A Christmas Carol

Houston's teacher sent out an email requesting for volunteers to chaperone their upcoming field trip to see a performance of A Christmas Carol at a local theatre.  Since I happened to be on my email a mere thirty minutes after her message hit my inbox, I promptly replied back that I would love the opportunity.  With such a swift response, I felt as though I had an edge on all the other working parents.  I didn't care where they were going, what they were doing, or when it was happening.  I just knew I wanted to be there!

My mother never missed a single field trip when my brothers and I were young.  But, you see, these days, the opportunity to chaperone a field trip in elementary school is not like it used to be.  It is extremely competitive.  I even volunteered to be the room parent one year, hoping that would give me an advantage.  Complete falsehood.  I have yet to be able to attend a class outing with either of my children.  There's been a total of four chances over the last two years, but sadly, my name was "never drawn from the hat".

When the note came home that I had attained a coveted spot, I felt as though I'd won Publisher's Clearing House!  I perused the red flyer twice and gave Houston a gigantic embrace.  I won!  I won!  I finally won!  I didn't hesitate to send in my $8 the very next day, for fear that my space would be filled with another eager parent.

Field trip day arrived.  Parents are not allowed to ride the bus so I met them at the theatre.  Once the kids exited the bus, I joined up with Houston's class on the sidewalk.  There were a sea of second graders!  Teachers were nervously trying to herd their children.  I approached Houston's teacher.  "Where are all my parents?" she frantically inquired.  "I only have four parents.  All the other teachers have ten or eleven," she continued.

And just like that, my sense of good fortune disappeared like a gallon of milk with a threat of snow.  You feel less like a winner when everyone's a winner.  At least I was there!

As we filed into the auditorium, Houston looked at me, giddy with joy, "I'm SO excited!" he giggled.  Truth be told, I was just as excited.  We sat on the second row.  There was a good twenty minutes to kill before the show began, which gave me a chance to socialize with some of his classmates.  I learned many little golden nuggets.  For instance, the fake snow that was sprinkled all over the carpet will magically transform you into anything you want, should it land on you.  It was about that time that she blew her collection of white, plastic flakes at my face.  Another child made known her Christmas list to include, but not limited to, a Taylor Swift CD, an Easy Bake Oven, fuzzy purple slippers, and a hot pink Ipod.

I also deducted through observance that Houston's good friend is a troublemaker.  It was pretty obvious when Calvin (name changed to protect the guilty) was switched from his seat farthest away from the teacher to a spot right near her.  "I thought you'd like a better view," she reassured him as she patted his back and winked at me.  All the while the little girl dressed in all black and seated right next to me continued to bounce up and down in her seat and re-adjust her headband a ga-jillion times.  "I'm dressed in Goth today," she announced before she began sucking her thumb.

As the performance began, the kids quickly settled down.  They became far less interested in devising a way to "accidentally" fall into the orchestra pit.  Ten minutes in, the first spirit visited Ebeneezer Scrooge.  The ghost of Jacob Marley was quite scarier than I remember from childhood.  Houston loved it!  Goth girl grabbed my arm and squealed with fright.  Another student, shielding his eyes, scurried down our row searching for refuge in the lap of the teacher.  He ended up having to leave altogether.  Later in the play, my next-seat-neighbor yanked my arm down when I held my cell phone up to take some pictures.  She scolded me in a whisper, "No flash photography!"  I had already turned the flash off, hence the slighly blurry pictures.

All in all, the play was exceptional--especially being so close.  It was a short sixty minutes, perfectly suited for an eight-year-old attention span.  We grabbed a quick snap-shot with one of the leading role actors and high-fived Tiny Tim on the way out the door.

I can't wait to re-live the experience with Hayes next year, since I now know that the Christmas Carol is an everyone-receives-a-trophy-in-little-league field trip.