Frickin' Field Trip

What is it about the month of July that makes the teachers of the Clark County School District - or more specifically, the teachers at my kids' school - decide it's a great frickin' time for a field trip?

Last year I was a newly-freed parolee from the prison of an multi-doctor ophthalmology practice (read: had just quit job and 18 year career to stay at home) and all that freedom went to my head. I volunteered of my own free will to be a chaperone on my daughter's fifth grade class's jaunt to the Hoover Dam. (Boulder Dam for us old-time natives) And just when did they decide to undertake this venture? Um, the second week of July.

Helloooooooo ?

We live in the frickin' desert, people!?!?!? It's 117' outside !!!

Why the hell can't we do a field trip in February or March? Is it because the teachers have cabin fever by July and just have to get out of doors? Is it because you get cheaper rates for admission for a bunch of rowdy elementary school kids? Why, oh why?

I'm not going to rehash the trip to the Dam 'cause that was last year and I posted about that after it happened - and after I recovered from the heatstroke. Scroll back through the archives for July of 2007 if you want the whole story.

But I will refresh your memory (or let you in on the joke) by recalling that I had a group of six kids I was to watch over throughout the trip. My mantra for the day was: one, two, three, four, five, six ... just counting each head and making sure the little hellions hadn't (a) been kidnapped by a crazed tourist (b) fallen over the side of the Dam (c) run out into traffic. And just so you know - I did return to the school with all six accounted for. But my sanity?

I left it somewhere on that school-bus-with-a-poor-excuse-for-air-conditioning.

Fast forward one year. Now my second-grader's class is going on a field trip to the Natural History Museum. I signed the permission slip the day he brought it home (four weeks ago) - because to not do so would have caused him to spontaneously burst into flames. He loves dinosaurs and there are dinos-a-plenty there - they even roar when you push a button on the display.

There was no place on the slip to volunteer to chaperone so I figured I had dodged the July-field-trip bullet.

Ha-ha-ha. Fate has a sense of humor, did you know that?

This past Monday, I got a call from my son's Very Sweet and Nice teacher, asking if I would be available to chaperone the field trip.

Of course, being the big spineless dork that I am, I agreed.

Thursday morning found me sitting in the school's office, (which also had iffy air conditioning) and waiting for the morning bell to ring so I could traipse down to the classroom. Happily, the other chaperone for the trip was the father of my son's dance partner from the talent show. He has a good, snarky sense of humor also, so that helped.

As the class lined up for last-minute potty breaks before boarding the buses, the Very Sweet teacher, the Girl's Dad and I were discussing how to divvy up the kids to watch over. Once that was settled, she mentioned that I should keep an eye on "Shawn." I agreed and asked her to point him out. She did. Turns out Shawn is the one with the four-inch Mohawk.

Oh. O.K.

Shawn has a bit of an attention-span problem, Teacher says.

Uh-huh.

Let's just spare you the gory details and sum up the rest of our day. The mantra from last year, when I was counting all the kids? Totally unnecessary this time. All 10 of my kids stayed close with the group - no one wandering off ... except for ... guess who.

Shawn.

My mantra for this most recent trip -all day - was ... "Shawn, turn around. Shawn, sit down. Shawn, don't stand on that. Shawn, don't touch that. Shawn, come back here. Shawn, sit down. Shawn, listen to the tour guide. Shawn, don't run. " (ad nauseum) Girl's Dad snickered at me and my mantra the entire day, by the way.

(Harrumph - that's OK though, HE had to go to the PTA meeting that night ... HA! With the exception of one woman, my friend Anne, they are all Scary Psychotic Control Beasts. )

I am happy to report that my son seemed to be aware of Shawn's 15-second attention span, and without any instruction or request from Teacher or myself - helped me herd that hyperactive little boy like a sheep dog all damn day. At one point, my kid had his arm around Shawn's shoulders, subtly trying to keep him focused on the tour guide. And let me tell you, my kid can be hyperactive like nobody's business some days.

That was the best part of the day.

Oh, and the air conditioning actually worked in our school bus.

Whew.