Winner of the "I'm seriously using this pick-up line to seriously ask you out" award:
Young man in my physics lab:
"Are you accepting applications for boyfriends?"
In case you are wondering, the answer is yes. Literally. But you will have to print out the application yourself, because I don't want to have to spend money paying for the 10 pages per applicant...
(haha. This is where you laugh. Because I really am not that prideful...)
Written later:
I retract the above statement. The award might actually go to the student who wrote this on his paper as part of his discussion of the lab that he knew I would be grading (I don't even know who he is):
"Also, April, if you can read this or even get this far we should out sometime! You're super cute! Text me! (*insert phone # here*) But anyways, back to physics. If you and me were in a boat together, I would have to jump out and swim because I'd be too heavy, but you hardly displace any water."
You gotta give the guy some points for bravery. Well, both guys. They seem to be nice people, if a bit forward. I don't understand men.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Dating and Vacationing
The subject of today's post: Dating.
Yeah, yeah. I know you are sick of it.
But I have not been allowed to forget about it, so neither will you.
See, since I returned from my mission, there seems to be an invisible-to-me, shiny sticker that says "RM" on my forehead. Guys that don't really even know me are asking me out in droves.
I am not complaining, because on an individual basis, they have been very nice guys and have treated me very well, but it has been a little overwhelming as a freshly (I guess now, not-so-freshly -- three months!) returned missionary. Sometimes I get burned out.
Yesterday, I decided the reason for it is that dating is like going on vacation.
Vacations are nice and exciting, and you get to try new foods and do new things. They are something out of the ordinary, an adventure, something to look forward to.
But what happens when you are going on vacation once a week or maybe twice or three times? Then suddenly, because you are seeing so many places, it is hard to see the good qualities of any of them. It becomes less adventurous and exciting. It becomes ordinary.
I normally don't like analogies, but let's take it to the next step.
See, what is actually going on, is our imaginary vacationer is looking for a place to live. And when she goes vacationing places to see if it is the place she wants to live, then they "wine and dine" her so to say. The town shows her the nice restaurants and art and museums and leaves the factories for another day. Sounds like dating, right?
So if she is going to so many vacation sites so often, she will never know anything but the dancing, and the music, and the fireworks. She will never find out what it would be really like to live there. And pretty soon, all of the restaurants and shopping and beautiful vistas all start looking the same. And she is tired and just wants to eat breakfast in the same place for two days in a row. But now she is stuck and could never pick, because she can't decide between so many options (but not really options, because she didn't really see any of them through her tired eyes), and she doesn't want to decide on a place to live just because she is tired of looking. But really, they are the ones scouting her out, so the options continue to increase. She isn't even house hunting. Houses are hunting her! Okay. Now this is getting confusing and creepy.
So our imaginary vacationer is stuck. Too many options. No options that have actually been explored. And tired eyes and feet and back.
I guess maybe she is just hoping that someday she will accidentally find herself in a place that is home. A place that is sweet and simple and the food is good, but also filling. A place that has a nice folding chair under a tree where she can put up her feet and take a nap and never want to leave. The local business isn't flashy, but it supports families that are really nice and open, and hang their laundry outside. They aren't begging for her attention, but when she is ready to ask them about their lives in this place, they tell her stories that are funny and serious and real. They politely offer her a place and show her how she could fit into this community and tell her that they would love to have her because she smiles easy, tries her hardest, and can get dirt under her fingernails sometimes.
And suddenly she finds it--the perfect house. Not too big, not too small.
With happiness painted all over the walls and growing in the flower boxes.
Substituting
When I came home from my mission I badly needed something to be my time-filler, my purpose, my substitution for the lifestyle of hard work I was so used to.
So I became a substitute teacher.
This was probably one of the best things I could have done, considering that it can be a temp job (I only needed a job for a month or so until I could work on campus at BYU), I choose when I want to work, and it is a great experience for what I plan to do with the rest of my life: be a teacher.
It wasn't what I expected it to be, but it has been wonderful. I thought I would share some of my experiences with you.
First of all, I was expecting to hopefully be mostly subbing in a high school setting because that is where I will teach someday. That turned out to be a false hope because most sub jobs are in elementary schools. For some reason, all of the jobs I can get are in 1st and 2nd grades. The opposite end of the spectrum from high school.
My first day on the job was in a first grade class. When I arrived at the front office to check in, the secaretary expressed her condolences for the class I was about to be in charge of for the day. "They are a handful,"she said. "If you need help, just call. You can send kids to neighboring teachers, too."
Oh, great. Just throw me in the deep in and let's see if I can swim.
The teacher was there to greet me, because she actually would be in the school all day doing individual testing for other students. She told me that this was was the worst class she had ever had. Nothing she had left for me to do was essential. "Your job is just to survive today," she told me. Wow. Very reassuring.
The day actually was that bad. It was real mutiny. I lost kids to the hallway, they were hurting themselves and others, they couldn't listen to directions, and I had some serious liars in the class. It was crazy.
I wondered for a bit if I was really just bad at subbing, but as the days went on, I think I've gotten the hang of it. One of the biggest things I have learned is that the Teaching Skills chapter in Preach My Gospel is true. But really. One of the things that it says is that you need to be bold but loving. That is so true in the classroom.
One day I went to a class that the teacher originally thought she only needed a sub for the second half of the day. Last minute she decided she needed a sub for the whole day, so there was a different sub for the morning, and then I came in half way through. The first sub was having a hard time of it. She told me that the kids had been horrible for her, and that she had taken away their recess they would have later in the day with me. She informed me that these second graders were to write a letter to their teacher about how they should behave for a sub and how they were behaving. I saw right away that that was not going to happen. The principal had been involved already that day, and the kids were wound up. They really needed something positive to wind them down, not something negative to make it worse.
She told me that she had been subbing for a year and that she had worked for two years previously at a bad boys' school--nothing could compare to that, she said. She was confident in her classroom management skills.
But then I watched her for her last five minutes while I read the lesson plan. She definitely had the bold confidence down, but the kids weren't responding to it. What it lacked was love. There wasn't a smile on her face. It was so clear that the kids didn't care what she thought because she didn't care what they thought. hm.
The other cool thing about subbing in elementary school is that the kids don't have boundaries in between things in their brain. Everything is all part of the same reality.
Let me clarify. I read a book with a small group of kids aside to read with me in a first grade class one day. We read a book about a dog who decides that he would rather have his friend than be famous. A big part of reading with kids is helping them build connections to the book, so we talked about the moral of the story, which is that we need to stick by our friends and that that is worth more than a lot of things. I was talking about friendship when one boys spoke up and said, "Well, you don't even need friends, really. All you need is Jesus and your family." He said it so confidently and unhesitatingly. I wanted to meet his parents.
But since it was a public school setting, all I could say was, "Well, your family can be your friends, too" and silently think, "And Jesus can be your friend, too."
Along the same line of thought, I have realized that filters of all kinds develop at later ages. I feel so pretty when I sub, because I will have four or five girls crowd around and tell me that I am beautiful and that they love my shirt and necklace and hair. I also feel very old, because every first grader wants to know how old the sub is.
In one of the second grade classes I was in, there was a student who had the same last name as me. I had five or six of the students ask me if I was his mom--do I look that old? When the answer was no, I found out that there was a teacher with the same last name as me--"are you married to him?" Nope again. Oh, dear. I hope he didn't hear about it, too.
I have also discovered what motivates that age group (which I think will be very useful later on in life). All I had to do was threaten to write their name on the board, and they would settle right down. Oh the embarrassment of seeing your name written on the board in front of all of your friends!!
Then there were the disruptive students that that didn't work for. For some of them, the trick was to help them feel useful. If they felt like they were doing me a favor, they would do anything. They just wanted to be my special helper. " (*insert name here*) could you help me by being a good example and showing the other students how to be quiet and work hard? It will really help me out. Thank you!" It worked almost every time.
So, if you are planning on being a teacher and have time for it, become a substitute. No faster way to learn how to swim than getting in the water. :)
So I became a substitute teacher.
This was probably one of the best things I could have done, considering that it can be a temp job (I only needed a job for a month or so until I could work on campus at BYU), I choose when I want to work, and it is a great experience for what I plan to do with the rest of my life: be a teacher.
It wasn't what I expected it to be, but it has been wonderful. I thought I would share some of my experiences with you.
First of all, I was expecting to hopefully be mostly subbing in a high school setting because that is where I will teach someday. That turned out to be a false hope because most sub jobs are in elementary schools. For some reason, all of the jobs I can get are in 1st and 2nd grades. The opposite end of the spectrum from high school.
My first day on the job was in a first grade class. When I arrived at the front office to check in, the secaretary expressed her condolences for the class I was about to be in charge of for the day. "They are a handful,"she said. "If you need help, just call. You can send kids to neighboring teachers, too."
Oh, great. Just throw me in the deep in and let's see if I can swim.
The teacher was there to greet me, because she actually would be in the school all day doing individual testing for other students. She told me that this was was the worst class she had ever had. Nothing she had left for me to do was essential. "Your job is just to survive today," she told me. Wow. Very reassuring.
The day actually was that bad. It was real mutiny. I lost kids to the hallway, they were hurting themselves and others, they couldn't listen to directions, and I had some serious liars in the class. It was crazy.
I wondered for a bit if I was really just bad at subbing, but as the days went on, I think I've gotten the hang of it. One of the biggest things I have learned is that the Teaching Skills chapter in Preach My Gospel is true. But really. One of the things that it says is that you need to be bold but loving. That is so true in the classroom.
One day I went to a class that the teacher originally thought she only needed a sub for the second half of the day. Last minute she decided she needed a sub for the whole day, so there was a different sub for the morning, and then I came in half way through. The first sub was having a hard time of it. She told me that the kids had been horrible for her, and that she had taken away their recess they would have later in the day with me. She informed me that these second graders were to write a letter to their teacher about how they should behave for a sub and how they were behaving. I saw right away that that was not going to happen. The principal had been involved already that day, and the kids were wound up. They really needed something positive to wind them down, not something negative to make it worse.
She told me that she had been subbing for a year and that she had worked for two years previously at a bad boys' school--nothing could compare to that, she said. She was confident in her classroom management skills.
But then I watched her for her last five minutes while I read the lesson plan. She definitely had the bold confidence down, but the kids weren't responding to it. What it lacked was love. There wasn't a smile on her face. It was so clear that the kids didn't care what she thought because she didn't care what they thought. hm.
The other cool thing about subbing in elementary school is that the kids don't have boundaries in between things in their brain. Everything is all part of the same reality.
Let me clarify. I read a book with a small group of kids aside to read with me in a first grade class one day. We read a book about a dog who decides that he would rather have his friend than be famous. A big part of reading with kids is helping them build connections to the book, so we talked about the moral of the story, which is that we need to stick by our friends and that that is worth more than a lot of things. I was talking about friendship when one boys spoke up and said, "Well, you don't even need friends, really. All you need is Jesus and your family." He said it so confidently and unhesitatingly. I wanted to meet his parents.
But since it was a public school setting, all I could say was, "Well, your family can be your friends, too" and silently think, "And Jesus can be your friend, too."
Along the same line of thought, I have realized that filters of all kinds develop at later ages. I feel so pretty when I sub, because I will have four or five girls crowd around and tell me that I am beautiful and that they love my shirt and necklace and hair. I also feel very old, because every first grader wants to know how old the sub is.
In one of the second grade classes I was in, there was a student who had the same last name as me. I had five or six of the students ask me if I was his mom--do I look that old? When the answer was no, I found out that there was a teacher with the same last name as me--"are you married to him?" Nope again. Oh, dear. I hope he didn't hear about it, too.
I have also discovered what motivates that age group (which I think will be very useful later on in life). All I had to do was threaten to write their name on the board, and they would settle right down. Oh the embarrassment of seeing your name written on the board in front of all of your friends!!
Then there were the disruptive students that that didn't work for. For some of them, the trick was to help them feel useful. If they felt like they were doing me a favor, they would do anything. They just wanted to be my special helper. " (*insert name here*) could you help me by being a good example and showing the other students how to be quiet and work hard? It will really help me out. Thank you!" It worked almost every time.
So, if you are planning on being a teacher and have time for it, become a substitute. No faster way to learn how to swim than getting in the water. :)
Monday, April 22, 2013
Honor the Priesthood
"Honor the Priesthood"
A very familiar phrase that I realized that I am not sure that I entirely understand. In talking to my family and friends we have agreed on a few points that are part of honoring the priesthood, which are:
1) worthiness to hold the priesthood, which is very similar if not identical to temple worthiness
2) using the priesthood to serve (in callings, home teaching, etc.)
3) looking for opportunities to serve outside of church duties
But I don't think those things capture the entire spirit of the phrase. When I think of honoring the priesthood, I think of it more as an attitude and a way of living. The man realizes that what he holds is sacred and he shouldn't do or be exposed to anything that would defile its sacredness. He realizes that he holds something precious and special that leads him to be better than ordinary.
The other thing that comes to mind are the three P's of a man's role in the family: preside, provide, protect. I think those fall under the category of honoring the priesthood.
All that said, I think these videos capture what I am really trying to say best of all.
This first one really captures it best, I think. It shows the life of a man who really uses and honors his priesthood for his whole life. Artfully.
This next one is moving and shows the blessing of honoring one's priesthood.
But really, what do you think? Do you have a short answer of what honoring the priesthood means?
A very familiar phrase that I realized that I am not sure that I entirely understand. In talking to my family and friends we have agreed on a few points that are part of honoring the priesthood, which are:
1) worthiness to hold the priesthood, which is very similar if not identical to temple worthiness
2) using the priesthood to serve (in callings, home teaching, etc.)
3) looking for opportunities to serve outside of church duties
But I don't think those things capture the entire spirit of the phrase. When I think of honoring the priesthood, I think of it more as an attitude and a way of living. The man realizes that what he holds is sacred and he shouldn't do or be exposed to anything that would defile its sacredness. He realizes that he holds something precious and special that leads him to be better than ordinary.
The other thing that comes to mind are the three P's of a man's role in the family: preside, provide, protect. I think those fall under the category of honoring the priesthood.
All that said, I think these videos capture what I am really trying to say best of all.
This first one really captures it best, I think. It shows the life of a man who really uses and honors his priesthood for his whole life. Artfully.
This next one is moving and shows the blessing of honoring one's priesthood.
But really, what do you think? Do you have a short answer of what honoring the priesthood means?
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Confessions of a Freshly Returned Missionary
Well, hello everyone.
I'm back. :)
I've actually been back for almost a month now (crazy!), but I hadn't gotten around to blogging yet.
See, coming home from a mission is a HUGE adjustment. Much more so than I had anticipated. Everyone gives the new missionary in the field some slack for the first couple of months, but the freshly returned missionary gets sympathy for only a few days. And then everyone continues to tease them for still being awkward.
I keep typing and deleting attempts to express how I feel about the subject, and some are humorous, and some aren't. It is just strange. My inability to express it really reflects the confusion I feel when facing who I am, what I want, what I am doing with my life, etc. Here are a few short disconnected insights into the last few weeks of my life that depict my adjustment:
When the airplane's wheels lifted off of Missouri soil, I burst into tears, making my companion (who was an elder, by the way), feel very uncomfortable.
When my parents ran to give me my first hug at the bottom of the airport elevator, I was both grinning and crying and said, "This would be the worst day of my life, except I get to see you."
A couple of days after I got home my parents had a busy night and told me their plans to leave me home alone. I nearly panicked. Instead, I finagled my way into my mom's birthday committee to knock on random member's doors in our neighborhood. Flashback!
A week and half after I got home I decided that I should probably start listening to normal music again. I pulled up my old music and pressed play. Tense, I started listening to discover that I still like my old music. I promptly started crying again. Great. For those of you who knew me before my mission I have a pretty big guilt complex. It is now even worse.
I have had four sets of parents at stake conference, the owner of a clothing store that knows my dad, and members of my home ward all imply or right out say that I should get together with their sons. That doesn't include the two old men that hit on me at the DI, the guy at the health department that was a bit overly friendly, and a young man from my home stake that told at least five separate people that we were dating.
Talk about Overwhelming!
That makes it sound like I am uber attractive and dateable, but that is still not true. I went on my first date back with a super nice guy that I have wanted to see, and I froze. I really had nothing to say. I didn't want to be that RM that only talked about their mission all of the time, but I realized....I have nothing else to say. Awkward silence. But then he brought up missions and was fine with it, so I was able to chill out (don't get me wrong, I am sure I am still very awkward). But he hasn't really talked to me since...
I frequently accidentally call my friends "Sisters", semesters "transfers", and roommates "companions". I also have to translate my name from Sister Atkin into April whenever I say it out loud.
I think the reason it was so hard to come home was because it felt like I never left. As we drove through Sardine Canyon toward my childhood home, it didn't feel like it had been any time at all. That scared me. The experiences I had in Missouri and Kansas are so important and sacred to me, that it scares me to think they didn't happen or that I could lose that. It was hard to let it go and trust that they did happen and that I am different now because of that. I won't lose the things that I learned. Now is the time for me to start a new phase of my life and let it go. I need to be happy now and not look back at the "glory years". I am here now, and happy about it. God has a plan for me.
So warning to parents of soon returning missionaries: It Is Hard. Fact.
I don't know if anyone warned me how vulnerable I would feel when I was freshly back. The second week after someone gets home is a great time for them to mess up because they have to realign their boundaries and standards (down, actually. And that is okay), and could easily err the other way (maybe I'm the only one that feels that way, but I doubt it).
But!
Perks of being an RM:
Everything relates to a gospel principle about which I can bear testimony and about which I can then offer more (PMG p. 185). (haha, good for me, but maybe not for those around me) I love the scriptures!
I can go to the temple!
There are a lot of missionaries going out that are dying for advice. Easy target of reminiscing!
I am unafraid of approaching strangers, asking for help, interviewing, or knocking random doors of apartments I am considering living in.
I know how to receive personal revelation and my prayers are still answered. Heavenly Father still loves me.
I have a lot of new friends on facebook. :)
I know how to make thrift store finds cute (I guess this only applies to RM sisters. wait. I take that back. Some elders had awesome ties).
At the end of the day, it is good to be back. I am learning how to progress again and I am figuring out my life. I have started to rediscover my purpose, identity, value, and place in the world. Take that, Satan.
Thank you for reading this scattered, boring-to-everyone-else blog post.
I'm back. :)
I'm back. :)
I've actually been back for almost a month now (crazy!), but I hadn't gotten around to blogging yet.
See, coming home from a mission is a HUGE adjustment. Much more so than I had anticipated. Everyone gives the new missionary in the field some slack for the first couple of months, but the freshly returned missionary gets sympathy for only a few days. And then everyone continues to tease them for still being awkward.
I keep typing and deleting attempts to express how I feel about the subject, and some are humorous, and some aren't. It is just strange. My inability to express it really reflects the confusion I feel when facing who I am, what I want, what I am doing with my life, etc. Here are a few short disconnected insights into the last few weeks of my life that depict my adjustment:
When the airplane's wheels lifted off of Missouri soil, I burst into tears, making my companion (who was an elder, by the way), feel very uncomfortable.
When my parents ran to give me my first hug at the bottom of the airport elevator, I was both grinning and crying and said, "This would be the worst day of my life, except I get to see you."
A couple of days after I got home my parents had a busy night and told me their plans to leave me home alone. I nearly panicked. Instead, I finagled my way into my mom's birthday committee to knock on random member's doors in our neighborhood. Flashback!
A week and half after I got home I decided that I should probably start listening to normal music again. I pulled up my old music and pressed play. Tense, I started listening to discover that I still like my old music. I promptly started crying again. Great. For those of you who knew me before my mission I have a pretty big guilt complex. It is now even worse.
I have had four sets of parents at stake conference, the owner of a clothing store that knows my dad, and members of my home ward all imply or right out say that I should get together with their sons. That doesn't include the two old men that hit on me at the DI, the guy at the health department that was a bit overly friendly, and a young man from my home stake that told at least five separate people that we were dating.
Talk about Overwhelming!
That makes it sound like I am uber attractive and dateable, but that is still not true. I went on my first date back with a super nice guy that I have wanted to see, and I froze. I really had nothing to say. I didn't want to be that RM that only talked about their mission all of the time, but I realized....I have nothing else to say. Awkward silence. But then he brought up missions and was fine with it, so I was able to chill out (don't get me wrong, I am sure I am still very awkward). But he hasn't really talked to me since...
I frequently accidentally call my friends "Sisters", semesters "transfers", and roommates "companions". I also have to translate my name from Sister Atkin into April whenever I say it out loud.
I think the reason it was so hard to come home was because it felt like I never left. As we drove through Sardine Canyon toward my childhood home, it didn't feel like it had been any time at all. That scared me. The experiences I had in Missouri and Kansas are so important and sacred to me, that it scares me to think they didn't happen or that I could lose that. It was hard to let it go and trust that they did happen and that I am different now because of that. I won't lose the things that I learned. Now is the time for me to start a new phase of my life and let it go. I need to be happy now and not look back at the "glory years". I am here now, and happy about it. God has a plan for me.
So warning to parents of soon returning missionaries: It Is Hard. Fact.
I don't know if anyone warned me how vulnerable I would feel when I was freshly back. The second week after someone gets home is a great time for them to mess up because they have to realign their boundaries and standards (down, actually. And that is okay), and could easily err the other way (maybe I'm the only one that feels that way, but I doubt it).
But!
Perks of being an RM:
Everything relates to a gospel principle about which I can bear testimony and about which I can then offer more (PMG p. 185). (haha, good for me, but maybe not for those around me) I love the scriptures!
I can go to the temple!
There are a lot of missionaries going out that are dying for advice. Easy target of reminiscing!
I am unafraid of approaching strangers, asking for help, interviewing, or knocking random doors of apartments I am considering living in.
I know how to receive personal revelation and my prayers are still answered. Heavenly Father still loves me.
I have a lot of new friends on facebook. :)
I know how to make thrift store finds cute (I guess this only applies to RM sisters. wait. I take that back. Some elders had awesome ties).
At the end of the day, it is good to be back. I am learning how to progress again and I am figuring out my life. I have started to rediscover my purpose, identity, value, and place in the world. Take that, Satan.
Thank you for reading this scattered, boring-to-everyone-else blog post.
I'm back. :)
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Last Day
Hey folks, I'm back. :) But first, I thought I would post my last email from the field, sent March 6th:
Dearest Family,
What a crazy time this is.
I can't believe this week has come! This email won't be long because we
have a lot to do today, but I had to drop a line.
I just
wanted to let you know that I love my mission so much! This experience
has changed my life and I am so grateful that I served! I received two
letters this week from those who I have been a part of their baptisms
thanking me for coming out. I feel like God is really allowing me to end
on a high. I love Sister Aldous so so much. We laugh every day. Our
area is incredible and the Visitors' Center is a happy place to be.
Today I didn't want to take a full preparation day because...well
it's my last day. So we scheduled an appointment at one with Joe, a Greek guy we teach in his used tire shop. Well, I committed him to be
baptized April 13th. :) That was one of my goals was to set someone on
date the last proselyting day of my mission and be excited about it. It
happened. What a blessing! A miracle really! I'll tell you all about it
in a couple of days.
Thank you so much for being so supporting and loving! I am so
grateful for how exactly perfect you have been. You have shown love
without being distracting. Thank you.
I know that this is
God's work. He sends us where we can use our own gifts, experiences, and
personalities to reach people only we can reach. He puts us in tricky
situations to show us that He is mighty to save. We have to be pushed
beyond what is possible sometimes for him to show us the miracles. We
just have to trust Him enough to relax when we are thrown in the fiery
furnace, so He can show us His power. It's amazing!
Joseph Smith really was a prophet. He saw God the Father and Jesus
Christ and restored their church. The Book of Mormon prophets saw
Christ's day and our day. That book is for us. Jesus Christ died for me.
He suffered for me. He rose on the third day for me. Isn't that
amazing? He knew these people I would meet. By name. And He sent me?
What a blessing. God loves us and will never leave us alone.
Thanks again for everything. I love you all. I will see you soon.
I am glad families can be eternal. :)
Love,
Sister Atkin
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
The End. And the Beginning.
Well folks, this is it. April comes home this Friday. This means that she will now be back in charge of the posting on this blog. I hope that you have enjoyed her letters as much as we have. And I also hope that you have forgiven me for the times that I have fallen a little behind in posting them.
If you want to attend April's Homecoming address, here is the info:
Sunday March 10 at 1:00 p.m. in the College Ward chapel.
Adios!
-Amy
If you want to attend April's Homecoming address, here is the info:
Sunday March 10 at 1:00 p.m. in the College Ward chapel.
Adios!
-Amy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)