If I Had a Nickel...

"I saw a monkey's butt!"

This would be somewhat understandable had I just taken my class of kindergartners to the circus, not so much if we were studying prepositions. (Unless, of course, they said, "I saw a monkey's butt ON the hill." That was actually a sentence I used during my observation.) Lucky for me, we went to the Oakland Zoo.


School has been out for two days. I think enough time has passed to start talking about some of the goings on. I don't want to be disrespectful and talk about students in the class. But like I said, it has been two whole days. I might change the names to protect the hysterical.


The Oakland Zoo did not disappoint us. There were monkey butts as far as the eye could see. It wasn't like the time we went to the aquarium and we saw the walrus. The walrus was in one of those pools where there was a window that lets you watch them swimming. I really, really do not want to start being crude (I personally think that shows a lazy writing style) but let me say that a walrus has a super power. It can't fly or leap over tall buildings in a single bound...its super power involves the ability to make males of other species feel inadequate. This is the sort of thing that could make a group of kindergarten students giggle uncontrollably for weeks. Luckily, the Oakland Zoo has no walruses. I mean, we had a good time and there were only a few of "those" sort of incidents. I didn't have to explain to anyone that the animals were "play wrestling" and they weren't hurting each other.


As all teachers know, the true measure of a successful field trip is to come home with the same number of children as you left with. I failed. I mean the caretakers offered me a lot of money to keep one for the new North American Carpet Monkey exhibit and the millions haven't started rolling in from the blog yet. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. Actually, a parent checked her son out of the trip and we had one less than we came with on the bus ride back to school. Even with a signed document that states something like, Teacher, you are no longer responsible for my kid today, I still felt weird all the way home. I say home but I really mean back to school. It's an expression but it may as well be true as far as the students are concerned. Mr. Garrett lives in room 1. I could live in the classroom and on some days it feels like I do but I don't. It has two bathrooms, loads of books, and a kitchen. True, the kitchen is made of wood and all the food is plastic but I think I could make it work.

The way a field trip works is, for those who have never had the pleasure, I (the teacher) get volunteers (the unsuspecting parents) to come and watch a few kids for the day. Depending on various factors I set up groups to minimize disruptions, keep parents with their own kids, allow me to be in a group all by myself for a day. No seriously, the Oakland Zoo know how tough it is on teachers so one of the selling points to get you to choose them is they offer a key to "The Lounge" for the day. The lounge is a secret place complete with noise canceling headphones, a margarita bar, and (massuessi? massagists? masewers? masseussers?) people who rub your backs...16 tables, no waiting! OK, you got me, there is no such secret place in the Oakland Zoo but there should be!


In reality we had a fairly uneventful field trip but there were a few instances that raised my eyebrows. Trying to gather twenty seven five-year-olds together to get on a bus is a lot like trying to count a room full of cats. Most of the of the difficulty we had revolved around the group leaders trying to squeeze ten more minutes into the day but we got onto the bus without too much trouble. In retrospect I am thinking that starting the busload of kids singing "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" might have not been the best idea I ever had, but I guess I know better for next time.