I had no idea what new trials or adventures would come my way in 2007, but one thing I knew: I had would take two three-hour college classes to keep my teaching certificate current.
I got my Arizona teaching certificate 1977, when I graduated from ASU. I only taught for seven years, but I made a point of keeping my certificate current, just the same. That meant I had to take a couple of college classes every six years, and I was due to renew my certificate in the summer of 2007. It was amazing to me to think that thirty years had gone by since I graduated from college, and very intimidating to realize I was going to have to go back to school. My brain had slowed down during that time, and I wasn't sure I could keep learn anymore.
The more I considered what classes to take, the more apprehensive I became. I'd taken history, interior decorating, writing, and teaching reading classes in the past to keep my certificate up to date, but I really didn't want to work that hard anymore. After all, I was over fifty, a grandmother, and plenty busy just trying to keep our house in shape for the occasional prospective buyer who dropped by, let alone having Grandma Day once a week; raising my last two daughters who were just finishing elementary school; substituting in our school district; volunteering as the History Lady; getting Stephen ready to go on a two year mission for our church; taking care of our two acre yard while dad spent most of his time in Snowflake overseeing the building of his new house; and drawing house plans for our own dream house that we hoped to build when Moe retired.
The more I worried about doing homework, studying for tests, and trying to make my brain remember all the information I was needed to learn, the more I dreaded beginning. Then I had a brain wave. Why did I have to take classes that would teach me stuff I really didn't care about learning? Why not learn how to do something I'd always wanted to know how to do? Like paint!
I checked with the state department of Education just to make sure art classes would satisfy my renewal requirements, then began looking for classes. I found a beginning watercolor and a basic drawing class, and quickly signed up. This was going to be fun!
The first day of class I was nervous. My drawing class was full of new little college kids, obviously taking the class thinking it would be an easy A. I sure felt like a fish out of water. The watercolor class was much more up my alley, most of those students were older adults like me, but I was intimidated by the fact that they were all returning students. Apparently, the beginning class was combined with the intermediate and advanced classes, and these people were good!
My teachers were amazing, but they didn't baby us along. We were given major assignments the first day of class. Within a week, most of the kids in the drawing class had dropped out, discovering that teacher wasn't easy, after all.. He immediately began us using charcoal, which scared me to death, but soon I discovered I liked drawing with charcoal as much, if not more, than painting. It was so cool!
All through that spring I drew, painted, and employed my creative talents. It was such good therapy. I might be stressed about selling the house, figuring out where we were going to live, preparing Stephen for two years of proselyting on the East coast, dealing with two pre-adolescent daughters, grandchildren, and a husband nearing retirement, but I was also making beautiful pictures that calmed my spirit, lightened my heart, and brought joy into my life. Having to take those classes, at that time, became one of the sweetest gifts I ever received, and I thanked Heavenly Father again and again for one more of His tender mercies that got me through that difficult time.
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