Currently

I am in the middle of 2 books. (Ok, I'm in the middle of like 20 if you count my textbooks but I don't). And I just can't stand that. I like to read ONE and then FINISH it before starting another. I don't know why I succumbed to the madness of reading more than one book at a time, but I did. And the horrible thing is, I've suddenly lost interest in both of them and I want to start something else! The problem is, one of the books was my birthday present from Derek this last year. I FINALLY got time to start reading over Christmas break (at least I thought I did) and so I started, My Dearest Friend, which is the personal correspondence of Abigail and John Adams. Then I got a David McCullough book from my sister & brother-in law. Well, I wanted to read that too! I guess I just feel obligated to finish them, so that Derek doesn't feel like his gift was unappreciated and when Lori/Steve ask me about the book, I can give a good honest opinion of whether or not I liked it (though, since it's David McCullough, I'm SURE I will love it. So, only reading 3 chapters is probably sufficient).

Now I'm just in a complete mess and feel like crying about it. (which is also ridiculous). I don't know why it's such a big issue, but somehow, with all the stress of everything else in my life, it just...is. :( I need something romantic--something intriguing-- something light--like Jane Austen or Charles Dickens. I'm dying to re-read Hard Times, which I bought for $3 with my sell-back money. Or pick up Mansfield Park again, or finally read Persuasion! Call me a psycho, but Dickens and Austen, Hawthorne and Shakespeare--those are my comfy reads. (Somehow Harry Potter fits into that collection, too. Don't ask me how.) And I am moving beyond want and feeling the need for reading something that interests me in the moment.

So, friends...what do I do? Abandon both books that I previously began and start anew? Or force myself to finish them even though it will take ages because I'm bored/not interested at the moment?

I think I should ENJOY the book I'm reading for pleasure....what do you think?

When I Grow Up

An amazing woman passed away this week. She calls herself "just an ordinary housewife and secretary," but she was so much more than that.

When I grow up, I want to be like Miep Gies.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

I realize that some of you who read this blog have absolutely no idea who Guy Fawkes is. Allow me to shed some light on this subject:

Guy Fawkes (the word "guy", meaning "man" or "person", is derived from his name) belonged to a group of Roman Catholics from England who planned the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Their aim was to displace Protestant rule by blowing up the Houses of Parliament while King James I and the entire Protestant, and some Catholic, aristocracy and nobility were inside.

The Gunpowder Plot was initially led by someone else, but Fawkes was the guy (haha) in charge of the execution of the plot. He was arrested, however, a few hours before the explosion was to be set off. Apparently, Scotland Yard was notified by an anonymous letter.

Now, on 5 November in the UK, there is Guy Fawkes Night, aka bonfire night. In commemoration of this magnificent plot, the people burn an effigy of Fawkes and the celebration is often accompanied by fireworks. OOo!! AAAaah!

So, Happy Guy Fawkes Day.

Palaces of Work

There are usually very few actual textbooks that I enjoy. Probably because most text books are horribly written (but that's another story). However, once in a while, a textbook will reach can reach past the traditional rhetoric that horrifies most readers, and touch me. I was reading in my World Civilization Text this afternoon (about 20 seconds ago) about the rise of industrialization. And Fernandez Armesto wrote something that makes me long for the old days; the pre-industrialization days.

"In the past, small groups of workers had shared intimate surroundings: workshops in which a few equals or near equals collaborated, or households in which a master craftsman marshaled apprentices who lived together like a large family. Now seismic social upheavals raised factories like "smoking volcanoes" (as contemporaries said), burying the world of artisans and flattening traditional social hierarchies."

"Like a large family..." goodness, doesn't that sound fantastic? I have been privileged to work for several employers who create that type of environment. But I must say, that those types of atmospheres have diminished and aren't the norm any more, just as Armesto describes. We look to the capitalist mentality and look for efficiency, not family. We want a place where people work: keep the spheres separate. Which of course, I agree that once you leave work, you must LEAVE work and be with your family. But why can't the ideals and love within your family be spread into the workplace? Can't fellow employees bond together, care about each other, love one another, and feel on equal ground? I think they can. I think it happens. I've been there, in fact, I'm lucky enough to be there right now with my job in the Library.

I guess I'm writing this to encourage you to create this type of environment in your own workplace. Make a difference. Make your Palace of Work a place where family values and feelings flourish. Share the love inside of you with those all around you. Don't mix up work with your family, but certainly mix the care and love for children of God with your fellow employees-they deserve it.

Admissions Essay

Hey! He is the long-ago promised essay that I submitted to the David O'McKay School of Education. :-)

p.s. I got in! :-)

I gazed at the document in wonder, silent ecstasy playing upon my dropped jaw. I longed to reach out and touch it, to feel the parchment between my palms and watch the ink smudge onto my fingers. For this was it: the piece of paper that declared the American Colonies free and independent. Images flashed before my eyes, memories I wished were truly mine, of watching Thomas Jefferson present his work to Congress and John Adams staunchly defending it as it was critiqued and edited before an earthly tribunal. My young heart swelled within my breast and I longed to shout along the rooftops, proclaiming this feeling of pride, joy, and unfailing gratitude for these men who had sworn their “lives…fortunes and…sacred honor” to invite freedom and equality into their budding nation.

Ten years later, I clutched my notebook as I gazed up in wonder, my chin tickled by my scarf as, once again, my jaw dropped at the sight of the parchment before me. I stood in the British Library with the Magna Carta, one of four originals from 1215, hanging behind protective glass before me. Inside, that swelling motion once again made my heart want to burst. I felt the confirmation of the Spirit as I said to myself, “This is why I must become a teacher.”

The story of my decision to become a history teacher is a short one, but the road to get there is full of ups and downs, trials and blessings. Opportunities to stand in historical places, steady influences from my teachers, and my own teaching experiences have led me to Brigham Young University and my determination to become a history teacher.

I developed a deep love of history in fifth grade as my teacher, Mrs. Henstrom, encouraged me to learn about my country. I can remember sitting in my desk listening to her, passion and pride etched in her voice as she described the first steps taken by America on the road to democracy. Those moments deeply touched me and I found myself wanting to tell everyone about it. It was there in her classroom at Rock Canyon Elementary that I made the decision that the best way to convey that love and passion would be with students of my own.

Mrs. Henstrom soon handed the baton off to my eighth grade history teacher, Ms. Thornock. Once again, I sat at the feet of someone who inspired me to share my passion. Her confidence in my abilities inspired me to take risks. Second semester, she invited me to be her teacher’s assistant. I was launched into the world of grading and learned how to truly encourage learning from even the most reluctant students. She introduced primary documents into my academic life and I began to devour historical books that she recommended. My summers, once full of reading about the Black Stallion and Misty of Chincoteague, were now bursting with David McCullough and Stephen Ambrose.

Experiences in my young academic life led me to BYU and through various occupations that bring me closer to history. Currently, I am a transcriber in the L. Tom Perry Special Collections. Every day I sit down to my desk with a stack of primary documents and make them available to the masses through technology. The virtue and importance of these documents is made manifest to me as I see hundreds of patrons enter through our doors each day seeking to thumb through their pages. It has deepened my conviction that primary documents are essential to understanding history as it really happened. This experience has influenced my thinking in regards to my future classroom. I intend to make primary documents the core of my curriculum. In truth, it is among the pages of primary documents that my love of history and desire to teach collide.

Teaching has always been a part of my life, just as history has been. As a child, I taught my sister everything I knew (or thought I knew). I was called on to teach in Seminary, church, and even a few of my high school classes. My senior year of high school, my AP Literature teacher presented us with the opportunity and challenge to teach for an entire week. I threw myself into the project and found myself spending hours with my group on research for our assigned novel, Heart of Darkness. The week was a success and I felt an incredible joy as I realized that I had influenced the students in my class. I left Mrs. Yip’s class determined to seek more opportunities to teach. Those opportunities I sought arose when I reached BYU.

My sophomore year at BYU, after scrimping and saving, I earned enough money to go on a Study Abroad to London. During my four month stay, I was called to teach Primary in the Spanish/Portuguese branch located in a very poor area of Kenington, London. My limited vocabulary and lack of confidence in my Spanish skills made each Sunday a challenge. Not only was I expected to teach children of varying ages (from three to eight), I was also teaching in a language I could, at best, sort of understand and barely speak. While this experience was a challenge, and often a trial, it was also one of the most rewarding four months of my life. I cannot say that I left the Kenington Branch a fluent and confident Spanish speaker, but I fell in love with my students and with teaching. I looked forward to Sunday each week and felt an incredible satisfaction when I saw understanding brighten their dark eyes.

The following year, I was hired as a Resident’s Assistant in Helaman Halls. My world completely turned upside down as I suddenly became the mentor, friend, and mediator for forty-two freshman girls. Teaching suddenly became more than a hobby and turned into a lifestyle as I introduced them into university life, helped them through roommate conflicts, and taught them how to live on their own. Simultaneously, I was called as the Ward Family History instructor and taught nearly half of my ward how to use the indexing program set up by the church. Teaching consumed my life in both formal and informal ways.

Thousands of moments and experiences have brought me to the point where I cannot imagine any other vocation but teaching history. I am determined to use the experiences I have had throughout my life to influence others for good and teach them that we stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before. By introducing primary documents into my classroom I hope to foster an environment where students can easily see the importance of keeping their own histories and realizing that what they do and what they record will impact generations.

Things I Love

This one is for Betsy. It was a great idea.

So, I set an online stop watch for one minute, and typed anything I could think of that I love.

One minute of things I love:

1. singing in a choir
2. reading British novels
3. reading about history
4. visiting museums
5. taking walks at sunset
6. going to the Temple
   
7. humming/singing as I clean
   
8. whistling when I walk across campus
9. watching the leaves fall
10. building snowmen
11. playing scrabble with Derek
    
12. talk about the future with Derek
    
13. traveling
    
14. making cookies
15. eating with friends
    

Hmmm, nice. Here are a few more things I love:

1. writing in my journal
2. playing with Derek's hair
3. watching movies with my sisters
4. talking to my brother about life
5. watching BYU football
6. going to soccer games
7. horseback riding
   
8. hiking
9. listing to General Conference (especially when I'm there!)
   
10. listening to someone with an accent
    
11. speaking in Spanish
12. running into someone I haven't seen in a long time
13. writing stories
14. taking pictures
15. hot chocolate
16. galaxy chocolate
17. my primary kids in London
18. looking at Better Homes and Gardens magazine
19. America's Next Top Model
20. pink gel pens
21. decorating for holidays
22. Disneyland
23. warm, fuzzy blankets
24. chicken alfredo
25. eating a whole pizza by myself
26. having lunch at the Creamery
27. talking to friends on the phone
28. writing and receiving letters
29. root beer (especially A&W)
30. good roasts on Sundays
31. naps
32. wandering around Wal-Mart
33. visits to Duchesne
34. buying books
35. looking at Christmas lights

There are a million more things...but I kept it at 50. :-) I agree with Betsy though...maybe I should do this more often.

Good Advice

I'm transcribing some letters from a mother to her son, who is serving a mission in South Africa in 1931. She gave him some fabulous advice, that I love.

"take the d, i, e out of depression...press-on. And so I say to you, let depressed feelings die and press-on."

What a wonderful way to think about things. This woman was living in THE depression. If any one had a right to feel depressed, it was she.

So, my dear friends, let all those sad feelings die, and let us all Press On!

today at work

I came across a funny story. Just thought I'd share it, for fun.
It was in the Laron, Illinois Home Journal on August 2, 1882.

A french lady died at the advanced age of 90, Her will contain[ed] this provision: "I leave my physician, whose enlighten[ne]d care and wise prescriptions have made me live so long, all that is contained in the oaken chest in my boudoir. The key of the chest will be found under the mattress of my bed." The heirs were much disturbed, for they foresaw a material diminution of their share of the property. the fortunate and expectant physician at length arrived. The notary delivered to him the key of the chest. It was opened, and found to contain solely all the drugs and potions, still intact, which the worthy physician had given his patient for twenty years back.

What a lovely surprise. :-)

Working on it

So, I've started working on my essay for my application to the School of Education. It's due in...oh, like 3 weeks, and I am sooo nervous! I need to follow the prompt exactly, but I want it to be a memorable essay, not just a dime a dozen collection of words. Anyway, when I'm done, which should be within about a week, I'll post it on here and you can decide.

hmmmmmmmm..................

Time and Place

So, I have this list of places and things I want to see in my life. Moments I want to capture with my internal lens and treasure them as I do so many other experiences from my life.

For as long as I can remember, my family has watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade from the time we get up until Santa shows up on the screen a few hours later. We sit in our pajamas and watch from the comfort of our couch, cereal or toast in our hands, ooing and ahhing at the floats and bands. But you know, one day, I want to be standing on the street, shivering in the New York cold, tasting the beauty of that Thanksgiving moment.

I've been to Washington, D.C., yes. But in my dreams, I see myself walking through an immense crowd, everyone in Red, White and Blue, celebrating the Birth of our Nation. What a beautiful moment that would be, too see fireworks bursting across the National Mall, engulfing the world in celebration! Standing on the steps of the Capitol Building breathing in the moment of joy as our great Nation celebrates the moment when over two-hundred years ago, fifty-six men pledged their Lives, their Fortunes, and their Sacred Honor that we might live free.

Whether or not I am influenced because my Dad served his mission in Italy or not, I do not know. What I do know, is that I long to catch a glimpse of Carnivale in Venice. Not only would I be breathing in the air of a city so ancient and full of life that I would probably clog my lungs, but I would get to see the gay costumes of the age, detailed and spectacular masks, and soak in the moments of a life that is... Venice.

There's no way Fall could be prettier anywhere but New England. There's a magic about the way the leaves coat the ground in musical confetti and the town seems to jump into a cozy sweater of golds, reds, and chocolate browns. I'd love to spend a fall in Massachusetts or Maine, soaking in the moment as leaves topple gently to the ground, just begging to be gathered into a pile.

There isn't really a time of year that I wouldn't LOVE to be in London, but who wouldn't want to mosey through Hyde Park at Christmas? Not too many places decorate the city like London does. From Christmas trees in Trafalgar Square, to Snowflakes hanging from wires on Oxford Street, to ice skating by the Natural History Museum, this city comes alive with lights and gaiety during the Holiday Season. A million moments of breathtaking beauty can be found in London, especially during the celebration of our Savior's birth.

I know I could go on for hours, spouting off brief sketches of the moments I long to tack onto my life. But I suppose the real beauty of life, is that there are so many moments to be lived and so many to treasure. Life brings the opportunity to cherish, love, and learn from those moments, photographs of life that we hold inside us and occasionally share with those we love. I can't wait to spend even more moments in this world and add to my album of memories.