Simply and Satirically Me

First day of classes for my seventh semester at BYU. I needed an easy 2 credit class. In fact, I was seriously searching to find the most laughable excuse of a college course I could find. A joke class. As I was laboring over the registration process, I recalled a conversation I had with a previous American Heritage Student. While we were in the Review Room, she had a number of papers on the table that didn’t look like they related to the course. So I asked her about them.                 “Oh, this is for my positive living class.”                 I think I laughed. “Positive living? What does that even mean?”                 She was surprisingly enthusiastic, “Oh, it’s really great actually. The class is supposed to help you learn how to handle all th...

Do you know what it’s like to be homeless? Well, I don’t. At least, not completely. Because in the end, I wimped out. But that’s actually the end of the story. So how, you may ask, did I end up living in a cardboard fort for a night? Or maybe you’re more inclined to just ask…why? Here’s how it begins. One wild week in the life of Sandra Shurtleff. Actually let’s start a few weeks back. A Monday night activity. I’m eating hot dogs with my FHE brothers at a Ward party. It was supposed to be a swimming party, but…that’s beneath me. Okay, actually I just lost my swimsuit somehow over the summer. And so I have to just look too cool to swim. This is also necessary since I actually don’t know how to swim anyway. My life is an embarrassment. In any case, somewhere amidst the conversation one of my “brothers” asked what us three girls at the small table were doing after the move out day for our apartment complex. BYU housing has this strange problem where there is a week or tw...

I see them on the streets, shouting protests, feeling free Raising signs that speak their minds, fighting words, that ain’t no crime They say to break the norms of life, free your soul, forsake the strife Be who you want to be…it’s all about nonconformity. But I don’t understand the cry, I don’t feel free, I don’t know why All the crowds that pass me by, reject my words, they call them lies They say I am not to believe. Cannot be who I want to be. They   reject me, who I am, and I just don’t understand. I don’t want to stand for nothing. So I stand for something, And they all rise to their feet, shout their objection, victory complete. I am not to be free, unless I agree. There’s something to be said for irony. Conform to nonconformity. Welcome to society, we’ll dictate who you are supposed to be Deviance is wiped away, tossed aside, there’s no escape. I stand alone, being myself, I’m on my own. Why can’t I free my soul of strife by keeping a...

I have an odd fascination with old people. I think it's because every time i see someone getting on in years, i think to myself--well, sandra, that's going to be you one day. That's your future. I also have an obsession with preparation. I keep thinking that if I mentally prepare myself to be old, then somehow it will make getting out of bed every morning when I'm 95 seem easier. So, to help myself cope with the inevitability of age, I created a list of things I'm going to do when I'm old. 1. Make random and unrelated comments in Sunday School. Everyone says old people are senile, but I think they've discovered the secret of age--people stop judging you. "She's just old," they'll say. And I'll cackle quietly to myself. 2. Drive the biggest monster truck I can find--especially to church every week. I dare anyone to make fun of my driving skills. 3. Take all my life savings and go on a random sight-seeing tour all around the world...

American Heritage Teaching Assistant: Basically I get to teach labs of students once a week on principles dealing with American politics/ethics/economics, particularly in relation to the Constitution. Sounds boring right? Well, it’s anything but boring. And for a political geek like me, it’s the best job out there. So here’s the good, bad, and…well, awkward. All part of why I LOVE my job. THE GOOD: Oh there are far too many to write them all, but I thought I should give a quick highlight of five experiences that remind me just how much I love my job. 1. The People. My first semester of being an American Heritage TA was particularly fun, I somehow was able to develop a pretty good relationship with all my students. I really loved having them come into the review room. It is a lot more laid back and I get to talk about their lives and interests as I try to figure out how to best help them succeed in class and beyond. So often, our conversations drifted from the actual c...