My friend, B, always enjoyed school field trips;
first as a wide-eyed child,
and later as an adult chaperon to little kids.
"I was firm, though", B tells me,
"especially when they asked;
and you could count on someone asking...
and when they did I'd reply,
"Sorry, i don't carry kids' jackets.”
Ten years in Special Ed. and I know that line well.
Today I almost fell for 12 voices (17?) crying,
“Mrs. Harris will you hold my water bottle?”
I actually did for cave in for one student,
thereby avoiding a huge fit.
I remember clearly, the field trip to the zoo.
and would not stop screaming at the top of her lungs.
Occasionally it’s all entertaining and worth the effort.
A quiet hand went up.
"Yes?", she asked.
“Excuse me, (so polite) but when are you going to be done?”
I took him aside and gave the requisite lecture:
“NOT an appropriate question; rude...blah, blah, blah".
Later, a discussion about dogs in non-fiction:
“I call it the information section.” intones Librarian.
Good idea, I always have to stop and think.
“I have a dog named Penny!” yells one.
“I do, too!” “
"Are they Goldens”, asks Librarian?
Of course they are,
because our Golden’s name is Penny, also.
And we thought we were so clever.
Walking back, crossing the catwalk over the highway,
I hear talk about throwing something over,
"How about throwing someone over?"
Back on solid asphalt:
"Get out of the road,
walk in a straight line,
hurry up,
no running,
stay behind the teacher."And repeat, 45 times.
On the walk I tripped twice; going and coming.
Embarrassing, but no one seemed to notice.
I narrowly missed a bad sprain.
Lucky though, we all made it unscathed.
Except for the sunburned, exhausted one
who wondered when the whole field trip would be over.
He had private one-on-one math and puzzle time to settle down.
Home now, and I want a nap,
but Penny was stuck in her pen all day,
needs a run around the back yard.
Of course I will dutifully take care of her.
I just hope I don’t trip.
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