First Day of Teacher Training:

. . . featured me wiggling in my seat for two hours, waiting for a bathroom break . . .

I kept telling myself: “No, you’re an adult now. You have to show up on time to class, know what you’re talking about, and NOT HAVE TO TAKE POTTY BREAKS.”

. . . featured me wearing a name tag and eating bagels and fruit and juice for breakfast and later free lunch at the Skyroom: breaded, stuffed chicken, feta cheese and craisin salad, ham in orange sauce, corn chowder soup, gourmet bread with little balls of butter!!, strawberry lemonade, and a thousand desserts including BYU mint brownies . . .

(Tomorrow we’re having Cafe Rio, and the next day Kneaders. OKAY.)

. . . featured me feeling over and over again: I just hope I can make it to my 8 o’clock class THAT I TEACH on time. I was a few minutes late to breakfast this morning. Come on! . . .

. . . featured me feeling over and over again: this is awesome. Already love everyone in the program. They’re smart, they’re welcoming, they’re interested, interesting, happy, excited, so wanting to learn and ready to pretend they know what they’re doing with me. Lunch was two hours and a group of us stayed and talked the whole time about what we were studying, what professors we liked, what we wanted to do with our students, what some professors made us read that were ridiculous, how we met our spouses, how that one guy with three kids is working full-time, teaching, AND taking 11 credits and how freaking amazing that is.

Then we all got emails saying English professors were getting rid of some of their books and we could go pick out any that we wanted. We all ran to the office and grabbed books like Beowulf and Robinson Crusoe, Latin Poetry and Wordsworth’s selected poems, Great American Love Stories, and The Science of Folklore. No, I wasn’t the only one shoving books in my bag as fast as I could.

I loved being so nerdily excited with so many others like me.

THEN, AFTER SUCH A PERFECT DAY I went over to Heritage Halls to see my sweet baby sister, Lissa, who just moved to BYU today. We scootered over to my house with my giant bag of books and ate salad and broccoli soup (and some more bites of the defrosted wedding cake). We skyped Ryan (he’s in Maine for the week coaching a camp) and when my throat hurt, she made me some tea.

Tomorrow, my other little sister–Ryan’s sister Allie–will come to BYU too, to room with Lissa. Yeah, they’re gonna be roommates. How cute is that? And how AWESOME will this next semester be?

(Last night, during my prayers, I may or may not have cried because God made this all possible for me.)


10 Replies to “First Day of Teacher Training:”

  1. I love this and I am seriously so excited for your semester! You will be a great help to Lissa, Allie, and the students you teach. Even if you arrive at 8:04 ;)

    1. Did you ever see Beowulf the movie? There’s this part in the movie where Beowulf gets swallowed by a giant serpent and then bursts through its skull with his sword and blood squirts everywhere and then he yells “I AM BEOWULF”! It’s AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. Tara, I may or may not have cried a little when you said you cried thanking God that he made all these things possible for you, both because I am so happy for you and because He’s making a ton of great things possible for me right now too. Thanks for the reminder!

  3. Tara,

    Your enchantment with life and learning will serve you well. I’m so happy for you! Whoever you teach is in for an awesome semester! Your post makes me giddy for the day when I’ll go back to school. Happy teaching, studying, and learning! :)


  4. My class starts at 8:00 too!

    Good things about 8:00 am classes = there’s always parking, make-up is still in place, dress pants have minimal sitting-down creases

    Cautions about 8:00 am classes = there is potential that the janitors may accidentally lock you in the bathroom. Early-morning hours, say around 7:45-ish, are ideal for hallway-outside-the-bathroom jobs such as changing room number plates. Apparently these jobs require bathroom doors to be dead-bolted shut. If, to your surprise and instant (and yet undiscovered) claustrophobia, you wash your hands and then find your exit locked, one option is to knock. The workers would probably feel silly and let you out. The other option, and the more popular one, is to go hide in the stall for 15 or so minutes until you hear the lock on the door click again. When you walk out breathing sort of hard maybe the guys putting screw drivers back in their toolboxes won’t think anything of your blushed cheeks and slightly buggy eyes.

    Where is your classroom? I’m in the JFSB.


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