But there’s one thing about my class that keeps me lying awake on Saturday nights: the boys, at least some of them. I’m not totally unfamiliar with teenage boys. I’ve worked as a high school teacher, a college instructor, and a college admissions counselor, all fields where I’ve come into contact with a lot of teenage boys. The nerdy boys, the shy boys, and the sullen boys, I have no problem with them. I have personal experience with nerdy, shy, and sullen. It’s the cool boys who throw me for a loop.
I have one of those cushy, enviable callings that requires a minimal amount of preparation, no meetings, and no midweek activities; just a big bag of candy and an hour on Sunday mornings. I teach the 16-18-year-old Sunday School class. We meet in the high council room in the basement of our stake center, with me sitting in the stake president’s seat at the head of a long conference table and the kids in a cozy circle all around. All things considered, I love my calling. I love the friendly banter among the kids. I love hearing about the things they’ve done over the weekend. I love listening to them read scriptures and being surprised and impressed by the strength of their testimonies. (I also love getting out of Gospel Doctrine.)
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