I have very little to say. Nothing to complain about, really. I've avoided the news lately since there hasn't been anything good to hear for a long while. And the family hasn't done anything really weird for some time.
Sounds like things are going along just fine.
Instead, how about an update on my constant battle to try to love Primary?
I've been teaching Primary since November 2012. I'm still teachings Primary. I didn't like it then, I really don't like it now much more. The kids are OK. I enjoy learning the music and seeing the skill with which our music ladies try week after week to get these punks to sing and learn new music. But I'm not loving it.
My teaching partner was released on Sunday. the week before was her last week in our ward. She'd leaving us for the singles' ward so she can attend with her boyfriend/almost-fiance. I can't really blamer her for that. She'd ready to move on in her life.
The Sunday Cassie said she was leaving, our Primary president asked me if I was ready for a mentor. I asked her if I needed a mentor? She said, not hat I was to BE the mentor for another sister who had just joined the Church and whom they wanted to call to teach Primary so she could learn the principles of the Gospel. I told her that was fine, but I'd really prefer to have another grown up with me each week.
I know it has only been two weeks, but once they released Cassie, I thought they'd call this other new sister. Nope. Not yet. And that situation makes me want to move on with my life too.
I took this calling because I was obedient--I told the counselor to the Bishop that when he called me--but I wasn't thrilled about it. He tried to tell me that he LOVED being in Primary. Under my breath I wanted to tell him that HE should be called to Primary then. I didn't because I was obedient, but I am still waiting for the love to happen.
I belong with teenagers. Or adults. Or anyone who is older than 12, or 14.
Keep my in your good thoughts. I'm not a wicked person, normally. Just when I think about being stuck in Primary.
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