After publishing an amazing two posts in one month, I decided to go for broke and try posting a third. That’s right, I am going to tempt fate itself, cause fate to come out of hiding, and lead fate into an amazing trap of my own cunning and devisementation. Several dozens of people that I mentioned this to were quite put off by my rather brusque and pushy attitude. However to a man, they all came to the same conclusion: they were going to call the police if I continued to bother them while they were enjoying their value meals. I then decided upon a new approach, that I would show a tender side to my ever-lackadaisical audience.
Now I have been blessed in having a lovely wife and three children that are absolute humdingers. They are just the cat’s meow and bee’s knees. Like you, I have no idea what any of those phrases mean, but I’m sure they’re just plain aces. My daughter, Agincourt, is four years old and just started preschool this year. Odds are this will probably be the only year of her schooling that I will ever have a fighting chance in helping her with her homework successfully, so I am naturally interested in her education. This I do by asking her questions and feigning fascination with every detail I hear much like all parents do. (Sorry to burst your bubble, but it is true. Your parents didn’t listen to your nattering any more than their parents listened to them and so on back through to infinity. My parents were even more cruel when I would explain things to them. They would take extensive notes and then ask me to shred them when I was done talking.)
But on to brighter subjects! Today was the day of the field trip to the pumpkin patch. About 25 odd children, 2 normal ones, and their respective parents and grandparents, along with those that weren’t respected, all gathered together to participate on this journey. I had forgotten how much I loved travelling by school bus to any location. Then I remembered that I have never loved that. Yet despite my preconceived notions, we boarded the bus. What happened next had me too shocked for words.
This bus was a thing of luxury compared to the rusty sweatboxes that I had to experience. I remember the pungent diesel fumes, combined with the fact that they finally got the heater fixed by Memorial Day. I remember the fact that no one cared that there was but one emergency exit that was welded shut in the rear of the bus. I remember that we never had luggage racks above the seats; we were lucky if there was enough room for your knees as long as you didn’t breathe.
So I was prepared for some clunky decrepit pile of yellow sadness that decided that having shocks would be too expensive long, long ago. Instead I saw a gleaming golden chariot of scholastic transport. Immediately I was angered. These children need to experience the mobile hell that I and others of the surrounding generations experienced. They needed a bus driver that was too concerned with lighting her cigarette rather than paying attention to road signs. Where was the multitude of odors that the bevy of students imbedded into the seat cushions? Where were the sudden stops that drove the back of the seat in front of you into your temple? These kids would miss out on all of these experiences and that is a terrific wrong that might never be righted.
The pumpkin patch had all of the usual refinements: a corn maze, a tractor ride, feeding goats, a sing-along in a barn, and of course picking a pumpkin. There was also a full-fledged playground to boot. She got her pumpkin, played on the playground, fed the goats, sang along, enjoyed the tractor ride, and went through the maze. My daughter and the rest of the kids had a blast, which was the point of the whole exercise. Field trips are the greatest events during schooling and they occur less and less with each passing school year. (The only way you get a field trip in later school years is if you manage to get yourself injured, but I don't recommend this path for anyone save for the extremely bored student at any public grade school or a regular student at any Lutheran school.*)
I think the biggest lesson I learned while on going along on this field trip is that I am actually a parent. Now yes, I had an inkling that I was a parent before today. After all, there are pictures that show me having been in at least two hospital rooms holding several babies, so I must be a father. But just watching my daughter with this group of kids, experiencing these things for the first time, enjoying herself, and then beaming with a wonderful smile up at me all the while holding my hand. Well, it just felt like the rollercoaster of my adult life has taken another turn towards maturity, a turn that I’ve normally fought rather successfully over the years. Amazing how simple a field trip to a pumpkin patch on a rather blustery day can bring about such perspective.
Of course this entire day also brought about a more pressing matter. I am going to buy the most dilapidated, tetanus infested, garbage bus that I can find and drive kids around for no apparent reason for hours on end. They will never truly grow up if they never are involved with that mode of transportation. I’m sure this sounds like sour grapes on my part, but I assure you, it only sounds like sour grapes because it is sour grapes on my part. How can they call it schooling if the kids aren't going to learn everything about the school experience? They'll thank me later. Perhaps I'll be so effective, they will write annoying blogs about me someday.
*"Now Ben," you may be saying, "why this random dig at Lutheran grade school kids? You were going along so nicely and even had a touching moment and then you went ahead and spoiled it. Remember you went through the Lutheran grade school system too, young man!" Well, I warrant that my seemingly unwarranted dig was indeed warrantable. You see at the same time our group of preschoolers showed up, a similarly sized group of kids from a Lutheran childcare center arrived for their field trip. Hey great, this is all well and good, I begrudge no child of any religious background the chance to run through a corn maze. However this group's unpardonable sin was failing to notify the farm in question that they were even arriving this day. How this managed to happen is bewildering. That group obviously got the message out to their group, had the bus set up for the trip, had plenty of parents along for the trip, and even had it on their school's online calendar which I checked when I got home. But they just decided to not bother to schedule with the farm they were going to? Pretty sloppy, if you ask me.
The zero sum game of this little error meant that they had to keep shuffling our groups around to make sure that we weren't overflowing one section of the farm all at once. The farm employees handled it very well and took it in stride, yet this meant that due to the moving around, our group, which was scheduled I remind you, had to cut short several points of interest along the way. So this short sheeted the experience with our kids at the farm, which royally put me off.
I don't care what your school group's religious background is, but when you come barging in uninvited and spoil my kid's chances to pet llamas and feed pigs because you took your own sweet time in the petting zoo portion of the farm then GAME ON!
*"Now Ben," you may be saying, "why this random dig at Lutheran grade school kids? You were going along so nicely and even had a touching moment and then you went ahead and spoiled it. Remember you went through the Lutheran grade school system too, young man!" Well, I warrant that my seemingly unwarranted dig was indeed warrantable. You see at the same time our group of preschoolers showed up, a similarly sized group of kids from a Lutheran childcare center arrived for their field trip. Hey great, this is all well and good, I begrudge no child of any religious background the chance to run through a corn maze. However this group's unpardonable sin was failing to notify the farm in question that they were even arriving this day. How this managed to happen is bewildering. That group obviously got the message out to their group, had the bus set up for the trip, had plenty of parents along for the trip, and even had it on their school's online calendar which I checked when I got home. But they just decided to not bother to schedule with the farm they were going to? Pretty sloppy, if you ask me.
The zero sum game of this little error meant that they had to keep shuffling our groups around to make sure that we weren't overflowing one section of the farm all at once. The farm employees handled it very well and took it in stride, yet this meant that due to the moving around, our group, which was scheduled I remind you, had to cut short several points of interest along the way. So this short sheeted the experience with our kids at the farm, which royally put me off.
I don't care what your school group's religious background is, but when you come barging in uninvited and spoil my kid's chances to pet llamas and feed pigs because you took your own sweet time in the petting zoo portion of the farm then GAME ON!
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