Alumni recall memorable class choices that made a difference.
Ski/Life Balance
By John V. Parks (BA ’69, MS ’70), Burke, VA
Growing up in California I had never lived in snow, so at BYU I began to appreciate the beauty and pleasures of snowy winters. My second year I found out you could take a ski class for PE credit, although I’d heard the odds of getting into one were slim.
In 1967 I went up to the registration table for PE classes and found that, indeed, they were all full—except one. The teacher was conducting a study and needed students who had never skied before, so I got in.
Half the class had to practice at home on a device that was supposed to help users learn to balance on skis. The other half of the class (mine) would not use the device. At the end of the class, the instructor would gauge our skiing skills to see if the device made any difference.
Twice a week a bus took us up to the Timp Haven resort to learn to ski. Skiing became an enjoyable activity for me for many years. I’ll always be glad I tried for a class I did not expect to get.
Precious Conducting Skills
By Benjamin K. Hewett (BA ’03, MPA ’08), Houston, TX
In spring 2003 I was just 15.5 credit hours away from graduating with a BA in French and a minor in music.
I’d always known that I’d have to take the mandatory basic conducting course for the music minor, but compared to the jazz ensembles, language courses, and GEs, it just never seemed that important. I would have put it off indefinitely if graduation, kids, and a full-time job weren’t looming on the horizon. Grudgingly, I took the class, and it was every bit as tedious as I’d feared.
Then in 2019 my bishop called me forth from behind the piano to be the new Primary chorister, a calling I’d truly hoped to avoid.
Armed with vague recollections from that long-expired conducting class, I slunk into Primary the next Sunday with some modest hope for survival.
After a few Sundays, members of the Relief Society—who shared an adjacent wall—were asking if they could come to Primary. By the end of my tenure as the Primary chorister, I didn’t want to leave.
There is nothing that compares to seeing the oldest boys and girls belt out “How Firm a Foundation” after previously being unwilling to hum. Lessons remembered from that boring class so many years before had become precious to my soul.
Let It BYU
By Janie Byrnes-Tolley Sandberg (BA ’09), Henderson, NV
When I came to BYU, I changed my major about seven times, finally landing on American studies, which let me take a huge variety of classes.
One semester I stumbled on a special seminar class called The Beatles. Without any hesitation, I added it to my schedule.
On the first day of class, Trent Hickman, the professor, revealed that he had never actually intended to teach an entire semester-long class on the Beatles. It was entered into the system as a joke, a temporary placeholder while he figured out what the class would be about. He was astonished when the class filled up almost immediately and he realized that maybe there was something to the idea.
My incredulous (and perhaps jealous) husband, a computer science major, spent a semester observing as I listened to the Beatles, read books about the Beatles, and wrote papers about the Beatles.
Thinking intellectually about one of my favorite bands and its impact on American pop culture was an absolute treat. I can’t say that the things I learned have been directly useful in my career or home life, but I would win at Beatles trivia, hands down.
Soporific Studies
By Aleisha Lyons McKean (BS’13), Draper, UT
My freshman year my favorite daily napping spot at BYU was a little grassy hill in front of the Talmage Building.
That year I declared myself a sociology major and proceeded to mostly sleep my way through my first sociology class. Needless to say, I did not stay in sociology.
When I settled on a major, I regularly napped through a required class on stress management. However, this time I was riveted by the course material; learning to relax our muscles and minds to put ourselves to sleep in the middle of class was part of the curriculum. At the time it didn’t seem like a skill I lacked, but those stress management skills would prove helpful later in life.
I am no longer in a freshman dorm twin bed balanced on cinder blocks, nor dozing on a grassy hill, nor in a JFSB basement classroom struggling through sociology. Now my bed is a comfortable king, and my house overlooks a park and a running trail. But, as tired as I am raising four daughters, my mind refuses to rest, often keeping me inconveniently awake.
I find myself unclenching my fists and relaxing my hands, walking myself from my head to my toes trying to loosen all the muscles in my body. As I manage my stress, I drift off to the land of dreams.
Photographic Memory
By David A. Simonson (BMu ’80), Phoenix, AZ
When I turned 12 years old, my father sat on the side of his hospital bed as he ordained me a deacon. Just six months later he passed away.
My dad was a Navy photographer during WWII. He always had a camera at family events and vacations. My lifelong interest in photography has been a way for me to maintain a connection with him.
As a busy BYU music education major, I took photography classes during the lighter schedules of spring and summer terms. There was some good-natured ribbing about a music major being in photojournalism, but I loved the creative process and the opportunity to work for the BYU newspaper.
Years later, as an elementary school music teacher, I hoped to supplement my income by photographing weddings during the summer. However, because love knows no season, I had weddings booked throughout the year. My photo business continued nearly 20 years.
When the Phoenix Arizona Temple was being built near our home, I finally purchased a digital SLR camera and excitedly photographed the progress for my own personal interest. I was quite surprised when I received an official Church calling to document the final stages of the interior construction, the open house, and the cornerstone ceremony.
My sisters have told me several times they felt our father must have had something to do with me being prepared and receiving this sacred photography assignment. I just hope I made my photographer dad proud.
