Stand as a Witness

Here's a video of a student at Harvard sharing her belief and testimony of the gospel in a very articulate way. As a member of an on-campus panel, she answers some very direct questions with grace and testimony. It's worth the full 21 minutes.


Day of Faith: Personal Quests for a Purpose - 3. Rachel Esplin from Harvard Hillel on Vimeo.

Arrrr. . .

Just in case there is anyone who hasn't seen these yet amongst my small audience, here's an uplifting laugh. Too bad the doctor didn't give me an eye patch; I would have fit right in.

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

That is a fairly common saying, but for true fans, you will know exactly what I am alluding to.

I came down with a nasty cold this week. I had been healthy all year, a feat for someone who teaches 7th grade. I stayed home from school on Wednesday, but dragged myself to school on Thursday sans voice. My students needed me. We had work to do! We also had parent teacher conferences that evening, but I had to communicate in purple via a small white board.

I again dragged myself to school on Friday along with my laptop. I had decided I needed to be a little more high tech about how I communicated with my students. With my laptop connected to the projector, I typed my lesson. The kids were great. It wasn't a big deal because they were just finishing an assignment I had given them the day before.

Despite my innovations, by lunch time, I was done for. Leaving my lunch where it was, I went directly to the team office and collapsed on the couch. The teacher who was already there put her jacket over me, and as the other teachers came in I could hear the whispered--she should go home--yes, but there aren't any subs--well, who has 5th period prep--etc. Twenty minutes later, I was told that the remaining classes were covered and that I was to go home.

I printed out my lesson off my laptop--it was very convenient to have it all scripted word for word--packed up my stuff, and went home. My plan was to take my temperature, two TylenolPM, and sleep for as long as I could. I was out of the frying plan.

I successfully took my temperature (101+) with my relic of a thermometer--the old glass and mercury kind. Unfortunately, as I was shaking it down, it hit the sink and broke. Great! I carefully cleaned everything up, took a decongestant, two Tylenol PM, and crawled into bed. That's when I realized I had something in my eye.

I crawled out of bed and extracted an eye lash; however, after crawling in and out of bed two more times, I realized that a minute piece of glass from the thermometer was in my eye. Double Great! After debating with myself for about a minute, I knew that I had to go directly to the doctor. Problem: I couldn't drive. I took two TylenolPM.

I called my visiting teacher who found someone to take me to the doctor as she herself couldn't. No appointment times were available, but "foreign body" patients don't have to have one apparently. As I talked to the lady at Kaiser, I was crying, but I told her I wasn't going to try to stop as the tears would probably help.

Fighting sleep, a temperature, a cough, and the fatigue that comes from not having eaten anything since breakfast, I made it to the doctor's office with the assistance of a sister in my ward. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to see the optometrist. She numbed my eye and confirmed that I did have a sliver of glass embedded in my cornea. After explaining exactly what she was about to do, she fished it out whereupon I became lightheaded and nauseous. It took five minutes of lying down on the floor and two cans of OJ to get me feeling a bit better. I now have to put antibacterial ointment into my eye three times a day for the next few days. That, I can handle.

So here I am alternately taking decongestant and putting cream in my eye. Everyone keeps saying--That's terrible--you poor thing. Granted, it's not very fun, but I'm more inclined to laugh than cry. Who would have thought that I would end up at the optometrist's getting glass removed from my eye when all I wanted to do was take two TylenolPM and go to sleep. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire.

Here's a picture of my new thermometer purchased yesterday when I picked up my eye-cream prescription (It wouldn't upload right side up!). When I read the back, I had to chuckle.

10 signs you are out of shape.

Okay, so I really only have one thing to say, but "One thing that proves you are out of shape" didn't seem very catchy.

About a week and a half ago I woke up Sunday morning sore--my lower back and thighs and everything in between hurt. As I reviewed the events of Saturday, I was puzzled. I did laundry, ran on the treadmill, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, lightly cleaned my house--all things I do on a regular basis. None of those things would have made me sore, let alone in the way I was sore. Then it hit me--THE CATS!!!

When I woke up Saturday morning, I had decided it was time to do a thorough wash down of my bedding. I wash my sheets regularly, but I was a little tired of waking up with cat hair in my mouth. I determined that everything that went on my bed would be washed. Unfortunately for my cats, that meant them, too.

I've given them baths before, but usually not both cats in succession. I spent 15ish minutes kneeling over the bathtub fighting to keep Sambo and later on Savvy in the water. Follow that with a hair cutting session to reduce the amount of rear-end hair that if too long will, shall we say, lead to some sticky situations.

I guess the position of leaning over the bathtub fighting with cats that are sure you are trying to drown them makes a mildly out-of-shape person sore. Now I know.

Here are some picture of the cats getting bathed a couple of years ago. See how much fun it is?

Here's Sambo pretending to put up with this treatment:


Here's Savvy trying to get away.

Ignore it and it will go away

I grew up being taught that ignoring a problem will not make anything go away. However, I have discovered recently (i.e. today) that feigned ignorance really does have a place.

I have various boys in my classes who really just annoy me. On an individual level, I like them just fine and want to help them succeed, but they still can make my blood pressure rise. Why are they annoying? Well honestly, they are annoying because I let them annoy me. "This is middle school," I tell myself. "They're supposed to make farting sounds with their armpits and then snicker." What else should I expect?

And thus came today's experiment. I became deaf to all farting noises, squeaky chair noises, and the dozens of other noises that 12-year old boys like to make especially if they know it bothers you. We're in the middle of a state writing test so after passing out their materials, reading the instructions (again!), and making sure everyone had a pencil, I sat down at the table in the front of the room and ignored my students.

Okay, so that may be a little extreme. I did make sure they had extra paper, sharpened pencils, and dictionaries, but that was it. Those few boys who find great delight in pushing my buttons pushed for a little while longer, but eventually stopped, or at least toned it down a lot.

The best part was that I wasn't worried about having to go to the doctor to have my blood pressure checked.

Later on, oddly enough, the administrator who recently observed me told me that I have excellent classroom management. "Oh really?" I thought. "I can think of a time or two when things didn't go so well." Naturally I didn't mention this to him, but I do feel that I learned a lesson today that will help me live up to that image.

You Hear the Door Slam . . .

Okay, so name that tune (see title).

I feel like I'm in the doldrums of the school year. It's been hard keeping my chin up as it were and keeping a level head. The kids must feel similarly it seems because I've had more issues of the annoying behavior that gets under the skin.

With that back ground, earlier last week I had gone over to the classroom next door to ask the teacher if a student could work quietly in her room. As I returned to class through the doorway that connects our two classrooms, I found my class more out of control than I was willing to accept. As I stormed into the classroom to give them what for, I let my anger get the best of me and I slammed the door on my way in. I don't let myself get angry too often like that. I hate the feeling and really it doesn't do any good. The kids certainly were good the next day, though.

The silver lining is that my neighbor teacher has been laughing about it ever since. She was so surprised that her supposedly level headed, calm, put together neighbor (like anyone who knows me well would believe that!)had it in her to slam the door like that. When the story came out next day at lunch, everyone got a kick out of it and congratulated me on joining the "dark side." I was just glad that I could provide some entertainment. Now if only my students saw it that way!

Think spring everyone!

Cheese in a sandwhich--what a happy thought

I had to post this just for the title (again, let me know if you catch the allusion).

A few nights ago when I was making my lunch for the next day, I suddenly and without explanation didn't just want lettuce and pepper turkey on my sandwich. I'd pretty much eat the same thing for lunch every school day--pepper turkey or pastrami sandwich, string cheese, carrots, and an apple. And yes, it sometimes get old. So what else could I put on the sandwich?

I immediately thought of cheese and immediately remembered that I don't like cheese on my sandwiches. Too bad, I thought. If I don't like it I don't every make it again, but it sounds good right now. And it was. So now I put cheese on my sandwich everyday. What a happy thought.