On Tuesday afternoon I received an email from Dee Dee’s teacher informing me that he hoped that I was still available to chaperone the field trip on Thursday morning.  The email directed me to check in with the front office and then go to Dee Dee’s classroom by 9:30AM Thursday morning.  I responded that I was, indeed, available and would be at the classroom at the requested time.  So, I made plans to be a chaperone and hoped that there wouldn’t be any further changes.  I told Dee Dee that I would be joining her on the field trip, after all.  Dee Dee sat, nonplussed for a few moments, and then finally said, “Oh.”  And, that was it. 

On Thursday morning, I sent Dee Dee into the school when the bell rang and then left Audio with her teacher.  I didn’t have to be at Dee Dee’s classroom until 9:30AM.  So, I lurked around the front of the building and had a couple quick chats with a couple of the other parents / chaperones who were going to do something else, like bring a dog home, or bring a kid to preschool before going inside.  I like to be early for things.  But, anything close to, or over 20 minutes is too early. 

A woman with a hooded child approached the door to the school and rang the bell near where I was standing.  After ringing the doorbell a few times without a response, a teacher who was still outside approached the woman.  The woman told the teacher that she was a parent / chaperone from the other second grade classroom, there for a field trip.  The teacher unlocked the front door and invited her inside.  Then, the teacher looked at me.  I figured it was all right for me to head inside and look for something to do to keep busy until 9:30AM instead of waiting and trying my luck with the doorbell. 

At the front desk, the principal scanned my ID and gave me a “Visitor” sticker to wear.  I went to Dee Dee’s room and spoke with her teacher for a few seconds in the hallway.  I offered to wait in the hallway while he got things going in the room.  He didn’t seem to understand my offer at first.  Then, he agreed that it might be best for me to wait in the hallway for a few minutes. 

Dee Dee must have heard my voice, and came to the door to say hi to me.  I watched as the last few stragglers showed up and went into the classroom.  One of the parents / chaperones arrived and after a few minutes of small talk, the teacher invited us into the classroom.  He invited us to find a chair or to join the group on the carpet, on the floor.  I found Dee Dee’s chair and pulled it close to the carpet where the kids were sitting.  The teacher was wearing a microphone and his voice was being broadcast through speakers on the walls and ceiling in the classroom. 

Eventually, the other parents / chaperones arrived and after a brief conversation about the fancy public address system in the room, we made our way outside to the bus.  Before we boarded the bus, the teacher announced that there were seventeen students with us.  It made sense to tell us that.  Then, he added that there were usually eighteen students.  I’m still not sure why he told us that.  Either way, the students from the other classroom were already on the bus and I was the last person to climb the stairs.  I said “Hi” to the bus driver.  He didn’t acknowledge me. 

I found Dee Dee towards that back of the bus and sat down with her.  It was immediately obvious that they’ve squeezed in an extra seat on school busses since I last rode one.  I haven’t grown since high school.  And, had no problem sitting comfortably in a bus in the 1980s.  But, even at 5’ 9” I had no place to put my legs!  To top it off, Dee Dee chose (or was assigned) the seat over the wheel.  I also don’t recall ever riding in any sort of vehicle that managed to find every bump and pothole in the road.  Before we even made it to the freeway, I was feeling car sick and my back was sore from getting a sharp jolt through my bottom and up my spine every few seconds.  Perhaps it was worse because we were right over the wheel.  Regardless, Dee Dee had fun on her first bus ride, and she said so a few times. 

The kids all did a good job of getting off the bus and walking into the building.  We were directed upstairs, where we waited for a couple minutes while students from other schools were being seated in the theater.  I had four of our students assigned to me.  There was Dee Dee, two girls that she is friends with, and a boy with a last name for a first name.  One of the girl’s shoes was untied.  I suggested she tie it.  But, other than that, I resisted the urge to be a dad to every kid I saw picking their nose, struggling with a zipper, or behaving a little goofy.  I even did my best to ignore the kid who sat next to me who had his shoes on the wrong feet, one of which was untiled.  Maybe he likes them that way. 

The “play” was interesting.  It was supposed to be based on the life of an Ethiopian woman who was the first African woman to win an Olympic gold medal.  But the show was actually a group of Ethiopian gymnasts who did various athletic routines to music.  Before the show started, a boy from a different school, sitting behind me, started kicking my seat.  I was relieved when an adult came and sat next to the boy. Unfortunately, the guy joined in with the boy on the job of kicking my seat, showing the boy how a man does it.  When the show started, they both stopped.  Dee Dee sat on my right and found the whole thing entertaining, whispering many things to me that I wasn’t able to hear over the music.   

After about a half hour of jumping, tumbling, and surprisingly suggestive rolling around together on the floor, there was an intermission.  Along with about half of the kids in the theater, the boy with a last name for a first name wanted to use the restroom.  I did my best to keep an eye on him.  But, as much as I was interested in being aware of all of the children dashing up the aisle and through the hallways to the restrooms, Last-Name-First was not, and he ducked and weaved his way through the crowd out of my sight.  I found my way to the restrooms and waited outside for LNF.  Thankfully, his mad dash to the restroom made him one of the first out of the restroom and I followed him best I could back to his seat.  A group of kids got between LNF and me on a staircase.  But once we were back in the theater, I found him and followed him to our seats. All four of the students that I was responsible for were where they belonged. 

As everyone settled back in, the boy who was kicking my seat returned to his spot and got right back to kicking my seat.  There was a lot of commotion, so I ignored the kicking until the lights went down.  I turned around to one side and saw that the adult who had been behind me had been replaced by a small girl with curly hair that was up in pompom-like balls on her head, creating a Mickey Mouse silhouette in the dim theater.  Her feet were up on the backs of Dee Dee’s and my seats.  I motioned at her feet with an open hand, asking her to take them off the seats, and she did.  I turned back around to enjoy the show. 

Unfortunately, the boy behind me seemed more interested in kicking my seat than watching the show.  I turned and motioned to him to stop kicking.  But he was too busy hitting the little Mickey Mouse girl to notice me.  Over the sound of the show and excited spectators, I could hear the girl asking the boy to stop hitting her.  I located their adult, who had moved to the end of the aisle, and tried to get his attention.  He wasn’t watching the kids, the play, or anything.  His head was forward and his chin was on his chest, sleeping. 

I tried to get the attention of Dee Dee’s teacher or another parent / chaperone who were in front of the sleeping adult.  When both of them looked my way at the same time, I motioned with my thumb towards the kids behind me in an attempt to let them know there was an issue and we needed to get the attention of the adult located behind them.  Not noticing the problem I was motioning toward and mistaking the gesture I was making with my thumb, Dee Dee’s teacher smiled and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up before returning his attention to the program. 

When there was a lull in the performance, I got the attention of the parent / chaperone and said that we needed to get the attention of the adult who was with the kids behind me.  By the look on her face, I think she must have seen the boy hit the girl, and she turned and got the attention of the adult.  The man slowly stood up and took a few steps towards me and the kicking boy and the Mickey Mouse girl.  I told him that the kids were fighting.  He nodded, looked at the kids, and told them to behave.  Then, he returned to his seat.   

After a few more kicks, a couple protests to being hit, and another relayed message, the adult came over and traded places with the Mickey Mouse girl.  Yet, the kicking continued.  The boy was kicking the left side of my seat, so I don’t think that Dee Dee noticed.  But the kicking would have been felt by the boy on my left.  And, if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t notice the discomfort of having his shoes on the wrong feet, I would have felt a bit more protective of his space and the quality of his experience.  After turning around a few more times to ask the adult to talk to the boy about stopping, the kicking stopped.  Then, the adult went to the stand in the aisle, next to where Mickey Mouse girl was sitting.  The kicking resumed. But, the show eventually ended and the kicking stopped. The lights went up and every kid in the theater stood up, only to be told to sit down by the various teachers and chaperones. 

I made sure that all seventeen of the kids in Dee Dee’s class got on the bus before I boarded.  When I got to the back half of the bus, I saw that Dee Dee was sitting with one of the other girls who was in the group that I’d been chaperoning.  It felt good to see her doing her own thing.  I wasn’t sure how she’d interact with me during the field trip and I’d told her that while we were on the field trip, she should think of me as a chaperone and not as a parent.  She was doing what she wanted, and she was doing what I’d hoped she would do.  I did, however, have a good laugh over her answer when I asked her at dinner how she ended up sitting over the wheel on the way to the theater.  She misunderstood the question, thought I was asking about the return ride and answered, “I just felt like sitting with someone else.”  I’m pretty sure that occasionally picking a friend over her father is a healthy choice for a seven-year-old to make. 

When we returned to the school, I followed the group all the way to the classroom.  On the way off the bus, Dee Dee thanked the bus driver for the ride and told him that it had been her first time on a school bus.  “I had a good time on the bus.”  The driver replied, “I wish I could say that.”  Back inside the classroom, the teacher told the kids to thank parents / chaperones.  The kids all mumbled incoherently as they prepared to eat their lunch in the classroom, since they’d missed their scheduled mealtime in the cafeteria due to the field trip.      

As the squeaky voices faded out, I saw Dee Dee walking towards me, wearing a big smile on her face, on a path to me that brought her right in front of her teacher.  With terrible timing, the teacher stepped forward in front of Dee Dee and stuck his hand out to shake mine striking Dee Dee in the process.  Dee Dee was knocked off her feet and fell on the floor, hitting the corner of the brick wall that separates the bathroom from the rest of the classroom.  Without knowing where she was hurt, I picked up Dee Dee and stepped out into the hallway.  The teacher said something about the nurse.  Without looking back, I escorted Dee Dee to the nurse’s office. 

Unfortunately, I know where the nurse’s office is located in the school because in previous years, I’ve had to bring Dee Dee there when she’s fallen on the sidewalk outside because ice and snow are never cleared away until after the students have entered the building, if even then.  At this point, I was under the impression that the teacher had struck Dee Dee with his hand or forearm in the back of her head, knocking her down.  I later learned that Dee Dee tripped over his foot.  Whatever the exact circumstances would be, I asked for a report to document that she had fallen as a result of an interaction with her teacher.  Documenting and sharing the information with a parent seemed like a foreign concept to the health aid and the nurse, again.   

The health aid gave Dee Dee an icepack and asked her if she wanted to eat her lunch in the nurse’s office.  I advised the aid that Dee Dee had a “home lunch” that she would like to eat with her classmates and I asked if she could take the cold pack with her.  The aid said that they didn’t allow students to take the cold packs, but agreed that an exception could be made if I could take her back to the room and then return the ice pack to the nurse’s office.  Also, she seemed confused as to why eating her lunch in her classroom, with her friends, after her first field trip might be a big deal.  I didn’t discuss it with her.   

Dee Dee had spent the previous week or so talking about how excited she was about three things; her first field trip, her first bus ride, and her first home lunch (cold lunch from home as opposed to a hot lunch from the cafeteria).  The bus ride had gone well, the “play” went well for her, but the day had been soured by her getting injured.  I hoped that the home lunch that I packed for her and the card that her mom and I left in the lunch bag would get the day back on the right track. 

I brought Dee Dee back to the classroom where the teacher feigned interest in her injury and said that he was, “mortified” by her fall. Perhaps he has a vocabulary-building calendar. A couple girls asked if Dee Dee was OK. I said goodbye to the other three kids who’d been with me on the field trip, and then said goodbye to Dee Dee.  

As promised, I returned the cold pack to the nurse’s office. The health aid was assisting a girl with her diabetic needs. So, I said that if they would check on Dee Dee later in the day, and send me an email of the report, I’d appreciate it. Then, I went to the front office to check out of the building. There was no one there. So, I wrote “left at 12:48” on my visitor sticker, stuck in to the desk, and left. 

After school, Dee Dee told her mom that she’d had a good day, she liked the play, had fun on the bus, and enjoyed her lunch, but hid the card because one of the boys who sits near her is mean and she didn’t want him to make any jokes about her parents putting a card in her lunch.