as they packed up their stuff and thanked me for my suggestions. They all left, leaving me standing alone in my room.

So many of these kids quote R-rated movies, play super violent games and have these dirty little minds. I guess I had forgotten that there are still tender little souls here. Few and far between. But bless their little hearts.

Seriously, though. 10 Things I Hate About You? What are we coming to?

They Called it Obsessive Puppy Love

When I was in 7th grade the best thing that's ever happened to my family, happened. We got Blade. Just look at him.

I have never liked animals. Never. I remember being in elementary school and all the girls were all super into horses. I faked it for a while. But really. Huge hairy things with flies? I don't get it.

Kitties are cute, but once they are cats they get so mean and I'm allergic to them. They look at you so condescendingly. YOU'RE A CAT. Get off your high.... mouse?

Anything else fit easily into the "gross" category. Other people could like animals, but I didn't. Brooke was the animal lover in our home, and I just tried to avoid them.

I remember the first time I saw Blade in a pile of baby Shih-Tzu puppies. I had never seen anything so cute and snuggly before. I was smitten. Suddenly, I was joining along every time my family went to visit him before we could bring him home. Once he was home, I spent every minute possible stroking him to sleep on my lap or trying to feed him the dog food he loathed. Even my mom commented on how this little puppy had melted my heart.

Since then, I've always known I've wanted a puppy. The Beard is *SLIGHTLY* allergic to animals, generally cats and gross dogs. But there's a difference between dogs and shih-tzus. Blade is cleaner than most human, and in fact, acts like one. The Beard loves Blade and even tolerates my favorite "sleepovers" when my parents leave him in our care.

Ryan has ever so generously allowed me to get a puppy once school is out. I couldn't really do it now. We are out of the house from 8-4 most days, and that's far too long for a baby puppy to be alone. But come this summer, I'll be done with school, The Beard will be working, and I'll be all alone! Perfect time to acquire and train a cuddly little puppy. And I can't wait. I mean, LOOK at these!!!!

I check the Pets pinboard multiple times a day, sometimes KSL, and just gush. I know I'd love a shih-tzu, but The Beard and I also like Boston terriers. What do you guys think?

Thank you Pinterest for fueling my obsession. Check out my puppy pinboard for more adorable little guys.

(Puppies via Pinterest.)

Why Your Parenting is Crippling Your Child, in 5 Easy Steps

The term ended a week and a half ago, but I've been bombarded almost endlessly by a few parents about their children's grades. Many are frustrated because their student received a low score on one of the big projects we had due at the end of the term.

There are several problems with that:

1. Why isn't your kid coming to talk to me? Either

A. Your kid doesn't care = your fault

B. You care way too much = your fault

C. You feel bad because you didn't pay attention to your kid's grades all term = your fault

You are teaching your kid that their grades are about you, and that you will step in and fight all their battles for them.

2. Classy move, attacking education. No, definitely plant that seed of cynicism and doubt in your 14 year old. Show by example that bad grades are the teacher's fault (OBVIOUSLY) so that they go the rest of their life shifting blame to others.

3. Wait to email me until AFTER final grades have been posted. Because the real world doesn't have deadlines, right? Nevermind that I send weekly emails home about upcoming projects and notable class events.

4. Use impersonal email to be meaner than you would be to my face to try and bully me as a new young teacher. These kids don't use enough texting/Facebook/impersonal communication as it is. You would never let your kid cyberbully, would you? But you feel no shame telling me that I am an unfair teacher, that my assignments are terrible (which, by the way, are mandated by the district, so thanks!), and that you're going to go over my head to the principal.

Too bad for you, I may be young, but I do not get bullied. Sorry. I'm still not going to give your C+ kid an A. Not to mention, Nebo School District is awesome and they have their teacher's backs.

5. Demand that I just change grades and give points, without asking why they were given/taken or requesting that your student can rework their work to make sure they actually learn the material. They shouldn't have to earn grades/points. What I'm being asked to make sure they do DOESN'T matter, after all.

In the real world, your kid won't have you to fight their battles. Are you gonna do this all through high school? What about college? Are you gonna be on a first name basis with their future boss?

In the real world, they can't just assume everything is their boss' fault.

In the real world, you miss deadlines and that window of opportunity slams shut on their privileged little fingers.

In the real world, there are big things due at the last minute that can hurt you if you don't do them correctly.

In the real world, you can't turn to a mean email to solve all your problems. You have to see your boss/coworkers every day. That's right. In person. Flesh and blood.

In the real world, if you don't do your work, it's still there waiting for you. It doesn't magically show up in your "points." Stuff needs to be done.

I don't write this because I hate you. I'm NOT a parent yet, that's true. I admire so much of what you're doing, this is just the only part that I see.

I don't write this because I hate your kid. I write this because I love your kid.

I love my job. Teaching is the greatest. I would love to do my job if you'd let me.

Can we be a team? Please?

6

Six months ago I married my best friend in the Salt Lake Temple. Here's 6 things I would have missed out on if I hadn't done that.

1. Sleepovers. It's way better to wake up to someone you love than to your stupid roommate blasting the Black Eyed Peas.

2. Meal Plans. I never would have learned how to cook. Who would have guessed that I could actually cook a real life adult dinner? Thanks, Pinterest.

3. Double Family Fun. Twice the dinners, parties and presents.

4. The Temple. We don't go as often as we should, but going together is pretty awesome.

5. Therapy. Being able to come home and talk to the Beard about my day, every day, as boring and juvenile as it always is, is priceless to me. Being married helps you open up further than you ever have before, because let's face it. What is he going to do? Divorce me? Ok. Actually. No one tell him that's a real thing or I'll have some trouble.

6. Love. It's hard to describe the way your feelings change when you get married. Well. They don't really change. They are just amplified and expanded in ways you couldn't predict. Empathy, concern, companionship, it all grows and evolves. The Beard literally became my everything, and it's terrifying and wonderful. He's patient and caring when I'm not. He lets me be right (sometimes. Even though I ALWAYS am). It's been a rougher 6 months than I could have predicted, but it would have been completely unbearable without this crazy love.

Looking forward to many more 6 month anniversaries, I love you Beard.

Calvinball

I am going to share a tale of my childhood. I say "tale" because sometimes when I am telling people about this, I feel like I must be making it up. But I'm pretty sure it was real and constitutes some of my favorite memories.

My dad has always liked "Calvin & Hobbes," and I grew to love the comic books he had in the bookshelf. Unfortunately, that came later in life. At the tender age of 6, I was unfamiliar with the amazing Calvin & Hobbes and consequently, Calvinball.

For those of you NOT familiar with Calvinball - it's basically a game with crazy and/or chaotic rules, ever-changing goals and no real sense of accomplishment or conclusion. In the comic books it is hilarious. In real life, it's hilarious for other people.

When we were little (I'm 6-7-8, Brooke is 4-5-6, Mitch is an infant) we spent so much time outside. I miss that. No surprise to you, my reader, one of our favorite pastimes was our beloved game of "Calvinball." Like it's namesake, the rules were flexible, the goals were arbitrary and it was altogether ridiculous. Here's how it went.

My dad would stand at the far end of the yard with a Nerf ball in hand. Maybe two. It's hard to tell. At the other end of the yard, Brooke or I would stand and bounce on a mini-trampoline. You know. The aerobics style one. Keep in mind, we're fresh out of the 80s at this point, guys.

So we would bounce and bounce and bounce. Finally my dad would yell, at some random moment, "GOOOO!!!!" We would shriek like tiny banshees and leap from the brightly colored midget tramp and take off across the yard.

Now, I THINK the object was to get to the opposite end of the yard. But to be honest, I don't know. I don't think we ever made it that far. Because, you see, the second part of the game prevented that.

The second part of the game basically consisted of my dad throwing the Nerf ball at us as hard as he could. Dodgeball style. We would duck and weave, spin, twirl and jump. But we all got drilled in the end.

And that was it. There were no points, no goals. It was simple. Juvenile.

And so freaking fun.

We loved it. We would beg my dad to play. We'd go for hours and hours. Seems strange, doesn't it? "Dad! Dad! Let's play Calvinball! Let's go run in the yard while you throw foam balls at us!"

I see now that it was never about the game. The reason it was so fun for us is because we were having fun with our dad, and the activity didn't matter. As weird and sadistic as the game may seem, it was something we all wanted to do together. Everyone benefited. I remember my mom sitting on the back porch steps, usually playing with baby Mitch (such an ironic phrase to use since he is now 10 feet tall), laughing and laughing at our antics.

These are some of my most cherished memories, and I'd never give them up. I still laugh and reminisce every time I see a mini-tramp or a Calvin & Hobbes comic strip. I can't describe how happy I am to have this, and how excited I am to, someday, in the far future, play my own version of Calvinball with my own little punks.

Family Ward Probs

I had to write the message for the Ward Newsletter this month. I basically reused my entire talk for Evening in Excellence, because it was all about setting goals and baby steps and stuff like that. Fairly applicable to a new year.

Also I apologize for two religious-y posts in a row. But you guys know me and obviously know this is all talk. So here it is. Enjoy.

We're facing a new year, which means most of us are evaluating last year and vowing to make this one the best year yet. We are making New Year's Resolutions, rewriting schedules and clearing the junk food from our pantries. I expect most of us have recommitted ourselves spiritually, as well. But our goals will matter little if we are not sure of our end result - our destination.

Everything in this life is part of a recipe. What type of recipe depends on YOU. You must decide what type of dish you are going to make. I once heard a parable about father teaching his children about choices and the recipe of life. They decided for Family Home Evening, they would make a cake. The father told every family member to grab their favorite ingredients for their cake.

"Aren't we going to follow a recipe?" His puzzled daughter asked.

"No, I don't think we need help. I think we can figure this out on our own. Right?"

The oldest daughter pulled out some chocolate, because everyone loves chocolate. The oldest son grabbed cinnamon, because he loved cinnamon rolls more than anything. The youngest son returned with pickles - his favorite treat. The youngest daughter picked festive pink sprinkles. Mom, playing along, chose peanut butter, and Dad threw in his favorite snack -- carrots. As their father started to cut up and pour in all of the ingredients, the amused smiles disappeared from the children's faces. They watched in amazement as Dad slid the "cake" into the oven to bake for 12-18 minutes. When the cake was finished, Dad pulled it out and tried his best to cut the amorphous blob into slices.

"Who's first?!" He asked excitedly.

"Ummm... Dad? That looks disgusting." His children mumbled.

"No! It's all of our favorite things. We all love this stuff. How could it be disgusting?" He said in mock disbelief.

"Well, yeah... but in the end they don't work together. They don't make a cake!"

Indeed, they did not. This "cake" didn't look enticing or edible at all. After some discussion, they decided that flour and salt, eggs and butter, while not as exciting as their favorite things, were necessary for making the cake. They pulled out a recipe and tried again, this time with a successful, delicious result.

The world would encourage us to make our own recipes. Choose all of your favorite ingredients, with no regard for the end result. Have fun. Make mistakes. No consequences.

Christ would have us follow HIS recipe. The flour and salt, eggs and butter are our trials, hard work, sacrifice and humility. On their own, they may seem difficult or "uncool." But they are integral parts to our recipe, and without them our cake will never taste as sweet.

Let us choose our recipe for 2012, and let us follow it carefully. It is found in the scriptures and can be mixed through study, church activity and service to others. When we have a target, a destination, an end result, our goals become clearer and more attainable. This year CAN be one for progress and achievement. We can follow the admonition of a beloved Prophet George Albert Smith, our topic of study this year, when he urged us

"Let us do better than we have ever done before. Let us renew our determination to be real Latter-day Saints, and not just make-believe. ... I do not know anybody who can not do a little better than he has been doing, if he makes up his mind (Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: George Albert Smith, pg. 5)."

I bear my testimony that this Gospel is true, and is the recipe for happiness and eternal life, found only in the Celestial Kingdom. This is our goal.

Positively Amazing

A few weeks ago I picked up Corrie Ten Boom's "The Hiding Place" - an account of her adventures and horrors during the German occupation of Denmark and subsequent travels to Ravensbruck. I've always enjoyed learning about World War II and I wanted to freshen up before my class got to it this week. I thought I'd do a bit of a book review for anyone whose New Years Resolution is to read.

My review: Read it.

You won't regret it. Promise. As I was reading, I was struck several times at how familiar the stories sounded, and then realized that the stories I already knew and had heard in sacrament/Conference talks were HER stories.

For instance, one story in particular illustrates the power of positive thinking, gratitude and prayer. Corrie's sister Betsie is a saint. Just a pure-hearted, loving, charitable saint. She is the one who bears Corrie up when all light seems to dim from the world around them. They are moved into these awful, awful barracks where there are three women to a rough, thin cot and the entire place is teeming with fleas. Corrie, as a normal human being, is skeptical about the hopefulness of the condition. Betsie insists that they must pray in gratitude for EVERYTHING that they have in those barracks.

"Even the fleas?" Corrie asked incredulously.

"Even the fleas," a resolute Betsie replied. So she did. She prayed in gratitude for those fleas.

Weeks later, the German camp directors started running surprise raids on different barracks. Corrie was hiding vitamins for Betsie, a bible and their sister's sweater -- all contraband items in a Nazi work camp. They were terrified that these items would be found and confiscated, and the owners punished mercilessly. The bible in particular was their only solace in their cruel lives.

At the last minute, the guards arrive at the door of the barracks, taking a few steps inside and proclaiming "Fleas! I'm not going in here amongst the fleas!"

The fleas had saved them. The fleas were worthy of gratitude after all.

Along with providing a more realistic view of our cushy daily lives, and an appreciation for the sorrows and suffering of others, this book provides one of the most spiritually reassuring messages I've ever learned.

God is God. And he's everyone's.

It doesn't matter if you are a Jew in the prison camp. Or a Christian sympathizer in the prison camp. Or a Nazi German running the prison camp. Or an impoverished Muslim living in a war-torn refugee camp. Or a Latter-day Saint living in Happy Valley, U.S.A. God truly is no respecter of persons. This book illustrates beautifully the majesty of God's creation of man on earth. He listens to all, invites all, and blesses all.

While I am immensely grateful for the true and only Priesthood on this earth, it is comforting to know that people all over the world are living true principles and that God speaks to them as well. We're all in this together. It's only a matter of time until we're all official.

[P.S. I'm on Goodreads. Come find me.]