May 6, 2010 Brace yourselves… I’m about to trigger your
Fight-or-Flight response (probably just the Flight part,
actually)… If you ever get the chance to chaperone a 7th grade
field trip, do it. (I hear you gasping in shock & abject
horror. Really, I do. I understand, but hear me out.) My oldest son
is 13 years old. He’s awesome, and I don’t just say that because
I’m extremely biased (well, I am extremely biased, but his teachers
tell me he’s awesome, too, so I know my bias isn’t totally making
me a liar). I am absolutely thrilled that my 13-year-old son asked
if I would chaperone his field trip; I realize that the days are
slipping by far too quickly and that if I blink for a second too
long I’ll open my eyes to see him graduating from high school. I
was going to ask him if he’d be cool with me chaperoning, but he
asked me before I could bring it up, right when he handed me the
permission slip. How cool is that?! Of course, I agreed. Today I
rode on a big, yellow school bus, people. I haven’t been on a
school bus in, well, forever, and it was really, really fun.
(Simple things, simple minds, I know.) I’ve been way too busy to
give any thought to whether or not the kids in my group would
behave &/or have any fun. That little thought occurred to me
when we got off the bus (yes, I said a little prayer–“Please, God,
let this go well today.”) I absolutely could not have asked for a
better group of kids. Me–middle-aged, tiny, oddball Me– with ten
7th grade boys & girls, for the whole day. And they were
amazing. They were all so smart and incredibly witty. They
participated in every activity, and not in that
I’m-Far-Too-Cool-For-This-But-I’ll-Do-It-Because-You’re-Making-Me
kind of way either. THEY chose what we did, all day, and they were
genuinely excited to do it all. They played Civil War Jeopardy in a
brilliant cut-throat manner. They ran the obstacle course, marched
in formation, played the banjo & the jawbone, and learned gun
drills (with fake Civil War-era rifles, of course). And they asked
REAL, intelligent, insightful questions at every single event we
did today. At lunch, they all said that the trip was way more fun
than they thought it was going to be, and, bless their little
middle-school hearts, they said it was the best group they’ve ever
had on a field trip. I can not begin to describe how thrilled I was
to see that my awesome kid’s extended friends, the ones I hadn’t
met yet, are just as cool as he is. And, really, I’m not biased.
(Next week I get to chaperone my sixth-grader’s trip to the Museum
of Science & Industry. I can. not. WAIT!) (And even though
they’ll most likely never read this, I just have to say it)…
Guys, I had a fantastic time with you today. You are all amazing,
smart, funny people, and I couldn’t have spent my day off in a
better way than getting to hang out with all of you. Now, as Bill
Cosby would say, I told you that story so I could tell you this
one. OK, not exactly, but I had to sing the praises of my awesome
field trip group, and I MUST share this following little story with
all of you in the same post because, well, it illustrates my
overall viewpoint as of late really well. Just follow me here, OK?
As most of you know, I help in running a local volunteer soccer
program. For the most part I really enjoy this work; the months
right before the beginning of a season are extremely chaotic, but
that all falls away once the season begins and you get to see all
of those kids having so much fun. This season has been, well,…
hmm. Odd. Trying. Tiring. Overall, really, really hard. Not because
of the work, or because of the usual lack of volunteers. That, I
have found, comes part-and-parcel to running any all-volunteer
organization. I’m probably going straight to hell in a handbasket
for saying it, but the problem is the parents. Example #1: A player
accidentally steps on the foot of another player’s mom during team
pictures (team pictures for 400 kids is barely-controlled chaos,
but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that). Mom is wearing
flip-flops, player, of course, is wearing soccer cleats.
Absolutely, without a doubt, an accident. Mom wants to “file a
complaint” and wants to know who is going to pay for the toe x-ray
she’s certain she’s going to need. (Yes, I very nicely told her
that WE would NOT be paying for it.) (Please tell me that your
Internal “Really, the NERVE of some people” alarm is going off.)
Example #2: (And this one is way more serious than Example #1,
which I found humorous on many levels). Teenaged Player used bad
language on the field during a game. The referee gave him a
warning. Mom of said player, instead of reminding her child what
language is acceptable and what is not, marched out onto the field
and proceeded to confront & threaten the referee. Mom was then
ejected from the game, which concluded without incident. After the
game, Mom called the coach to complain further. Coach talked on the
phone with Mom all the way home, where he pulled into his driveway
only to have Mom pull in right behind him. SHE WENT TO HIS HOUSE,
PEOPLE!! That is wrong on, like, a String Theory number of levels.
I feel the need for scientific notation to properly and truthfully
address the number of levels on which that is just so very, very,
beyond the boundary of “Acceptable.” Is this REALLY what a
multitude of grown adults have become? And, more importantly, do we
really have the right to be irritated by irrational, selfish
teenagers if this is how their parents behave? I think it’s saying
A LOT when I admit that ten 7th graders restored my faith in
humanity today.