Of Flying Skunks and Palarie Dogs.
Just a little update on a recent trip to the zoo with a class of four year olds.
This last Friday was the big Zoo Trip, for my little class of four year olds. The Zoo Trip represents one stop on the grand tour of field trips on which each classroom takes each group each year. Other stops on this tour include The Fire Station, The Ice Cream Store, The Geology Museum, Ella’s Deli, The Farmer’s Market, The Children’s Museum, and any or all of our city’s fine parks. There are other places a class might go, of course, but those are the biggies and each of them has its place in each child’s heart, but none is looked forward to quite as much as The Zoo Trip.
This year’s group was no exception. It started on Wednesday. “Are we going to the Zoo today, Madi?”
“No, not today. Friday.”
“Okay.” Then, after much thinking, the follow-up question. “Is tomorrow Friday?”
“No. The tomorrow after tomorrow is Friday.”
“Oh.” Now many people would think that “oh” would be the end of that discussion, but many people do not know my little friends. “Can we go to the zoo after nap, Madi?”
“Nope. We have to wait until Friday.”
I had variations of this discussion all day Wednesday and Thursday. Needless to say, by Friday the children were no longer just impatient and restless; they were practically frothing at the mouth. I opened the door of my classroom at 8:50, almost ten minutes early, to be attacked by children suddenly very afraid that if we did not leave within the next three minutes the entire zoo would somehow disappear, leaving nothing but a hole without even a construction truck to look at. Many people would think that this would mean getting things under control and that getting out for the bus would be easy, but again, many people do not know my little friends. Despite my many warnings that city busses do not wait for little children, we left the school nearly fifteen minutes later than planned. Guess what? City busses really DON’T wait for little children. Twenty-five minutes of songs, exercises, discussions, warnings and threats later, the next bus finally arrived and we were on our way.
We got off our bus and walked through the hospital parking lot that shaves at least two blocks off our long walk in ninety degree humidity. Children chatted excitedly about the animals they would see, the picnic they would eat and the carousel they would ride. We were already hot and sweaty, but we didn’t care. We were almost to the Mecca of fourdom…. The Zoo! At last we saw a gate, THE gate, and we knew it was THE gate, because it had a picture of a polar bear on it. An awed hush fell over my group, and we walked through the gate in silence.
The silence lasted about three seconds. Then a cacophony of voices began. “Can we see the bears?” “Do they have crocodiles?” “I’m afraid of crocodiles!” “They are in cages, stupid.” “Madi, he said stupid!” “I’m thiiiiiirrrrrsty!” “Madi, look! That bear is peeing!”
That last one was what did it. Suddenly, the group was transfixed by the grizzly bear, which was, indeed, peeing. As they watched final proof that bears do shit in the forest, and, apparently, in rock enclosures, the adults got together and made a plan. We would see the bears, the otters, the penguins, the seals, the lions, the apes and then, since we would be near the picnic tables, we would have lunch. After lunch we would ride the carousel and that would leave us with plenty of time to meet our bus. We left our huddle, and the now much relieved grizzly, secure that, once again, we were on top of our game. Unfortunately, we hit a snag.
“Madi, can we go see the Palarie dogs?”
“I don’t think we can. I don’t think we’ll have time to see the Prairie dogs this time.”
“Please? I really like the Palarie dogs. They’re so cute.”
Suddenly we were besieged by tiny hopeful faces. Cute palarie dogs were added to the end of our list, and we continued on. We made it through the bears without further exciting bodily functions, found empty otter and penguin enclosures, but were very gratified to find seals swimming around and even spitting water at us. The visit to the lion sanctuary found two of the giant cats sprawled on rocks looking extremely happy, despite a bunch of suddenly brave children roaring at them to get their attention.
We were then off to the monkey house. We watched the orangutans for a while, but lost interest when they lay down to take a nap, which is basically what orangutans do. Moving on to the lemurs, my children marveled at what looked to them like long-tailed raccoons sitting in trees. We explained that they were, in fact, Ring Tailed Lemurs, but really they didn’t believe us. They were raccoons and that’s all there was to it. Then, a bunch of striped lemurs decided to move, en mass, from one branch to another. Skunks, they thought. They had to be skunks. No, they were lemurs, really, lemurs.
Finally, one boy, a smart, little boy, who truly believes that teachers are just making it up as they go along, and how he figured that out, I’ll never know, looked up wisely and said, “Those are flying skunks.” The other children nodded, and we just gave up.
Lunch went without a hitch and we thought, “Ah, at last, we are back on track. Off to the carousel we go!”
“Madi, when are we going to see the palarie dogs?”
“After the carousel, honey. They’re on the way out.”
The carousel is amazing. It’s one of those old fashioned kind, with a circus feel, tinny music, and animals that go up and down. It even had some seats for those of us who get sick on anything that goes up and down and round and round at the same time. It was so much fun that the children all wanted to ride one more time, but this time on different animals. We are soft-hearted teachers so we bought the tickets and rode again. One more time around and the children were ready to go. We sat for a moment in the shade, drinking the last of our water and discussing the many wonders we had seen. Then, after properly disposing of our bottles in the recycling can, to preserve the world for the generations to come, we headed off to see the prairie dog exhibit.
That was when we realized our mistake. The prairie dogs had been moved. They were now on the other side of the zoo, and we had only twenty minutes to walk the long, hot, humid way back to the bus.
“I’m sorry, honey, we can’t see the prairie dogs after all. We’re going to miss our bus again. Remember how it didn’t wait?”
“I REALLY wanted to see the palarie dogs.”
“I know. It’s disappointing.”
“But, I really wanted to see them.” I was about to give up, miss the bus, and troop the whole group back to the prairie dog exhibit, when my young ward smiled and said, “Well, at least we saw the flying skunks.”
And really, when it comes right down to it, what more does one need?
This last Friday was the big Zoo Trip, for my little class of four year olds. The Zoo Trip represents one stop on the grand tour of field trips on which each classroom takes each group each year. Other stops on this tour include The Fire Station, The Ice Cream Store, The Geology Museum, Ella’s Deli, The Farmer’s Market, The Children’s Museum, and any or all of our city’s fine parks. There are other places a class might go, of course, but those are the biggies and each of them has its place in each child’s heart, but none is looked forward to quite as much as The Zoo Trip.
This year’s group was no exception. It started on Wednesday. “Are we going to the Zoo today, Madi?”
“No, not today. Friday.”
“Okay.” Then, after much thinking, the follow-up question. “Is tomorrow Friday?”
“No. The tomorrow after tomorrow is Friday.”
“Oh.” Now many people would think that “oh” would be the end of that discussion, but many people do not know my little friends. “Can we go to the zoo after nap, Madi?”
“Nope. We have to wait until Friday.”
I had variations of this discussion all day Wednesday and Thursday. Needless to say, by Friday the children were no longer just impatient and restless; they were practically frothing at the mouth. I opened the door of my classroom at 8:50, almost ten minutes early, to be attacked by children suddenly very afraid that if we did not leave within the next three minutes the entire zoo would somehow disappear, leaving nothing but a hole without even a construction truck to look at. Many people would think that this would mean getting things under control and that getting out for the bus would be easy, but again, many people do not know my little friends. Despite my many warnings that city busses do not wait for little children, we left the school nearly fifteen minutes later than planned. Guess what? City busses really DON’T wait for little children. Twenty-five minutes of songs, exercises, discussions, warnings and threats later, the next bus finally arrived and we were on our way.
We got off our bus and walked through the hospital parking lot that shaves at least two blocks off our long walk in ninety degree humidity. Children chatted excitedly about the animals they would see, the picnic they would eat and the carousel they would ride. We were already hot and sweaty, but we didn’t care. We were almost to the Mecca of fourdom…. The Zoo! At last we saw a gate, THE gate, and we knew it was THE gate, because it had a picture of a polar bear on it. An awed hush fell over my group, and we walked through the gate in silence.
The silence lasted about three seconds. Then a cacophony of voices began. “Can we see the bears?” “Do they have crocodiles?” “I’m afraid of crocodiles!” “They are in cages, stupid.” “Madi, he said stupid!” “I’m thiiiiiirrrrrsty!” “Madi, look! That bear is peeing!”
That last one was what did it. Suddenly, the group was transfixed by the grizzly bear, which was, indeed, peeing. As they watched final proof that bears do shit in the forest, and, apparently, in rock enclosures, the adults got together and made a plan. We would see the bears, the otters, the penguins, the seals, the lions, the apes and then, since we would be near the picnic tables, we would have lunch. After lunch we would ride the carousel and that would leave us with plenty of time to meet our bus. We left our huddle, and the now much relieved grizzly, secure that, once again, we were on top of our game. Unfortunately, we hit a snag.
“Madi, can we go see the Palarie dogs?”
“I don’t think we can. I don’t think we’ll have time to see the Prairie dogs this time.”
“Please? I really like the Palarie dogs. They’re so cute.”
Suddenly we were besieged by tiny hopeful faces. Cute palarie dogs were added to the end of our list, and we continued on. We made it through the bears without further exciting bodily functions, found empty otter and penguin enclosures, but were very gratified to find seals swimming around and even spitting water at us. The visit to the lion sanctuary found two of the giant cats sprawled on rocks looking extremely happy, despite a bunch of suddenly brave children roaring at them to get their attention.
We were then off to the monkey house. We watched the orangutans for a while, but lost interest when they lay down to take a nap, which is basically what orangutans do. Moving on to the lemurs, my children marveled at what looked to them like long-tailed raccoons sitting in trees. We explained that they were, in fact, Ring Tailed Lemurs, but really they didn’t believe us. They were raccoons and that’s all there was to it. Then, a bunch of striped lemurs decided to move, en mass, from one branch to another. Skunks, they thought. They had to be skunks. No, they were lemurs, really, lemurs.
Finally, one boy, a smart, little boy, who truly believes that teachers are just making it up as they go along, and how he figured that out, I’ll never know, looked up wisely and said, “Those are flying skunks.” The other children nodded, and we just gave up.
Lunch went without a hitch and we thought, “Ah, at last, we are back on track. Off to the carousel we go!”
“Madi, when are we going to see the palarie dogs?”
“After the carousel, honey. They’re on the way out.”
The carousel is amazing. It’s one of those old fashioned kind, with a circus feel, tinny music, and animals that go up and down. It even had some seats for those of us who get sick on anything that goes up and down and round and round at the same time. It was so much fun that the children all wanted to ride one more time, but this time on different animals. We are soft-hearted teachers so we bought the tickets and rode again. One more time around and the children were ready to go. We sat for a moment in the shade, drinking the last of our water and discussing the many wonders we had seen. Then, after properly disposing of our bottles in the recycling can, to preserve the world for the generations to come, we headed off to see the prairie dog exhibit.
That was when we realized our mistake. The prairie dogs had been moved. They were now on the other side of the zoo, and we had only twenty minutes to walk the long, hot, humid way back to the bus.
“I’m sorry, honey, we can’t see the prairie dogs after all. We’re going to miss our bus again. Remember how it didn’t wait?”
“I REALLY wanted to see the palarie dogs.”
“I know. It’s disappointing.”
“But, I really wanted to see them.” I was about to give up, miss the bus, and troop the whole group back to the prairie dog exhibit, when my young ward smiled and said, “Well, at least we saw the flying skunks.”
And really, when it comes right down to it, what more does one need?