I Sound Like a Grown-up

School is going really well, much better than I would have expected a few weeks ago. I had my first observation a week ago and both the principal and vice principal were in the room taking copious notes. That usually would have made me extremely nervous, but I’ve been observed and critiqued by the subs for so long that being observed has become second nature. The other Spanish teachers had warned me that they always have to tell you something to work on and that I shouldn’t get down on myself because of their suggestions. I met with the vice principal on Tuesday to debrief and talk about the evaluation and he was overwhelmingly positive and the things he told me to work on were pretty small things. I was relieved. He even hinted that they will likely offer me the job for next year as well. No decisions can be made for some time, though. I felt pretty good about that. Mostly because four weeks ago they picked someone else for the job.

Today I had to stop by the district offices and I ran into the district’s sub coordinator who I’d never met before. She came right up to me and introduced herself. She told me that since I had had no time to prepare for the year she sent me the three best subs that the district has. She had asked them all how I was doing and they had told her that I was doing phenomenal things, that I had a good report with the kids and that they were really impressed with me. She ended by saying, “They all think you’re doing a great job and had nothing but great things to say.” Not only did this warm my heart, but I also got the sweet feeling of revenge. You see, I was a little disappointed and even a little more vengeful when the district didn’t hire me the first time. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but when someone makes a decision that hurts me my reaction is usually to make them want to regret that decision. I feel like the best way to make them regret not hiring me is to do an awesome job just to show them what they could have missed. So take that, school district, I’m doing a great job!

I moved into my new home on Monday and it’s great. Morning Kris and her husband spend their winters in Arizona so I’m going to housesit for them with their nephew Jesse. I’d never met Jesse before and I was a little worried about living with a stranger. Especially someone that Kris had described as “froo froo.” Before I even met Jesse I walked into the bathroom that we’d be sharing and saw his retainers soaking in a denture cleaning solution. I know this sounds weird, but I clean my retainers the same way and knowing that we have that one thing in common put me slightly at ease. Jesse is really easy going, tall and thin and we get along great so far. A grown man that still wears his retainers can’t be that bad. His teeth are straight and so is he. On Tuesday I told one of my classes that I was moving into town from Everett and they were all unusually happy for me. One girl in particular, who I will call Lola, was worried that I’d never met Jesse before. Trying to be funny she wrote a letter for me to give to Jesse. This is what it said:
Dear Jessie,
Please be kind to Señor Schilaty. I like him and if you hurt his feelings he will get sad. Also, do not murder him, that would be kinda bad. Finally, don’t take his clothes, he is very stylish! Thank you! Please write back.

The next day she asked me if Jesse had written back and I said, “I’m not a mailman and I’m not going to help a 13 year old communicate with a grown man.”

Later that day we were reading a story in class about a boy and his girlfriend. During the story Lola did what all middle school students love to do: exclaim that their class last year was different from the current class. Every day I hear things like, “Señor Schilaty, we didn’t do this last year. Why are we doing it now?” “Señor Schilaty, we had class outside last year. Why don’t we have class outside?” “Señor Schilaty, our other teacher didn’t teach us this. Why are you?” Lola exclaimed, “Why do we always talk about boyfriends and girlfriends in this class? We didn’t do that last year.” She was right though, we do talk about novios a lot. I think it’s probably a lingering habit from teaching at BYU. I looked straight at Lola and in the most serious voice I could muster while making a joke I said, “Lola, as you get older you’re going to start seeing boys in a way that you haven’t before.” At this point another kid yelled out, “You sound just like my dad,” which was exactly the point. The class burst into laughter and I pulled a Jimmy Fallon and laughed a lot more than I should have in front of a large group.

Later that day another student was complaining about the group he’d been assigned to work with. He wasn’t being serious and was just trying to be funny. I feel very strongly that a silly comment deserves a silly response. So I said, “What?! You don’t like your group? But you have the best group! Look at Pedro, he is such a good student. And Victoria is so helpful and kind. And you’ve got Nadia who’s so small and adorable.” Nadia is a 7th grader, but she really is tiny. She looks like and reminds me of the young version of the old lady from Up. Once she realized what I had said she said, “Hey! That’s harassment.” Then she paused and said in a very matter of fact way, “No, it’s true, I am very small… and adorable,” and she flashed everyone a big, adorable smile.

Teaching isn’t perfect and I’m working more than 10 hours a day on a part-time job, but I’m enjoying it.

Kris Cross Applesauce

The last two and a half weeks of teaching have been quite the whirlwind adventure. Since my teaching certificate is still being processed I have to have a sub with me in the room at all times. The subs just sit in the back and I do all the teaching. The kids seem to have forgotten that there is always an old lady sitting in the back of the room and have just accepted her presence as being normal. I have a morning sub at one school and an afternoon at the other school and they’re both named Kris. They’re both great, but very different. Morning Kris wears jeans, has pigtails and does crafts while she subs and afternoon Kris dresses up like a business woman, works part-time as a realtor and does work in the back of the room that the office people give her.

After class on the second day of school morning Kris came up to me and said, “Ben, as a veteran of 40 years of teaching I feel like I should tell you some things.” She quickly complimented me on the things I was doing well and then told me all of the things I was doing wrong and warned me that things would get bad really fast if I didn’t fix them in the beginning. When she was finished and left I collapsed into a chair and just felt like barfing. Not because I was mad or disgusted, but because she was right and I knew it. I felt overwhelmed with all that I had to do. I knew going into this that I wasn’t prepared and having morning Kris expose my fears was like a kick in the pants. I felt physically ill for most of the first week of school because I knew I was in over my head and I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

To her credit morning Kris kept giving me advice. Everyday she’d write up a page of notes about how I was teaching and discuss it with me at the end of the day. She could have just sat in the back of the room and done nothing, but she decided to help me. And luckily I was smart enough to listen and do what she said. My room went from being on the verge of out of control to being orderly and organized. She pointed out all kinds of things that I would have missed. Morning Kris saved me from a terrible year and gave my kids a good classroom and I’m so grateful for her.

Afternoon Kris is very different. Morning Kris is pleasant, but afternoon Kris is incredibly pleasant. Morning Kris spent years teaching high school math and afternoon Kris spent years teaching elementary school and their differing experiences are evident in their personalities. Afternoon Kris has a soft, soothing voice while morning Kris has a commanding, authoritative voice. I’d ask afternoon Kris for advice hoping that she would help me like morning Kris did, but typically she would just praise me for doing a great job. While I appreciated the boast of self-esteem, I didn’t need that so much as I needed honest feedback. My afternoon classes are going well, but not nearly as well as my morning classes because I haven’t had someone advising me on how to create a better classroom each day. So here’s what I’ve learned: even though it makes me want to vomit, I’d rather be told how to be better than just be told that I’m great.

I will now poke fun at my students. On the second day of class I had my students fill out some information cards so that I could get to know them a little bit better. Here’s what two of them wrote when I asked them to tell me a little about themselves:
“I’m Mexican. I have a dog. My dog is fat.”
“I am Chinese. I take gummybear vitamins.”

I asked my students why they wanted to study Spanish. Here’s what one kid said:
“Since my friends also take Spanish, I want a special way to communicate together without our parents being nosy and asking ‘who’s this? Whatcha’ talking about?’”

My students were supposed to write any fears or concerns they had about Spanish class, but they apparently didn’t read the part that said “Spanish class.” Here’s what a few of them said:
“biggest fear: creepy ppl, sharks.”
“highly terrified of spiders and slugs.”
“Sometimes I forget the forms of Spanish and like I’m bad at writing sentences so I always get docked off points on tests.”
“I’m allergic to peanuts, but not deathly allergic.”
“understandance of speech.”
“I hate being sick, so I try to stay away from sick people or ya know and yay.”

The Wright Decision

Please allow me to make a very long story condensed and readable because I know that no one wants to spend more than five minutes reading a blog post. In March my quickly approaching graduation started to weigh on my mind which prompted me to start looking for post graduation employment. I applied to a few universities and community colleges during my last semester at school, but it wasn’t until I got to Portugal and had loads of free time that I really started to get serious about finding a job. After hours of and hours of searching and filling out applications and dozens of emails with my résumé attached I still had no job. And then a high school teaching job in Washington became available. They seemed really excited to hire me and I was pumped to work with them. Unfortunately, just hours before my graduation from BYU they told that I didn’t get the job. It was a little upsetting, but mostly just surprising.

The night of graduation my mom and I immediately started looking for other job possibilities. My mom found a middle school position available in a city in the Seattle area. I called the district offices, told them that I was awesome, but wasn’t certified to teach and the kind lady on the other end told me that I had very little chance of being hired, but that she’d patch me through to someone else’s voicemail. The old “don’t call us, we’ll call you” routine. I expected never to her from that lady. Three weeks later I’m in Washington and I get a call from a number I don’t recognize. I answer and the lady on the other end said, “Hi, this is Jackie returning your call from a few weeks ago regarding the Spanish position we have available.” I was then expecting her to say, “Thank you for your interest in this position, but you’re not qualified for it so how dare you waste my time?!” What she really said was, “We’ve had trouble filling the position and were wondering if you would still like to apply.” I was shocked, stunned and nearly speechless. I told her I’d apply.

The position was to teach two periods of Spanish at two different middle schools. Later that day one of the vice principals called me in for an interview for the following day and I accepted. As I pulled in to the parking lot for the interview my phone rang and it was someone from the MTC calling me in for an interview for a job I’d applied for there. They wanted me to come in the next day, but I told them I was in Washington and they kindly agreed to let me come in the day after Labor Day. I was mostly stalling the MTC people because I wanted the teaching job in Washington more and was actually qualified for it. You see, the MTC job required being fluent in Portuguese. Am I fluent in Portuguese? Well… that depends on your definition of “fluent” and I wasn’t sure what the MTC’s was. So the MTC job became a backup plan if I didn’t get the teaching job in Washington.

The interview was the Wednesday before Labor Day and it went well. Later that day the school district started calling my references which is a VERY good sign so I was confident that I’d get the job. School started the next Tuesday so I was expecting to hear from the district really soon so that I could get to work preparing. Thursday passed in agony as I waited for a phone call that never came. On Friday I started to get really worried because if I didn’t get this job I’d have to go to Utah and I just wanted to know what their decision was. Friday afternoon around 2:00 pm I got a call from the vice principal informing me that there had been four applicants, I was one of the final two, but they picked the other guy because he was certified and I wasn’t. He went on say that blah blah blah I was awesome and that blah blah blah I should apply in the future and that blah blah blah they were impressed with me. I didn’t really want to hear it. I thanked him for his consideration and hung up. Once again I was stunned that I hadn’t gotten a job that I was sure I would get. However, my disappointment didn’t last long because I was thrilled to be going back to Utah.

I made plans to stay with my friends the Wrights when I got to Utah and I was pumped to see them. I was also pumped to see my grad student friends, friends from former wards and just to be in Utah again. I was sure that things would work out they way they were supposed to. So Labor Day morning I packed all of my belongings into my car yet again and started on the 14 hour drive to Provo. As I was ascending the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon I got a phone call from Jackie the HR lady informing me that the guy they offered the teaching position to ended up not being certified either and they would like to offer the position to me instead. Once again I was stunned. I said, “Can I call you back?” and she said, “Of course.” I then entered the mountains and for 40 agonizing minutes I didn’t have cell phone service. I really had to talk this decision over with my parents and yet they were unreachable.

I really didn’t know what to do. I had wanted the Spanish teaching job, but I was already over it and had moved on. It’s like how you really want to eat chocolate after eating Mexico food, but if you wait for an hour the craving goes away. I didn’t really crave the job anymore and I was set on going to Utah. I finally entered a place with cell phone service and stopped at a McDonald’s in La Grande, Oregon to call people for advice. Everyone gave me the same advice: take the job, you dummy! I called Jackie back and accepted the position. I then got in my car and drove back to Washington.

This decision was tough to make because I knew it meant that I wouldn’t see my Utah friends for a long time. I was going to spend that night in Orem at the Wrights’ house and I was particularly bummed to not be able to see them. You see, when I left Utah for the pie party I was fully intending on returning to Utah. The Wrights were the last people I saw and I said something to them like, “Goodbye! I’ll see you in a few days.” Jackie had told me that I could continue driving to Utah and start work a few days late. That seemed really tempting. I was then faced with two decisions: the right decision and the Wright decision. On the one hand, it would have been great to see everyone in Utah, if only for a day. But I knew that they right thing to do was to head straight home so that I could be there for the first day of school the following day. It was the right thing to do.

After 30 minutes of internal conflict at a McDonald’s in La Grande, Oregon I got back in my car. I looked at the odometer and I had traveled exactly 360 miles from my home in Washington. It seemed like the perfect mileage to turn around. On Labor Day I drove about 720 miles to end up where I started, I gassed up twice at the same gas pump in Prosser, WA and I finally got a job. To all my Utah friends, I’m sorry that I didn’t make the Wright decision because I would have loved to see you, but I did make the right decision.

Oh, and thank you for indulging my love of puns. And that’s the story of how Ben got dental insurance.

Uncle Ben

On Monday night as I was driving home my brother Jessen called me and asked me if I could babysit his kids for four hours the following day. Jessen and Laura have three kids: Bowen, age six, Boyd, age five, and Ryan, age 14 months. I responded by saying, “I can watch babies, but I don’t know how to take care of babies.” I was hoping he’d say something like, “You’re right, you’re not qualified for this. I’ll ask someone else,” but he didn’t. When I told him that I’d never changed a diaper he told me that it was easy and I had to learn eventually anyway. I gave some other examples of things that I didn’t how to do and he said, “Just ask Bowen, he knows what to do.” Of course, direct all questions to the six year old.

When I got to the house on Tuesday morning Laura showed me some things that I’d have to do. For example, before putting Ryan down for a nap I should say something like, “Ryan, it’s night-night time,” and read him a book or two. I said, “Read him TWO books?!” and she said, “they’re baby books, they’re short.”

I had told Jessen that I don’t know how to entertain children for four hours and he said, “Just ask the boys what they want to do and do that.” I did just that. The boys wanted to play hide-and-seek, make things out of paper, jump on the trampoline and watch Kung Fu Panda so we did all of those things. I had never put a baby down for a nap before so Bowen offered to help. He read Ryan a story and then explained to me that I needed to give him his binky, lay him down and tuck him in. I did all this and Ryan started crying like crazy. Bowen said, “Don’t worry, he’ll stop in a minute.” Bowen and I left the room and closed the door and 60 seconds later Ryan had stopped crying. I’m now convinced that Bowen is a genius.

While watching Kung Fu Panda I texted a few people. I know, how neglectful of me, right? Every time I pulled out my phone Boyd would say, “Ben, this part is so funny. You’re missing it!” He really wanted to make sure that I didn’t miss anything. It was adorable. I was sitting with Ryan during the movie and at one point he decided to jump off the couch. Seeing this happen out of the corner of my eye I quickly stuck out my arm to block his jump. He had jumped with more force than I had expected and instead of stopping him, my arm made him do an artful flip towards the floor. He landed on his back on the carpet and gave me a startled look as he realized what he’d just done. Sensing that I had roughly one second before he started to cry I scooped him up and said, “Wow, Ryan, you’re pretty tough,” and he just smiled and forgot that he should have been crying.

Laura called me to tell me that she’d be home by two. Bowen asked me when his mom would be home and I said that she’d be home by two. He said in his cute six year old voice, “She’ll be home at 2:03 then.” I responded with, “Oh really?” and he said, “She’s always late.” Sure enough, Laura pulled in at exactly 2:03. That kid knows his stuff.

While I didn’t have to change a diaper, I still learned a lot from watching my nephews for five hours. And I didn’t even mind that it lasted for an extra hour. I kind of felt like Uncle Jesse and Uncle Joey the first time they watched baby Michelle by themselves. Click here for the clip. I don’t know much about caring for children, but I think I can learn. Especially when there’s a six year old who knows the ropes.

Thanks for the Pie

On Tuesday I got an email from my aunt that said, "See you at the pie party on Thursday!" I had told my aunt that I would be attending her wildly popular pie party before I found out that I didn’t get the job in Washington. I had neglected to tell her that I had decided to stay in Utah and wouldn’t be attending the party. My aunt makes really good pie and I really wanted some. When I got home to my unfurnished apartment on Tuesday night I reviewed my weekend plans in my head. Realizing that I didn’t have any I decided to surprise my family by driving up to Washington the next day.

I got on the freeway around 2:30 pm the next day and started on the 14 hour drive home. As I was driving away I regretted leaving so late in the day. The only reason I’d waited so long to leave was because I hadn’t decided if I was going until noon. The sun was setting as I was leaving Boise at 8:30 which created an unhappy problem because I was driving directly west. I've heard songs romanticizing driving west towards the setting sun, but let me tell you that there is nothing romantic about it. That life giving, burning ball of gas was right over the road blinding me for a long time. I don't own sunglasses so the only way to protect my eyes was to block the sun with my hand. For about twenty minutes I held my fist in front of my face in a pose that would make any passing cars think that I was saluting some imaginary dictator. The sun finally lowered behind the hills and I was glad.

The next seven hours were spent driving in the dark which isn't so bad if you have these essential items: two bottles of Coke, two small bags of Sun Chips, a box of Whoppers and an IPod. Unfortunately my IPod died at 1:30 am just when I needed it most. I was in the middle of the mountains and had no radio reception. In an effort to entertain myself I started singing out loud. For some reason I started singing a duet which sounded so awful that I quickly gave up on singing. I searched through my car for entertainment and found a few books on tape that I had listened to on previous road trips nestled up against some old fireworks. I wasn't interested in either item.

I came across a tape called "It's a Miracle" that I decided to listen to. It's an old LDS musical from the eighties that I listened to as a kid and I'm not quite sure how it got into my car. That’s not completely true because I obviously put it there, but I have no idea of when or why. The best part of the tape is a song about two missionaries that don't get along. My favorite line was, "You really needn't be so stinky every time I buy a tweenkie." LDS musical artists from the eighties really knew how to encapsulate the struggles of missionary life in song. When I got home, exited the car and stood up I felt rather dizzy. It may be because it was 3:30 in the morning, it may have been due to the Coke and candy, but I suspect that it was caused by all the blood suddenly rushing to my rear end.

I slept for quite a while and was glad to be home. My cat seemed happy, too. I had a blast surprising everyone at the pie party the next evening. My sister-in-law was so excited to see me that she hugged me multiple times. The pie was delicious and that coupled with seeing my family made the drive worth it.

Come What May and Love It

My mom and I arrived in Utah on Tuesday night and it’s good to be “home.” I had mentioned to her a few times how excited I was to go home always adding that I wasn’t quite sure where home was for me. While I was in Portugal I applied for a teaching job in Washington that I was confident I would get. On Thursday morning, just a few hours before graduation ceremonies, I got a phone call from the school district informing me that I didn’t get the job. They decided to hire someone that can teach French and Spanish. While I have lots of experience teaching, I can’t compete with someone that has more skills (although I’m pretty sure I have more skillz).

The timing of the news was not good. I was hoping to hear that I had gotten job so when everyone asked, “What are your plans now?” I could say, “I have dental benefits,” but instead I said, “I don’t know.” As my parents and I drove to commencement I lamented in disappointed frustration, “How did I let this happen?” You see, I’ve been applying for jobs for the last four months and was sure that I would have found something by the time I graduated. I just couldn’t believe that I’d become "one of those people” who get graduate degrees and then end up unemployed and living with their parents. It just wasn’t a good time to celebrate my graduation.

When I got to the Marriott Center and found the line for graduate students I ran into Erin Shaw who I had taught in the MTC years ago. She was graduating as well, had a great job lined up, and told me how excited she was to be able to go to the dentist again. I was happy for her and felt more like celebrating. I apologized to my parents for being such a grumpy bear and decided to just enjoy graduation. President Samuelson was the first speaker at commencement and he talked about how things will work out. They don’t always work out in the way or time that we expect, but things always work out. During his talk I reflected on my own life and felt the truthfulness of his words. I thought about my internship in Bolivia, living with a 71 year old lady in Mexico, my previous job teaching high school Spanish, deciding to go to grad school and my summer in Portugal. All of those things hadn’t been in my plans, had happened rather unexpectedly, and had been awesome. I decided that President Samuelson was right. My life has been so awesome and it’s only going to get better. I think Nephi was right we he said: “if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them…”

After feeling sorry for myself for the few hours before commencement I changed my attitude and decided that things will work out better than I could have imagined. I watched a video yesterday that helped me be even more optimistic about the future. It’s called Come What May and Love It. It’s only three and a half minutes long and you can watch it by clicking here. I don’t have a job, I don’t have dental coverage, I don’t have a bed, and all of my earthly possessions are currently in my car (please don’t steal my car right now), but I have hope for the future. Life is awesome and it's only going to get more awesome. Come what may, I’m gonna love it.

Leigh, unemployed man and Dr. Martinsen.
Quick funny story: I took Allison out for lunch at El Gallo Giro on Wednesday which I paid for. We then got ice cream cones at Macey’s that Allison bought. They were delicious and cost less than 50 cents apiece. Allison said, “Less than a buck! What a cheap date!” to which I responded, “I had to pay $12 for lunch. But I like this set up with the guy buying the meal and the girl buying dessert.” Hearing our conversation, the teenage boy working behind the counter said, “Girls should always give you dessert at the end of the date.” Since he’s a teenager from Utah the “dessert” he was referring to is probably a goodnight hug that last 6 to 8 seconds.

Don’t Gimme That Bull!

As a Spanish teacher I felt in my duty, nay, my obligation to attend a bullfight in Spain. Sevilla is the capital of bullfighting and while we were there I looked into attending a bullfight. Not only are they super-expensive to attend there, but there weren’t any fights during our time there. I wasn’t too disappointed and was easily consoled by the visiting the Museum of Bullfighting.

My mom and I are in Madrid now and we stopped by the bullfighting ring to see when the next fight was and there was one tonight. For €12.30 we got great seats in the shade. A nice Asian family from California sat next to us and after briefly discussing where we were from the dad looked at me and said, “So I take it you’re not a vegetarian?” I was grateful for the reinforcement of my funny Asian stereotype. As we were leaving the bullfight he said, “Headed out to get some stakes?” and I said, “You know it!” We got ice cream.

As part of the bullfight they have men come out on horses who stab the bulls with long sticks. Horses used to get gored all the time so now they wear a lot of protective padding. Each round the horses got pulverized by the bull which was especially sad because the horses were blindfolded (that way the horse won’t react to a bull running at it). One horse even got knocked over. This was my least favorite part of the show because I was so worried about the horse’s safety. During the show I realized how odd it was that I was worried about a horse when I didn’t really worry about the men fighting or the dying bull. The horses are just so darn loveable.

At the beginning of the show the men participating (I don’t know if they’re all considered matadors) did some warm ups with their capes which seemed similar to the drills sports teams do before games. They were all wearing brightly colored uniforms covered in fancy ornamentation with pants so tight you’d think they were the Jonas Brothers. The matador had a red cape, but all the other guys had pink ones. One of them was wearing a pink uniform and as I watched him holding his pink cape and twirling around on one foot with the other foot gracefully out to the side I couldn’t help but think that he looked a little gay. At that moment I remembered the comment that the Asian man had made and inspiration struck.

The idea I had was to write a story about a gay vegetarian matador. Of course he’s wildly famous and if it got out that he was a gay vegetarian he’d be ruined. I haven’t decided if it should be a drama or a comedy yet. If it ends up being a drama the plot will revolve around the importance of being yourself no matter what others think, sort of like High School Musical. I’d call it something like When the Steaks Are High. Jorge, the matador, is faced with a tough decision when a television show is going to tour his house. Does he show them his favorite part of his house, his organic vegetable garden, or does he hide from the truth like he’s done for so many years? The comedy would involve hilarious situations in which the matador would do a poor job of pretending to be someone he’s not, like The Parent Trap. I think When the Steaks Are High would be a good title for this one too. It would involve many hilarious situations. For example, Jorge is invited to an important state dinner and is served a steak. He must figure how to make everyone believe he ate the steak without actually eating it. Either way, it’s bound to be more popular than The Hunger Games. And the best part is the surprise ending when the reader learns why he’s a vegetarian.

I enjoyed the bullfight, but I don’t feel a need to go again and my mom will definitely not be going again. At the bullfight I also realized that I will probably reference this experience in every Spanish class that I ever teach so I’ll have to come up with some more exciting details.

Also, I thought of a joke as we rode the metro to the bullfight. What do you call someone who falls asleep during a bullfight? A bulldozer.