“Why would a school librarian go on a field trip?” you might ask.
“Why not?” is my first response until I consider the fact that the original question actually is a good one and deserves a more serious consideration.
The way her schedule is set up all the classes from the same grade have library time on the same day. The grade scheduled to travel would usually go to the library on the day of the trip. Rather than leave the library vacated for an extended period of time, someone decided to send the librarian along to assist in the overseeing of the group.
Upon hearing of this, I thought back to various school-sponsored trips I’ve been on in the past.
In my experience, field trips were typically a good thing. Even at the most boring and inane locations you were out of school, and thus, removed from homework. Sure, sometimes you were required to fill out a worksheet or two, but the collective groupthink of your friends and seatmates would push you through the answers quickly. Besides, it was obviously busy work that was not to be treated (or graded) seriously. The goal was to fill in the blanks and get on to the business at hand.
Of course, bucking the agenda was usually the key to having a good time. The best stuff usually wasn’t included in the school-approved itinerary (or if it did make it, you knew it wouldn’t be included on a return trip). One had to look for the opportunities between the life-sized models and display-cased reproductions. It may be hidden in plain sight or down a little-traveled wing, but it was always out there.
I think I did a good job of discovering and/or blundering into extra opportunities on these trips:
I’ve played tag using the two ends of the St. Louis arch as “base.” We were supposed to go on a ride on a riverboat, but the great flood of ’93 flooded the road to the dock, among other things.
I’ve even had my camera’s film confiscated on a trip to Whiteman Air Force Base. Even pre-9/11, the government really didn’t like people taking pictures of stealth bombers rolling out of their hanger. It’s a security issue of some sort.
I’ve temporarily blinded an emu. If you put a ball cap that is adjusted for the circumference of a human’s head onto the smaller head of the flightless Australian bird, the hat has the tendency to fall forward, subsequently blocking the eyes of the bird that will begin bucking and flapping to regain its sight (which also makes it even more difficult to retrieve the hat).
I was on a trip where the entire 8th grade got stoned. For the record, taking students to the local aerosol plant is NEVER a good idea. Taking students into small rooms with lots of chemicals in the air is guaranteed to systematically make the whole crew high (I would suppose that’s the only way people can be convinced to go back to a job like day after day). I experienced brief drop in IQ based on that trip. I base this belief on a book report I wrote after I returned from the gassing. My musings on a “silly” and “funny” events were based on, “Across Five Aprils,” a book about the American Civil War. The chapter being reviewed featured the tragic death of a main character. Re-reading my work the next day, I asked myself, “Was I high or something?” and realized that, yes, for once I was. And it was my teacher’s fault.
After thinking of these misadventures, I began to look at it from the chaperone’s perspective. Trying to keep the heard moving and not getting into too much trouble must be difficult. Between those who are searching for trouble and those who can’t seem to avoid it, it’s a crazy job.
I quickly developed a list of things chaperones would never want to say. Since then, I carefully crafted them into an order in which (I hope) they make up part of a story. As always, the best details are hidden between the lines, but I hope I’ve given you all enough to imagine.
So here’s “The Chaperone’s Laments”
“What do you mean, the field trip was switched to today? I’m wearing heels.”
“Kids. Would you stop singing ‘The song that never ends?’ The bus driver seems to be developing a facial tic and I’d prefer Mr. Hanson keep his eyes glue to the road.”
“Roger. Next time, tell someone you’re feeling ill rather than simply sticking your head out the window. The four rows behind who also had their windows open would appreciate it.”
“Why are we crossing a river? Why are we ‘Now entering Illinois’? We not supposed to cross state lines on a trip. Would someone tell Mr. Hanson to double-check his map, please.”
“No, I don’t think we should stop for directions… Because I’m worried about the bus retaining its hubcaps, and other parts, should we stop in this area of town.”
“Don’t cry Suzie. I’m sure the bus driver was only joking when he dropped us off and swore he was never coming back.”
“Please stay in a line kids. If one of you got killed I’d be deprived of the opportunity to do it myself. What’s that Tommy? No, no, I wasn’t muttering anything.”
“Don’t poke that with a stick! You’ll only make it madder. Turning red is a sign in nature that a creature is mad. Yes, kinda like Mr. Hanson.”
“George! Get off that. It obviously doesn’t like you riding it. George. George! How did that kid get in that cage anyway?”
“Lightning? What’s next, locusts? Knock on wood, I don’t want to be right. At least it will finally force the kids inside.”
“Where are the mannequin’s pants? You there, take those off and get out of that historical diorama! General Washington, the father of our country, did not fight the British only to have you steal his pantaloons.”
“Get off that! If the sign says, ‘Don’t touch,’ it also implies don’t climb. The broken shards of the first panel you clambered on also should have been a clue.”
“Where are your shoes? What do you mean you left them back in the cage? Tell you what, I’ll go back and look for them. Why? Because that’s what teachers do. Why? Presently, I don’t know.”
“You want to know why I’m wet and walking funny? When heading back out to the petting zoo, between the mud and the animal dung, my left heel chose that time to snap. No, they don’t pay me enough for this; not that I suppose they ever could.”
“Who drew mustaches on the Victorian portraits? Was it the same person who left Cheezz-E Doodles finger prints on the marble bust? I swear to… Yes, Pauline swearing is bad. I’ll try to remember that. What? I’m gritting my teeth because it makes me feel better.”
“Would someone kindly inform the tour guide that Roger lost his lunch all over the facsimile teepee. And be sure to thank him for his “used every part of the buffalo” speech with it s colorful examples that prompted the liquidation.”
“What idiot stocked the gift shop with genuine blow dart pipes. Each pack comes with 20 pieces of ammo. Twenty! I bought four just to be able to defend myself on the ride home.”
“The students are all outside pushing each other into the lake or something. I just wanted to sit down for five minutes and not be disturbed. Sigh… Do you smell smoke?”
“Go inside and apologize one more time to the tour guide for the teepee that got set on fire. At least he won’t have to worry about Roger’s stain. I’m going to go meet with Mr. Hanson and, if necessary, beat him into submission with my busted heel.”
“I don’t care about union rules. I’m covered by union rules too and did it stop any of this? No! Don’t push me. No jury I the world would convict me after what I’ve been through. Now do I start pummeling again, or can we reach a ‘compromise’?”
“On the bus kids, quick, on the bus. No we’re not going to do a count. If we find we’re missing one, then we’d have to go searching. If the parents love these scamps so much, they can drive back up here and look themselves.”
“Sigh… If you can’t beat ‘em… This is the song that never ends… Yes, it goes on and on my friend…”
