The Life of a Celebrity

If you have ever wanted to be a celebrity, I highly recommend becoming a teacher. It is true, suddenly, everyone in the whole community knows you and all about you. (Okay, money wise teaching is nothing like being a celebrity, but fame, oh the fame) Seriously, kids watch you, copy you, and tell their families about everything you do, everything you wear, and everything you say. Trust me I know, I'm a teacher. Even normal, seemingly random things that you don't ever think about, suddenly are the latest rage. For example, just the other day one of my students commented, "Miss R, I just love the way you point." "I'm sorry, what?" I replied. "You know, the way you point. It's so cool." She gushed. Uh. . . .soon after, everyone was practicing the way I point. Craziness, I've even started to have emphathy (well kind of) for the scrutinity of real celebrities. You see last year I moved close by my school. Now not only do kids watch my every move at school, but every store I go to I hear voices calling, "Miss R, Oh my gosh there she is. Look she's buying candy. Look her hair is in pigtails." It's a little much, and so I sometimes find myself driving farther away to avoid run ins. (It's just like those horrible pictures of celebrities in the tabloids. You never know when you are going to see someone you taught.)
Well to add to this craziness, somehow I found myself out with another celebrity, Mr. Favorite Middle School Teacher. It all seemed pretty harmless and fun at first. However, for some reason I didn't realize that this was much bigger than us. Soon, I found my inbox full of emails from former students, I was attacked daily by Middle Schoolers in search of gossip, my boards were filled with mushy notes from former students, and somehow parents and faculty started pulling me aside with sly winks. One parent who had a student in my class this year and last, popped in one afternoon, "Now I really need to talk to you about Paul, but first let's talk about more important things like Mr. Celebrity." "Ummm. . ." I stammered. "Yep, those girls found out where you guys were going for dinner the other night, and they wanted us to drive them there. Of course, I told them they would never get a table and they said, "Oh we don't want a table, we just want to look in through the windows." I stared. "Ummmm. . . . " "Now don't you worry, we didn't take them, but I just wanted to tell you how big this is." "Ummm. . . " And so, suddenly, there was a lot of pressure for this to work out. (Poor celebrites) It continued with girls wanting to become my bridesmaids, and Valentines given to me with our initails on them. Did I mention that somehow this got out of control?
A few weeks later, at parent teacher conferences, just as I was beginning to talk with my next student, a former mother rushed in."Sorry, sorry for interrupting but I just had to come in and say, "Oh my goodness!. I'm so excited for you and Mr. Celebrity. He is so cute, and you are so cute. We just love him, and we just love you. I just wanted to tell you everyone at the middle school and elementary loves you guys and talks of nothing else." Mortified, I smiled and in between her gushing, wondered if I should tell her it was over. But then I looked at the hopeful smile of the kids and the excited parents, and I decided I just couldn't crush their hopes. So, I just continued to smile and nod. I decided I'd just let myself go off track, and let things simmer down. Perhaps, I could hire a spokesperson to tell everyone like real celebrities do, and while they're at it they could take my freezing cold winter recess duty. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I could find someone who will work for apples, Tootsie Rolls and hand drawn pictures. And so, if you are thinking of becoming a teacher (celebrity) remember you may never be able to shop at the store without looking over your shoulder again, and your life may be the next big story on the students' tabloid page. However, I must admit, it's worth it for those hand drawn pictures, Tootsie Rolls, apples and your crazy fans, the students.

Mistaken Identity

Sometimes I'm mistaken for things I am not. Of course, being short causes me to be mistaken for a kid at school. And for some reason I get mistaken for a store worker all the time, at any store. Somehow I am rummaging around the store, when someone comes up to me and asks me where something is at. I try to help them, but when I'm not positive about where something is they look at me and say, "You don't know? Don't you work here?' I'm not sure how I look like a store worker, but okay, maybe.
However, a little while ago I was truly mistaken for something I'm not. I was talking with a teacher about a book I had just read. We started wrapping up the conversation, and then she exclaimed "Hey, you're an environmentalist, I have just the book for you." I turned around to see who had just come into the room. When I didn't see anyone, I quickly turned back around and smiled. As she continued talking about how beautiful the book was, I wondered how she thought I was an environmentalist. Hmmmm. . . . I mean I try, kind of, um. . .I have cloth grocery bags, I love nature and um. . . hmmm. . . Then I prayed she wouldn't follow me back to class, because a picture of the overflowing trash can with students' papers in my room came to mind. Someone took our recycling bin, and not being an environmentalist, I hadn't replaced it. Then I thought about all of the Arbor Day and Earth Day contests that I never had my students enter. An environmentalist hmmmm?
Now, I would like to say I often hear conservative radio show hosts talk about how teachers are brainwashing children about global warming and save the earth campaigns, but I must say it is the other way around. Just a few weeks ago, my students wrote and gave speeches. They could write on anything they wanted. Usually, I get speeches about sports, fashion, and music. This year over three fourths of the class talked about global warming, saving the earth, saving the polar bears, and helping animals. They made a plea to recycle and save energy, Being a supportive teacher, I decided if it was that important to them I would take their challenge. Not only did I find our class recycling bin, but I also added another one by my desk. Then I even took the challenge to turn off one of the lights to conserve energy.
The light conserving argument had started a few months earlier when my class came running in and told me how we could save the earth by only turning on one light. I of course stared at them and shook my head. "Ummm guys why do you think they put two sets of lights in here?" I answered my own question. "Because you need two lights to see." I turned off one light. "Look you're all fuzzy. I can barely see you!" I exclaimed. Then I flipped back on the light and that was that. However, with their enthusiasm from their speeches, I started class the other day with only one light on and the blinds open. It actually wasn't that different. They came in and someone flipped on the other light. I smiled and said, "Your speeches inspired me, let's try only one light today." "Yeah!" They cried. "We're going to save the polar bears!" And so now, every time someone goes to throw away something, they cry, "Put it in the recycling basket, Save the polar bears." (Seriously, they are really worried about those polar bears.) And so while, I'm not sure that we're exactly saving polar bears, we are being more energy and recycling conscious. Why just the other day I rinsed out my grape juice bottle and threw it in the recycling bin at home. Which may cause people to mistake me for an environmentalist, and maybe that's okay.

What Matters Most

Sometimes we are jarred out of the hectic rush of life, to reflect on what is most important. After Christmas, I found myself doing a lot of reflecting. We spent most of our time with my grandma in the hospital where we looked through old picture albums, shared favorite memories, laughed at treasured stories, listened to the Tennessee Waltz and My Sweet Little Alice Blue Gown, and just stayed with my grandma. It was really hard for me to say goodbye to my grandma, because I knew I would miss her a lot. However, I knew she had lived a good life and would be reunited with her loved ones who have passed on before.
As I reflected on my grandma's life, I realized what I loved most about my grandma didn't deal with prestige, awards, or degrees. In fact, what I loved most about my grandma had nothing to do with stuff. It was her staying up late and gabbing with me, teaching me how to make molasses candy, saving me from our dog, not yelling at me for breaking her door, and listening to my stories. It was the sound of her laugh, the peace from her prayers, and the love she freely gave.
Reflecting on my grandma's life makes me want to be more like her. She was someone who was always there at important moments. Someone who spent more time listening and less time talking. Someone who spent more time with those she loved and less in the attainment of worldly things. My grandma taught me many lessons in her life, the most important were seen in her example. In my rush of life, I plan to slow down a little and be more like her.

Christmas All Year Long

I know it is February, but I believe Christmas should be in your heart all year long. And so, here is Christmas:


We started our holiday with the beauty and warmth of the Mesa Temple Lights.


Then we celebrated a few December birthdays.


Of course, we spent a lot of time looking for elf tracks.


We played in the beautiful snow.


We did a little tubing.


No holiday would be complete without yummy food. This gingerbread man was lightly garnished with a sack of M&M's


We brought back the family Christmas Crunch tradition, and life was good.


Everyone benefited with my niece's desire to get extra credit in French class. The yummy yule log.


My brother of course, put on his chef hat and gave us a good dose of healthy veggies. Add a little honey, lots of greens and limas, a few cashews, and presto!


We all loved our fun gifts. One of grandma's favorites was her Pepsi free.


We had big smiles for the holidays.


And that was our wonderful Christmas!

Mountain Trolls

For years, I've harbored a sneaking suspicion that many guys belong to some unknown race of. . . . hmmmmm. . .mountain trolls? I was reminded of this a few hours ago as I noticed my brother chomping down two corn dogs. "Um. . .aren't we going out to eat in a few minutes?" I asked. "Uh, yeah, this is just my lunch." He explained without a moment's hesitation. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Hmmmm. . . . . You may have noticed unusual things like this as well. They answer in grunts and use as few words as possible in a sentence. They like shiny things like cars and pretty things like girls. They get a huge enjoyment out of running around and hitting each other.

A few weeks ago, I uncovered a huge herd (gaggle, sleuth, pack?) that had assembled right in my midst. There I am sitting in church when the first speaker begins to introduce himself. He smiles a dashing smile and then chuckles. "I just wanted to share a little about myself." He grins. "You may all know that the guys in the ward just had their Christmas dinner." Grin, grin, wink, wink. "Well for our dinner it is tradition that we always go to an all you can eat meat restaurant." All of the mountain trolls, I mean guys in the ward, begin to rub their bellies in delight. He continues "Well this year was no exception. And according to our great tradition we all weighed ourselves before entering our deluxe buffet." All of the guys are now salivating at the mouth remembering the moment. "And then after our glorious feasting of pigs and cows we weighed ourselves again." The guys in the audience are rubbing their bellies again. (Which strangely look much larger.) He smiles another dashing grin. "Well this year a new feasting champion was born and that champion was me." The guys are transfixed with their new champion and leader. "After stepping back on the scale, I the fearless mountain troll gained eight pounds." (Okay, maybe he didn't actually say mountain troll, but it was implied.) The guys quietly fist bump each other in celebration and mutter their pitiful poundage compared to the chief mountain troll. And, of course all of the girls in the audience are nauseous. Eight pounds? Seriously, eight pounds. In shocking story telling fashion, I shared this story with a guy. When I finished, he grunted. Enough said.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Once again the most wonderful time of the year has rolled around again. That's right, it is the second week of December, and I am officially off track. Never in all of the off tracks of off tracks, have I ever been so excited for an off track. I think I might have cried, if I wasn't so exhausted.
On Monday, I woke up at 6 am looked out the window, saw the snow falling, heard the wind blowing and smiled, yes I smiled with the happiness of every B track teacher. There would be no shivering on bus duty, no rowdy inside recess, no flying snowballs at kids' heads, or children skating on the ice to their doom. Nope, I just curled up in my little bed, smiled and went right back to sleep. It is one of the little things that makes this the most wonderful time of the year. However, being off track is not the only reason for such happiness. It’s that happy, hopeful, feeling that fills the air at Christmas. Somehow everything looks brighter and better during Christmas time. It’s the smile on the meanest teacher's face at the Christmas party. (One of the few I have ever seen.) It's breaking out into Christmas song every time you turn on the radio. It’s twinkling lights that make the snow seem sparklier. It's the mandatory eating of yummy food wherever you go. It’s people wearing clothes with elves, reindeer, and snowmen on them. It’s being with your family and friends. It’s happily giving to others. It's spending much more time thinking about others and much less time thinking about yourself. It's counting your blessings. It's the birth of the Savior, who gave us the greatest gift. Yes, it is the most wonderful time of the year.

America's Friendliest Marathon

Two years ago I started training for the Richmond, Virginia marathon. Any marathon that has the word friendly in the title, and junk food stations on the course is my kind of race. Sadly, my training was cut short with the jabbing pain of a knife in my foot, which led to surgery on both feet. It was two very long years. However, I promised myself that I would run again, and that someday I would complete the marathon that I started so very long ago.
And so as soon as I could run again, I started training. In my excitement, I overlooked my timing of things. I was teaching school all day, going to school for my master's at night, training for a marathon and trying to have a social life? Hmmmm. . . . Life was a little crazy, and yeah, I was a little crazy. Stumbling out of bed on Saturdays for 20 mile runs, running home from school for a 10 mile run while little flakes of snow fell. Yeah, a lot crazy. Many people told me not to do the marathon; life was too crazy right now, I didn't have anything to prove they said. On cold, dark mornings and evenings during long runs, I agreed with them heartily. However, in the end I knew this wasn't about anyone else. It was about me. It was something I needed to prove to myself; that I could run again, that I could beat this marathon, and in the end I knew that I could do it.
And so I ran on, and we flew into Virginia. We were welcomed by Hurricane Ida who blew in torrential rain and wind for the occasion. I couldn't help laughing, what were the odds? We ran from museum to museum with our umbrellas flipping upside down, crossing lakes of water in parking lots, as the governor announced a state of emergency for the state. Miraculously, the rain and winds calmed down in the upcoming days and by Saturday it was simply cloudy and cool. Perfect weather for the race.
The course was beautiful. It ran in and out of the city from funky downtown stores, through Monument Ave, along the James River, and then down tree lined streets in their fall glory. Then there were the spectators. It isn't called the friendliest marathon for nothing. The spectators were amazing. They lined the streets clapping and urging us on. They brought oranges, grapes, doughnuts, and cookies for the runners. There was even a group handing out beer, and while I don't drink, the runners in front of me sure enjoyed it. At mile 22, I gratefully took some gummy bears that propelled me to the finish line.
Signs lined the streets full of encouragement. Two signs stuck out to me. The first was at mile 20. It said, "Every wall has a door. Break through." Of course, this made me a little emotional. Because, for me the wall is in your head. It is what stops you from trying and accomplishing your goals. It is what tells you it is not possible, and I realized as I stared at that sign that I had already broken through the wall long ago. I broke through it signing up for the race, I broke through it training every day when it was hard, I broke through it starting the marathon, and so at mile 20 I wasn't worried about a wall, because I knew that I had found the door long ago.
The last sign said, "Explaining why you are running a marathon to someone who has never run one is like describing color to someone who was born blind." It's true, I can't explain to you why you would ever want to run that far and long, and put in so many hours of training, but if you have ever run a marathon you know why, because at the end of the race the feeling is indescribable.



St. John's church, on our second day in Richmond. None of the pictures from the torrential rain shower turned out, but you can still see what it continued to do to our umbrellas. This is the church where Patrick Henry gave his famous, Give me liberty or give me death speech.


We went to so many amazing historical sites. I learned so much about the Civil War. It made me want to teach fifth grade. This is at the National Park Service Battlefield Monument with President Lincoln. It says, "To bind up the Nation's wounds."


Here are my parents ready for the 8k. Yeah! They were such a huge support to me.


It was still chilly that morning, and I had an hour wait from the 8k till the marathon. I wisely stayed bundled up.


"Say Hey ( I'm in Love with You.)" The Ipod gave some good tunes of inspiration, and while my little nano died, and I had to lug around this huge guy. It helped build ginormous muscles in my arm.


Pizza at the end of the race! Who are these people, the friendliest people in the country?


Here I am attempting to ease the pain. Yeah, pretty much couldn't walk very well the rest of the day.


Here we are all posing in triumph with our medals at the end of our races. Yeah!



Sunday we went to church and then went for a stroll on the Canal Walk. Amazingly, I could walk pretty well. The sun was shinning. It was a beautiful 70 degrees. A perfect ending to our trip.