Confessions of an Unlikely Teacher

Most of the choices I have had to make in my life have been between right and wrong, or a selection of one option among many.  I haven't often been required to make choices of elimination where I have two great things, but must sacrifice one in order to keep the other.  

When I made the decision to apply to BYU, it was an easy choice.  I could choose any university I wanted, but that was the only one I had interest in.  I had always wanted to go there.  My best friends all wanted to go there.  I applied early.  I was accepted.  It was great.  I was anxious of course to know whether I would get in or not, but I never had to act on my back-up plans.  

My choice to go on a mission was a little more tricky, but still obvious.  I had wanted to serve a mission from the time I was 15, and although other opportunities presented themselves along the way, like school and boys, when the time came, there wasn't much to think about.  I had always known it was a good choice to make and one that I would be happy with in the end.  While I still made this decision carefully, and it took a long time to actually finalize my choice, it was really just a choice between moving on or staying where I was.

When David and I got married, there wasn't even really a choice to make.  He was the Mr. Perfect I had always looked for.  When I met him, I didn't have to make a decision to marry him.  He was just the answer to a search I had been conducting for many years.  Obviously, I had to choose to marry him, but, let's be honest...that was the biggest no-brainer I've ever had to make.

Growing up, anyone who knew me could attest to the fact that I didn't particularly care for kids.  Yes, I babysat a lot, but it wasn't my favorite.  I was the oldest sibling and cousin, so it was more of a duty than a privilege.  I was only in it for the money.  I made a realization at some point in my first year of school at BYU that if I was really going to fully live the gospel and be the Molly-Mormon I had set out to be, I should probably learn to like children.  This seemed a difficult task as I was then living in Provo, attending a singles student ward, and only even saw children if I sought them out (which I of course never did seeing as I didn't like them).  How could I be the perfect wife and mother if I had an aversion to kids?  This seemed to be a complicated conundrum in my 18-year-old life.  So...I did the natural thing: I became an Elementary Education Major and a nanny.

I still remember the reaction of my best friend and my mom.  The first thing both of them said was, "Why!?" I was taken aback a little, because it seemed the obvious choice to make.  I had to learn to like kids, so why not choose a profession that required me to prepare to teach them and work with them?  Another no-brainer. :)  

Little did I know the adventure that lay ahead.  I spent the most of my college career cutting and laminating projects that I would never use again.  I labored through the night writing lesson plans that I would never look at while teaching.  I cried nearly every day while student-teaching because I got so little sleep and my first cooperating teacher was awful.  She made teaching look like an all-consuming, fun-sucking, lifetime catastrophe.  I almost quit at the end of every week.

But I went on.  I finally graduated and made my way to Rexburg (the last place on the face of planet Earth I thought I would live after spending seven years in Provo) to live closer to David while we were engaged.  I was a little cautious about getting a teaching job after such a poor experience student-teaching, but I had enjoyed the actual teaching part in the classroom, as a missionary, and at the MTC.  I spent the last month in Provo researching school districts in the Rexburg area.  I made a spread sheet with each of the addresses and principals' names so I could deliver letters of recommendation and resumes.  While I was searching online, I came across one particular school that I just had a little feeling about.  I drew a star by it and moved on.

As I started applying for jobs in May, I talked to many, many principals, but rarely felt any hope.  There were few jobs to be had and no one wanted to make any promises.  One day, I drove to every district office within 30 minutes to apply to be a substitute so I could work for the last few weeks of the school year.  I applied in Bonneville, Idaho Falls, Jefferson, Rigby, Madison, Sugar-Salem, and Fremont.  As I was leaving the Fremont office, my last stop for the day, I drove past a cute Elementary school with a little covered wagon playground, Henry's Fork Elementary School.  

I happened to have brought my papers with me and I was already dressed up.  I had that little feeling again, and decided to stop in and see if the principal was available.  To my surprise, Mr. Davenport welcomed me right in and we had a fun conversation in Spanish of all things and he took my paperwork.  I mentioned to Martha, the secretary that I had just applied to be a substitute as well.  

I was pleased the next day when I received a phone call from one of the 4th grade teachers who was looking for a substitute.  She was moving to Utah and needed time to start organizing and packing things.  I was delighted to already have some reward for my substitution seeking escapade from the day before.  So, off I went.  I ended up spending a lot of time substituting at Henry's Fork and did a lot of subbing in 4th grade and some in PE, which was fun too.  I later looked at my little spreadsheet and realized that this was the school I had starred months before while sitting on my computer in Provo.  Coincidence?  I don't believe in them. 

I don't know if it was that I became a familiar face, or just that God decided I still needed some convincing that kids were okay, but Mr. Davenport asked me in for a real interview.  It went well, and I was invited back to teach an observed lesson.  True to myself, I was running late the day of my lesson.  (Who knew, right?)  Speeding had always helped me compensate for running late...except for when I got pulled over and ticketed, which was the case this day.  Luckily, the potential candidate before me was still teaching when I arrived.  No harm done.  I taught my amazing lesson on two-language dictionaries to a group of 2nd graders and waited to hear back.  When all was said and done, I was offered a position as a 4th grade teacher.

I spent my first year teaching 4th grade with 26 amazing kids.  We had a super cool cowboy classroom and had so much fun!  We learned all about Idaho History, mountain men and the Oregon Trail.  Lewis and Clark became our friends and we learned everything there was to know about beavers.

My second year, I was asked to move up to 5th grade and taught 25 amazing kids.  Our theme changed to fireworks to go along with patriotism and US History.  We protested slavery and went on journeys with our friends Isabel and Curzon in our favorite books, Chains and Forge.  We fought in battles and became true patriots.  I fought morning sickness and the smell of mashed potatoes in the cafeteria.     

   

 

This was my third year. I moved back to my cowboy classroom and tried to muster the strength to move around in my eighth month of pregnancy.  I usually looked like I'd just gotten off a horse, waddling around the room.  I wore sandals everyday and found myself making many journeys to the restroom.  I was given 24 absolute angels.  Sadly, I was put on bed rest the week before harvest break and my permanent substitute had to step in a month earlier than I had anticipated.

 As I prepared to have my first child, I realized that I had changed.  I was no longer that BYU freshman who thought it would be a good idea to learn to like children.  I had learned my lesson and I was now the teacher.  I don't know exactly when it happened, but I figured it out.  Mind you--it is sometimes still on a case by case basis.  Some kids still make me want to shoot myself (or them) in the teeth, but for the most part, I have not only enjoyed my time as a teacher, I have absolutely cherished it.  I don't just like them or have fun teaching them, I love them and consider them my own (with only a few exceptions that I gladly relinquish to their unfortunate parents--Come on!  They can't all be amazing!).  :)  I figured out what I originally set out to learn...and so, so much more.

It had always been my plan from the time I started out to just take the classes and graduate with the goal of learning to like and teach children.  I wanted to take the parenting and child-development classes.  I wanted to learn to teach my own children.  I was never even set on actually getting a job as a teacher.  I had kind of hoped to marry sooner and be one of those girls who has no clue, but a degree to wave around and be proud of.  My plan didn't work out exactly as I thought it would, and thank goodness it didn't!

I had two and a slice of the most fun, thankless, creative, rewarding years of my life.  When it came down to it, the thought of quitting had always been there, but I had no idea the sacrifice it would be to give it up.  This entire year, people have been asking me what I was going to do about my job, or when I was coming back, or what I was going to do with my baby.  I had always imagined it would be easy-cheesy-lemon-squeezy (as we always said during math) to say, "So-long, suckers!  I'm outta here!"  Not so.

Rather, this has been the most difficult decision I can remember making.  I feel like I have rarely had to give something I love so much up for something else.  The whole teacher thing was supposed to prepare me for this moment in my life--to be a mother (who actually likes kids).  But now that it has come, I am devastated to leave it behind.  Teaching has been an experience I could have never appreciated or understood without actually doing it.  I have been able to construct new worlds that my students have been able to enter and become a part of.  I have been able to practice various management techniques that my own children will be grateful I have learned (or decided against).  I have been able to watch as children discover the world around them and who they are in it.  Most importantly, I have made new little friends who have made my life so much richer for being a part of it.

Ultimately, I have made the same decision I made in the beginning.  I am choosing to stay home with my little guy (Can you blame me, really?).  

The path I have taken to get to this decision I already made was just so much more than I thought it could have been. While the destination I've come to is the same, the road was lovelier than I could have dreamed.  

 

So, I was very sad to resign from my job this past week.  I all but had a panic attack when I started really getting ready to talk to my boss.  There were tears.  David thought I was losing it for real this time.  We had our friends come watch Hyram (for the first time to leave him) and we went to the temple to finalize my decision.  I have been thinking about what Elder Oaks said in his talk about making choices not between right and wrong, but between good, better, and best.  This is more difficult that choosing between good and evil.  That's an easy choice.  But choosing between all good things is hard.  In the end, going to school to become a teacher was good.  Becoming a teacher and having all of my little practice children was better.  Becoming a mother is best.

I am still not cut out to be a stay-at-home-mom...yet.  I am going a little crazy, as I always suspected I would.  I knew myself well enough to know that being at home without other adults (or at least humans capable of speech) around to socialize with would be hard for me.  I'll get there as I make adjustments with time.  As I cried and cried about really leaving my class, the talk from last year's General Conference by Elder Andersen kept popping into my head, and I knew how my time would be the most valued.  Motherhood is not something I fit in when I have time.  It is the reason I have been given time.