Searching For Summer... An Honor's Kidlet Quest-let

Once upon a time, many hours ago, the Honor's English class set out on a quest... a quest to find summer.

The "summer" they were seeking wasn't the nine-week vacation from school. No, the wealth of experience they had gained during their long 13 years of life had taught them that "summer: the vacation," would eventually arrive. They were searching for something much more elusive: the actual season of "summer".

Most had heard tales of this "summer" from those who had ventured beyond our state's boarders to places where the growing season lasts longer than the audition phase of American Idol. A lucky few had even experienced "summer" after managing, though some fortuitous stoke of fate, to be awake and in town that week at some point in the past.

These brave crusaders believed in a "summer" camping trip that wouldn't require snow shovels and multiple pairs of long underwear. They hoped for "summer" swimming lessons that won't start with breaking a layer of ice off the top of the pool. They longed to play baseball on a field, instead of in a giant puddle of mud.

The kidlets wanted summer, darn it. And they wanted it now.
And so, after spending the supposed "spring months" doing some honor's level shivering, this brave group of over-achievers decided to sacrifice some of their pre-finals-study-time to track down our wayward warm weather.

This particular group of kidlets was able to make this quest because they met a very strict list of extremely rigorous qualifications: 1) their class time occurred during the universally accepted time frame of lunch, 2) they all returned signed permission slips, and 3) they didn't set anything in the classroom on fire that one time I had to run something down to the office during class.

Also, unlike the communications kidlets pictured below, they did not use their allotted 4th quarter class presentation time to demonstrate the process of dressing a very unfortunate cat in a onesie. Now, that's not to say that they wouldn't have done it had the thought occurred to them, because I'm sure they would have. The point is that they made it through the semester without any incidents of animal cruelty and/or humiliation. So, unlike the com. kidlets, the honors English kids got to take a "field trip" a bit further from the classroom than the vending machines outside the lunchroom.
Dressed in hooded sweatshirts and armed with an impressive store of knowledge that included memorized car insurance commercials and a slightly skewed sense of direction, they set out on their search for summer.

Also counted amongst their list of assets was their teacher/leader/inspiration, Miss H, who occasionally shouted out helpful advice such as, "Cross the street in a group!", "Stay out of people's yards, "Don't wave back to strangers in windowless vans", and "Don't pick up random jack rabbits by the ears unless you brought hand sanitizer with you!"

Besides shouting out helpful advice, Miss H spent the majority of her time counting and recounting kidlets in an attempt to make sure that none of them took the opportunity to escape from the field trip, return to the school, and take as many extra finals as they could before 3rd hour ended. Honors kidlets are weird like that.

Seventeen minutes and 34 car insurance commercial reenactments later, the kidlets arrived at their destination, the local symbol of summer: Dairy Queen!

They spent a great deal of time perusing the menu, hoping to order the most summerish items possible.

Then they packed themselves into the sun room part of the dining area, dipping fries in ice cream, drinking fry sauce, and soaking up the warm rays of sunshine.

As long as they didn't think about the rain clouds on the horizon or the 4th hour final they had waiting for them back at the junior high, it was easy for them to pretend that the elusive summer weather had arrived at last.

They were happy. And a little sticky. And, owing to the fact that they were almost 8th graders, kind of smelly.


They were so pleased with the results of their quest for summer, they managed to be model customers. They were polite. They used their inside voices, even when singing along with the dining atmosphere background muzak. They chewed with their mouths closed and kept the kidlet carnage to a minimum.

The physical carnage, that is. The level of emotional carnage caused by this little outing has somehow remained constant over the years.

All too soon, it was time for the kidlets to return to the school. Unfortunately, the combination of leaving the exaggerated warmth warmth of the glass sun room, consuming vast amounts of frozen treats, and the day's very unsummerish windchill, resulted in a return to their shivering status quo.

They didn't waste any time waving to strangers in windowless vans or trying to catch stray jack rabbits. Once the school was in sight, they started jogging towards their warm classroom and their waiting finals.

Of course, I guess they just could have looked like they were jogging due to the 35 mph wind gusts blowing in the general direction of their finals.

But either way, they couldn't get in those doors fast enough. Excited to get back to school? Honors kidlets are weird like that.

After a short period of reflection, and a mass exodus to the washrooms, the kidlets decided their quest was a success. They had tasted "summer", the freedom, the warmth, and the sweetness, the cups upon cups of free, chug-able fry sauce... if only for one brief moment. And now they could face the rest of finals week with the hope of better things to come...

... like after-school-desk-naps with dreams of nine weeks of empty creative writing turn-in boxes. At least, that was the hope of one of the summer searchers. Honors teachers are weird like that.

Want to see more photos of field trip traumatized Miss H? check out the posts from the first three DQ honors walks...

The Original DQ Adventure, 2008

Wild Kingdom Kidlet DQ Migration, 2009

Frozen Treats for Frozen Kidlets, 2010

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!

Wild Kingdom: The field trip files

Today on Animal Planet, we explore the natural wonder of the honors kidlet’s DQ migration.


Join us as we follow a herd of honors kidlets as they travel across streets and fields, through neighborhoods and parking lots, led by an inborn desire to eat ice cream and French fries, today on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.

The migration of the honors kidlets is a seasonal occurrence. While there is no set date for the exodus to begin, scientific observers have recorded various signs that mean the kidlets are preparing to begin their journey. The most obvious of these signs is the change that occurs in the habitat of the leader of the kidlet’s herd, more commonly known as the “teacher”. The piles of permission slips, along lingering reminders of the “teacher’s” mortality, show that the "teacher" is noticing the students agitated state that signals their need to be herded towards the Dairy Queen.


This biological phenomenon is actually an adaptation that the honors kidlet s have made in response to changes to Idaho’s educational climate. Historically, the honors kidlets have followed a migration pattern from their home territory to the wilds of Twin Falls where their natural instincts led them on a path through movie theaters, restaurants, and museums. That path has changed significantly over the past two years, as global economic cooling as has made state legislators increasingly hostile toward all things education-related.

But despite this sad, politically motivated scaling back of their migration territory, the wild and woolly kidlets still find joy in their short walk in the sunshine, far away from the cave they were confined to during the previous months. Notice how, motivated by a common goal, one kidlet assists another who has become to exhausted to continue on. The sense of community increased significantly among a herd of kidlets during DQ migration time.

Of course, as with all wild creatures, that sense of community is drowned out by their overwhelming natural instinct to be first in line one their destination is in sight. It is not uncommon for kidlets who normal exhibit a very strong bond to turn against each other when blizzards are at stake.

One aspect of the kidlet's migratory experience that still baffles zoologists is the dietary choices made by the kidlets once they claw their way to the front of the line. One of the purposes of traveling over a mile to the DQ is to graze on foods that are not available to them back in their home habitat. The food provided at the home habitat on migration day was chicken strips and French fries. And what did the vast majority of the herd order after walking for 20 minutes? Chicken strips and French fries. Unfortunately, even with further research, this phenomenon might never be explained.

The half-way point of the migratory experience is signaled by the "teacher" counting the herd of grazing kidlets to ensure that none of them have wandered away...

...followed by the "teacher" taking a few moments to remember why she agrees to do this every year. Behavioral Zoologists think that the "teacher's" inability to remember and learn from past migratory experiences by avoiding future migratory experiences might be explained by the emotional beating they receive from the tribal leaders in Boise each year, but those studies are also ongoing.

Once the kidelts have finished grazing and the "teacher" has regained her will to live, the return journey begins. While the initial one mile walk to DQ is fueled by hunger and motivated by a desire for unhealthy , yet delicious food, the return journey is fueled by sugar and motivated by a desire to return to the kidlet's most natural state...

...being plugged into a video game. While the kidlets find the video game experience to be pleasant in any situation, playing things like Guitar Hero in a location where educational and not fun usually reigns supreme appears to give the kidlets an extra surge of happiness-inducing chemicals into their already sugar-saturated systems.

The end of the migration is usually signaled by the physical and emotional collapse of the "teacher" once the kidlets have moved on to their 4B classes. Occasional muttered outbursts of, "Stay together! Why won't you stay together?" and "There is no extra credit for snorting two spoonfuls of blizzard up your nose," may still be heard by any observers brave enough to approach the "teacher" after the migration. Thank your for joining us as we followed the wild south Idaho kidlet on its annual DQ migration. For more information about this wildlife phenomenon, click Here To donate to the "Save the Teachers Fund" send a lot of chocolate to my school. It may not be tax deductable but it is a much more worthy cause than saving a lot of other furry or feathery things. I promise.