Who Is My Neighbor? No, Not Him!

Well, today is Sunday. Yes, you know what that means. Primary. Usually, I have to prepare a lesson on the spot immediately after sacrament meeting. However, last night I received a phone from one of the senior Primary teachers asking for a substitute. I, unable to reach the phone, immediately responded to the message she left on the machine, but by the time I heard back from her, she had already found someone else. However, she said I could prepare the lesson just in case a backup was needed.

So, that's what I did. I prepared a lesson on tithing, just in case I would be needed.

I wasn't. At least, not for that class.

Instead, I was asked to sit with the Sunbeam class during sharing and singing time. Apparently, the usual Sunbeam teachers were needed to sit with the senior Nursery children who will be next year's Sunbeam class.

When I finally went in and sat with the class, Girl #1, a rather precocious, quite articulate, little blonde child (she's an old acquaintance), looked at me and said, "I don't like to see you!" and quickly scooted away from me. In fact, she preferred to sit on half a chair with her little amiga (that would be Girl #2) rather than sit on a whole chair next to me. What a wonderful way to start off.

Later, another little girl (Girl #3) came in and sat on the chair next to me. Unfortunately, she wanted to sit next to Girl #2 because, and everyone knows this, they are BFFs. However, Girl #1 was still sitting between Girl #3 and her chum Girl #2, so Girl #3 asked to switch places with Girl #1. Girl #1 looked at me again, then replied, "But...but I don't like to sit with boys!"

The issue went unresolved.

Now, I say that Girl #1 is an old acquaintance of mine because not only have I was I one of the Nursery workers when she was in Nursery but I have also taught this particular group of Sunbeams in the past. The last time I taught them, two of the girls were arguing the entire class period because they both wanted to be, as they put it, a "birthday girl." Back and forth they went. "I'm a birthday girl." "No, I'm a birthday girl because me and ______ have the same birthday." "But I'm a birthday girl too because my birthday is next month." "No, you're not. Just me and _______ are birthday girls." "Nuh-uh!" "Yeah-huh!" And on and on. Finally, Girl #1 stood up and, with a look of complete desperation, yelled, "Stop fighting, or there won't be any birthdays!" And, hands in her lap, she sat back down.

Working in the Primary has taught me, more than anything else I have ever experienced, that innocence is the best comedy and children make the best comedians. Now, there are exceptions to this. Not all children do funny things; some of them don't behave themselves at all, like the little boy in my CTR 6 class today who kept jumping out of his chair, spreading his arm and legs out wide like he was about to do a jumping jack, and began doing pelvic thrusts for no particular reason at all. That child was most certainly not a comedian.

On the whole, however, I think that, while no more significant calling exists than being a teacher, there is no calling more rewarding (or comical) than being a teacher to children.

“How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow