I Swore I Wouldn't Teach Another Year...

At the start of the school year, I was determined that I would not teach again. For years, a nightmare had been haunting me; it was a vision of myself, single, and teaching for the rest of my single, lonely life. When Graden broke up with me, I woke up and realized that I needed to start pursuing a different path so that the nightmare wouldn't become my reality, but I was directionless. Eventually, after lots of conversations with my parents and best friends, I decided to move to DC and switch to HR consulting. When a recruiter showed me how impossible that dream was, I felt a light bulb turn on in my head: I needed to return to my original plan to get an MBA.

Thus began the hours of studying in preparation for the GMAT. On May 20th, I struggled through the GMAT, submitted my application to BYU's MBA program, and then waited for the results.

That's when the anxiety set in. Without even knowing the results, I started to experience a quarter-life crisis, trying to decide if I really wanted to leave teaching and if pursuing an MBA was a good choice for me.

During this process, I had already shared with my students that I was leaving...but some of them began to persuade me to stay. My Latinos in Action students would tell me that they would hope to see me the following year. My cute Pakistani student who survived the year in Latinos in Action was writing a letter to future students and went on a paragraph of a tangent saying how great I had been as a teacher and that I should come back. The entire class decorated my board and hugged me, talking about "next year."

Even students who I assumed would have hated me, had something to say. Jones, a brilliant kid in a regular English class, who lived below his potential, came in after school on the second to last day of school to have a "frank" conversation with me; he told me bluntly that I needed to stay - that it would be quite a loss to future students to not have me as a teacher. He said that I had taught him and lot and reached him when most teachers couldn't. 

Granted, there were still plenty of students who found my flaws and could readily point them out, but Jones wasn't the only to say that it would be a shame if I left teaching. Graden, Alan, our librarian, my friends, and even Grandma were among others who said that I had a gift for teaching that the world needed. 

Then, my core English students who had caused me intense headaches throughout the year brought me intense joy: they finally read. All year long, I had struggled to motivate my students to read. Each time my strategies failed, I researched another one and tested it out. All year long, they kept failing, and I kept revising my teaching. Finally, I defied the rules, ordered "unapproved" books that were popular young adult novels, and assigned my students to literature circles. Here was the result: 

This may look like chaos to you, but to me it is as beautiful as the Lake Blanche hike. It is the majority of my core English class, passionately discussing books that THEY ACTUALLY READ. That's right about 80% of the class actually read and liked the books. One of my male, latino students even said to a friend, "Dude, I hate reading, but this book is actually legit." Translated from student speak, that means that he has felt a love for reading and may continue to read on his own. This success, which I fought for all year, made me question my decision to leave - is teaching really that bad, I wondered? 

Other students said something like Alissa and Styles: 

Then, on the last day of the year, I got this from a student with whom I thought I had killed all relationship and good feelings. She had been in my Latinos in Action class and had tremendous potential. Then she started dating a guy with a .6 GPA who missed school constantly and got involved in illegal activities. Her behavior started declining and I had a frank conversation with her. I knew that her boyfriend hated me; he hadn't been afraid to tell me that, so I was positive she did too. However, while she could drop LIA, she wasn't able to drop out of my English class. And eventually, I got this essay. 

Many other cards rolled in with students telling me what an example I had been to them.

Granted, I question the example I set for some of them, especially since Aaron mentioned teachers influencing him and learning to date in the same sentence, but overall I started to notice that I love working with teenagers and helping them, even if I don't get thanked for that immediately. So 2014-2015 I will be at Cottonwood again and for the first year in my teaching career, I won't have any regrets about that. 

I've Always Believed in the Power of Books...

Erik broke up with me Sunday night, saying he felt exactly the same way as my previous boyfriend; I had a seemingly good list of qualities but they would never love me.

When I got home to my bedroom, I felt the storm brewing inside me and knew that I would break down if I didn't do something to distract myself. In desperation I looked at the bookshelf. Although there were nearly 80 books on the shelves I could only see one "Left To Tell," a memoir from a Rwandan holocaust survivor. I read it through the night and woke up in the morning to finish it.

Heavenly Father is a God of tender mercies; this book helped drain the poisonous bitterness and despair from my heart; it turned me to Him, and has helped me trust in His promises. I know the "best is yet to be" thanks to Immaculee's testimony revealed in her memoir.

Luck Be A Lady?

About two weeks ago, I went with a few friends to a Chinese restaurant, but we ended up eating the most delicious sushi rolls. We had the chef's undivided attention since the restaurant was empty besides our group of five. He decided to have some fun and added a fifth roll to our order; one that he nicknamed "Russian Roulette." When he brought it out, he explained that we each would roll the dice and then take the slice of sushi with that number by it. One of us would get a roll with an intense spicy sauce hidden inside it. I rolled a three and then we simultaneously plopped the sushi into our mouths.

Actually, I didn't quite plop it; I gingerly started taking miniature bites and timidly looking for a sign that I had the spicy one. As I kept slowly eating my piece, I looked at the guys' reactions because yes I was with only guys. No one seemed to be reacting and that's when I saw a vile red glop in my roll. I had to down it because by now all the guys realized I was the "lucky one." At first I thought I would survive, but then the burn began and the tears streamed. I was in such pain that I tried to politely excuse myself and raced to the bathroom.

I hid myself in there for nearly 10 minutes, alternating between spitting saliva out of my mouth and stuffing toliet paper into my mouth, trying to dab the spice away. When I finally emerged, I drank the entire pitcher of water and ate anything on the table that was bland.

I HATE spicy foods; not only hate but cannot eat spicy foods. So my mouth burned for nearly an hour but I am proud of myself for conquering the challenge. Russian Roulette - I just dominated you. That's right. I eat like a girl...

and I'm never doing it again. 

"You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone?"

        As soon as I was released from being Relief Society President, I made a quick escape. The next Sunday, I was gone. I didn't think this was a big deal because 1. Graden had broken up with me and replaced me, 2. there was a new, incredible Relief Society President. Basically, my roles had come to an end.
        My 18-year-old cousin Tanner and I began going to the YSA ward in South Jordan and for several Sundays, I felt devious, like an under-cover agent, because I could leave the chapel without talking to anyone and then leave the Relief Society room right after the closing prayer. After a year of intense responsibility, I felt like I was evading work. This made ME miss my old ward (in conjunction with the random, false doctrine lectures on dating that seemed to be spouted from the pulpit each Sunday in the new ward), but I definitely did not expect the Parley's YSA ward to be thinking about me.
         Last Thursday night, I unsuspectingly walked up to my old house in Sugarhouse, strawberry shortcake in hand for a dessert night with my former roommates. When the door opened, I was showered with confetti. Sitting in the dark were about 20 of my girlfriends from the ward beneath these signs

When Aaron stopped by the party and was one of three guys there, the other two being boyfriends of my friends, he commented on the overabundance of girls and lack of guys - obviously you can tell who I spent my time with in the ward. Just fulfilling my calling. 

There is nothing I love more than quality conversations with my friends, which I got to have. The whole night I was shocked that they would have been willing to do this for me. Katy planned it all because she said that there were so many people in the ward who felt like they hadn't gotten to say goodbye to me. I am touched that they would think to do this and show me how much they love me.

 #blessed