| Subject: Re: the brother needs some help |
Author:
Kiersten
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Date Posted: 08:40:06 05/19/05 Thu
In reply to:
Nathan
's message, "the brother needs some help" on 07:37:38 05/19/05 Thu
I knocked off about 160 words (my word count says it's 118 now). I didn't change anything really, just deleted a few words and phrases here and there. I think you could maybe delete some of those short sentences in the middle, where you briefly describe elementary school and stuff. I like the way you have done that, to include everything, but maybe just for the sake of space you could erase it.
Anyway, here's the one that I looked at. Good luck! I like it.
A leader must sell his ideas. A leader must teach those he is responsible for.
January 7, 1974. My birthday, from what my mother tells me. Two a.m. My family celebrated because I was the first grandchild on my mother’s side. Twelve years later I was upset because I did not get to eat the roast beef. Most of my first nineteen years were spent in Vernal, Utah, a small town where life was good.
I am the oldest of six children and have never been completely typical. I ate onions like apples as a child. I remember many things from when I was younger. I always wanted to know what was going on, I always wanted to learn what I saw others doing. I was not afraid to try anything that I thought I could do. Somewhere around three or four years old I developed a fascination with my father’s power tools. Not just any tools, the big ones like the table saw and the jointer. The jointer in particular had a quiet hum and seemed friendly. It was a temptation hard to resist. My mom and dad would tell me repeatedly not to play with it, but if Dad could and I wanted to I could. I remember coming home with my mom and going straight for the jointer. I got wood from the sawdust pile, turned on the machine and, before I knew what was happening, bumped my finger on the “part that made the wood disappear.” I turned the machine off and sat down on the floor. I must have started crying, though I don’t remember. Mom came in and excitedly wrapped a dish towel around my finger, which was red and white at the tip.
Next, screaming on a doctor’s table: “I want to go home.”
Waking up in bed with Mom and Dad, sliding off the bandage to look at my finger. Black.
I still have a finger. It’s grotesquely funny to look at.
I was lucky to still have a hand. I was still able to play piano. I can throw a football relatively decently. I can swim and play violin.
I still have a finger. So much for learning to do what I saw Dad doing.
In elementary school I learned my state history and did Cub Scouts.
During middle school and junior high I did Boy Scouts and rode skateboards.
As a sophomore I was smart, skinny, and a little lost.
Being a junior meant being stuck on appearances.
As a senior I was confronted with the mortality of my family and stopped thinking that I was indestructible. I finally had a gorgeous girlfriend, but she lived in another town. My cousin and I played childish pranks with water balloons and I got into trouble on the adult side of the law because I was eighteen, the ironic age of great knowledge and little intelligence.
Uintah High School graduation. Class of ’92.
One term at Snow College in Ephraim, Utah.
Next, the mission.
Most Latter-day Saint (Mormon) young men, at about nineteen years old, spend two years preaching the gospel. You are up every day at 6:00, in bed every night by 10:30, and working all the hours between with very little supervision. And you don’t really have any say on where you will be working. I spent my two years in Brazil. I learned Portuguese and still speak it fluently. I loved it.
I had the opportunity every day to serve and teach others, but in a way that I never would have asked for myself. I ended up being a missionary trainer. I was the person the mission president called on to assist the difficult missionaries. I needed to be a good example and love them enough to tell them the truth while getting on with the work.
I know what it is to lose a loved one. While I was in Brazil, my dad died. More than anything, I was in disbelief. This was something that only happened to other people, but it happened to me. On top of that, I had pneumonia. In many ways, I wanted to join him. I have never felt such pain. If I could wish that type of pain away from others, I would.
After “The Mission,” school.
Got the Associate’s degree, now what?
More school?
How?
National Guard?
Linguistics sounds good. Counter intelligence would be awesome, but Interrogator will have to do.
August 28, 1996, I raised my right arm.
Basic training was almost fun. Great workout and I got to be in the color guard for graduation.
AIT. Interrogator School, next. I hated it. Too much sitting and not being outside. I prayed every day that I would pass and graduate.
I did. Now home, Ft. Living Room, and back to school. And what do I want to be when I grow up?!
God has given me the desire to teach in a way that will help others understand. The best way to understand something is to experience it, to interact. While I do not want to experience all things, I know that I can endure. I can overcome. I can adapt and teach others how to do the same. Make it fun. Make it real, but make sure you are here tomorrow.
I have come to believe that if anyone ever feels they don’t need to learn, they have decided to forfeit their life. Too many times we get to the end of school, or a class, and we think we do not need to learn any more about the subject. If we decide to stop learning altogether, at some point we will have to start over again.
I want to assist in creating learning experiences that are very interactive, that will help entertain the mind, so that learning will become an ingrained, desirable joy and not a forced effort.
By earning a commission I hope to offer outstanding training experiences for the soldiers I am responsible for. The best leaders I have ever had provided me with training experiences that required me to put forth a level of thought and effort that could not be achieved sitting in an Armory.
The better the training, the more natural and comfortable soldiers will feel in completing their duties and missions.
By working for a commission, I hope to gain a better understanding of myself and how I work so that I can provide the best possible example.
When mentioning specific instances in your life about learning and teaching, it is necessary to mention the greatest learning and teaching role of all: a parent. Who teaches you more about yourself, and requires more teaching from you, than your children?
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