Friday, October 3, 2008
The things we do for our kids. That time it was hooking worms.
It was a beautiful spring day. We walked as in a work release program, single file. The first grade teacher, various moms, dads, younger siblings, and the first graders themselves.
I remember enjoying the day with Meego riding papoose-style in the backpack as I hooked a few worms and watched trout being caught. The trout never had a chance. So it goes at trout ponds.
Wolfgang's first grade fishing field trip. I think that was the last field trip I'd gone on with him. Until yesterday.
Yesterday was the annual 8th grade scavenger hunt / natural spring analysis field trip to the poor unsuspecting hippie community just outside our fair city. Boy how kids change from first grade to eighth. I agreed to be a parent helper since Wolfgang actually asked me to go, and I had gone last year with Chaco's 8th grade.
It's not for the weak.
Each parent volunteer is matched up with a group of 6 - 10 eighth graders and expected to keep them happily together and on task until the mission is complete. The mission includes doing scientific analysis on various natural springs within an area of a about a 1/2 - mile radius. Oh, and while doing that, find and identify about 30 historical sites.
I was in charge of 7 boys and was sort of lamenting the fact that there were no girls in our group... until I observed some of the girls from other groups. Eighth grade, remember? So anyway, my young charges and I survived the day, and I'm glad to say that I didn't lose any of them. Although, if I never hear the word "Dude!" spoken in a squeaky male pubescent voice ever again, I won't be disappointed
But really, it was lots of fun. First of all, I'm glad that our older kids still actually want me to attend these things and are okay with admitting that, yes, I am their mother. And it's nice to get to know some of the kids Wolfgang spends his school days with. No, we're not going in The Hemp House. No, I'm not buying beer for the group. Nice try. The weather was perfect, and it's always fun to rub elbows with hippies and assorted weirdos, present company included.
I've got 5 more years until Meego is in eighth grade. Maybe I can get the Patchouli oil smell out of my clothes by then