Day 1 - A rough start

On Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent and my first day of full on optimism, I was scheduled to attend a field trip with my students to Busch Stadium - Home of the St. Louis Cardinals. As a teacher, we occasionally get to lay off the lesson planning for a day of "fun." This particular day of "fun" was planned months ago. The planning of a field trip is always the roughest part - booking the trip, booking the buses, handing out permission slips, collecting permission slips, tracking money, hounding students for their missing permission slips, confirming the trip, confirming the buses, assigning kids to groups, assigning groups to buses, and on and on and on. Luckily, I work with a fantastic team of ladies headed by a fantastic team leader that took care of a lot of that. Though the planning is rough and time consuming, you know the kids are looking forward to the trip. They talk about it; they ask questions; they talk some more. Their excitement aids my excitement. Until the day actually arrives.

Just to let you know, I am a control freak. I like my students in rows. I like them quiet. I like them learning. On field trips, all of that goes out the window and I have to be flexible. I am not flexible. But, on this particular day, I knew that I was going to be positive - it was my Lenten promise. I started the day by buying doughnuts for our chaperons and getting to school 45 minutes earlier than usual to make sure everything was organized and ready to roll. The kids arrived, happy and excited. They helped me get the snacks packed and rosters delivered. We made the all call to go to the buses and headed outside - to only ONE of the two buses we ordered. (Normally, I would have started muttering about stupid people and idiots that can't tell time, but instead I just herded the kids for the second bus back onto the porch and had them patiently wait). The second bus was getting a safety inspection (so at least we will be safe - optimism) and they told us it wouldn't be long. We sent the other bus on its way so that those kids could get their stadium tours started. 20 minutes later, my bus arrived. The driver opened the door and said, "Where are we headed?" (This would be a valid question on a city bus or from a cab driver, but on a school bus that we booked for a trip, this should not be asked).

After a few deep breaths and some directions, the kids were seated, counted, and on their way. To Illinois. The driver took a wrong turn and ended up on a highway that took them across the river and added another 15 minutes to their trip. Now, the second bus load of kids was WAY late. But, at least they got there (optimism).

The field trip was under way and the kids were having fun seeing the dugout and the other behind the scenes stuff. Taking 100 twelve-year-olds anywhere can be frightening, but these kids did very well.

Then, when we loaded up to go home, there were more problems with the buses. One driver let her kids have snacks (at this point, the kids hadn't eaten in 5+ hours) but the other driver yelled at me for even suggesting it and told me not to run her bus. At this point, I would normally yell right back and stand my ground, but instead I just stepped off the bus and sent it on its way. I tried to be optimistic - the kids would eat pizza as soon as we got back to school so it wouldn't kill them to wait another 30 minutes for food - but it was tough. I got in another chaperone's car to follow the buses back to school, only to find out that they took the longest route possible. Teachers on the bus were texting because they had no idea why they were traveling on highways that did not lead to our school.

And then, I lost it. I turned to the other two chaperons in the car and told them everything I thought about the bus company, the bus drivers, the cold weather, the way my feet hurt, and the brake tapper in front of us on the highway. It was a great release. It scared the people in the car, but I felt better. And then I felt guilty. My attempt at a dy full of optimism had been thrown out the window with one good rant. Maybe it was too big of a step to be optimistic ALL day...

We eventually all made it back to school and fed the kids (and ourselves - mm mm pizza!) and started recounting our day to the other staff in the school. Here is where I made up for my explosion of pessimism in the car. I talked about the kids great behavior and the neat things we saw and how, even though the bus drivers were idiots, they got us to and from the stadium safely. Optimism.


That night I slept like a rock. The roller-coaster ride of a day wore me out. Not even my snoring, sleep talking husband bothered me that night. YAY!