What I Have Learned From Students

"What I Have Learned from Students"

Robert M. Wilkes

October 7, 2003

Thank you very much, and good afternoon, my brothers and sisters. Because of the many things I have learned from students and about students during my years as a teacher, if the Lord will bless me to do so, I wish today to persuade you to a particular view with regard to your educational objectives and perhaps even to other significant matters in your life, such as missions and marriage.

One of my favorite stories is about the man who every day at work complained vociferously about his lunch. After listening to this for months, one of his fellow workers said, “If you dislike your lunch so much, why don’t you ask your wife to fix you something different?” To which the fellow responded: “My wife has nothing to do with this. I fix my own lunches.”

We are fixing our own lunch at BYU–Idaho, creating our own educational product. I think, at times in a rather unintentional but still meaningful way, sometimes students regard their educational process a little bit like they regard ordering a pizza. When you order a pizza, your great concerns are: what kind of crust, what kind of topping, and will I have it delivered, carry-out, or dine in? Well, at BYU–Idaho there is no carryout, there is no dine in, and there are no ready-made or made-to-order pizzas. At this place, and at most other educational institutions that I am aware of, it is a make-and-bake deal. You start from scratch. We provide the ingredients; you must create the product.

Now, when you think about that for a minute, that applies to missions. What a wonderful thing it is when a missionary goes home pleased with the mission he has created. It is rather the opposite when a missionary, on occasion, goes home and is aware of the fact that there was no pre-made mission experience for him or her—that all he has to go home with is what he created through his faith, his obedience, his testimony, his goodness. The tools used to do this creating are wide-ranging and multifaceted. They include faculties, facilities, academic rigor, and not insignificantly, spiritual insight. It is upon the spiritually oriented tools that I will focus.

Not long ago, just a matter of days, we had on our campus representatives of some major home building companies in America. One company was among the very largest. And there were from this company about six vice presidents and an executive vice president. They were here to interview our students and to hire them and to invite them to internships. A lunch was held, and during the lunch this group of executives was asked, “What is it you need from our students?” And the answer was very quick in coming. It was one word. They said, “Integrity.”

I am going to tell you a sweet little story about my grandfather. My grandfather was a simple man. He never owned a car; he never drove a car. He literally earned his living by the sweat of his brow. He had many gifts, many of them were distinct, but they were not the kind of gifts that would bring upon him the acclaim of the world.

When I was sixteen, he passed away. The viewing for my grandfather’s funeral was held in our home. As a sixteen year old, I loved my grandfather. I was among the older grandchildren and knew him longer than most. I stood not far from his casket as friends and neighbors came to pay their respects. As I stood there, a rather prominent, well-known man in our community stood lingering some time at my grandfather’s casket. Presently, he was joined by another fellow; and I heard this exchange between them.

The first individual said, “Ed Wilkes was the most honest man I ever knew.” And then he told this story.

He had purchased a school bus. In those days school buses were privately owned in our part of the world, and parents would pay a fee to have the school bus pick up their children. My grandfather could not afford the fee to have his son, my dad, ride the school bus. So it was the case that as the school bus would go to and from school it would pass this young man, this student, my dad, on the road; and it bothered the fellow who owned the bus. He went to my grandfather and said: “It really bothers me to pass your boy up on the road. I would like to have him ride.” My grandfather responded that he could not afford to pay the fare. The man who owned the bus said that didn’t matter to him. My grandfather responded, “I do anticipate that I will have some money coming at the end of October on a given date (I have forgotten the date); and if you would like to carry my son on your bus, I will, on that given date, pay you his fare. That was readily agreed to.

The date late in October came; and on that day, there was a horrific blizzard. It was heavy snow and wet. It was cold. About eleven o’clock at night, the fellow telling this story heard a knock at his door. He opened it and there, standing in this blinding storm, was my grandfather. He said, “I have come to pay you the money that I owe for carrying my son.” The fellow said: “My goodness, I did not expect you to come in this weather. I could have waited another day or two.” And then this response: “Perhaps you could have waited for the money, but I could not delay bringing it to you. It was for me that I brought it tonight. I need to know that my word is good.”

I heard this account told by the man who was party to the bargain and knew that my grandfather was a poor man who died rich. “I need to know that my word is good.”

How critical it is for each of us to know that we are men and women of integrity, that our word can be counted on whether the circumstances are convenient or inconvenient. Under all conditions, we need to know for ourselves that we are persons of integrity. Would you not wish to know such about the person you marry? Would you not wish to know such about the children you will raise? Would you not wish to know such about the person or firm that employs you and upon whom you rely for promised compensation? Are you not comforted to be assured that the God of heaven with whom you have made covenants will keep His word?

What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away but shall all be fulfilled . . . (Doctrine and Covenants 1:38).

Again from the Doctrine and Covenants: “Wherefore, if ye believe me, . . . ” There is a poignancy and a pathos in that statement. Who would not believe Him? Who among us today would not believe the Lord? And yet, it was incumbent upon Him to say: “. . . if ye believe me, ye will labor while it is called today” (Doctrine and Covenants 64:25).

“And behold, I, the Lord, declare unto you, and my words are sure and shall not fail . . . .” That can also be said of you if you make it so. Concluding, “But all things must come to pass in their time” (Doctrine and Covenants 64:31-32).

And so, brothers and sisters, the first tool of the capacity to create is integrity, and the second is the patience borne of faith that allows things to happen in the Lord’s own time. I have learned much from you. I will tell you of a student; I will call her Ann. That is not her name.

Ann was a young woman with many friends; and, as it turned out, one of her friends was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the process of this rather large group of young women being friends, the member of the Church invited the others to hear the missionaries teach their discussions. Ann was one of those who went. She later told her mother that she had gone and heard the Mormon missionaries, which startled her mother a great deal because she was staunch (as was Ann’s dad) in her own faith. The young woman assured her mother that it was really only a lark, that it was just kind of fun to hear what they had to say. She said, “Mother, if it will make you feel better, every time I hear the missionaries I will go to our church leader and have him explain what was wrong about what I heard.” The mother reluctantly agreed. But as the daughter continued to listen, the power of the Spirit touched her life and she came not to believe but to know that what she was hearing was true. Her mother had earlier said, “If you ever join the Mormon Church, don’t tell me and don’t tell your dad because it would kill us to know that.” She agreed that she would not.

As the time came of decision about joining the Church, she decided two things. She decided to join the Church, and she also decided that she would not tell her mother and dad because they had asked her not to.

Over time she came to believe in her own heart that somehow they knew and had accepted it, and life would be fine. That was not the case. Ann decided to apply and come to Ricks College. She did so, and upon arriving the first night, she called back home to tell her parents that she was safe and so happy and so excited. In the meantime, her parents had learned from a neighbor that Ann had joined the Church. When her parents picked up the phone and she bubbled over about her happiness, there was no response until finally her mother said, “Ann, we have learned that you joined the Mormon Church, and your father and I are trying to forget that you ever existed.” And there was a click.

Ann immediately sought the comfort and help of the Lord in prayer and then of her bishop. She was counseled that the only thing she could control in this matter was what she did. She was encouraged to write to her parents every week and to reaffirm her love for them and her joy in doing good things. She began to do that, and she did that through all the fall semester and all of the winter semester until the very end. She came in again to her bishop, as she had done on a number of occasions, discouraged and feeling that she had been forgotten both by her parents, whom she loved, and by the Lord who had not answered her prayers. She was once again reassured and went home. Later that evening, the phone rang.

Now remember the scripture, the Lord said, “. . . my words are sure and shall not fail . . . But all things must come to pass in their time.”

The phone rang; Ann answered and heard this: “Ann, your father and I could not forget that you existed. We love you, and we need you; and we wondered if there was any way you could come home this weekend because there are some things we wish to say to you.” Ann responded: “Mother, there are some things I wish to hear. I’ll be home this weekend.”

There is a wonderful strength that comes with the patience borne of faith. In 1 Nephi, chapter 21, quoting lines from Isaiah beginning in verse 14, the Lord said:

. . . behold, Zion hath said: The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me–but he will show that he hath not.

For can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?

Can a mother forget her baby? “Yea, they may forget,” as strange as that sounds and as unlikely as it is:

...yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee, O house of Israel.

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.

And skipping over to verse 23 toward the end:

. . . and thou shalt know that I am the Lord, for they shall not be ashamed that wait for me.

I pray for you and for me the faith and the patience to wait for the Lord. Some of you may have issues at this very moment that you are waiting for. The solutions have not yet come. It may be family; it may be opportunity; it may be understanding; it may be companionship; it may be a clearer vision of who you are or what you are to be; it may be a witness properly and faithfully sought after. Whatever it is one might seek or however slow it may seem to be in coming, if it is praiseworthy and for one’s good and in harmony with the mind and will of God, you should be assured that he has not forgotten you and that your life, like all of our lives, is in fact continually before him.

And so the tools of the one capable of creating good things include integrity and the patience borne of faith.

I have learned of the remarkable capacity students have to pack a load. I am amazed at what some of you accomplish. I watch you do your schoolwork and excel, and have jobs, and attend to Church matters, and render service, and, in some cases, care for families.

In order to create, one must be willing and capable of packing a heavy load, of working hard. While caution and prudence must be exercised in this matter, the truth is most of us are underloaded rather than overloaded.

I learned an interesting little lesson about this one day. It was a number of years ago and four-wheel-drive pickups were just starting to be the thing to have. Before that they had been mostly army vehicles and some heavy construction-type vehicles. But in the mid- to late 70s they started to be sought after, and wanted, and available.

I convinced myself that because I wanted one, I needed one. I went to my sweet wife Estella and said, “I need a four-wheel-drive truck.” And she said, “You don’t either.” And I said, “I do too!” She said, “We’ve lived all this time without one. Why do we need one now?” And I said: “Well, I’ll just explain that to you. What if we had a terrible blizzard and I needed to go down to the store and get milk for our children and the only way I could get through would be with a four-wheel-drive pickup? How about that?” And she said, “Well, then go get you a four-wheel-drive pickup and it won’t matter because we won’t have any money to buy milk for the kids, even if you can get to the grocery store!” Well, being of a cautious nature and wanting to provide for my family, I went and got a four-wheel-drive pickup. And then I couldn’t wait to see where it could go.

I next felt that I needed to get us some firewood stored away. So I went to the mountains; it had already snowed. At the lower end of the mountain road, it was a skiff; but the further I went, the deeper it got. I knew it was becoming risky, but how could I stop? This wonderful piece of equipment had all the power and all the traction—and I could just go and go.

So I went too far. I pulled off where I could get a load of wood; and as soon as I stopped, I was stuck. All the wheels spun. All four of them spun in the snow. I was rather embarrassed. I was a little frightened and worried, and I was very humble. I did not know what to do; but I thought, “As long as I don’t know what to do, I might as well cut some wood and load this truck.” And so I did. I loaded it high and full and heavy. And then because I did not know what else to do, I decided to try it one more time. As I put it in gear and applied power, I could feel it moving out of the snow and back onto the road. I was free to go home.

I have thought so many times it was the load that freed me. It was the load that gave me mobility. It was the load that carried me forward.

I learned something on one occasion listening to Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. It was an area training meeting for mission presidents in October of 1996. We were assembled in Nauvoo, and Elder Nelson was presiding. Someone asked him the question, “Elder Nelson, in your busy life prior to your call as an Apostle, you were a world- renowned heart surgeon, you were a stake president, you were many other things. How did you find time? How did you get all of it done?” And then he told us a very interesting thing. He said: “I discovered that I could get up as early as I wanted to and the time was mine. I typically would get up at six. I started to get up at five and study the scriptures and teach myself to play the organ.” And then one day he heard the Prophet say, “We ought to learn a foreign language, and some of us ought to learn Chinese.” So Elder Nelson said, “I got up earlier, and I learned Chinese.” And then he told us what a remarkable gift and blessing that had been to him as an Apostle in carrying out his assignment. Brothers and sisters, I pray for all of us to have the strength to pack a load.

I conclude with one more tool. I have observed that the happiest among you refuse to whine. I’ll say that one more time. I have observed that the happiest among you refuse to whine. Please envision this scene in the real life happening of a little boy and his dad.

The little boy is five. He loves his big wheel. He is known in the neighborhood as the “big-wheel king.” His big wheel is not an ordinary one. It is jet black with wide tires and a gold cobra on the side.

His favorite thing to do was to back up against the garage door of their home, shoot down the driveway through the dip in the gutter and out into the street. His parents warned and warned and warned. And he would promise and then forget. One day it was such that after he had promised and had sincerely meant not to do it again, he did it again; and he received a little paddle. No child abuse involved here, I’m sure. And he cried, and through his tears he said to his father, “All you want to do is ruin all my fun.”

Now, I don’t know who you are, but there is someone here who has some of those kind of feelings. Not only about this place, but about the Church, and maybe even about the Lord himself—that the whole intent and purpose seems to be to ruin our fun.

The dad assured him that was not the case, and the little boy was left with the commitment not to do it again. Weeks, even months, passed.

One Sunday they returned from church; and as the family went inside, the little boy, in a forgetful moment, got on his big wheel and tore down the driveway. His dad, just entering the living room, could see him going down the driveway and the neighbor coming home from church; and he could see out in the middle of the street where they were going to meet. He ran to the door to holler out a warning, but it was too late. He got there and saw the big wheel struck by the car. He ran to the street. Gratefully and fortunately and happily, the little boy was scraped and bruised, but not critically injured. His big wheel was under the car. And as the dad pulled him out from under the car, the little boy said these remarkable words: “Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t ever do that again.”

What a journey between “All you’re trying to do is ruin all my fun” and “Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t do that again.” What happened? One thing. He came to understand what his mom and dad had always known—those who create seek to understand rather than to whine.

We all remember the account in the second chapter of 1 Nephi where we learned that Laman and Lemuel murmured against their father. “And they did murmur because they [understood] not the dealings of that God who had created them.” Instead of seeking to know and to understand, they murmured and they murmured.

There is only one place that I’ve ever found in the record where Laman and Lemuel were happy. It’s in the seventh chapter when they believe erroneously that Nephi has failed in his attempt to build a ship. They were so happy, and they said, “We knew [you] could not [build] a ship” (1 Nephi 17:19).

Brothers and sisters, we each ought to examine our lives and consider what it is that makes us happy. It could not possibly be the case that the only thing that makes you happy is someone else’s failure.

Nephi, on the other hand, said that he had great desires to know the mysteries of God. And so he prayed, and he asked, and he said, “. . . [The Lord] did visit me, and did soften my heart . . . .” (1 Nephi 2:16).

Do you know what softens the heart? Understanding. One of the great experiences of life is to be confronted with a situation that frustrates us, angers us, disturbs us in some way and then come to understand the true circumstances and say, “Oh. Ahhh.” Then—if we are real men and women, which I firmly believe that you are—we say, “I’m sorry.” We say that to roommates, we say that to brothers and sisters, we say that to friends, we say that to moms and dads.  We come to understand. Our hearts are softened. We move on.

I pray for the strength to do such—to have integrity, to pack a load, to have the patience borne of faith, and to refuse to whine but to wait upon the Lord in trust and belief. And I do so in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.