The Christmas Spirit

Christmas is certainly the most glorious day of the year, but it's also perhaps the most exhausting, especially for moms. Last night, before I fell into bed and crashed into a deep, rejuvenating sleep, I made one final glance at the Facebook world. My friend Elisa posted as her status: "I don't want to go to bed because then Christmas will be over." I understood. I felt exactly the same. I was so tired, but still, I wasn't quite ready to give up the day. It had been lovely. Because it was on Sunday, we altered our normal routine just slightly. Instead of waking up and immediately gravitating to the tree, we relaxed a bit, ate some Costco muffins, and got ready for church at 11:00.

Our Sacrament Meeting was music only; the Primary children sang a couple songs, a mom and daughter played a piano duet, and the choir sang five songs. I had the privilege to sing in the choir. Keep in mind that I am not a particularly good singer. I love to sing, especially Christmas music, but I couldn't carry the alto part by myself to save my life. So the only way I can do it is to stand right next to a strong alto and follow her. As I stood next to Jana yesterday, I thought about the symbolism of that situation. Alone, I could not possibly navigate through the alto part correctly. But with Jana beside me, singing the part right in my ear, I did okay. And so it is with life. Alone, we are helpless to navigate our way through the complicated highs and lows, but with the Savior by our side, singing the part in our ear, we can do it.

The rest of our day was filled with laughter and all the traditions developed through the years. We started opening gifts around 1:00 pm, one at a time, from youngest to oldest, as always. It took about three hours, but even so, it went by too fast for me. As always, I made every effort to slow the process down, reminding people that "Once it's over, it's over!" It seemed everyone was happy with his or her gifts, but more important was the joy and love that filled our home. It's refreshing when the kids are just as excited to see what others receive as they are to open their own gifts. The most ironic moment was when I gave Shulamith a Nook e-reader and she gave me a Kindle. Great minds!!

Since we got a late start because of church, by the time we were finished, it was time to get dinner under way, so we could make it to the movie theater. A movie on Christmas is a long-standing tradition in our family. This year we saw "Mission Impossible." Most of us liked it (Gerald and Isaiah did not, but they are extremely picky about movies), and the suspense was sufficient to keep this very tired Mommy awake.

I slept well, but I won't lie; it was a little sad this morning to leave the day and the season behind. But life moves forward, and there are still the Boxing Day sales ahead of us just as soon as Shulamith wakes up. I just now logged onto Facebook and found this poem that my friend Rebecca posted. May I share it with you as a conclusion to the season:

The Christmas Spirit, by Ann Weems

The Christmas spirit is that hope which tenaciously clings
to the hearts of the faithful and announces in the face
of any Herod the world can produce
and all the inn doors slammed in our faces
and all the dark nights of our souls,
that with God all things still are possible,
that even now unto us a Child is born!

Deja Vu - Part II or We All Have to Do Hard Things

It seems this season is full of deja vu experiences. Back in April, I thought maybe my days of attending piano recitals were over. It was Eli's senior recital, the final one after eight years of lessons. It was lovely in every way, but yes, there was a bit of nostalgia in the air as well. I knew Eli would continue to play, and he has, but I also knew the days of preparing for these types of performances were over. He would not be majoring in music in college; he would continue to play simply for his own and others' enjoyment.

Seth had occasionally expressed some interest in piano, but not enough to cause me to pursue the idea. I only put kids in piano if they really want to be there. I'm not the least interested in fighting the practicing battles. No way! You don't want to practice; I don't want to pay for lessons. End of story. However, when we came here to Utah, Seth was not able to continue playing the trombone. His school doesn't have an elementary band program, unfortunately. He was disappointed enough that I suggested the possibility of piano, and he was enthusiastic. That was in September, and it has taken me three months to find a teacher and get him started.

At his recital Wednesday night, he played "Good King Wenceslas" after only three lessons. He is catching on fast. It comes naturally to him, just like playing the trombone did. I think he has an aptitude for music, and I hope he can pick up the trombone again next year at middle school. Isn't it fun to do the things we are good at? Isn't it a joy when learning something new comes easily? But I would also ask, is there any value in doing the hard things too? We all have to do hard things. That is part of the reason we are here. But it takes real courage to voluntarily attempt new things, when those things are challenging. I wonder, though, if we grow more from the steep learning curves.

Along with starting piano lessons this month, Seth also joined a recreational basketball team. His primary teacher invited him to join. Her husband is the coach. I was apprehensive to say the least. Activities that require physical skills, strength, and coordination do not come easily for Seth. Basketball is no exception, but it has been a pleasure to watch him work so hard at something that is such a challenge. He has had three games so far, and each week he improves so much. Most of the boys on his team have played before, and without question, all of them have more natural aptitude for sports than Seth, but he continues to push forward and do his best. I am proud of him.

His willingness to do the hard things has inspired me as well. To be honest, I am fairly content to stay right in my comfort zones avoiding those things that are difficult. Ask me to give a talk, teach a lesson, lead a discussion, write a blog post. No problem. Those things are easy. And fun! Seldom, though, to I jump out and try the really hard things, but after the New Year, I'm determined to do just that. I've decided to make a quilt for Shulamith's baby. I know, I know, you are all thinking to yourselves, "Oh, Terrianne, that is a disaster just waiting to happen." And yes, I've thought exactly the same thing. I've never so much as sewed on a button or made a hem. Never. I'm not sure I even know how to thread a needle.

However, when we lived in Washington, my best friend there made these beautiful baby quilts by hand. She did not use a sewing machine. This is good because I don't happen to own one of those, nor do I have the remotest idea how to operate one. But Joanne used to buy these cute quilt panels at fabric stores. Then she'd buy bottoms in solid matching colors and this white fuzzy stuff to put in between to make the quilts thick and soft. Then she would pin it all together and hand stitch all over the various patterns on the front of the quilt. I watched her do this with dozens of quilts, over and over. One time she was making one for her daughter Mandy, and she told me to do a few stitches, so Mandy would know I had worked on it too. And I did! I really did.

So I'm going to try this for Shulamith. Because here's the thing: If Seth can play basketball, I can sew a quilt. We all have to do hard things.

Deja Vu

In December, 2005, I distinctly remember saying, "We need to make this the best Christmas ever!" Luke was preparing for his mission, and we knew he would be gone the following two years. I was so excited to do everything possible to make it absolutely perfect in every way. I shopped. I wrapped. I planned. I decorated. I decked the halls and trimmed the tree. Then I shopped and wrapped some more. I even baked cookies, which for me is quite amazing. I was so ready for the best Christmas ever.

Then the stomach flu hit our house. Three days before Christmas. And could everyone just get sick at once and be over it? Oh no, of course not. That would be too convenient. Day by day, one by one, people went down. Eli started throwing up first. Then Isaiah the following day. Then 5-year-old Seth the day after that. By Christmas Day it was Luke's turn. Blah! Somehow, Gerald, Shulamith, and I managed to evade the nasty bug, but those boys were four sick puppies. Goodness! I remember waiting for Gerald to get home from work late at night on the 26th, and declaring with the utmost sincerity, "If another person starts puking, I'm leaving!" Fortunately, no one did. Was it the best Christmas ever? Probably not. Was it a good one despite the flu bug? Yes, yes it was. It takes more than the stomach flu to ruin my favorite day of the year. We were together, and that's what counts.

So this year, I'm having a deja vu experience. Eli is preparing to submit his mission papers, and I'm pretty sure we won't have him here with us the next two years. Everything in me wants to say, "We need to make this the best Christmas ever!" But I'm scared to even think it.

Why Do Students Cheat?

Not to dampen anyone's Christmas spirit, but this is a serious question. Why do students cheat? Is it because they procrastinate so horribly that it's impossible to do their own, original work? Is it because they see college classes and merely a means to an end, and anything they can do to reach that end is okay as long as it gets them there (i.e. "the end justifies the means")? Is it because they are so desperate for a grade or for their scholarships that they will go to any lengths, even compromising their integrity, to get them. Or is it because they have no integrity and are seriously lying, cheating, plagiarizing pond scum? No, no, no....forgive me. That is absolutely not it. I promise!

I'm just a little frustrated. Hardly anything angers me more than intentional plagiarism. Especially from students at a school with an Honor Code that demands total and complete honesty. I have tremendous patience with accidental plagiarism. Of course I do. My students are learning. In many cases, this is their first experience writing essays with research, citations, and APA-style documentation. It's hard. It really is. Whoever dreamed up APA style was not a sane person. He or she had severe OCD, I'm pretty sure. The system couldn't be any less intuitive. So yeah, I get that students will struggle to remember every single in-text citation. They might miss some quotation marks along the way, thinking they are paraphrasing when their text is far too close to the original not to be a direct quote. They might forget to italicize magazine titles on their reference page or, heaven forbid (!), they might capitalize the words in their articles' titles. Yes, I get it. APA is hard.

However, when students go online and purchase term papers and then copy/paste huge sections of those papers into their essays, with no in-text citations and no mention of the source on their reference page, THIS IS NOT AN ACCIDENT! This is blatant cheating. It disrespects me as the teacher, it disrespects the course, and it disrespects the entire college. It makes me both sad and furious, simultaneously. I had one such incident this past week. I knew instantly that the writing had to be plagiarized, but it took me a full hour to get to the bottom of it, time that I do not have at this point in the semester when I have dozens of honestly-written essays to read and grade. Ugh! Because my college has a firewall blocking these stupid sites that sell term papers, I had to call Gerald and ask him to search for the source at home and then email it to me. Not that he has time for such things, but I had no choice.

Okay, venting over. It's done. And I will not let it ruin one more second of this glorious season. But it has left me pondering the question: Why do students cheat?

Friendless in Salt Lake City

Incurable romantic that I am, I loved the 1993 movie "Sleepless in Seattle." Not only was I hopelessly lost in the love story, but I also enjoyed that it was set in one of my favorite cities in my 2nd home state of Washington. Somehow, my random thoughts today (friends, I've really graded one too many essays, including a plagiarized one that made me so very sad) led me to the title for this post: Friendless in Salt Lake City. It's not as bad as it sounds. Let me clarify.

Shulamith and I often lament that we have no friends here in Salt Lake City. I have some seriously wonderful friends; it just happens that none of them live here in the valley. Shulamith and I joke about how other women get together with friends for "Girls' Night Out" or for lunch or to exercise or to go shopping. But we have only each other. Then we tell ourselves how we're sure we have way more fun than those other women anyway, so it's all good. And we laugh.

But today, it occurred to me that the jokes we make about this subject, as with most jokes, are founded in a certain degree of truth. I was looking on Amazon.com to find a few final Christmas gifts to order. Keep in mind, no one love to shop more than I do. Shopping gives me a rush like no other, but by "shopping," I mean IN STORES. I like the whole shopping experience, which cannot be paralleled staring at a computer screen. However, there are always a few items that my videogame-addicted sons request that are far less expensive when purchased online. So here I was looking for these particular items, when it occurred to me.....

Where will I have them shipped???

You see, my snoopy sons are way too curious to just let a package from Amazon.com go unnoticed if they happen to be home when it arrives. No, I don't think they'd go so far as to open it; they know how seriously I take Christmas presents. But they would certainly pick it up, consider the sized and weight, and try to figure out what's inside. Even that much snooping is not okay with this Christmas mom, so in the past, I have opted to have my online orders shipped to one of my friends. For a few years, I had them shipped to Celeste. She loves Christmas so much that she was excited when my packages arrived, even though they weren't for her.

Then she moved to Texas. This was not good. For so many reasons, this was not good. Oh Matt, could you possibly rethink this whole thing and maybe bring her back to this side of the country? Please!

The year after Celeste left, I had my online Christmas packages shipped to Lindsey. That worked great too. For one year. Then she moved to Rexburg, Idaho. Granted, this was not nearly as awful as Texas, and now that we're here in Salt Lake City, she's even closer than when we were in Billings, but not quite close enough to have my packages shipped to her.

Last year, I had my packages shipped to Mandy. That worked fine as well, but then she moved to Sheridan, Wyoming, and we moved here. Which brings us to yesterday when I was shopping at Amazon.com and came to the part where you have to type in the shipping address. And suddenly, it became crystal clear to me; I truly have no friends here. Yes, I have some acquaintances, people I say hello to at church or at my school. But I don't know a single person in the Salt Lake area well enough to ask her if I can have my gifts shipped to her house. Not a single person. I have only Shulamith, who lives downstairs (same address), so that won't work. Guess I'll just ship the items here and pray the boys aren't home when they arrive.

Friendless in Salt Lake City. Yep, that's me!

What If We Can't Make It through This Week?

So this morning, I'm sitting in my 10:00 a.m. writing class, and this text come in from Shulamith: "Mom, what if we can't make it through this week?"

Ack!

"Don't say that," I quickly text back. "We just have to make it."

With so many in our family directly involved in education (either as students or teachers), we find this week to be a bit sketchy. We are tired. We are stressed. For each of us, the pressure is on, in one way or another, to somehow endure to the end of this week, so that we might relax a bit and enjoy this glorious season.

For Shulamith, it's a matter of keeping 22 excited kindergartners busy and on task, when in reality, they are far more interested in speculating about what Santa might be loading onto his sleigh than remembering what sounds the blend "fl" or the diagraph "sh" make. Anyone who's ever taught children this age knows they are crazy hyper the week before Christmas vacation. And Shulamith? Well, she's just tired. And pregnant. And very ready for a break.

For Isaiah, this week involves a major oral presentation, demonstrating his computer-generated Lego robot. His partner built the robot, and Isaiah programmed it. In addition, he has one other semester project to complete and a trigonometry final exam. Along with all this, he receives constant requests for last-minute tutoring sessions from the first-year computer science students, who need his help to finish off their own semester projects and prepare for finals.

For Eli, this week means the conclusion of his first semester of college. He has done well. College was a bit of a shock for Eli. "You mean I have to study? Really?" But he has risen to the occasion throughout, and now just needs to prepare for one last final (math), and he'll be done. Finish strong, Eli. You can do it!

For Mathew, I am not as specifically informed about the content of his week as I am for my own children, but I'm pretty sure he has a final or two at the very least.

Lastly, for me, this week means essays, essays, and more essays, all of which need to be graded and returned to students. Is it possible to drown in essays? This is a serious question. And even once they are all graded (it will happen!), there is always the sadness for those students who, for whatever reason, didn't do their jobs. I don't grieve over the ones who dropped out early in the semester, but those who continue to attend but don't hold up their end of things sufficiently to meet the standard and earn a passing grade leave me feeling helpless. Was there something more I could have done to ensure their success? Probably not. But still.

My eyes are sore from reading papers. My neck and back are sore from carrying my backpack full of papers. My brain is sore from processing papers. And Shulamith says, "What if we don't make it through the week?"

Oh my dear daughter and friend, we will make it. We absolutely will. And when Friday finally comes, let the party begin!

A History of Ornaments

Each year at Christmas, Gerald's mother gives us a Lenox china Christmas tree ornament. They are very beautiful and each one different. Many are snowflake patterns; others are angels. A couple are bells. One is Mary holding the baby Jesus. We have lots and lots of these lovely ornaments, so many that we don't have room for them on our tree.

You see, in addition to these china ornaments, I also have ornaments of my own, many reflecting important events in our family and tracing a history of memories. I have the first one I ever bought, a "First Christmas Together" ornament from the year we were married. I have "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments for our five children. Those we place vertically down the front of the tree, and each year, Shulamith complains that hers doesn't have a picture but is just a "stupid ball." (Truth is, only Luke's and Eli's have pictures). She tells me every year that ALL her kids will have picture ornaments, and I'm pretty sure they will.

I have "New House" ornaments for each of our past homes, which reminds me that I need to find one of those this year to commemorate our new Utah home. I have ornaments to remember family vacations, significant events, and kids' activities (including a cheerleader dressed appropriately in the Mt. Vernon High School colors green and white). I have a few ornaments that have been gifts from my students and one tiny, burgundy ribbon and lace ornament that my sister-in-law Monica sent years ago, a gift from her tree to mine.

Then there are the kid-made ornaments. Yeah, I'm not the best mom when it comes to saving those, but I do have two that Luke made: a yellow ceramic bell and a glittered pine cone. Apparently, Shulamith made the same pine cone, but I no longer have hers. When she complains about that each year, I tell her it's because Luke's was so much prettier.

I have many other random ornaments that have little significance except I just like them: ornaments representing "Phantom of the Opera" and "It's a Wonderful Life," blown glass ornaments from a bazaar when we lived in California, a bell from "The Polar Express." There are many more than this, dozens and dozens. And then there are the Lenox china ornaments on top of all these. Last year, I put all of them on the tree, every last one, but I have to admit it was really too much. You know the saying "you can't see the forest for the trees"? Well, in this case, you couldn't see the tree for the ornaments.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to leave any off. I love them, all of them, both my own and the Lenox ones from Vi. So this year, we came up with a brilliant solution. Shulamith has a little tree in their apartment downstairs, but she only had one ornament, the "First Christmas Together" PICTURED ornament I gave them last year. So I gave her all the Lenox china ornaments for her tree. Combined with all white lights, it is truly stunning! And my tree, while still covered in ornaments, is not quite as overdone as last year.

Now I'm going to attempt to add pictures of both our trees to this post. This part is hard for me. If you can see the trees, you'll know I succeeded.