She's home. Safe & Sound
Every October, Litchfield’s 6th graders attend NATURE’S CLASSROOM. It’s a 3-night, 4-day field trip. Kind of like an environmental camp, so to speak. It is a much looked forward to event for the kids. A big deal. Going away with their whole class for the better part of a week. They love it. Now, the sixth grade team is made up of all female teachers, so they only ask for “Dad” chaperones, so the control freak mom who volunteers to chaperone everything, can’t go.
But, Meghan's my third one to go to NATURE'S CLASSROOM, so I know what to expect and I don't have half the worries I had with the first one going off. Really, no worries. I know the drill. And apparently it showed. When we dropped her gear off at the school the night before the trip, the teachers were teasing me about being a “veteran,” being so nonchalant when it’s your third kid going. I, of course, being raised with much love and, of course, a dash of good ol’ Irish Catholic guilt, immediately thought to myself, Do I look like I don’t care that my child, my baby, is going away for four days with 150 of her peers, including boys, without me and will be incommunicado barring any HORRIFIC situation in which they would have to notify me? I didn't mean for it to show.
So, finally Friday comes and I get to the school to pick her up at 1:30. The kids’ gear had arrived, but the kids hadn’t yet. So, I walk through the aisles of duffle bags, sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets to get Meg’s (I think it’s a safe bet to assume that the kids did not do as good a job packing to come home as their parents did packing them initially.) I finally get Meghan’s 4 pieces (Hmmm….funny, she left with only 2.) I get it all to the car and then the procedure is to go to your child’s homeroom, wait for him/her to arrive and then sign him/her out. Now you can imagine the scene. Parents are flooding the 6th grade wing to wait for the kids.
After a few minutes, the first group of kids comes walking around the corner. HUGE smiles (I haven’t yet spoken to a kid that didn’t love NATURE’S CLASSROOM.) Mrs. Medeiros (Meghan’s homeroom teacher) comes up to me and says, “Kathleen, do you know who R.’s mother is?” R.’s mother is standing two feet away from me. I indicate in her direction. So Mrs. Medeiros walks up to her and speaks softly. YES. I’m nosy. Very nosy. I eavesdropped. Apparently, R. got a little homesick one night and ended up getting sick to his stomach. The Dad that was chaperoning came and got one of the female teachers (as they are instructed to do) and she stayed with R. until he felt better. She gave him the option of calling home, but he didn’t want to. Mrs. Medeiros assured the Mom that he was fine and had a great time the next day and all was well. I could see the panic in this woman’s face. You could tell she was holding back the tears. Her son was homesick and throwing up and she wasn’t there to comfort him. So, now I’m holding back my own tears. With that, R. comes around the corner. He sees his Mom and his tears start. Not sobbing. Just a few tears trickling down his face. I’m sure no one else even noticed but his mom, Mrs. Medeiros, and me. So, that was all I needed. I start crying.
Then comes Meg. I’m wiping my tears as I hug her and she says to me, “Why you crying? You missed me that much?” I didn’t have the heart to say, “Yeah, I missed you, but that’s not why I’m crying.” So I just answered, ‘Yeah, something like that.” She's quiet for a few seconds and then says, "Well, if you missed me so much, how come you didn't send me a letter? Darlene did. "
Errr. . .Ummmm. . . . .
But, Meghan's my third one to go to NATURE'S CLASSROOM, so I know what to expect and I don't have half the worries I had with the first one going off. Really, no worries. I know the drill. And apparently it showed. When we dropped her gear off at the school the night before the trip, the teachers were teasing me about being a “veteran,” being so nonchalant when it’s your third kid going. I, of course, being raised with much love and, of course, a dash of good ol’ Irish Catholic guilt, immediately thought to myself, Do I look like I don’t care that my child, my baby, is going away for four days with 150 of her peers, including boys, without me and will be incommunicado barring any HORRIFIC situation in which they would have to notify me? I didn't mean for it to show.
So, finally Friday comes and I get to the school to pick her up at 1:30. The kids’ gear had arrived, but the kids hadn’t yet. So, I walk through the aisles of duffle bags, sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets to get Meg’s (I think it’s a safe bet to assume that the kids did not do as good a job packing to come home as their parents did packing them initially.) I finally get Meghan’s 4 pieces (Hmmm….funny, she left with only 2.) I get it all to the car and then the procedure is to go to your child’s homeroom, wait for him/her to arrive and then sign him/her out. Now you can imagine the scene. Parents are flooding the 6th grade wing to wait for the kids.
After a few minutes, the first group of kids comes walking around the corner. HUGE smiles (I haven’t yet spoken to a kid that didn’t love NATURE’S CLASSROOM.) Mrs. Medeiros (Meghan’s homeroom teacher) comes up to me and says, “Kathleen, do you know who R.’s mother is?” R.’s mother is standing two feet away from me. I indicate in her direction. So Mrs. Medeiros walks up to her and speaks softly. YES. I’m nosy. Very nosy. I eavesdropped. Apparently, R. got a little homesick one night and ended up getting sick to his stomach. The Dad that was chaperoning came and got one of the female teachers (as they are instructed to do) and she stayed with R. until he felt better. She gave him the option of calling home, but he didn’t want to. Mrs. Medeiros assured the Mom that he was fine and had a great time the next day and all was well. I could see the panic in this woman’s face. You could tell she was holding back the tears. Her son was homesick and throwing up and she wasn’t there to comfort him. So, now I’m holding back my own tears. With that, R. comes around the corner. He sees his Mom and his tears start. Not sobbing. Just a few tears trickling down his face. I’m sure no one else even noticed but his mom, Mrs. Medeiros, and me. So, that was all I needed. I start crying.
Then comes Meg. I’m wiping my tears as I hug her and she says to me, “Why you crying? You missed me that much?” I didn’t have the heart to say, “Yeah, I missed you, but that’s not why I’m crying.” So I just answered, ‘Yeah, something like that.” She's quiet for a few seconds and then says, "Well, if you missed me so much, how come you didn't send me a letter? Darlene did. "
Errr. . .Ummmm. . . . .