Zone Three
Everyone had already left for church when my little group shoved off at quarter to noon. Carolyn promised we'd get there on time; we were joined by Rachel and two others, who'd spent no less than three hours trying to get to their ward, but had been foiled by Victoria line construction. So the seven of us walked to Notting Hill station, where I learned rather unpleasantly that we had to pay out-of-zone. My last £20 went to top up my Oyster card, and I was irritated that no one had warned us sooner.
We got off some forty or so minutes later, and had little time to find the right street and get to sacrament meeting on time. Lea Valley, as it turns out, is in a little part of the city, next to cheery shops and the Whitechapel ward who shares the building. According to Rachel, not many of the students' wards meet in actual chapels--hers met in an elementary school, and some rented out space. When we walked in, some African ladies cheered, "Yeah, BYU!" Lots of people came up to introduce themselves, including a facilities management guy who declared that he was looking for a new wife (he's in his eighties, and snarkier than an old walrus) and a family man from Provo, whose little girl walked up and down the aisles the whole time, offering crisps and her bottle to everyone. The meeting was dominated by 3 of the 4 elders, the favorite of whom was from South Africa, had a spectacular accent, and declared he'd been out almost three whole days. He also used "hosed" most gracefully; being a convert himself, he now feels the consequences of having ditched out on the elders back in the day.
Assignments
Brother Edon met with the four of us in his office, explaining that he was about to outlast Bishop in his calling, so it made the most sense to get things squared away with him. His British accent was chill and made us all feel comfortable, even though we were giving the A to Zed of our previous church service. I asked if I could get mission papers finished in this ward, even though they didn't exactly have my records--he seemed a little surprised, but enthusiasm soon trickled through and he promised to speak to Bishop about it.
In short, Liz, Carolyn and I were assigned to work in the Primary and Jani went into mentoring the Young Women. I'd never worked in Primary, but knew that it was inspired that I get some good mission prep; that's basically what the elders do, take incredible Gospel truths and pare them down to bite sized portions (although without all the songs and coloring and fun treats). Sister Susan gave a warm reception and we did our best to mirror her enthusiasm for Primary. Liz sat between some little boys right off, while I retreated to the BIG chairs in the back. It was apparent that Junior and Senior primaries were combined, and some of the older boys were clearly bored at this point. Perhaps the Youth program is a bit more compelling.
With Kaitlyn practicing the piano for her Spanish ward that morning, I was surprised to learn the words to her Primary song in English. I sang with gusto, while small brown faces glanced every so often back at me. One spectacled five-year-old could not keep his hands to himself; I suddenly regretted not having some kind of food with me. His teacher tried to maintain patience ("Daniel! Please be reverent!") But Esther's long braided pigtails proved too enticing. I climbed over as gracefully as I could to sit next to him and his friend George, who stared up and me and smiled shyly. Esther scooted back in her chair and I held Daniel's so he couldn't either. He got grumpy with me, but I smiled the whole time at him and he just deflated until the end of class. I felt like hot stuff.
Leandra's Class
Sister Susan asked us where we preferred to go next. Carolyn went to nursery, Liz headed to the 4-7 year olds, and I was thrilled for the 8-11 year olds. "They can be quite a handful," she warned me. I assured her I would be fine; I ran the cooking station at Cub Scout Day Camp all those years, no worries.
There were six kids in the class: Esther, Michael, Nathan, Tico, Nigel and Jemma. To dispel any confusion, Tico was the only white kid in the class besides me, missing several front teeth and a volume button. The other boys were most definitely friends, and the girls began to feel the tug of hormones to impress said boys. Leandra, the teacher, was 18 and headed to BYU-Idaho come fall term. Going around the room, everyone fessed up to their name and age ("I'm Nigel (fill in ridiculous fake last name) and I'm TEN.") Whatever, I told them I was twenty and they all declared that I looked older. Leandra began to lose patience early on ("What is going on with you all today? You're never like this.") It took some doing, but separating Nigel and Nathan was necessary to dispel their inappropriate comments. (Happily I seem to retain my scary death-look from Scout camp).
The lesson proved to be particularly eye-opening for me. It was about the Word of Wisdom, and Leandra talked about her secondary school experience, where she had been the only 13-year-old who didn't drink or smoke, let alone later years. The kids seemed to be particularly well-versed in the different drugs and ways to break the word of wisdom, which made me want to go home and do some research on what exactly is legal and normal for London. Eventually Tico said loudly that he was allergic to pork and alcohol, which inspired interrogation as to whether he'd actually tried the latter. He got so angry that he fled the room.
So, 3:30 on Sunday afternoon could find me traipsing about the parking lot after a small dark-haired boy who was shouting "Leave me in peace!" I worried that this would become a regular occurence and resolved to get some better running shoes. Eventually I lost him and Sister Susan reinstated him in class without much fuss--maybe some sprinting around can really help our class. Also some lunch before church. Happily Bishop found me in the hall and said he'd be glad to help me with those mission papers. I reentered the class in high spirits, even though everyone announced that Tico had outsmarted me.
After class was over, Leandra came and gave me a big hug. I promised that the worst was over and that the newness of my audience was certainly dissipated. Sister Susan wasn't joking, but I sincerely hoped that I would be able to hear some sincere responses in class before I went, rather than just hints of them. All the girls met up in the hall to report on their classes. To my embarassment, everyone had seen me outside chasing Tico, but they were particularly empathetic. Liz was handed a manual to teach next week, and I asked if I could maybe teach her class sometime. She gave me the manual and said they were the cutest girls in existence. I felt bad about ditching out on Leandra, but swore to attend her class as often as I could. The need to teach the 4-year-olds was an opportunity I didn't want to pass up.
Muse and Another Paper
The Tube ride home was full of shortbread cookies, offered to Brianna in Relief Society (she accepted and didn't really have the heart to confess that they would attend their own ward the following week). Jani and Rachel told the story of going to find scalpers at Wembley Stadium the night before--Muse was in town, and as much as I'd love to see them again, I didn't really have the funds for a scalper. But these girls got lucky. With a security guard watching out for them, they scored two awesome seats for £10 total. That's like seven bucks apeice to see the greatest concert on planet Earth. I was really glad they got to go see them at the end of their tour.
The fireside that night was essentially class, teaching us how to write our paper on Sacred Space, which is due on Saturday at midnight. Bit more romantic deadline, isn't it? Good thing we get D's rather than turn into pumpkins.
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