an introduction

                Any graduating, or current student attending a private Christian school can recount tales of ridiculous proportion.  My school wasn’t any different.  In general, you know you’re from a small Christian School when...

1.       “I’ll pray for you,” is considered an insult.

2.       You can name almost everyone in your high school.

3.       Your teachers often call you by your older sibling’s names, or parent’s names (often).

4.       You don’t date anyone from your school because you already feel related.

5.       You don’t do any class work because 6 people are absent.

6.       Your teachers know the gossip before the students do.

7.       When you say what school you go to, a normal response is an expression of disbelief followed by, “I’m sorry, are your parents forcing you to go?”

8.       You know every single person in the school, including faculty and even the janitor.

9.       It’s not weird or out of the ordinary to see teachers dropping their kids off at a birthday party.

10.   Even the teachers make fun of the school.

11.   When you hear someone’s voice in the hall during class, you always know who it’s coming from.

12.   The secretary in the office knows everyone’s name, how to spell it correctly, who your siblings are and how old you are.

13.   You can identify that your Principal or teacher is coming based on the sound that his/her shoes make in the hallway.

14.   Prom is more like a wedding reception than an actual dance.

15.   Girls are often lectured not to, “lead the boys off the path of righteousness.”

16.   Going out with someone merely meant that you sat next to them in class, chapel, lunch and wrote notes to each other.

                Jokes aside, when I tell people that I went to a private Christian school for the entirety of my high school life, I get the look.  The one that begs the question- what’s it like?  This is where all general replies end. 

                You see, I wasn’t just a Christian going to a Christian school.  I was the first, and most probably only Latter-day Saint (they called me “the mormon girl”) ever accepted to attend NCS.  So when people ask me how school was, how my day went, or what I thought of my school, a series of stories recounting tales of close- mindedness, miss-information, other worldly experiences and microscopic observations run in my mind.   Almost every morning in seminary, I’d have a new funny story how I accidently told a Book of Mormon story in bible class, to my first chapel worship experience.  For the most part, the stories were funny.  From being asked if I had five moms (by a friend who had in fact been to my home and met my parents), to attending my first school assembly in a sea of extended arms and swaying bodies (where everyone sang worship songs I had never heard) and finally to the introduction to my Baptist bible teacher (we’ll talk about that later).  It should go without saying that I was either a) out of my mind b) had serious masochistic tendencies or c) was being paid an insane amount of cash to attend as an experiment.  I would like to think it wasn’t a, or b- because I most defiantly was NOT being paid to attend.  In fact, it was just the opposite.

                After hearing my stories, the youth in my ward (all 5 of them) asked me why did I go to school b?  At first the question was always just a joke, but as my stories and experiences got tougher and more emotional I began to seriously question my sanity.  I mean, who would willingly subject themselves to the constant pressure and challenges?

                So, why did I attend school b?  I asked myself that question every day during the most difficult or ironic moments. Every time I got an assignment returned with a novelist's version of a paragraph "discussing" my religious perspective, I asked myself what in the world was I doing there. Every time I mumbled through never ending worship songs while everyone lifted their hands to the sky, I asked myself what was I doing there.  Every time I went home in tears of frustration I asked myself what I was doing there.  Every time I was asked to do an assignment on an “unknown” question that I knew the answer to already, I asked myself what was I doing there.  Every time I shared a “bible” story in bible class, only to realise afterwards that the story in fact belonged in the Book of Mormon, I asked myself what was I doing there.   In fact, I asked myself that question so many times that it became a state of mind.
 
                Well, one day after bursting into tears once after school, my mom asked me, “Kirsten, stop putting yourself through this.  Why are you still at school b?” 

                It hit me then like a ton of bricks.  I answered, “I don’t want them to win mom.  This is something that I have to do.  I know it’s hard, but me being there must be doing some good.”

                 Going to school b was like living on mars.  It was foreign in almost every respect, but I knew I needed to be there.  I was the proto type of a robot that had the ability to launch itself to another planet, land and search for other life forms and water.  Every day I encountered new things, like suddenly realising that someone had in fact been praying....once everyone said amen.  Every day, I was closely monitored by teachers and students alike.  Let me tell you, Mars, in all its vastness and unknowns is an interesting place, and just like Mars, at school b I learnt things about my own beliefs as well as mainstream Christianity that I will forever hold close to my heart.

                So yes, going to school b is probably the hardest thing that I’ve done thus far in my life.  At the same time, it was the best thing I’ve ever done.  I never had to worry about my friends being the wrong crowd.  I never had to worry about turning down alcohol at parties (us school b kids partied with apple juice).  First and foremost, I could focus on my faith and share my feelings about Christ without it being weird. 

                Most importantly, I learned to accept the situations in life that are out of our control.  That it’s okay to learn as you go; no one has all the answers.  Bad things happen to good people, but the most important thing to remember is that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.  In the mess of it all, there is always something to be learned.

                What we're left with is a pile of dominoes, with the chaotic precision in which they fell and landed.  We try to make sense of it all by looking for patterns in nothingness.  We fuss over whose blame it was for starting the chain reaction, why and how the insignificant rectangles {which made such an impact} were placed so dangerously close.  When our attempts to set the blame on another fails, we turn the fault inward, moving the light in a way that highlights every fissure, crack and imperfection on ourselves.  Then finally, we learn how to pick up the pieces, re establish them, accept what and who we are then press forward stronger and wiser than before.  Just like dominoes, learning is a process; the deeper we divulged into the unknown or misunderstood- the larger, more intricate patterns appear in our workspace.

                I may never understand the thought process behind actions, words, and beliefs of others, but I can come to grips with the fact that if my personal dominoes hadn't toppled over I wouldn't be who I am today.  If I hadn’t decided to stay at school b, I would be a different person.  I wouldn’t know the scriptures so well.  I wouldn’t listen to the prophet as closely as I do now.  More importantly, if I hadn't submitted myself to the oh-so-tempting-chaos I would never have bridged the gap between what I wished I could say or do and what I actually did and said.

                My dominoes were set in place, more than ready to be elaborately placed before I was even aware of what school I was headed to.  Where was I headed in a spaceship constructed with the naive hope of the future?  A planet unvisited by any of my kind: Mars.  Never before had an ‘earthling’ walked the red-orange sands underfoot.  Never before had an earthling seen the view from Mars- learning to live among the cultural diverse and different species: Martians.  One by one dominoes encouraged by understanding, realization, knowledge love and the ultimate familiarity of the milky way were set in place. 

                Could I have predicted the mess my patterns would make afterwards?  No.  Looking back, would I change them if I could?  No.

                The only way to start anew and adhere to growth is to step out of your world, enter another’s and learn to leave and deal with chaos.

                Crashing dominoes or feeling like you’re leaving your world behind doesn’t always lead to disaster.  Leaving your comfort zone and jumping head first into what scares you the most doesn't always end with deterrence.  Accepting that you don't know the answers- then actively seeking them out doesn't make you stupid.  Being clueless in what to do in a situation isn't something to be ashamed of.  In fact, they can be the best things that ever happen to you.

                Welcome to my life on mars.