"Thank you, Mrs. Lucas, please, don't come in and help us anymore."
The Capitol building was our first stop after we drove past the Governor's Mansion. The kids all thought Nikki Haley was rich and I quickly informed them that it was not her actual house. She has to move out when her term is over.
The State House really was impressive. Our guide was very knowledgable and she kept it age appropriate for the kids. She even encouraged them to vote and to be active in our community. The one point when she asked who the senator was in our county and everyone, including the adults, all looked at each other with blank stares. We were unprepared for this one question, pop quiz. It was a little embarrassing, so the Dr mom and I started Googling furiously, Michael L. Fair is the answer.
Then there was the one lady who yelled at us 4 times. She almost made me throw down my water bottle and teach her a thing or two, but I refrained because the children. The kids loved looking for the 6 bronze stars that marked where the building was shot at by General Sherman's cannons. And the drainage system.
For the record there was a dead bird, a penny and a set of keys down there. Jesse could hear the kids three grates down. Awesome.
This is my group racing for the top of the stairs.
That is my son doing Rocky.
That is my son doing Rocky.
The State Museum is where I, and I think the other volunteers, started losing it. I mostly feel sorry for the patrons who paid for museum tickets on school field trip day. Any button to be pushed was pushed aggressively and a million times by each kid. Anything to be looked through, touched, heard, cranked, shoved, smelled, sat in or on; same deal. Then there was the train whistle lever, dear God, I can still hear it. All my group wanted to do after our race through the exhibits was ride the glass elevator. Which was, I believe, intended for people who need it -not young, energetic children or people with irrational fears. I used it as a bribe instead: if they behaved; before we left, I'd let them go for an elevator ride. I hate elevators. I always check the inspection certificate; just in case someone was slacking, I want to know before the door closes. I also feel like the cables are frayed and we are being pulled and lowered by one thin wire thread. I know it's irrational, yet, there it is.
After lunch, all I did was count to 6 one hundred times. We had been all over the entire museum in record time and they just wanted to to goof off and ask me every 6 seconds if they were behaving. As they ran from one re-visited exhibit to another I'd count heads and off they'd go again to another already seen exhibit across the museum. It was a quick, "1,2,3,4,5,6". Sometimes it was, "1,2,3,4,5....there he is, 6, whew!" I cannot imagine saying, "I'm sorry Mrs. Whoever, I lost your kid in Columbia. I know he was with me at the train whistle...." Jayden was always #1 because she thinks I'm great. She was either holding my hand, hugging me, or pulling on my purse strap; plus, we both put potato chips on our sandwiches at lunch. My loyal buddy, right there, right next to me all day.
Finally, thankfully, it was time to go. I told the kids to hop on the elevator. There was a collective shriek. Luckily my friend and co-volunteer offered to ride the damn thing with them. Thank God. I think she saw my fear. She pulled Jayden off of me and loaded them in. I was to race down the stairs and get their picture. At the top of the stairs, I wiped the sweat off my brow and saw our teachers huddled in a comfortable chat at the bottom -3 flights away from me.
Mrs. Our Teacher: (mouthing) Do you need a break?
Me (from the top of the stairs and across the museum): NO!! I'M FINE! WE ARE FINE! (Screaming in a mock frantic tone. I sometimes forgot we weren't the only ones there)
Teacher huddle: (Laughing knowingly)
I was so proud of myself for making them laugh I forgot to take the picture.
I was so proud of myself for making them laugh I forgot to take the picture.
The teachers, for day, didn't not have to mind the kids. They had us, the parent volunteers. I wanted them to have as much of that day as they could. These men and women in our educational system do NOT get paid enough. They teach compassionately and a lot of these kids have issues, tough issues. There was a kid whose parents fight all the time, the one who doesn't have a bedtime so was in near breakdown state all day and his nose hurt, the one kid whose brother died in a tragic accident, the one who lives with nana and nana is a chronic smoker. These are not the actual issues (Again, vague on the rules), I made them up, but seriously, as difficult and worse situations -for real. These amazing teachers do their job and help our children through the shit we put them through. They handle them with compassion and love as they try and teach them why General Sherman shot at us.
My only job was not to lose any of them and I barely made it.
As my co-volunteer and I sipped our contraband coffee on the bus ride home (we were instructed to not buy anything -in bold type and capital letters), we barely batted an eye as another volunteer scrambled for a plastic bag for a vomiting child. We just tucked our noses under our Target T-shirts and planned whether we were going to have a stiff drink or a nap when we got home.
As my co-volunteer and I sipped our contraband coffee on the bus ride home (we were instructed to not buy anything -in bold type and capital letters), we barely batted an eye as another volunteer scrambled for a plastic bag for a vomiting child. We just tucked our noses under our Target T-shirts and planned whether we were going to have a stiff drink or a nap when we got home.
“Those who educate children well are more to be honored than they who produce them; for these only gave them life, those the art of living well.”
― Aristotle
― Aristotle
"Thank you, Mrs. Lucas, please, don't come in and help us anymore." Ha! Can you imagine having to tell your child Mommy can't come on field trips anymore? It would be such a guilty pleasure! Nice piece!!
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