Dear Family,
I ended last month’s letter on an airplane headed for home—or rather, an airplane headed for Dulles International Airport—so I suppose that’s about where I’ll pick it up here.
As soon as Luke and I made it off the plane, off the indoor trans-terminal shuttle, and out the airport doors, we knew we were in Maryland again. Or, okay fine, Virginia1. But we knew we were home for two reasons. For one, our skin felt sticky and the air had that unmistakeable sense of weight that it just doesn’t have in a desert. And two, my mom was still thirty minutes away from picking us up. This because of a sudden and terrible slow in traffic on the beltway, which is something that can sometimes be foreseen and usually expected but is often not planned for quite well enough to make everyone happy about it.
After Luke and I hugged Mom, we piled up in the car and headed straight to the Nationals game starting 30 minutes from them. Luckily we weren’t too far away, but unluckily, you have to drive in the District to get to a Nationals game, and so no matter what traffic looked like, navigation was going to be an exciting and nerve-wracking adventure. Luke sat somewhat exasperatedly in the backseat while Mom and I decided whether the map on the phone was telling us to turn right here or at the turn-off twenty feet later and subsequently made the wrong choice.
I do really love being home, partially because I’m hardly ever the one driving.
We made it to the game, where we met up with Dad (who arrived barely after us because of his afternoon temple shift and a speedy park pretzel purchase) and Keith and Marianne Wonnacott, who were waiting for us with big smiles and hugs and a sprained ankle at our seats. The sprained ankle isn’t really my story to tell, but I will say that it was still swollen the last time I saw it a few days ago, but Keith is back to his regular soccer playing habits anyway and we’re happy for him.
I won’t talk about the game itself as it left us all thoroughly unimpressed with our favorite baseball team, but we went to dinner afterwards at BonChon which is a delicious Korean fried chicken place. I really enjoy hanging out with both my and Luke’s parents at the same time, and I consider it a blessing that they live so close to one another. I know that marriage is about sacrifice, but I think Luke and I enjoy being able to have both of our families present at any visit home.
Our time with Wonnacotts was short-lived, however, since our trip to “Maryland” was, most honestly, a trip to West Virginia for the biannual Willis family reunion. So, after spending most of Sunday with Keith, Marianne, and Ellie, Luke and I spent the rest of trip with my family in a place that was very familiar to any Willis and brand new to Luke.
I feel like the first postnuptial family reunion is one of those things that everyone considers a frightening trial, since most people don’t have to go through meeting the extended family until they are at the wedding, and one expects you to remember the name or face of everyone who came to your wedding. At least, I gave myself the blessing of not expecting it of myself.
When I went to Luke’s Hunsaker family reunion in June, I received a few of the customary, “We haven’t scared you away yet?”s and plenty of remarks in the same spirit. Luke probably received similar comments from my family, but I feel like we both just have pretty normal families. Honestly, the member of my family most likely to turn the mood of an event around is probably my father, who Luke has already seen in bad traffic. Luckily, both of them were able to get through a few versions of golf together without letting the other see them cry when they weren’t doing well, so I think they’ve figured out how to have a pretty good time together.
The reunion was a bit of a blur to me, partially because we did the same things we usually do: mini-golf, ropes course, peddle boating, the glass museum with in-house glass blower, and lounging around the house. One thing I had never tried before was par three golf, but I played it twice this time around. I think I made par a single time, which I’m pretty happy about.
I enjoyed having the chance to see all of my cousins and sleep in as late as I wanted and eat dinner that someone else made for me every night. I started to notice that phenomenon that I was prepared for by Luke’s family reunion earlier in the summer: the older the grandchildren get, the more individual families stay together. I did a few things with my other cousins, and I tried to branch out in my conversation partners at meal times. But seeing as this week in West Virginia was also my only trip home for the whole summer, I was pretty intent on spending time with my parents and siblings.
I suppose I was also forced to spend time with people other than my own family members by a mandatory family scavenger hunt, which we had never done before, and which I somewhat hope we will never do again. But who knows, maybe I’ll be in a better mood two years from now.
I think I am sometimes like my father in that I enjoy knowing what to expect out of my vacations. I reported in a previous letter that my family reunions differed from Luke’s because ours leave us free to do whatever we want all day, even if that is just sit around the house or go to the pool. I felt somewhat violated, then, when I was presented with an all-day scavenger hunt of Wheeling, West Virginia which has a few components that I generally dislike:
a) It was something I was unprepared for and did not follow any precedent set by previous reunions.
b) It was competitive.
c) It really was all day.
But that is all of the complaining I’m going to do about the scavenger hunt because it really did make some wonderful contributions to my experience as well. It forced me to bond with some of my younger cousins and one of my uncles, it allowed me to see Dad actually cooperate and be borderline pleasant for a whole day of doing something he didn’t sign up for, and I actually got to see Wheeling, West Virginia.
Despite the fact that we’d gone to Wheeling, West Virginia for our family reunion more times than I can remember, I don’t ever remember seeing any part of Wheeling outside of the resort and the pool. Now, I know there’s a historic town center, yummy pastry shops, a weird local pizza place, a beautiful bridge, a graffiti lookout, a golden temple, and lots of woodchucks in a nearby park.
It was kind of magical. At least until noon. By noon, I’d seen everything I cared to see and I hated everything about being forced to compete with the more competent and competitive members of my family.
But I can appreciate the magic of exploring the town where we have so many family memories and a surprising amount of U.S. history.
Mostly, I loved spending time with family. This summer was my first whole summer spent entirely away from home (not including my mission) and there were times when I was quite homesick. But until Luke and I manage to pick up and move out to Maryland for good, I figure it’s good to get used to living in Utah.
One benefit of living in Utah is that I don’t have to travel far to attend most of my friends’ weddings. While I did enjoy flying to Missouri last month for one of my friends’ weddings, I probably wouldn’t be able to commit to that level of travel expenses if all of my friends decided to get married in random states across the country.
This month, the two weddings I attended were the receptions for two couples made possible by my study abroad in Latvia a year ago. For those who don’t know, BYU students are not supposed to date while on study abroad. It is a rule that applies to all study abroad programs, probably for the sake of students studying in Jordan rather than in Latvia. As a result, the professors leading the programs in countries where it’s not weird to hold hands in public may turn a blind eye when two of their students start sitting together on tour buses and meeting up for meals away from the group.
Only one couple actually got together on the study abroad last year, and I like to give myself partial credit for that. They probably don’t give me any credit, but I noticed it early on and encouraged it. I’ll bet there’s some psychological phenomenon that describes a witness’ own sense of pride at having witnessed something. Kind of like modern American citizens’ pride over the existence of democracy in North America.
The second couple took a lot longer to get together but managed to get married just a few weeks after the couple that started dating on the study abroad. They’re just as cute, and I am just as willing to say I was there when it all started.
While I was going to weddings on the weekend, I had already started going to school during the week. As soon as I got home from the family reunion, I went back to school. I hadn’t realized how early Provo High School teachers would be expected to come back to school, and so I’m really grateful that my family reunion didn’t actually end up interfering with my student teaching responsibilities.
I have an unusual student teaching experience, in that I have two mentor teachers whose classes I’ve taken over. Because one is part time, I have taken over all of her classes and filled in the gaps with two classes from another teacher. Both are wonderful, but have taken different approaches to my control in their classroom. While one had me take over the classroom responsibilities and planning right away, the other had me watch for two weeks before taking over.
Which strategy is better, I’m not sure. But it is kind of fun to be in charge of the classroom now, since I have relationships with my students and we know what to expect from one another. It’s pleasant. It was a little awkward for the first few classes, but now my students share their journal responses, are quick to turn and talk to their partners, and are still forgiving when I demonstrate how incompetent I am at managing Canvas.
I have to admit that I feel a little overwhelmed by everything. I take the longest time planning every day’s lesson, creating a slide show presentation that shows exactly what I want everyone to be doing during every minute of class. I stay up late, I wake up early, I work up until the bell rings some days to make sure everything is ready to go and I just don’t think it’s supposed to be that way.
It’s interesting to note how many of these students have had a student teacher before. One of my tenth graders had a really bad experience with one last year, and at some point he asked me whether I was a student teacher.
“Yeah, I am,” I admitted, hoping he wouldn’t use this as an excuse to stop listening to me.
“Okay but you’re not like Miss Taho though, she was my opp.” (I believe this is slang for “opponent.”)
“Oh? So that means I’m not your opp then?”
“Yeah. Well, I mean, not yet.”
If that’s not encouraging, I’m not sure what is.
I know that by now we’re actually halfway through September, but I’m going to stick with my habit of pretending that’s not true and keeping my news within the month. I’ll probably spend a decent amount of next month’s letter writing about the struggles that kept me from publishing this for so long.
I’m tired, but all is well. Luke and I love our calling as temple and family history leaders and are making friends in our new ward.
We haven’t been asked to give talks in sacrament meeting yet, but we did teach a fifth Sunday lesson at the end of August. Our bishop asked for a volunteer to teach a lesson about personal finance and responsible stewardship over our money for a fifth Sunday lesson and Luke was, of course, the first to volunteer.
Because we’re in a married student ward, everything is done in couples except for bishopric callings and playing the organ. I wasn’t technically asked to teach alongside Luke, but I thought I could be a helpful co-teacher since I could keep him from talking too much about Dave Ramsey and tax exemptions2. We did out best to make it largely focused on faith and a relationship with the Savior, and we ended up teaching personal finance in a way that I think Tommy Eskelsen3 might not have absolutely despised if he was forced to sit through during a second hour of church. I’m still kind of glad he wasn’t there though, since I’m not completely convinced he would have considered it sufficiently spiritual.
Luke’s parents, who were, coincidentally, in town for this fifth Sunday lesson, told us we did a good job.
I feel like I know them pretty well at this point, but I’m not sure I know them well enough to believe them. Really I’m just glad it’s over.
The rest of that weekend was wonderful, since we got to spend so much time with Luke’s whole family for the first time since the wedding. Luke’s parents came out to drop off Luke’s younger sister and last Wonnacott child, Ellie. I’m excited to have her out here with us, and I’ve already encountered her in the wild twice since school started.
Wish me luck for the rest of this month. I’m doing my best to learn and improve, but the planning is killing me just a eensy teensy little bit. I love every moment in the classroom, but I’d love for the outside work to take just a little less time and stress.
I hope that you are all adjusting to September well! Much love and many prayers from Luke and myself.
Love,
Sophie
- Our good friends Tommy and Lola Eskelsen and Ilse Eskelsen currently live in Utah with us, but their parents’ homes are in Virginia. Because the Eskelsens have always been our close friends (and lived in Maryland when we were all quite small) I sometimes forget that their home is in a completely different state from mine. Therefore, whenever Tommy, Lola, and Ilse are going “home” I say, “Say hi to Maryland for me.” They’ve stopped reminding me at this point, but I’ve gotten better at catching myself. It’s just that, despite Virginians’ apparent ire for Maryland, I don’t seem to find any point in distinguishing the two in my mind. ↩︎
- One of my edits to the slide on tithing included changing the part about tax exemptions to say, in very small writing in the bottom corner, “Also you can get tax exemptions for it, but that’s not why we do it.” People thought it was funny. I’m nothing if not good at meticulously overthinking every detail about slide design. ↩︎
- When we asked Tommy and Lola what they would hope to hear in a second hour lesson about personal finance, Tommy was completely convinced that he would be angered by any second-hour lesson not about Jesus. And I can’t blame him for that. ↩︎
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