A Return to the Days of Field Trips

This morning, as I walked into my Physical Science lab, our attractive/semi-unqualified TA informed us that we would be taking a field trip during the 50 minutes of class. We would be observing places on campus that had been weathered or eroded and then applying the things we saw to various rocks and minerals we are learning about.

The minute he said the words "field trip" I was flooded with memories of my early childhood education, both bitter and sweet.

Field trips were always something I looked forward to in Elementary School, getting out of class was always a favorite pastime of mine. There was something about riding on those big, yellow school buses, singing "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves" until the chaperones were seconds away from strangling us, and those white paper bags that the sweet lunch ladies would pack full of food for us to enjoy. And of course getting back to school with only 20 minutes left in the day and having every other kid at Stewart Elementary stare us down with such deep envy. Priceless.

As good as they were, there were some downers. How about those walking field trips? Every time we crossed the street we had to play Noah's Ark and cross two-by-two, holding hands. Remember cooties? It was a very real, contagious and terminal disease. When we crossed the street the chaperones would pair us up and one of two things occurred: I either got stuck with the kid who picked his nose and shoved sand down his pants at recess or worse than that, I had to cross with the kid in the class who had a crush on me; the same kid who would chase me around at recess and try to play "kissing tag" with me.

*Tangent*: Who made up the game of kissing tag? The only kids who play are like six years old, and I don't think they even have hormones yet. I hated that game with a passion; good thing I was fast little child and never got caught. However, one time in first grade, this kid, Matt, got pretty close to catching me, stepped on my brand new Doc Martin sandals and completely demolished them. There was a tear or two shed over those shoes and I don't think I ever truly forgave Matt. It was always awkward between us, up until the day we graduated high school. Probably still is, I just haven't seen him since then. Thank you, kissing tag, you ruined a potential friendship.

There is one field trip that I can honestly say every kid in the 5th grade at Stewart Elementary wholeheartedly dreads. I'm not sure why the administration thinks it's okay to drag 120 ten-year old kids to the Utah Symphony, but they continue on with the tradition year after year, despite the complaints. The day of the Utah Symphony was a gloomy one. I wasn't the only kid who tried to fake sick that morning; unfortunately all of our mothers were wise, understood our motives, and forced us to go anyways. Then there was Jenny, the girl who was brilliant beyond measure and decided to pretend she was claustrophobic so she could get out of the building and wait for us outside in the fresh air. Bogus. She was not claustrophobic; she was a genius. For the rest of the year, Jenny was revered. Every kid in the 5th grade treated her with the utmost respect and stared at her with awe. To this day I hold Jenny in the highest esteem for her brilliance in escaping the Utah Symphony.

This morning as we walked behind the Eyring Science Center, past the Maeser Building and down Rape Hill observing and identifying different kinds of erosion, I couldn't help but wish for just a second that I was back in the good ol' days of elementary school where my biggest worries in life were who I'd get stuck crossing the street with, wondering how I could survive one more recess of sprinting up and down the field to avoid being kissed, and plotting for weeks of various ways I could get out of the Symphony field trip. Then I remembered all the things I'd be missing out on if I was only seven years old, and immediately decided I wouldn't make the swap for anything.