Hand sitting progress...

A while ago I posted about sitting on my hands -- in church classes, that it. I thought I'd let you know know that's going.

I'm relieved that not every idea I have is bad. (One bad one here...)

I have tried to be more measured in my participation in class. I am happy to read, and volunteer to do so. And I'm trying (for now) to limit myself to just one comment. My reasons:

1. To avoid "teaching from the fourth row" -- I want to respect that the instructor has a point of view, a message he or she has prepared, and I want to hear what that is. If I keep interrupting with my great ideas, neither the rest of the class nor I get to hear what the instructor has planned.

2. To avoid monopolizing the conversaton -- more than once I've been in a class where someone comments so much that others kind of shut down and let the instructor and the verbose commenter carry on their dialog. Recently I've realized that sometimes I'm that guy, and I didn't want to be.

3. As much as I like to hear myself talk, I'm trying to limit my pontification to my blog and to my home, where I'm king. (Oh, strike that second part...)

So over the last few weeks, I've been pretty good about it. I substituted for two weeks in my son's Sunday School class, so I got to talk all I wanted there (guided by the lesson manual and the Real Manual (aka, the scriptures), of course).

In priesthood the first week of hand sitting, I responded to a question early on, and the stake president, who was visiting our ward that day, commented on my comment. I was anxious to answer his thoughts, but even as I was putting up my hand, I remembered to sit on it, instead. As it happens, someone else commented on what he said. The conversation did not go in the direction I would have taken it, but the instructor was happy to have several people participating, and that was good.

In Sunday School yesterday, I was a little late to the discussion because I had to follow up with the bishop on another matter. When I joined the class, they were discussing one of my very favorite chapters of all scripture, Mosiah 4. There we learn about our need to serve others, about how our attitude in service is at least as important as our actions, and about how caring for the poor and needy is the way we ensure that we retain our sins' remission that we receive in baptism and in taking the sacrament.

Our teacher had me read verses 21-26. For me, the key is verse 26:

And now, for the sake of these things which I have spoken unto you—that is, for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God—I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants. (Emphasis mine.)

As our teacher reviewed key verses, he had me read through verse 26, but he did not discuss it. My hand was itching to go up, but I sat on it again. He clearly had somewhere he was heading. After class, he told me that he was going to spend some time on that subject, but because I'd read the verse with the emphasis I marked above, he felt like his point had been made and he moved on.

All in all, so far so good. I am noticing, particularly in my HP group, more participation when I curb my dialog with the instructor. And I'm getting to hear some other points of view besides my own. That can't be a bad thing.

I'm sitting on my hands for a while

I had a very brief but instructive interaction with my lovely wife yesterday after church. She did not attend our ward; her calling took her to another unit of our stake, and then instead of coming to join me in our Sunday School (as she often does), she went home to be with our daughter who was home with a really icky cold.

So I was telling my wife about our Gospel Doctrine class. I really like our teacher: he’s well-prepared and asks good questions. He draws on his own experience and draws a lot of discussion out of the class. Yesterday he taught about Jacob 5, one of my favorite chapters of the Book of Mormon. And by favorite, I mean I have a lot of my own ideas about what’s most important in that chapter.

As I described the lesson to my wife, I expressed regret that he hadn’t touched on a couple of points I wish he had. My wife (rightly, I might add, since she was putting the finishing touches on dinner and we were all tired and hungry because we’d been fasting) pretty much told me she didn’t want to hear me complain about the Gospel Doctrine teacher.

I was taken aback. I hadn’t thought I was complaining. And I don’t really think I meant to complain. But complaining is what my wife heard.

I began to think about my behavior in that class (and others). I tend to sit near the front. I read my lessons ahead of time. And I comment frequently. I began to wonder how I sound to other members of the classes I attend. I began to wonder if just because a thought pops into my head I ought to share it with the class.

The title of this post ought to give you a clue as to where I’m coming out on that question.

Don’t get me wrong – as a teacher in a class, I love to have class participation. I even welcome a provocative comment from time to time to engage class members. But I don’t generally appreciate a class member who wants to teach my lesson for me from the third or fourth row.

So I’m going to try an experiment for a while (and next week will be easy since they don’t ask for a lot of audience participation at General Conference – at least not from people sitting in my family room…). I’m going to say less in class. I’m going to ask myself what contribution I’m making to the lesson and to the other members of the class. And I’m going to strive to have that participation be measured and meaningful.

We’ll see how it goes.