My class poses for a shot at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.
Afterward as the bus rambled south, I listened to the conversations of 9-and-10-year-olds who were trying desperately not to fall asleep. The two days with 45 kids had left me exhausted, too. Kinley sat next to me on the seat reading quietly, and I was trying to conquer the mountain of grading I'd hauled with me.
Kinley reads her book on the return bus trip.
"Mommy, what was your favorite part of the field trip?" I looked up from the paper I was grading. I really wasn't ready for this conversation; I was in the middle of grading writing, and I needed to focus. Lafayette was drawing ever closer, and my three-hour block of time for grading was slipping away. But I capped my blue marker and put the papers on the seat beside me, choosing to give Kinley my attention.
"Well," I answered, buying myself some time to switch gears, "let me think." There were so many wonderful things to choose from - singing campfire songs and making s'mores, watching the intense conversation as the kids were trying to make sparks with a flint and steel, flapping my arms with my class as we imitated the mating ritual of the sandhill crane during the Migration Game. Finally, I replied, "I really enjoyed the three-hour hike in the snow. I always learn something on those from the staff, and this year we got to learn more about the historic homesteads located inside of the park. I was also really proud of our class for earning a gold in the food waste challenge."
Making sparks with a flint and steel is hard!
Kinley serves up pasta for lunch.
Kinley and her friends tried to be less wasteful at meals. For some, that meant barely eating anything.
Kinley listened intently as I gave my answer and looked at me expectantly as I finished. But my ungraded papers sitting on the seat beside me looked at me expectantly, too. I knew that Proper Boyd Procedure (and common courtesy) meant that it was now my turn to ask her what her favorite part had been, but Lafayette loomed ever nearer while my time to grade grew ever shorter.
So I sighed and reluctantly asked, "What was your favorite part, honey?"
I expected her to say that she loved playing in the deep, wet snow with her friends, making snow balls as big as boulders.
I expected her to say that her favorite part was hanging out in the cabin, laughing with her friends.
I expected her to say that getting chosen to play Demeter in the mythology play was the highlight of the trip.Wow. My eyes filled with tears as I reached over the stack of now-forgotten papers on the seat and wrapped my arms around her. My little girl. My student.
And I realized that, of course, she was my favorite part of the trip, too. It wasn't the hiking or the campfire or the food waste challenge that mattered. It was this extraordinary gift that I've been given - to see my daughter learn, grow, and change at school for two solid years. To be an active, daily part of that. To BE with her. That's the best part. No contest.