Well I am definitely not in Kansas anymore (or Gospel
Doctrine for that matter). I had hoped to receive an orientation and a
couple of weeks of teacher shadowing prior to my first day of instructing. Instead, President Schwent found me after Sacrament
Meeting and took me directly to a room in the far back corner of the meeting
house. We seemed to be moving toward the
loudest spot in the church; a tumult of sorts.
When the commotion appeared reach a fevered pitch, President Schwent
opened the door. I noticed she did not look
into the room at all, but averted her eyes like a person might do when they see
a car accident. She ushered me in room,
ignoring the sound, shut the door quickly behind me.
I was not certain, but I thought I recognized the tune President Schwent
was humming as shed closed the door behing me as Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” Strange song for primary.
Admittedly, what happened after that was largely a blur, much
like remembering the source from which you received a concussion. I recall there was a small boy
hanging out of the open window and another sitting atop a stack of precariously
balanced chairs. Most of the other children
were moving at such a rapid rate in the small room that it was impossible to plot
a specific coordinate of any one location or even to identify in what action
each child was engaged. I thought, “Chairs
first.” Yes, that was the correct place
to start, with the requisite “C-shaped” sitting configuration. This beginning effort
was initially thwarted as I was unable to persuade the perched child to descend
from the chairs. That problem was
promptly solved by the boy who pulled himself in from the window and pushed
over the pile of chairs. I would like to
have said the spirit allowed me to grab the child now sailing across the room
in mid-air, but unfortunately a sweet little girl broke his fall. Perhaps I had a stupor of the spirit. Still, there was no blood and I am thinking
that this might be a good indicator of success going forward.
I did manage to get the children in the general vicinity of their
chairs and attempted to have one of the children say the opening prayer. I heard a “Dear Heavenly…” and after a
notable and what I suspect to have been an intentional pause, the boy flatulated. The class was lost. The children became non-commutative with
laughter. The remaining time was spent telling
the children that “fart” was not an acceptable word for church and attempted to
extinguish repeated mock-prayers that were promptly interrupted by various
simulated (and a few not-so-simulated) bodily functions. Most of this carried a rather blasphemous
undertone. I am glad they are all still
under the age of eight.
The bell at last rang, but when I went to open the door, the
knob had been removed and was missing.
After a fruitless interrogation, we all departed out the window. Incidentally,
the door knob was discovered hanging from the shrub outside of the window. I now understand the meaning of the child
hanging out of the window. I only wish I
could remember which of the little ones it was, so I know where to focus a more enhanced interrogation.
I am presently reading the red, no. 2 manual to see how long
a primary teacher is asked to stay in their calling. I am sure that the duration must be a
function of the age of the children, where the younger the children, the
shorter the calling. There must be some guidance, or an equation, or something. Still looking….
