Anatomy of a Field Trip

It has been said that teaching junior high is like trying to herd cats. So imagine for a moment, if you will, taking those fuzzy little independently minded creatures out of the classroom and trying to herd them across vast outdoor expanses without getting any of them lost and/or squished. Sound like fun? Well, this year, it kind of was.

You can tell the end of the school year is near when the honors English kidets start asking about their "field trip" to Dairy Queen. They love leaving the school grounds to buy fast food and ice cream, and they adore hustling back to play guitar hero in my classroom for the rest of third hour. They dream about this little outing for weeks before hand.

So do I.

But MY dreams usually end with something like this....

Luckily, our little "haiku hike" went well, so the only post-field trip autopsy is the one you are about to read...

I awoke Thursday morning to find that the wretched, evil, icy, wind-of-death had brought us an extra fun surprise: obnoxious mini snow showers. The layer of ice on my steps, lawn, and car didn't bode well.Suddenly my fears of squished kidlets morphed into visions of frostbitten kidlets.

That morning, all 27 honors kidlets made pre-1st hour trek to my room wearing their most worried faces to ask if we were still going to DQ.

I assumed that the thought of walking a mile in below-freezing temperatures with 30 mph wind gusts would be motivation for sticking around and studying for finals, but no. When I told them we were going to brave the weather and risk hypothermia, they did happy dances and ran off to brag to their non-honors friends.

When our first-lunch-departure-time rolled around, they couldn't keep still long enough for my customary preliminary headcount or listing of the punishments that would await them in this world or the next if they did anything to dishonor the school or increase their odds of getting squished.

The only bit of instruction that seemed to sink in was my repeated order to "stay on the sidewalk!"

Of course, when I gave that order, I had forgotten one important piece of cow-town related information: Sidewalk placement is a bit skewampus round these parts.

It's as if the sidewalk fairy showed up in our town blind drunk after a public works fairy kegger in Pocatello and just randomly dropped bits and pieces of sidewalk as he tried to fly home without getting pulled over for a F.U.I.

The honors kids were not deterred, however, and whenever the sidewalk disappeared they just kept walking where they thought the sidewalk was supposed to be until it reappeared.

They continued on their imaginary sidewalk march even after I had told them it would be better to walk in the edge of the road than on people's lawns.

After eight months of giving them orders, such as...

"Bring paper and a writing utensil to class EVERY DAY,"

and "You may not wear 'I love boobies' bracelets in this class,"

and "Don't shove any more hot Cheetos up your nose!"

...who would have thought that the ONE that would stick would be "Walk on the sidewalk, not in the street" ?

After seventeen minutes of trying to get them off imaginary sidewalks and into the street, we finally arrived at the promised land.

The half-frozen kidlets shot into the building like heat-seeking missals.

They whispered their orders through chattering teeth and blue-tinged lips, and used their shivering digits to count out the money for the cashier.

And what did that money purchase, you ask?

Hot chocolate, perhaps. Or maybe some nice warm french fries?
Nope. The half-frozen kidlets spent their money on ice cream.

Lots of ice cream. And icies. That's right: drinks made of ICE. Did I mention that there were the honors kidlets? Cause they are.

After they ate their ice cream, some of the kids did go back up and order something warm to eat. I thought it was interesting that, after walking over a mile in nose-hair-freezing temperatures and gale-force winds to escape the school lunch of chicken nuggets and french fries, the majority of the kidlets ended up ordering chicken strips and french fries. But becuase they are honors kidlets, one or two did ask if that was an example of irony.

Then there there was the kid who had arranged to meet his pizza supplier in the parking lot of DQ. When I caught him making the money/pizza exchange outside the building, he offered to eat his lunch in the parking lot. I told him he could go ahead and take it inside, but warned him that if Guido the "No outside food" enforcer showed up, he was on his own. I would disavow all knowledge of him.

Lucky for him, there hasn't been anyone named Guido in this valley since the last Italian wagon train traversed the Oregon Trail. Of course, had someone named Guido or Bubba or Big Earl actually shown up to confront the pizza smuggler, I wouldn't have had the energy to disavow the kid. I barely had the energy to sit there and whimmper, "Stay off the lawns!" over and over.

As soon as the last drops of ice cream had been slurped, we headed back out into the wind and other assorted weather byproducts, and set course for the school.

They even managed to avoid walking on a few lawns on the way back... thanks to some yellow warning tape that had miraculously appeared after our walk to DQ. 40 minutes earlier.

Even though we faced directly into the wind on the walk home, we were still blessed to make it to DQ and back before the clouds rolled in and the snow started falling again. The poor 8th grade honors class wasn't so lucky. Rumor has it, they ended up snowed-in somewhere near the real estate office and had to resort to a little Donner-Party-Style-People-Flesh-Buffet to survive.

But that is just a rumor.

But all of my honors kidlets managed to make it back to the school safe and sound. Not a single cannibalistic bite mark or stray tire tread sidmarks on any of them.

Unfortunately, once they were back in the safe confines of the school, they managed to almost electrocute themselves rigging guitar hero to work with my LCD projector, successfully tripped three kids and one teacher with wii cords, and one lucky girl even managed to slip on a disguarded banana peel as she crossed the lunchroom on her way back to class.

Which left me wondering why I worry so much about taking the little darlings on field trips when there are apparently more than enough ways for them to off themselves within the walls of my cute little school.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get some rest. The vending machine people just refilled the hot and spicy Cheetos row, so that means I am going to be spending more than a little time pulling them out of noses this week.

Herding cats.

Cute, sweet, dorky cats.

With hot Cheetos stuck in their nostrils.

And speaking of dorks....stay tuned for another Missionary Phone Call Post. Hooray for Mother's Day!