I should have realized that something about the environmental
education field trip was amiss when my son’s teacher sent out an email pleading
for volunteers. I ignored the email; I don’t chaperone. The email was followed
by a phone call. I wanted to ignore the call, but I wasn’t completely sure it
was related to the field trip or some unforeseen mischief on my son’s part.
That is how I became the chaperone for eleven fifth graders to a picturesque
conservation park complete with wetlands, irrigated turf, scenic trails,
conservation areas, and mud bogs.
The night before my sentinel duty I didn’t sleep well. Along with the
idea that being outnumbered by a small army of kidlets is disastrously unwise, I
am also not a nature lover. I don’t mind
the occasional walk by the serene river, especially if the path beside the
tranquil water is paved. I love the
clean fresh smell a heavy rain leaves in its wake. I prefer the documentaries on the Discovery Channel
to the authenticity of the forest. The idea of trekking up a mountain, for the
sake of trekking up a mountain, boggles my mind. Mostly though, I don’t like
bugs, spiders, small slithery things, or rodents.
My anxiety was misplaced. It wasn’t the kids (they were fabulous), it
wasn’t the terrain (my pride wouldn’t
allow wheezing in front of eleven fifth grade explorers), it wasn’t even the
bugs (I bathed myself in bug spray) that ruined my expedition into the majesty
of Mother Nature. It was Forest Grove. No, I didn’t assign him that asinine
title; he introduced himself that way. He was our guide. He was also very
sanctimonious, unpleasant, hypercritical, and smug. He berated the kids
constantly. He spent a full five minutes lecturing one boy (in front of our
entire group) on why he should be wearing his name tag where Forest Grove could
clearly see it. It was hard to witness the tirade, so I stepped in and stated
that I thought the kid completely understood the importance of name tag
visibility. I followed by advising all the children to make sure their name
tags were visible to Forest Grove. Grove haughtily responded that he used to be
a fifth grade teacher. To my way of thinking, that was even more reason that
the fruit cake, self-titled, Forest Grove should have stopped his verbal
embarrassment of an adolescent (I hold him to a higher standard because he was
educated to teach and facilitate the learning of children). When one unfortunate
girl smacked at her calves because she had ants crawling on her, he loudly
condemned her for not wearing the proper clothes. When another girl asked if
she could keep the moose bones she had found, Forest Grove, obviously horrified, proclaimed, “The forest belongs to EVERYONE!”
I was worried about my young charges as we followed fanatical Forest Grove through the woods. Were they having
fun? Were they upset about the rabid, condescending tone Forest Grove used when
one courageous soul was brave enough to ask a question? They had
enthusiastically anticipated this trip, was it a disappointment? During the
lunch break, I asked my adolescent companions if they were enjoying the natural
beauty of our surroundings. It was heartening to discover that my worries were
unfounded. They all were having a very good time. Kids are truly amazing. They
can be mistreated and degraded by the people who are supposed to introduce and ignite
new interests for them, and still tell you about all the wondrous things they
discovered. I realized that I had also enjoyed the camaraderie of my adolescent
environmentalists, in spite of Forest Grove. And to add a cherry on top the sundae
of a field trip I found myself partaking of, one smart young girl proclaimed
that she simply planned to hang out in close proximity to me because, “… that Forest
Grove is some kinda crazy!”
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