The Field Trip Actually Did Include a Field.

I spent yesterday with my wife's fifth grade class, chaperoning a field trip to the Mountain to Sound Greenway at Lake Sammamish State Park. As the culmination of a science unit on ecosystems, three classes of ten- and eleven-year-olds boarded one school bus and one King County Metro coach (thanks to the King County Metro Field Trip Program). 

Half the kids, some of whom had never been on public transportation, rode the articulated bus to our destination and the other half rode back.

I've got to say I preferred the school bus. The upholstered brown cocoons were like sitting on an old friend.

Originally, the trip was scheduled for Tiger Mountain, but the roads were impassable after one of the Seattle's clammiest winters ever.

Before I go on, I've got a question, especially for you Northwest natives:

What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think Lake Sammamish Park and Tiger Mountain?

Ted Bundy, right? Whose sick idea was it to have a fall-back Bundy crime scene for the kids to tour in case the first one fell through? 

My wife. And that's why I love her so very much.

Seriously, what a great age these kids are. Another dad and I were in charge of seven students, including his daughter. Every once in a while, she'd come over and take his arm for a little while and then take off again. It tugged at my heart.

And each time I glanced at her selfless show of affection toward her father, all I could think was, wait till she's thirteen, Brad.

We saw some cool animals—a bald eagle, a red tailed hawk—but the find of the day was a small garter snake that had slithered up through a fresh mole hill as we walked by. Four boys swooped in, sticking their faces closer to the snake than any toothbrush they've ever held.

Kid 1: "I've got a garden snake. At home. And a cobra."

Kid 2: "My cousin has a shoebox filled with snakes."

Kid 1: "They alive?"

Kid 2: "Yeah."

It rained all day and the constant standing left a lot of kids and adults pretty worn out. When two boys smacked their heads together while simultaneously stepping over a short fence, it was time to go. One boy walloped the top of the other kid's head right above the eyebrow, and he was hurting bad. I couldn't help but remember, forty years ago on a trip to the Woodland Park Zoo, running toward the bus, tripping and gashing my knee so painfully, the shock and burn brought on a wave of seasickness and cold sweat I wouldn’t again experience until college. 

The searing red pain of that spring day in 1974 haunts me even today, every time I shave my legs. 

Some kids fell asleep on the way back, while others were just as hyper as when we'd left, singing and shouting for the duration. 

And Holy Sweet Mother of Camp Auburn, when's the last time you heard singing on a school bus?

The ride to prison doesn't count.

Romney: "Firefighters and Teachers are Bankrupting America."

"I'm optimistic about the ability of the American people to do the right thing right now. What happened yesterday is just another signal—and it will echo throughout the country. What you're seeing is the people in Wisconsin...they looked at the record of a strong conservative who cut back on the size of government, who helped bring down taxes, who said we have to reform public sector unions that have asked for too much."
 -Mitt Romney, speaking at a fundraiser in San Antonio, Texas, June 6

Yup. I have to admit, I do agree with presumptive candidate Romney on this one—we, the people, do possess the ability to do the right thing.

And that's where Mitt and I get sucked to opposite poles like we've strapped on magnet-filled backpacks. Shoot, I missed his awkward attempt at a high-five.

Mittens, in his rosy diatribe, was referring to Wisconsin's unsuccessful attempt to recall Governor Scott Walker. Just to recap, as one of Walker's first executive mandates, he'd decided to strip the state's public employees of their collective bargaining rights.

Before the aromatic droplets of lemony fresh Pledge had dried on his new IKEA desk, before he'd even figured out how to log into his email, Walker was staring out the window at hordes of pitchfork-toting teachers, and, ironically, torch-bearing firefighters.

The teachers had approached the capitol steps in an orderly manner because, you know, you never run with forks.

A bit of history: Prior to the first education unions of the early twentieth century, teacher pay was meager but it was one of the few professional jobs open to women. Working conditions were dismal, with class sizes often eighty or more students, and tenure wasn't transferable; it was only available for as long as she remained at a particular school. In fact, tenure had evolved as one of the few perks available to those who were paid low wages—not just teachers.

Pensions or health benefits? Ha! good one.

The International Association of Firefighters was formed in 1918. Apparently, these guys grew tired of working eighty-four-hour weeks and twenty-four-hour shifts, earning twenty-nine cents per hour and covering their faces with wet towels before sprinting into a wall of fire.

Pensions or health benefits? Hey, if you can afford a wet towel, you can afford a wire brush to denude the charred skin from your third degree burns, you smoke-hacking divas.

Okay, look. I'm not some Stalinist pinko who thinks that public sector unions are perfect. Just like their adversaries in state executive branches, leadership has proven vulnerable to corrupt influences. And dead weight will endure as a by-product of the job security ensured by membership.

But here's the thing: America's middle class, and its prosperity, can be attributed to its labor unions. The fair wages, retirements and healthcare created after World War II allowed for a new quality of life for tens of millions of our citizens.

When your boss asked you to throw that cardboard box of uranium in the dumpster on your way out, you could finally tell him, "I'm going to need to go ahead and not do that."

Your eight-year-old daughter could finally play with the lawn darts, rather than weld a minimum of three hundred per shift.

And now, candidate Romney sings the praises of a man who's temporarily stifled his opposition. With all the lip service paid to educational improvements and higher test scores, I wonder if Governor Walker will allocate more resources to education now that the teachers' union is off his back.

Nah.

I wonder if, now that Wisconsin's firefighters have been stifled, Walker will back legislation to support first responders. I'd assume that, in light of recent threats posed by chemical, biological, and even nuclear attacks, he would become emergency workers' staunchest ally now that they're out of the way.

But I don't think so.

Thanks for weighing in on this issue, Governor Romney. I'm appalled at your response...but not surprised.

The Day I Got Back My Yo-Yo.

"...no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks."
-Anonymous

"Finally, I won't be a kindergartner any longer. No more naps and I hereby vow to return as a non-thumb-sucking first grader. Will, too!"

"I'm going to dress up, not like the first day, but more than usual, so she'll remember this vision of me all summer."

"Ah, decent. This is the last day I have to sit by Brian, who smells like toast, plus I get my confiscated yo-yos back."

"I can start next year with a clean slate and know that it's been at least a year since I accidentally wet my pants during reading group. Next time, don't be polite. Just go, man."

"Why do we always have to race each other on the last day of school? I don't need any more 'participant' ribbons."

"Somehow, I'm going to have to sneak The Happy Hooker out of my desk."

"I should take advantage of my big dog status, because next year at junior high, I've heard you have to poo standing up or you'll be attacked by ninth graders and given a swirly. I'll  practice this summer."

"No smoke-filled school buses for three months. Hallelujah."

"Let's see what she wrote in my yearbook...she thinks I'm cool (good, I guess), she thinks I'm funny, (good, I guess), and she thinks I'm cute (bingo!). She says I'm not like the other guys who she'd go out with. I'm much more than that; I'm a good friend. (Shit)."

"Wow, I've known those four since kindergarten, those three over there since second grade and him and him and her and him since fourth grade. Unbelievable. Okay, I've got to walk straight or this cap's going to fall off. Oh, my god. There's the music..playing for us this time. Don't cry, you fool. Here we go."

School's out.