MFA field trip fallout -- The Friday Saga continues…
After the fiasco of accidentally balancing a priceless
masterwork painting on my head, the exhausting necessity of constantly counting
the number of students with our group, dodging sardine-can crowds, and running
from MFA security, we all board the buses to return to the school. The kids are more sedate than they were on
the trip down, but we still have several who refuse to follow the rules.
When going on a field trip, I have some very simple rules:
1. Keep all of your
body parts, whatever they may be, inside the bus at all times.
2. Don't throw
anything out of the windows unless it's a (dead) body.
3. No leaving trash
or yourselves or each other on the bus.
4. Always observe the
two-cheek rule.
Most of these rules are self-explanatory. Rule #4 always carries a codicil. It goes something like this: "You will observe the two-cheek
rule. This means that you are to have
two-cheeks touching the bus seat at all times.
Now, I don't care which two cheeks you want to use. If you want to paste your face to the bus
seat where people have put their rearends, that's entirely up to you. However, I recommend it be the two-butt-cheek
rule. If I see you disengage either one
or two of these cheeks from the seat, you will be sitting up here with
me."
Going to the museum, the boys get the back seats in the
bus. Coming back, the girls get the back
seats of the bus. Neither gender behaves
well in the way back. There's something
about waving to people behind us, trying to get trucks to honk their horns, and
sitting in a half-seat that makes the adolescent brain turn to useless
oatmeal. We have been relatively
successful with the two-cheek rule, only losing a few children to the center
aisle where they land squarely on their asses.
They think we're being punitive, but the reality is that someone can get
hurt hurtling from a seat if we hit a pothole (dozens) or take a sharp corner
(several). This is almost demonstrated
by me when I stand to discipline someone several rows away, and the driver
takes a sudden right turn. At the last
second, the social studies teacher says quietly, "Turn coming." Huh? "Turn coming." Whaaaah?
"You're gonna fall."
Oh, shit.
Luckily my foot slides to the right and I lean backward into
the two-wheel redirection. Thank
goodness, because I'm not sure I can stand any more humiliation after setting
off two laser alarms and doing the head-bang with paintings.
Upon our return to the school, we make (okay, they
volunteered) the entire bus dance the little routine one of the students made
up, taking up about seven seconds of time.
As the kids disembark, three sets of chaperones' eyes meet and say one
word in unison:
"Chili's." Yes, clearly
and unequivocally, this is a double-Margarita day.
When I finally set foot in my own home hours and some
tequila later, I feel like I haven't slept in days. I sit on the couch for what I believe will be
a minute or two then wake up about an hour later. I am wiped, totally and completely. I look outside, note that it's still light
out, and head for the store. I need salt
and head straight for the cracker aisle.
Two boxes of Cheezits, one box of Ritz, and one package of
peanut butter crackers later, I am returning to my car believing I've forgotten
something very important but cannot place it.
It isn't until much later that I remember what it is that I forgot: Wheat Thins and toilet paper. I forgive myself. After all, I've had a tough day.
I force myself to stay up until eleven o'clock, but I simply
cannot make it a moment more. I have an
epiphany as I head for bed, and it's an epiphany that sets the whole world
bass-ackwards. Out of all the things I
could've possibly learned today, including not to lean over near expensive
artwork, not to assume lunch duty in the packed caf after a long field trip
until I've peed, facing the back of the bus while going through a tunnel at
breakneck speed causes a nauseating optical illusion, and to watch out for
sudden turns while standing on a moving bus and yelling at kids for standing on
a moving bus due to sudden turns, yes, out of all these things… This is my epiphany:
Naps are wasted on the young.
Little kids get to take naps but don't want to; adults want
to take naps but don't get to.
And the best part is that I doze off and take a mini-nap
right here at the computer as I type this and think, "Wait a sec. What the hell
was my epiphany again? Sonofabitch. I don't know what the hell it is I was going
to type…"
But it comes to me.
Thankfully.
Oh yeah. The nap thing. The naaaappppp zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
(I'm just going to shut my eyes for a few seconds. Chat later.)
