Rise and Shout

As I walk around campus in my last week at BYU I suddenly am seeing everything for the first time. As excited I am to move to DC and graduate, I often feel tears coming on as I contemplate the remarkable 70's architecture that constitutes my university. As I study for the last finals I will ever take in the testing center, I feel it necessary to outline why I love BYU. So here is an ode to my alma mater.

Why I love being a Cougar

1. As soon as a leaf falls, there is member of the Grounds Crew ready and waiting to catch it up. Leaving BYU the most immaculate campus.

2. We don't believe in calling anything by its real name, instead we prefer acronyms and nicknames. And so we lovingly refer to our buildings as the Wilk, the JSB, the Swicket, the H-fac, and the Marb, among others. And although nobody remembers this building I have it on good authority that the old JFSB building (previously the Smith Family Living Center) was referred to as the Syphilis. How I wish I took class in there!

3. Bronco Mendenhall and football season. Enough said

4. As a semi-resident of the Harold B. Lee Library, my fellow studious friends and I formed the 5th Floor Family years ago. We know everyone who studies on the North side of the 5th floor and get upset when new comers think they can just take up space. There has been talk of plaque-ing the tables with our names, in our memories. I will miss the family and Harold deeply.

5. When it's warm Cecil drives around campus in a golf cart and waves to us.

6. I always feel safe. Even on Rape Hill, which I frequently trekked late at night, there are 911 alert phones placed short distances from one another. In case of an attack, just run over and push the button. I am confident that by the time someone showed up, the attacker would have just finished introducing himself and discussing his intentions. No harm done.

7. Where else can you find dear souls running around campus in socks and tivas, pulling a back-pack on rollers, and singing not-so-quietly to themselves?

8. The bells play a little diddy from Come Come Ye Saints every 15 minutes. Once a day they play a whole song, which is really impressive. And during December they play Christmas carols. It's delightful.

I could keep going, the advantages of this institution are endless. Needless to say, I love BYU.

Do I really want to be a teacher?

Recently I completed my practicum which is the few weeks spent in a classroom teaching/observing in order to prepare for student teaching next semester. I taught the French Revolution, Napoleon, Romantic Movement, and the Industrial Revolution during my three weeks at Timpanogos High. As a history teacher in training these are subjects I am qualified to teach although had you been a witness to these endeavors, you could have formed very different conclusions. So, as I was trudging through this ridiculously large unit did I find myself being greeted with smiling faces, eager to learn every day? Did I enjoy pouring knowledge into thirsty little minds? Quite the contrary. As it turns out, high school history classes are devoid of smiling faces, apathetic towards knowledge, and the minds of the pubescent teenagers are solely focused on food, friends, and sleep. There is no room for the Radical Revolution in there. If you have ever encountered one of these creatures imagine looking into the blank faces of thirty of them all day while they pass cruel judgements on you because you and your teaching partner, by some cruel twist of fate, showed up in nearly matching outfits...almost everyday. Is this what my practicum was like, yes. Did I love it? Not so much. Do I have an outstanding love for teaching? Well not right now. Maybe I should reconsider my life course and just stay as a recess guard at the elementary school. Where all the boys have crushes on me, the girls tell me all their secrets, and because I can dunk it on those tiny basketball hoops, I almost always win lightning. Ahh, that is the life.
In the long run, I did come to find that I highly enjoy the sarcastic snottiness of high-schoolers...probably because they sound just like me. Yes, although I have long since graduated from good old Weber, grand old Weber, it just so happens that my mentality is still that of a teenager. So why do I want to be a teacher? Because it gives me a perfect excuse to hang out all day with people just like me.

Back-flips and swings

Today as I was watching my favorite group of 6th graders do back-flips off the swings I began reminiscing about all my funny moments at Rock Canyon and wishing someone could laugh with me. Luckily one of my assignments for my educational technology class is a blog so here I am. Anyways I was watching the kids do back-flips which sounds dangerous and if you're thinking I, as a responsible teacher shouldn't allow these acrobatic playground feats, well you would hate to stop them too. They are just too fun. For example...
A. Mason made me watch him do a flip over Jordan's head right after he told me I was beautiful and cool.
B. After I removed my jacket Ben promptly put it on and received all sorts of compliments about how awesome his new jacket was. I wasn't aware I was wearing elementary boy's fashions. C. Ky invited me to his football game tonight where his team was going to kill Britton's team. (Britton obviously disagreed)
D. Jenny and Haylie thought the on going flag football game was completely out of hand and so appointed themselves as the official refs. The way they were calling things I'm pretty sure they were Pac 10.
E. Weslee never misses the days when I wake up late, stating that I don't look so good without make-up. (She is also the one who constantly informs me that I need to get married)
F. They also often email, text, and occasionally call me. I don't know how they got my contact info but I'm not surprised. G. As soon as they use the phrase but you're the cool teacher they know they can get away with just about anything, short of harming a fellow eleven year old.

I could keep going but I trust that is enough to make my point. Elementary kids are hilarious!