So my dad said I need to do another blog entry.
I’m not sure if I’m quite sold on this blog thing. I mean, I love reading my friends’ and family’s blogs…when I find time and an internet connection. But that’s an incredibly rare occasion at this point in my life.
I often have thoughts or difficulties or triumphs that I’d love to share with people, but I just never think to write them in a blog. I feel like it needs to be something profound or touching or extremely funny to be blogging-worthy. I mean, who wants to read the mundane happenings of my simple life, or read my verbal stream-of-consciousness? Sometimes even I wish I could escape from the mess of mental spaghetti that’s going on in my mind! (Everything all jumbled up together, thinking of everything at once. And very messy. Red sauce stains are buggers to get out.) Why put someone else through that mess? I think it comes from my perfectionism. I don’t want people reading something that might show an imperfect, dull Lori.
Isn’t that just silly?!
Oh, and I feel like if people are going to take the time to read my blog, I should obligatorily read theirs. And, as we've established--I simply don't.
So I’m not sure what I am supposed to be writing this blog entry about. The funny things my students say usually go in my Facebook statuses. (I think the word “status” needs a cool plural, like “stati” or something. Don’t you?) My small (and large) triumphs get told to my parents. And the tough stuff…well, it either gets unloaded on one of two dear friends, occasionally to my parents, or I just keep it inside of me until it eventually fades out. Eventually. That being a very relative word, said with a lot of faith.
But we'll try it.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Snow Day in the Life of a Teacher
So what to write about? Here are some “interesting” things from today:
-The exciting news of today? I got a snow day. With less than ½ inch of snow on the ground. I know, right? I guess I’d call it a “cold day”. It hovered around 0 degrees Fahrenheit today, give or take 5 degrees. But there was a constant nasty wind all day. Right now (8:35 pm) it’s currently -11 outside, and with windchill it’s -37. And how is my car supposed to start in the morning??
-The superintendent from our district resigned yesterday. I think this is the 3rd, 4th, or 5th one they’ve gone through in the recent past (meaning the past 5 years). We’re a very “special” district. I feel rather guilty that when I heard the rumors about this yesterday afternoon, my first thought was a panicked, “Wait, who’s gonna call our snow day tomorrow?!”
-After my gross 2 hour run on the treadmill today, all I wanted was a shower. I turned on the shower and was scalded by the burning water coming out of the facet. I tried to turn it down…and down…and down, but it never got colder. I turned it all the way down to COLD--and nothing came out. I realized the cold water pipe in my shower was frozen. Awesome. I knew I needed to call the office so they could do whatever they needed to to keep the pipe from bursting. But I really, really wanted to bathe first.
So I rocked it pioneer style. Well, opposite pioneer style. I filled up the bathtub from the facet (scalding hot water, remember?) while filling up a mixing bowl with cold water from the sink and dumping it into the bathtub. A little oldschool, but it worked great.
Later, the first maintenance guy came. He took the fixture around the facet off so the warm air could get in there and defrost the pipe. He turned on the cold full-blast so when it melted the water could get moving. So far so good, right?
About 4 hours later, the 2nd maintenance guy came with a spaceheater. He set it up in my bathtub and turned it on high, pointed right at the facet, to try to melt the frozen pipe. I sat there and started smiling, trying not to laugh. He said, “When it finally melts, you’ll hear the water pouring out, and then you can just let us know and we’ll come fix everything back up.” I just smile and nod.
Remember, the space heater is sitting in my bathtub, plugged in, running. And water is supposed to come gushing out of the facet at any time. He finally realizes what I’d already realized and said, “And—oh—um—I should get something to put this on…”
So I have a spaceheater sitting in my bathtub on a 9X13 baking pan. Real safe. I feel really good about this.
And looks like no brownies for Lori tonight.
-The exciting news of today? I got a snow day. With less than ½ inch of snow on the ground. I know, right? I guess I’d call it a “cold day”. It hovered around 0 degrees Fahrenheit today, give or take 5 degrees. But there was a constant nasty wind all day. Right now (8:35 pm) it’s currently -11 outside, and with windchill it’s -37. And how is my car supposed to start in the morning??
-The superintendent from our district resigned yesterday. I think this is the 3rd, 4th, or 5th one they’ve gone through in the recent past (meaning the past 5 years). We’re a very “special” district. I feel rather guilty that when I heard the rumors about this yesterday afternoon, my first thought was a panicked, “Wait, who’s gonna call our snow day tomorrow?!”
-After my gross 2 hour run on the treadmill today, all I wanted was a shower. I turned on the shower and was scalded by the burning water coming out of the facet. I tried to turn it down…and down…and down, but it never got colder. I turned it all the way down to COLD--and nothing came out. I realized the cold water pipe in my shower was frozen. Awesome. I knew I needed to call the office so they could do whatever they needed to to keep the pipe from bursting. But I really, really wanted to bathe first.
So I rocked it pioneer style. Well, opposite pioneer style. I filled up the bathtub from the facet (scalding hot water, remember?) while filling up a mixing bowl with cold water from the sink and dumping it into the bathtub. A little oldschool, but it worked great.
Later, the first maintenance guy came. He took the fixture around the facet off so the warm air could get in there and defrost the pipe. He turned on the cold full-blast so when it melted the water could get moving. So far so good, right?
About 4 hours later, the 2nd maintenance guy came with a spaceheater. He set it up in my bathtub and turned it on high, pointed right at the facet, to try to melt the frozen pipe. I sat there and started smiling, trying not to laugh. He said, “When it finally melts, you’ll hear the water pouring out, and then you can just let us know and we’ll come fix everything back up.” I just smile and nod.
Remember, the space heater is sitting in my bathtub, plugged in, running. And water is supposed to come gushing out of the facet at any time. He finally realizes what I’d already realized and said, “And—oh—um—I should get something to put this on…”
So I have a spaceheater sitting in my bathtub on a 9X13 baking pan. Real safe. I feel really good about this.
And looks like no brownies for Lori tonight.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Wisdom from Fledgelings
I'm really struggling with one of my 7th grade choirs this semester. In a class of about 25, I can't get anyone to open their mouth and sing. And I've tried EVERY tactic, every angle of attack possible--being gentle and kind, being silly and jumping on chairs, laughing, being serious, scaring it out of them, bringing the 8th graders in to sing with them and convince them choir is "cool", talking about why they are in this class...and dozens more. Seriously.
Anyway, a few weeks ago it was a hopeless class period where they were not putting forth any effort. So instead of getting angry and lecturing them, I just had them get out a piece of paper and answer the following questions:
1. Tell me about something in you life that was hard to do, but you did it anyway. Was it worth it? Why or why not? What did it take to accomplish it?
2. Why do you think you can do hard things? What does it take to do hard things? Why is it worth it?
I was impressed with several responses, but this one just spoke with wisdom beyond her years, and I wanted to share it with ya'll:
"Life wasn't made to be easy, God didn't intend us to get through things without a struggle. Physically and mentally our bodies were made to do hard things and to get them. Yet, in the end it's all worth it. To start off, I can do hard things because very rarely I don't strive to succeed. Most people have that quality like me, when they don't take no for an answer and they always need to overcome the hard tasks. Which is exactly what it takes to aquire those hard tasks. If your mind is always to it and your head is held high anyone can achieve anything. In the end it's always worth it because we feel accomplished and it motivates us to do even more hard things."
Wow. How does a 7th grader KNOW that kind of stuff?!
This is why, in spite of the punks my kids can be, I love my job.
Anyway, a few weeks ago it was a hopeless class period where they were not putting forth any effort. So instead of getting angry and lecturing them, I just had them get out a piece of paper and answer the following questions:
1. Tell me about something in you life that was hard to do, but you did it anyway. Was it worth it? Why or why not? What did it take to accomplish it?
2. Why do you think you can do hard things? What does it take to do hard things? Why is it worth it?
I was impressed with several responses, but this one just spoke with wisdom beyond her years, and I wanted to share it with ya'll:
"Life wasn't made to be easy, God didn't intend us to get through things without a struggle. Physically and mentally our bodies were made to do hard things and to get them. Yet, in the end it's all worth it. To start off, I can do hard things because very rarely I don't strive to succeed. Most people have that quality like me, when they don't take no for an answer and they always need to overcome the hard tasks. Which is exactly what it takes to aquire those hard tasks. If your mind is always to it and your head is held high anyone can achieve anything. In the end it's always worth it because we feel accomplished and it motivates us to do even more hard things."
Wow. How does a 7th grader KNOW that kind of stuff?!
This is why, in spite of the punks my kids can be, I love my job.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Breaking things...
So...this one time, I came home to see my adorable...err, "manly"...little brother perform in a student-directed version of the Disney musical Newsies (a personal favorite of mine).
I got home right as he was getting into his costume and leaving to go help finish the set before their opening performance. I looked up at him, smiled real big, and said, "Break a..... PAH HAH HAH!" and dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter.
For any thespians out there, you understand the importance of uttering that phrase and none other before a performance. This is serious business, folks.
But it just sounds WRONG when the role your brother is playing is none other than the token gimp of the show, Crutchy.
Break a leg, lil' bro!
I got home right as he was getting into his costume and leaving to go help finish the set before their opening performance. I looked up at him, smiled real big, and said, "Break a..... PAH HAH HAH!" and dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter.
For any thespians out there, you understand the importance of uttering that phrase and none other before a performance. This is serious business, folks.
But it just sounds WRONG when the role your brother is playing is none other than the token gimp of the show, Crutchy.
Break a leg, lil' bro!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Proud to be a Canadian-made American
(So I wrote the above-showing title before writing this actual post, and I realized the double-entendre contained therein. I am a real-live "Canadian-made American." Cute!)
But that's not what this post is about.
One of my kids brought in a CD today for a project we are presenting in my 6th grade Intro to Music class. They are supposed to write a paragraph about their favorite song--where they first heard it, why they like it, when they listen to it, and talk about 3 "elements of music" (application of vocab) in relation to the song. They then share it and the song with the class.
One cute little boy played for us "Battle Hymn of the Republic". He talked about how it made him feel patriotic. It was sweet.
But in the middle of his presentation, I was putting in his CD and laughed outloud--really loud, in the middle of him talking--as I read the CD face. It was called "Spirit of America" and had an American flag waving proudly against a light blue sky.
In small print, it clearly said, "Made in Canada".
But that's not what this post is about.
One of my kids brought in a CD today for a project we are presenting in my 6th grade Intro to Music class. They are supposed to write a paragraph about their favorite song--where they first heard it, why they like it, when they listen to it, and talk about 3 "elements of music" (application of vocab) in relation to the song. They then share it and the song with the class.
One cute little boy played for us "Battle Hymn of the Republic". He talked about how it made him feel patriotic. It was sweet.
But in the middle of his presentation, I was putting in his CD and laughed outloud--really loud, in the middle of him talking--as I read the CD face. It was called "Spirit of America" and had an American flag waving proudly against a light blue sky.
In small print, it clearly said, "Made in Canada".
Sunday, January 3, 2010
A Characterically-Colorado Run
I walked out into the fresh Colorado air yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to be met with a warm 45 degree temperature and a strange sensation I felt through my sleeves…what was that…warmth? From the sun??
I raced back into my apartment and quickly found my lime green running shorts. I threw them on, eager to take advantage of those Vitamin D enriching rays from the sun gods, and almost giddy with excitement as I envisioned coming home my run without having to wait 20 minutes for my face to thaw out before I tried to use my facial muscles to speak again coherently.
I hopped down the stairs and began running. I felt that warming sun absorbed by my black shirt, warming my whole body, and just smiled. What a simple sensation I so often take for granted. Having lived in below-freezing temperatures for the past month or so, it felt like heaven. I rolled up my long sleeves and skipped happily along, basking in the simple glory of nature’s miracles.
For about 20 minutes. I then happened to look up right as these thick, dark grey clouds suddenly overshadowed my sun. Ugh! Well, at least I’d gotten in 20 minutes of sunshine.
I kept on running in the cooling air, very aware of the rapid change of temperature—I’m used to running in cold weather, no big deal.
But 20 minutes later, I couldn’t do anything but begrudgingly laugh as I saw these tiny bits of styrofoam being tossed down all around me from those ugly, grey clouds. Yep, it was snowing.
So I ran my last 20 minutes home in the steadily falling snow. In my shorts. And waited 10 minutes to talk until my face had successfully thawed. Thank you, Colorado.
I raced back into my apartment and quickly found my lime green running shorts. I threw them on, eager to take advantage of those Vitamin D enriching rays from the sun gods, and almost giddy with excitement as I envisioned coming home my run without having to wait 20 minutes for my face to thaw out before I tried to use my facial muscles to speak again coherently.
I hopped down the stairs and began running. I felt that warming sun absorbed by my black shirt, warming my whole body, and just smiled. What a simple sensation I so often take for granted. Having lived in below-freezing temperatures for the past month or so, it felt like heaven. I rolled up my long sleeves and skipped happily along, basking in the simple glory of nature’s miracles.
For about 20 minutes. I then happened to look up right as these thick, dark grey clouds suddenly overshadowed my sun. Ugh! Well, at least I’d gotten in 20 minutes of sunshine.
I kept on running in the cooling air, very aware of the rapid change of temperature—I’m used to running in cold weather, no big deal.
But 20 minutes later, I couldn’t do anything but begrudgingly laugh as I saw these tiny bits of styrofoam being tossed down all around me from those ugly, grey clouds. Yep, it was snowing.
So I ran my last 20 minutes home in the steadily falling snow. In my shorts. And waited 10 minutes to talk until my face had successfully thawed. Thank you, Colorado.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thankful Bag 2009
This is such a long post I wasn't sure if I should put it on. I heard "long blog posts" are neither favorable nor inviting to readers. But I think my dad wanted it online, so feel free to peruse. For an explanation of what in the world this is, see last year's post on the same.
Email
Chris
The Priesthood
The Scriptures
The chance to repent and do better every day
Music
Cookies
A free country
Teachers
New friends
The opportunity to serve a mission
Assurances that the Lord is pleased with your efforts
AP classes
Rainy days
Italian food
Heavenly Father’s Plan of Happiness
Central heating
Dreamland BBQ Sauce
The comfort, guidance, teaching, and instruction of the Holy Ghost
The Atonement
The Scriptures
Jay and Jen
Sons- and daughters-in-law
Grandchildren
NSLC (National Student Leadership Conference)
Chocolate
Letters
Family
“Enough”
A good mind
My Trailer-Park Kingdom
Sister Graves
MUSICALS!
Sons
The BEST parents EVER
Crazy neighbors
Health
My Mac
Grandparents and cousins
Good running shoes
Freckles
Prayer—and that we can go to Him anywhere, at anytime, about anything
Preach My Gospel
My voice
Sweet neighbors
Friends
Piano
Parents
The Restoration of the Gospel
Steak
Ice cream
Sunrises/sunsets
Snow
Jason/Kellie/Sandy/Chris/Scott/Jen/Snapper/Ian/Audrey (no middle child…surprise, surprise)
A job
Music
MUSIC
Dad
Sister Kuttler
My job
The Holy Ghost
Pretty girls
Friends
Seminary to start off the day
Phones
Unlimited texting
Temple
Sons and daughters
Sunny days
Mountains
President and Sister Thomas and Bethany
Cookout shakes—Yum!
Meat
Kellie, Scott, Audrey, and Ian
The Atonement
Life
August in the mountains
Planes
School
Internet
Smiles
Eternal perspective
The Waxhaw Ward
My sweetheart
Daughters
Laughter
Patriarchal blessings
French friees
Modern medicine
Soft breezes
Mail delivery
Lori
The Atonement
Airsoft
Family
Gentle breezes
Old friends
The enabling power of the Atonement
Missionaries
Small miracles (and big ones, too!)
Family (Thanks for all your love and support!)
Macs
My sweet wife
Caring doctors and nurses
Trees
Rivers
Mountains
A Heavenly Father who listens to my problems
Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, parents, sibling, blah, blah, blah
Commandments
A Savior’s love
Ice cream
Intelligence
North Carolina
A loving Father in Heaven
Sunshine
My students
Talents
Music
Home
Cars
The Gospel
Tithing
Lori
Oceans
My own apartment
Warriors who defend our freedom
Music
Jesus Christ
Stars
Servicemen and women
Healthy body
Callings
A missionary sister
Pets
The Priesthood
Mom
The temple
Repentance
Good wards
Oceans
Cars
Living prophets
Scriptures
The Plan of Salvation
Hot rolls
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Pictures at 26.1 and 26.2
I just don't think you can get an attractive picture from a 26.2 mile race. Really.
I was at least hoping to get a sweet hard-core one that looked like I was in agony. Or one where I looked really focused, like "run that ye may obtain/endure to the end" style. Or one where I look really fit and happy, thumbs-up style, you know?
Instead, they only got pictures of me near the finish line when I was high on oxygen and delirious from 4 hours of running and couldn't wipe this dorky smile off of my face. I was pretty bugged.
Feel free to browse. The URL is http://www.brightroom.com/go.asp?69279311 .
Monday, December 21, 2009
In Your Dreams
So I rarely remember my dreams. Like, a few times a year, tops. So I get really excited when I can vaguely recall one of those absurb excursions into my non sequitur subconscious (sounds scary, I know. Maybe it's a defense mechanism that I can't remember them.). :) I've heard it said that we always dream, we just don't always remember them...
Last night, I remembered no less than 5 dreams. Since it was such a monumental experience, I thought I'd share the moment with ya'll:
- I dreamed Mom and Chris were taking out the garbage from our house, and I was sitting there watching them (which I don't normally do, promise!). Profound, I know.
- I dreamed I went skydiving with a friend from my ward. That was a rush.
- I dreamed that we found out that Grandma wasn't coming to visit this weekend after all. :(
- I SAW the ENTIRE recipe for the cake that I need to make today for my concert tonight--the one who's recipe I can't find this morning. Wish I'd written it down in my dream...
- I dreamed my car wouldn't start. Like, dead. No bueno. I do not like this dream.
So...what do you think? Any of these mean anything? I'd love to hear some interpretations, cause I can't make anything out of it. (At least I'm trying not to read too much into the car one...)
Sunday, December 13, 2009
By the Numbers: Rocket City Marathon, 12 December 2009
46112 - Approximate number of steps taken between the starting line and the finishing line
4 - Toenails that turned black during training
2 - Pairs of shoes worn out during training
1 – Number of friends that came to cheer me on
10+ - New friends made along the course
225 – Weight of the self-proclaimed “Fattest, fastest Jew in Georgia”
245 – Real price of the running gear I bought at the expo on Friday
50 – Actual dollars spent on said running gear
30 - Minutes the Rain Gods waited to let loose after the last marathoner had finished
1500 - Runners in the race
1254 - Finishers
575 - My place
2 – Number of heroine-laced “Gu” packets consumed during race (No, not really “heroine”…if you’ve used them you know what I mean)
3:58:20 – Time I was running
3:58:02 – “Official” time you’ll find on the Rocket City Marathon page
2689 - Approximate number of calories burned
38 – Degrees Fahrenheit in Alabama on Saturday
38 – Degrees Fahrenheit in Colorado on Saturday (now that’s just not fair!)
And the most important number of all: 26.2, baby!
Bam!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
"And you can have this heart to break"
Were more beautiful words ever penned? If you're not familiar with it already, allow me to share with you 7 stanzas of sheer and utter heart-wrenching Ghiradelli's chocolate-for-the-soul from Billy Joel's "And So It Goes". Maybe grab a kleenex before you start. Or maybe it doesn't hit as close to home for ya'll as it does for me, but it gets me every time.
In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Venting on a Theme of Dating
I just don't get this whole dating thing. I thought that by the time I was 26, I might have at least started to figure it out.
Or that other people would have. Of the male gender.
Apparently I'm still way off.
One of my favorite quotes is by Meg in Disney's Hercules. She says, "Well, you know how men are: they think 'no' means 'yes' and 'get lost' means 'Take me, I'm yours!'".
Add to it that "Yes" means "I'll text you in a month or so" and "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby" means "Abandon ship".
Seriously, guys? I'm done with the following:
-Games
-Laziness
-Bachelors that are too comfortable in their own lives and would rather sit at home and read books or watch TV than hang out with a cute girl
-Self-centeredness
-Playing "the game"
-No communication
-Laziness again
-Games
-Players
-Guys over the age of 25 not having the guts to ask you out when they're interested in you
-Guys over the age of 25 not having the guys to ask you out again
-Not following "green light" signs
-Having to walk on eggshells in new dating relationships
-"Never supressing a generous thought" being null and void because guys might call you "forward" or pushy
-Did I mention games yet?
-Men
And no, I'm not bitter.
Or that other people would have. Of the male gender.
Apparently I'm still way off.
One of my favorite quotes is by Meg in Disney's Hercules. She says, "Well, you know how men are: they think 'no' means 'yes' and 'get lost' means 'Take me, I'm yours!'".
Add to it that "Yes" means "I'll text you in a month or so" and "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby" means "Abandon ship".
Seriously, guys? I'm done with the following:
-Games
-Laziness
-Bachelors that are too comfortable in their own lives and would rather sit at home and read books or watch TV than hang out with a cute girl
-Self-centeredness
-Playing "the game"
-No communication
-Laziness again
-Games
-Players
-Guys over the age of 25 not having the guts to ask you out when they're interested in you
-Guys over the age of 25 not having the guys to ask you out again
-Not following "green light" signs
-Having to walk on eggshells in new dating relationships
-"Never supressing a generous thought" being null and void because guys might call you "forward" or pushy
-Did I mention games yet?
-Men
And no, I'm not bitter.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Why I Teach
I'm starting a unit on composers with my 6th grade "Intro to Music" class. I decided to show them August Rush for many reasons that would make a boring blog post.
As a teacher, you always have a handful of students that just somehow win your heart and you have a special connection with and would give your life to help them succeed and be happy. I have 250 of them. Ok, yes, but I do have a handful (a large one...maybe 2 dozen...I guess I have big hands or something) that I feel a special interest in and love for. One of them is a hispanic boy. He must come from a decent familiy, but obviously not as priviledged as I was growing up. He has a lot of energy but is a really sweet kid. I didn't expect him to really be excited about music based on what I'd seen from him, but he just started coming alive once we started our piano unit.
As we finished the movie yesterday in class and got to the big, dramatic climax (so watch it, it's GOOD), he said outloud to the whole class, "I'm gonna cry!" And he did tear up, along with his sidekick, another kid in my oversized "handful". It was cute.
The movie finished, we discussed some things, and then I dismissed them. I watched them go. He was the last one out of the class, but when he was almost to the door, he suddenly turned around, come running back to me across the room, gave me a huge hug right around my waist, and said very sincerely with all of his heart, "Thank you for showing us that movie!" He then turned and ran out of my room.
That's why I teach.
As a teacher, you always have a handful of students that just somehow win your heart and you have a special connection with and would give your life to help them succeed and be happy. I have 250 of them. Ok, yes, but I do have a handful (a large one...maybe 2 dozen...I guess I have big hands or something) that I feel a special interest in and love for. One of them is a hispanic boy. He must come from a decent familiy, but obviously not as priviledged as I was growing up. He has a lot of energy but is a really sweet kid. I didn't expect him to really be excited about music based on what I'd seen from him, but he just started coming alive once we started our piano unit.
As we finished the movie yesterday in class and got to the big, dramatic climax (so watch it, it's GOOD), he said outloud to the whole class, "I'm gonna cry!" And he did tear up, along with his sidekick, another kid in my oversized "handful". It was cute.
The movie finished, we discussed some things, and then I dismissed them. I watched them go. He was the last one out of the class, but when he was almost to the door, he suddenly turned around, come running back to me across the room, gave me a huge hug right around my waist, and said very sincerely with all of his heart, "Thank you for showing us that movie!" He then turned and ran out of my room.
That's why I teach.
Nasty Habits I've Picked Up from Running
(NOTE: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: Disclaimer: This post is not for the weak of stomach. Or for those who don’t already know me well and REALLY love me. Because if you don’t already know and love me and you read this, you’ll never have any desire to meet me. So do me and yourself a favor and read my other posts first. And then maybe, maybe come back to this one—after you know and love me.)
I’ve said it before, and I stick by it: Runners are odd creatures. There are certain things that are acceptable, necessary, or even “cool” when you’re running. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, when not running out on the trail, these things aren’t exactly “kosher” in society. A few examples from my personal experiences:
1. The “Farmer’s Blow”
Also known as the “Snot Rocket” or “Alabama Hanky”. (I was informed of the latter name by a really cute guy in Alabama when I was out running with him on a semi-date. I may have had a cold and may have instinctively used said Hanky...and I wonder why things didn’t work out with him…) If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a disgustingly practical and effective invention. You simply plug one nostril with your thumb, turn your head over your opposite shoulder, close your mouth, and blow. It works like magic.
(It takes a little bit of practice, but with hard work and determination, it can be a very trusty friend in times of need. Try it! No, really!)
However, I find that I’ve gotten a little too reliant on it and have to watch myself when I’m not out running. I was walking from my car into the grocery store the other day and needed to blow my nose. So what did I do? I plugged one nostril with my thumb, turned my head over the opposite shoulder, closed my mouth, took and deep breath, and…
GROSS! I caught myself just in time. Who DOES that in public?!
Other words of caution: You have to be careful and very aware of your surroundings when doing this. Make sure you’re blowing downwind, or it’s just not worth it. And you have to be strategic about it in races—not strategic as in waiting until your competitor is right behind you and aiming over whatever shoulder they’re drafting off of; I mean strategic by NOT doing it when someone is behind or beside you. Oh, and be careful of treadmills. On the rare occasion I’m forced to resort to them, I usually have to catch myself at least once so I don’t ‘snot rocket’ all over the carpet of my apartment complex’s fitness room. Sick.
2. Gloves are great—they also keep your hands warm!
When I first got started running more seriously, it was wintertime. On a splurge, I invested in a pair of hoity-toity running gloves at a hoity-toity price. But they are oh-so-worth it.
The best part is the soft, fuzzy covering that runs down the back of the thumb and all along the lower part of the back of the hand. What’s that for? Wiping your nose, naturally. No, I’m serious, that’s what it’s for. (People get paid big money to design snot-wiping parts of gloves—and I teach middle school for pocket change. Life is so fair.) I love this fuzzy part, though, because it reduces the need for Farmer’s Blows—or just makes clean-up after them more efficient and less gross.
But on one (or more) occasion(s) I was walking from my school building across the parking lot to my little Trailer Park (i.e. classroom) on a cold day. I had on my sweet, 100% wool, very nice “Handie” Salzburg gloves. My nose was running, so I lift my hand up to my face to wipe the snot all over my gloves and…
GROSS! I stop myself just in time. Not all gloves were meant to be snot rags!
3. “Bathroom” is not so much defined by what it is as by what is successfully accomplished there
You’ve hopefully read the post about Colorado Runners and all-natural bathrooms. I’ve gotten more comfortable with the organic, all-natural granola side of me, including finding a restroom whenever I need one on the trail.
But sometimes I forget that not everything is like a 20-mile trail run.
I was out on a “hike” with a friend—meaning a 15-minute climb up Ensign Peak in Salt Lake City, Utah. Partway up the hill, I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. My natural reaction when I’m out on the trail running is, “Ok, let’s get this done now, because it’s not gonna get any better over the next 18 miles—and there’s no way you are gonna make it that far unless you do something about it!” So my natural thought process was, “Ok, go find a little grove of trees, Depew.” Not a big deal. I even started telling my friend I was going to go do that until I remembered—Dude, this is only a 15-minute hike! You can hold it!
Sick. I felt like a boy. Gross.
4. Despite the great chagrin you will all feel at reading this, I choose not to elaborate on the gastro-intestinal activities that runners experience. I still have some social inhibitions, thank you. Well, at least I do when I’m not out on the trail, all by my lonesome, with no eyes, ears, or…noses…for at least a 3 mile radius. ;)
And on those lovely notes…
Anyone up for a run?
I’ve said it before, and I stick by it: Runners are odd creatures. There are certain things that are acceptable, necessary, or even “cool” when you’re running. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, when not running out on the trail, these things aren’t exactly “kosher” in society. A few examples from my personal experiences:
1. The “Farmer’s Blow”
Also known as the “Snot Rocket” or “Alabama Hanky”. (I was informed of the latter name by a really cute guy in Alabama when I was out running with him on a semi-date. I may have had a cold and may have instinctively used said Hanky...and I wonder why things didn’t work out with him…) If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a disgustingly practical and effective invention. You simply plug one nostril with your thumb, turn your head over your opposite shoulder, close your mouth, and blow. It works like magic.
(It takes a little bit of practice, but with hard work and determination, it can be a very trusty friend in times of need. Try it! No, really!)
However, I find that I’ve gotten a little too reliant on it and have to watch myself when I’m not out running. I was walking from my car into the grocery store the other day and needed to blow my nose. So what did I do? I plugged one nostril with my thumb, turned my head over the opposite shoulder, closed my mouth, took and deep breath, and…
GROSS! I caught myself just in time. Who DOES that in public?!
Other words of caution: You have to be careful and very aware of your surroundings when doing this. Make sure you’re blowing downwind, or it’s just not worth it. And you have to be strategic about it in races—not strategic as in waiting until your competitor is right behind you and aiming over whatever shoulder they’re drafting off of; I mean strategic by NOT doing it when someone is behind or beside you. Oh, and be careful of treadmills. On the rare occasion I’m forced to resort to them, I usually have to catch myself at least once so I don’t ‘snot rocket’ all over the carpet of my apartment complex’s fitness room. Sick.
2. Gloves are great—they also keep your hands warm!
When I first got started running more seriously, it was wintertime. On a splurge, I invested in a pair of hoity-toity running gloves at a hoity-toity price. But they are oh-so-worth it.
The best part is the soft, fuzzy covering that runs down the back of the thumb and all along the lower part of the back of the hand. What’s that for? Wiping your nose, naturally. No, I’m serious, that’s what it’s for. (People get paid big money to design snot-wiping parts of gloves—and I teach middle school for pocket change. Life is so fair.) I love this fuzzy part, though, because it reduces the need for Farmer’s Blows—or just makes clean-up after them more efficient and less gross.
But on one (or more) occasion(s) I was walking from my school building across the parking lot to my little Trailer Park (i.e. classroom) on a cold day. I had on my sweet, 100% wool, very nice “Handie” Salzburg gloves. My nose was running, so I lift my hand up to my face to wipe the snot all over my gloves and…
GROSS! I stop myself just in time. Not all gloves were meant to be snot rags!
3. “Bathroom” is not so much defined by what it is as by what is successfully accomplished there
You’ve hopefully read the post about Colorado Runners and all-natural bathrooms. I’ve gotten more comfortable with the organic, all-natural granola side of me, including finding a restroom whenever I need one on the trail.
But sometimes I forget that not everything is like a 20-mile trail run.
I was out on a “hike” with a friend—meaning a 15-minute climb up Ensign Peak in Salt Lake City, Utah. Partway up the hill, I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. My natural reaction when I’m out on the trail running is, “Ok, let’s get this done now, because it’s not gonna get any better over the next 18 miles—and there’s no way you are gonna make it that far unless you do something about it!” So my natural thought process was, “Ok, go find a little grove of trees, Depew.” Not a big deal. I even started telling my friend I was going to go do that until I remembered—Dude, this is only a 15-minute hike! You can hold it!
Sick. I felt like a boy. Gross.
4. Despite the great chagrin you will all feel at reading this, I choose not to elaborate on the gastro-intestinal activities that runners experience. I still have some social inhibitions, thank you. Well, at least I do when I’m not out on the trail, all by my lonesome, with no eyes, ears, or…noses…for at least a 3 mile radius. ;)
And on those lovely notes…
Anyone up for a run?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
100% all-natural, organic Colorado Runners
(Ok, this one had my family crying in laughter at dinner one night at Johnny Carino’s, I’m attempting to retell it just the way I did then. It’s kind of an awkward story. But it was kind of an awkward experience. I guess I’m just kind of an awkward girl.)
Training for a marathon is quite an experience. I’ve learned things and experienced things I never knew existed.
I decided I wanted to run a half-marathon race before my actual marathon. I actually did it rather earlier on in my training than most programs suggest, but I was ready and it was a beautiful race I couldn’t pass up. It was called the “Autumn Colors Run”. It was in Buena Vista, Colorado on September 19th, right at the peak of the aspen trees turning colors in the Colorado Rockies—one of my favorite phenomena and times of year. They bus you up to the starting line way up in the mountains—9500 ft. elevation. You end at 8000 ft. elevation. Most of the course was downhill (and I kicked butt on the few uphills—I LOVE training in Colorado Springs, where it’s rare to find a flat area longer than 50 meters). The first 6 miles or so are running on trails through the mountain forests, with splashes of brilliant scarlet, gold, and bright yellow flash right by you in the surrounding forests as you power downhill. Once you emerge from the mountains, you run through the valleys, with a 360 degree view of breathtaking Colorado mountains, painted with patches of the same vibrant hues. It’s beautiful. And a freakin’ fast course. I loved it.
But I’m getting carried away. Let’s back up to the starting line. Where was I? Oh, yeah--You learn a lot about your body while training for a marathon. I’m still figuring out how it works for those 26.2 body-pounding miles. But it’s a good system, and once you figure it out, it’s pretty predictable. I’ve learned that I have to hydrate a LOT for several hours before I run. I’ve also learned, from sore experience, that as a result of said hydration, I MUST find a bathroom right before I start. If not, there will be an “emergency” (cue “Animaniacs”) somewhere between miles 3 and 10. But it has to be right before I start—you go too far beforehand, and you’ll need to go again before mile 6.
I knew there would be port-a-potties at the starting line, so I loaded bus 4 of 5 and headed the 13.1 miles up the canyon. I got to the top and jogged over to the port-a-potty line. It was LONG. I expected the line to go quickly. But I kept watching the time, and the minutes were ticking down faster than the line was. One by one, I saw people peel out of the line. I thought, “I’m jealous! I wish I could just say, ‘Nah, I can wait, I’ll go at the next rest stop—in 13.1 miles.’” Until I realized they were doing nothing of the sort. One by one, they wandered up the hill a short distance until they were hidden in the trees…well, mostly hidden. A minute or two later, they’d come down the hill and take their place at the pack at the starting line.
“Oh no, I don’t want to do that! PLEASE hurry up!” I groaned inwardly. Through my “learning experiences” in training, I’ve discovered that it’s MUCH easier for a man to use nature’s restroom than a woman. Let’s just say that I haven’t quite “mastered the skill” yet. But it was getting closer and closer to starting time, and the line was still far too long. The 2 girls behind me decided to give in and climbed the hill. I was banking on pure faith that enough people would give up, give in, and climb the hill, shortening the line enough for me to make it there just before the starting gun went off.
About 4 minutes to “Go time” (no pun intended), I realized my hope was in vain. I begrudgingly climbed the hill, trying to hurriedly come up with a better “plan of attack” on how to best accomplish this mountain-woman task I have not yet mastered without publicly embarrassing myself afterwards.
But Colorado’s a funny place. And runners are funny people. And when you put the two together…well, just keep reading.
As I walk up the hill, I see people dotting the hillside, “hidden behind trees”. Now, when I say hidden, we’re talking about runners and aspen trees and lodgepole pines here. Think the old Disney movies, when there’s always a tall, skinny villain and a short, fat one, and the short, fat one “hides” behind a lamp post---but his rear end and stomach are both sticking out, completely defeating the purpose of “hiding” behind anything. Not that runners have large rears or bellies to stick out, but it has the same effect, these runners “hiding” behind skinny tree trunks to take care of business.
It would have been really awkward if it didn’t just hit my funny bone and make me want to bust out laughing. But out of respect for the people busy at work, I held it in and just smiled real big.
To my left there was someone about 20 feet away. Keep your eyes straight ahead, Depew. Nope, there was someone straight ahead about 30 feet. Keep your eyes to the ground and veer right.
You know when you really have to go, but you’re still minutes from a bathroom, and then someone turns the faucet on or starts singing, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls…”? I was about there. The forest was filled with the “sounds of nature”. I sped up my hike farther up the hill. I certain didn’t want to be “hanging out” around an aspen trunk like a fat Disney villain for all these experienced all-natural mountain men and women to see my "lack of skills".
I heard the 2 girls I’d been standing in line with a few trees away, chatting as they “hid” behind their respective trees. (I think it’s weird enough that girls talk while they’re going to the bathroom in separate stalls, much less when the stalls are completely missing!)
Seriously, it was a funny sight. I took my eyes off the ground for a few seconds, long enough to look around and see probably 2 or 3 dozen people within easy hearing- and seeing-distance just standing or squatting and doing their business. I smiled and thought, “Now THIS is 100% all-natural, organic Colorado runners.”
Thanks to the 2 or 3 dozen mini-lessons around me, I successfully accomplished my task and raced back down to the finish line before the gun went off. No public embarrassment or anything. Put that down as another one of my life’s lessons I’ve learned through running. I felt pretty darn “Colorado”, and pretty darn “runner”.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Walking half-barefoot in 4 inches of snow--for a pencil
I’m a wise person. I steal as many good ideas as I can from other people. And I’m pretty darn good at it.
What’s the most common-heard phrase by any teacher? “I forgot my pencil.” I wanted to be a “nice” teacher and not stress about little things that really don’t matter, so at the beginning of the year, I’d just tell students to go up to my desk and grab one when they didn’t have theirs.
Enter the “learning from others” idea. I realized within a week or two that that wasn’t going to work, or I’d be out of pencils by mid-term progress reports! I’d heard of several teachers making students leave something at the teacher’s desk so they would remember to trade the pencil for their article at the end of class and not walk out of the room with the teacher’s pencil. It sounded non-threatening and would accomplish the goal without making a big deal out of such a menial thing.
I decided on a shoe. I’ve heard of several teachers doing this. It’s necessary enough that no students are going to walk out of my class with my pencil and one shoe on. They’d surely remember to give the pencil back so they didn’t have to walk out of the room in their sock.
Or so I thought. Until today. With 4 inches of snow on the ground.
I had 2 students—yes, two, from completely different class periods—come back into my classroom 20 minutes after they had left to get the shoe they had left here.
This would be silly enough if I didn’t work out in a modular (“trailor”) across the parking lot and a small grassy area from the rest of the school. These kids had to walk across the snow-covered grass and ice-covered asphalt—on a shoe-less foot. THEN they remembered.
Go figure.
I asked one girl, as she tied her shoe, “But where’s my pencil?!” She said, “I put it back at the end of class.”
Maybe it’s not as effective as I’d thought.
What’s the most common-heard phrase by any teacher? “I forgot my pencil.” I wanted to be a “nice” teacher and not stress about little things that really don’t matter, so at the beginning of the year, I’d just tell students to go up to my desk and grab one when they didn’t have theirs.
Enter the “learning from others” idea. I realized within a week or two that that wasn’t going to work, or I’d be out of pencils by mid-term progress reports! I’d heard of several teachers making students leave something at the teacher’s desk so they would remember to trade the pencil for their article at the end of class and not walk out of the room with the teacher’s pencil. It sounded non-threatening and would accomplish the goal without making a big deal out of such a menial thing.
I decided on a shoe. I’ve heard of several teachers doing this. It’s necessary enough that no students are going to walk out of my class with my pencil and one shoe on. They’d surely remember to give the pencil back so they didn’t have to walk out of the room in their sock.
Or so I thought. Until today. With 4 inches of snow on the ground.
I had 2 students—yes, two, from completely different class periods—come back into my classroom 20 minutes after they had left to get the shoe they had left here.
This would be silly enough if I didn’t work out in a modular (“trailor”) across the parking lot and a small grassy area from the rest of the school. These kids had to walk across the snow-covered grass and ice-covered asphalt—on a shoe-less foot. THEN they remembered.
Go figure.
I asked one girl, as she tied her shoe, “But where’s my pencil?!” She said, “I put it back at the end of class.”
Maybe it’s not as effective as I’d thought.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Life's Lessons: What I've Learned from Writing Thank You Notes
(This and the next 2 posts go hand in hand, so this is "Part 1". For full enjoyment, slowly consume all 3 in prescribed order.)
I have learned (and it’s good Christian doctrine--see "Part 3") that nothing makes you happier than serving. Ok, I’m loving the giddy “life is great!” endorphin high you get after a good run. But I’m talking the deep-down, soul-nourishing, spirit-enriching “feel good” feeling you get after giving of your time, energy, and love to make someone else’s day and/or life better. (Thomas S. Monson might call this a “warm fuzzy” feeling.) It’s an even deeper satisfaction when you have to sacrifice something of your own to lend that service. Maybe that’s why I love my career choice.
But this post isn’t about service. You can read that one below (Life’s Lessons: Jonah vs. Charity). This post is about the next best thing to service: Gratitude.
My mom and dad taught me when I was little to always, always, always write thank you notes for gifts I got from far-away relatives. I did it begrudgingly, figuring they wouldn’t let me play with the toy if I didn’t write the thank you note. Now I’m “older and wiser”, and am fairly faithful about writing thank you notes (although they are usually embarrassingly belated!). I just spent the past 45 minutes writing some long-overdue thank you notes. When I was done, I sat back and felt so good. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I realized how blessed I am. Maybe because I realized how many good people the Lord has placed in my life. Maybe because I know how much a thoughtful note can mean to me, bringing a smile to my face, tears to my eyes, or just warming my heart. (Whoa, I just sounded like Tommy Monson there!) Or perhaps I saw all those people and their goodness in my life as a manifestation of God’s love for me. But I just felt happy. Gratitude feels good.
I can only imagine the difference this would make if I transferred these principles to my prayers, asking less and thanking more.
You know, gratitude and service kind of go hand in hand. In serving, you are filled with humility, joy, and love. The person you serve is blessed by your service, and thanks you. In that expression of gratitude, the served is filled with humility, joy, and love. And in that thanking, you are blessed by the servee’s thoughtfulness. Maybe gratitude is another way to serve—just inside out—and that’s why it feels so good.
I don’t know—what do you think?
I have learned (and it’s good Christian doctrine--see "Part 3") that nothing makes you happier than serving. Ok, I’m loving the giddy “life is great!” endorphin high you get after a good run. But I’m talking the deep-down, soul-nourishing, spirit-enriching “feel good” feeling you get after giving of your time, energy, and love to make someone else’s day and/or life better. (Thomas S. Monson might call this a “warm fuzzy” feeling.) It’s an even deeper satisfaction when you have to sacrifice something of your own to lend that service. Maybe that’s why I love my career choice.
But this post isn’t about service. You can read that one below (Life’s Lessons: Jonah vs. Charity). This post is about the next best thing to service: Gratitude.
My mom and dad taught me when I was little to always, always, always write thank you notes for gifts I got from far-away relatives. I did it begrudgingly, figuring they wouldn’t let me play with the toy if I didn’t write the thank you note. Now I’m “older and wiser”, and am fairly faithful about writing thank you notes (although they are usually embarrassingly belated!). I just spent the past 45 minutes writing some long-overdue thank you notes. When I was done, I sat back and felt so good. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I realized how blessed I am. Maybe because I realized how many good people the Lord has placed in my life. Maybe because I know how much a thoughtful note can mean to me, bringing a smile to my face, tears to my eyes, or just warming my heart. (Whoa, I just sounded like Tommy Monson there!) Or perhaps I saw all those people and their goodness in my life as a manifestation of God’s love for me. But I just felt happy. Gratitude feels good.
I can only imagine the difference this would make if I transferred these principles to my prayers, asking less and thanking more.
You know, gratitude and service kind of go hand in hand. In serving, you are filled with humility, joy, and love. The person you serve is blessed by your service, and thanks you. In that expression of gratitude, the served is filled with humility, joy, and love. And in that thanking, you are blessed by the servee’s thoughtfulness. Maybe gratitude is another way to serve—just inside out—and that’s why it feels so good.
I don’t know—what do you think?
Life's Lessons: Delayed Thanks
(Part 2)
A recent experience with gratitude, with a not-so-recent story behind it:
In convincing me to sit down and write my obligatory thank you notes, my parents always told us the story (and I’ve used it in at least 2 sacrament talks) about Grandma Nielson (is that right, Dad?), our great grandmother, who used to sew a blanket for each great-grandchild every single year and give it to them at Christmas or their birthday. (I know I’m butchering the story, sorry!) This happened year after year, and year after year I begrudgingly wrote a quite “thank you” note. I didn’t realize it, but as the years past, Grandma Nielson got older, her hands got less agile, and there were more and more great grandkids. It wasn’t until years later that we discovered that she had stopped making blankets for our cousins long ago—because we were still getting them every year.
Gratitude goes a long way.
Eleven years ago, my grandfather (“Grandpa Kent”) made beautiful wooden jewelry boxes for my 2 sisters and I for Christmas presents. Inside mine was a simple but lovely sterling silver bracelet he had made, and engraved his name and the date on the inside of it—12/98. It was nice, but I wasn’t into jewelry at that time, so it stayed safely in my jewelry box for years.
It wasn’t until recently, perhaps a year ago, in moving and cleaning things out that I rediscovered it. I found it rather lovely, and began wearing it. It perfectly fits my wrist, personality, and fashion style (what little I have). I didn’t realize until I was working at EFY this summer, wearing “Sunday clothes” 3+ days a week, that I realized how much I was wearing that bracelet, and how much I loved it!
It struck me. My grandfather had made that for me in 1998—11 years ago! How could he or I have ever known how much I would love it and wear it, it being the one bracelet I took with me Alabama for student teaching, Utah for EFY, etc. I was transitioning between poor student and poor teacher, and never would have spent money to buy myself something like this. But his generosity 11 years earlier was blessing my life now, and he had no idea.
So I let him know. I wrote him a thank you note. Not begrudgingly this time. I’m sure I wrote him one 11 years ago, but this time I meant it with all my heart, full of sincerity and love.
I was extremely surprised to receive an unanticipated box in the mail several weeks later from him. I opened it up, and was so touched to find a small, wooden jewelry box he had just made (it still smelled of the stain he used on it). Inside was a note that said, “I’m glad you liked the bracelet. Here is a jewelry box to keep it in.”
Charity never faileth. I guess gratitude’s pretty reliable, too. ;)
Life's Lessons: Jonah vs. Charity
(Part 3)
My “Things I Learned from a 4-year-old Princess” posts are rather slim. (She’s 5 now, by the way.) But I am regrettably now hundreds of miles away from her; so, unfortunately, the additions to that series will be slow to fewer and farther between (even more so than before, if you dedicated bloggers can believe that).
But here’s a new series: “Life’s Lessons”. Maybe I’ll come up with a more creative title soon. Maybe, “Why Didn’t I Think of That?” or “If Wise People Learn from Other’s Mistakes, then I’m a Master Teacher!” or “You’d Think I Would Have Figured That Out By Now” or “Lori Dawn, Don’t You Ever Learn?”. Any ideas?
As I look at who I have become, I often look back to see how I came to be who I am. There are several defining moments in my life, several experiences or lessons or realizations that have truly shaped me into who I am more than any others. Hopefully I’ll get more on here eventually. But today’s is from my freshman year at college and my good friend, Anneli.
Anneli was a year ahead of me at school, but we instantly bonded with our love for music, musicals, and our dramatic personalities. We would often see each other at the institute and tell each other all about our dramatic days. Someone we always seemed to understand one another when no one else fully did.
One afternoon, after a particularly brutal “Jonah Day” (watch Anne of Green Gables for the full effect of that phrase—or better yet, read the Book of Jonah), I was relieved as I walked into the LDS Institute building on campus to find Anneli. As I dramatically expressed the downward spiral of my day, she echoed the exact sentiments back—she’d had one as well! I know I could count on her to commiserate with me! I was so grateful for a friend like her, with whom I could go drown my sorrows in an old movie or a big bowl of ice cream or something equally self-indulgent and self-centered. I opened my mouth to suggest just such a thing, and said, “I know! Let’s go—“ but before I could suggest some fattening, sugary way to cauterize the effects of our days , she replied: “SERVE!”
It was one of those moments when you have no idea what expression is on your face. All you know is that when you finally process what was said, several seconds have passed, and you realize that your mouth is still open and you have no idea what to say next. “Service” was certainly not the message I had intended on conveying to her!
But what did we do? We went to her house, made cookies, and secretly delivered them to several people in our church congregation. And I went home that night feeling so good—I had completely forgotten that I’d ever had a Jonah Day.
President Gordon B. Hinckley learned this principle first-hand and put it so simply when he said, “Do you want to be happy? Forget yourself and get lost in this great cause.” (Preach My Gospel, Ch. 9, pg, 168). That’s a life’s lesson to live by.
My “Things I Learned from a 4-year-old Princess” posts are rather slim. (She’s 5 now, by the way.) But I am regrettably now hundreds of miles away from her; so, unfortunately, the additions to that series will be slow to fewer and farther between (even more so than before, if you dedicated bloggers can believe that).
But here’s a new series: “Life’s Lessons”. Maybe I’ll come up with a more creative title soon. Maybe, “Why Didn’t I Think of That?” or “If Wise People Learn from Other’s Mistakes, then I’m a Master Teacher!” or “You’d Think I Would Have Figured That Out By Now” or “Lori Dawn, Don’t You Ever Learn?”. Any ideas?
As I look at who I have become, I often look back to see how I came to be who I am. There are several defining moments in my life, several experiences or lessons or realizations that have truly shaped me into who I am more than any others. Hopefully I’ll get more on here eventually. But today’s is from my freshman year at college and my good friend, Anneli.
Anneli was a year ahead of me at school, but we instantly bonded with our love for music, musicals, and our dramatic personalities. We would often see each other at the institute and tell each other all about our dramatic days. Someone we always seemed to understand one another when no one else fully did.
One afternoon, after a particularly brutal “Jonah Day” (watch Anne of Green Gables for the full effect of that phrase—or better yet, read the Book of Jonah), I was relieved as I walked into the LDS Institute building on campus to find Anneli. As I dramatically expressed the downward spiral of my day, she echoed the exact sentiments back—she’d had one as well! I know I could count on her to commiserate with me! I was so grateful for a friend like her, with whom I could go drown my sorrows in an old movie or a big bowl of ice cream or something equally self-indulgent and self-centered. I opened my mouth to suggest just such a thing, and said, “I know! Let’s go—“ but before I could suggest some fattening, sugary way to cauterize the effects of our days , she replied: “SERVE!”
It was one of those moments when you have no idea what expression is on your face. All you know is that when you finally process what was said, several seconds have passed, and you realize that your mouth is still open and you have no idea what to say next. “Service” was certainly not the message I had intended on conveying to her!
But what did we do? We went to her house, made cookies, and secretly delivered them to several people in our church congregation. And I went home that night feeling so good—I had completely forgotten that I’d ever had a Jonah Day.
President Gordon B. Hinckley learned this principle first-hand and put it so simply when he said, “Do you want to be happy? Forget yourself and get lost in this great cause.” (Preach My Gospel, Ch. 9, pg, 168). That’s a life’s lesson to live by.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Interpretive Music Notation
My 6th grade "Intro to Music" class took a quiz the other day about the basics of reading music: note names, note durations, etc. They did OK, except they kept confusing half- and quarter-notes (and their respective rests)--a fairly necessary skill in order to read music!
We reviewed it in class the following day. After some group instruction, to do a quick formative assessment and some more practice, I said, "Draw me a quarter note in the air." They did it with their fingers in the air in front of them. "Now draw a...half rest!"
I don't remember who said it (OK, I have a good idea of who...), but out of the blue, one of the BOYS said, "We should dance around the room and you call out a name and we have to do it!" Remember, this is 6th grade, OK? We're talking 11- and 12-year-olds, not little kids. I said, "Really?" And almost the whole class chimed in, "Yeah!!!"
So I put on the 1st movement of Dvorak's "New World Symphony". They all started interpretive dancing to it. Seriously. I thought I was going to die. It was hysterical. I then call out, "Half note!" Some stop and draw it with their fingers. Some shape their bodies into it. Some get on the floor and squirm around to look like the note. Then they keep dancing.
We did it for probably 2 1/2 minutes. I didn't know if I'd be able to compose myself afterwards.
I love my job. I think I learn more from them sometimes than I learn from myself.
We reviewed it in class the following day. After some group instruction, to do a quick formative assessment and some more practice, I said, "Draw me a quarter note in the air." They did it with their fingers in the air in front of them. "Now draw a...half rest!"
I don't remember who said it (OK, I have a good idea of who...), but out of the blue, one of the BOYS said, "We should dance around the room and you call out a name and we have to do it!" Remember, this is 6th grade, OK? We're talking 11- and 12-year-olds, not little kids. I said, "Really?" And almost the whole class chimed in, "Yeah!!!"
So I put on the 1st movement of Dvorak's "New World Symphony". They all started interpretive dancing to it. Seriously. I thought I was going to die. It was hysterical. I then call out, "Half note!" Some stop and draw it with their fingers. Some shape their bodies into it. Some get on the floor and squirm around to look like the note. Then they keep dancing.
We did it for probably 2 1/2 minutes. I didn't know if I'd be able to compose myself afterwards.
I love my job. I think I learn more from them sometimes than I learn from myself.
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