Monday, May 20, 2013

Some Kinda Crazy

I am not the PTA Mom perfected. I don’t actually belong to the PTA, and I don’t actually enjoy sizable groups of children. Furthermore, I don’t like congregating with their parents. However, I do attend all the school functions; primarily because my son has some health issues and I need to be able to take him home if necessary. I am not usually relied upon to act as a chaperone because there is the possibility that I may be leaving. This is not typically an issue as there are usually multitudes of mom or dad volunteers.

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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