One of the perqs of going to a Waldorf school are the fabulous field trips that the kids get to go on, especially as they get into the upper grades. Already this year, Nathaniel has been to the symphony, to see the King Tut exhibit at the science museum in Philadelphia, to the biodynamic farm of a classmate, and I’m sure I’m forgetting at least one other (blame it on lack of cream + lack of milk = no coffee today) besides the Greek pentathalon of last Friday in which Nathaniel’s not-even-close-to-how-far-I-usually-throw-it javelin throw earned him a 2nd place in his city-state of Athens.
Last year, Nathaniel’s class stayed in a hostel in the gold country of Colorado and took a train ride and toured old mines. This year’s eighth grade is going to Brazil. Or some country in South America. But still! Last year’s eighth grade in Colorado went white-water rafting. These are serious trips here.
By contrast, about the only field trip I remember was visiting the Hershey’s factory in the 3rd grade. Hmm, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? Point taken. Watching thousands of little Hershey’s Kisses being squeezed out was probably the highlight of that whole year. But in other trips, like in the 4th grade trip to the local fire station, I was horribly and irretrievably frightened by the potential of fire in my house, which scarred me for life and resulted in irrational fears of fire for years afterward. I can’t remember much else in the way of trips except the trip to the gold country in California in the 5th grade where I gave my pink Cinderella watch to a chaperone to hold while I panned for gold in a slimy wooden trough, coming back to find that she had already given the watch to some other girl, she had no idea which one, that she thought was me. How. Dare. She. Which I have never forgiven her for.
Carrying grudges for years? Why yes, what makes you ask?
Yesterday Nathaniel left on a most excellent adventure: his class embarked on a camping trip deep in the wilds of Ohio at some place where there is hiking! and waterfalls! and caves! and camping! did I mention the camping!
So there we were, dutifully arriving at his school at 7:30 so they could optimistically be packed and ready to leave by 8:00.
Ha.
Let me say that again: ha.
Idealistic plans, I scoff at you! I say Ha!
At 7:30, the only people present were the teacher, her boyfriend who was going as a chaperone, one other parent who was also going as a chaperone, and a divorced parent who was there apparently to lend moral support and show off his huge pickup truck but alas his child was with her mom that morning.
We were all told, by the way, that they intended to leave by 7:45, so we should be there before that, like at 7:30. Nathaniel’s teacher called everyone the night before to tell us this.
When we got there, Eric got out of the car, walked over to the minivan that was being packed for the trip, got in, and said “Bye!”
After that he got out and accosted each of the three men who were there, demanding hugs (and getting them). Pickup Truck Dad let Eric climb into the truck bed and eventually onto the actual cab of the truck. I was cautioned to look away. Chaperone Dad let Eric sit in the driver’s seat of his old Saab and change all the presets on his stereo and operate the levers and switches. Boyfriend Man let Eric play with his beard.
Eric had the best time.
Most of the parents rolled into the parking lot right at the dot of 7:45, which was, of course, the time that the teacher claimed they’d be leaving. Right. So parents and kids milled around for awhile. Eventually the vehicle with all the food (plus the child belonging to Pickup Dad) arrived and everyone formed a human chain across the parking lot to get the food to the minivan where Eric was still thinking he had a chance at riding somewhere in.
Grapefruit, apples, bananas, clementines, boxes, and bags, all moving across the parking lot and being magically piled into a tiny space at the back of the van, an enormous pile of food to sustain 12 kids and four adults for one week.
I should mention that each child was told to pack everything into one single backpack-type bag, so everything would fit into the three vehicles. As near as I could tell, every child brought at least two such bags.
I have never seen so many fishing poles gathered together in one place before. This may be Nathaniel’s first chance to go fishing. We have discussed the relative morality of catch-and-release versus catch-and-eat, and we both came to the conclusion that being eaten is better than swimming around with your mouth torn and bleeding from being speared by a fishhook.
At 8:15, everyone noticed that one kid was still missing. Calls to his mom’s cell phone went unanswered.
At 8:35, the vehicles were packed, and the boys were all jammed into one of the minivans. Except the missing kid. All the girls are still milling about in the parking lot.
At 8:40, Missing Kid shows up with no explanation as to why he’s an hour late, and now has to ride with Chaperone Dad, even though all the other boys are now in the van together, even Chaperone Dad’s kid. A fitting punishment for such severe and unexplained lateness.
At 8:45, the teacher wants everyone out of the van so we can all make a big circle in the parking lot. By this time, Eric is dismantling the interior of my car and has removed both his shoes and the accompanying socks. Serena, by the way, stayed in the car the entire time, wishing we could simply drop Nathaniel off and then leave. Why didn’t we?
There is a photo taken of the campers which includes some stray younger siblings, and we make a circle and have a little blessing and they all get into their assigned vehicles. The boys are attempting to take apart those maddening little metal puzzles of links that won’t come apart that I would surely just throw out the window after 20 seconds, and doing Sudoku. It’s a very long way to Ohio.
At 8:56 am, I pull out of the parking lot, confident that they are all about to leave.
At 9:30 pm, I receive a call from Chaperone Dad’s wife, who is calling everyone to let us know that the kids arrived safely, though about 3 hours later than planned, at their campsite. I’ll see Nathaniel again on Saturday. I wonder whether he will use the towel they all had to pack, or any of the clothes beyond what he left wearing.
I’ll miss him.
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