Field Trips: Then and Now

Today, my fourth graders and I journeyed to Eatonville, where we spent the day on a farm, learning to do everything the way pioneers did.  Side note: as a result of this, tonight has been deemed "Electricity Appreciation Night".  My students and I had a blast.  We discovered how soothing it can be to milk a cow, how funny it is to catch a chicken, and how hard it is to do all these chores in the dimly lit cabins and barns.  There was a blacksmith station where they actually let the kids put a horse shoe in the forge and then beat on the glowing metal until it bent.  When we approached the blacksmith shed, the burning smell took me back to China.  It smelled like street vendors' big metal canisters with hot coals inside.  I was in heaven.  Then, a student shook me from by reverie with, "Ewww!  What smells so nasty?"  Apparently, the smell isn't for everyone!  Anyway, I remember what adventures Katie, Lina, and I had on field trips with our elementary school in China.  So, I'm posting the stories from my old newsletters.  I hope they make you smile.

From November 2009:

During the school’s recent field trip to a local geothermal science museum, I participated in a new level of Chinese generosity – snack sharing.  That morning, I had wondered why the students’ backpacks were so heavy.  When lunchtime arrived, I understood.  The kids produced huge packs of snacks and shrieked with delight as they saw what their friends had brought.   Then, they began a beautifully timed succession of sharing.  A couple of students got up and called out, “Shei yao?” (who wants some?).  They didn’t wait for their classmates to answer; they just started passing.  When one student ran out of snacks, another would stand up and begin.  I witnessed a few re-gifts, where a student would accept a treat, then give it to another friend.  A group of adult visitors sat down next to our group and the students mobbed them, urging them to accept offerings.  The adults seemed charmed by it all, as was I.

From May 2010:

The week after our Changchun trip, the school held their Sports Day and a field trip.  All the 2-6 graders headed out in large charter buses; the kids dressed in their uniforms with red neck kerchiefs and backpacks full of snacks (refer to my November newsletter for the importance of field trip snacks).  I sat next to Allie, my student who grew up in the US.  For entertainment, Allie and I sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and a Chinese teacher wrote and performed some short, humorous poems about the students.   We arrived at a military base where the Sports Day activities would take place, only to discover that foreigners are not allowed on site.  So, the foreign teachers headed to Beijing’s Botanical Gardens to wait for the kids.  Hours later, having thoroughly explored the grounds, we were happy to interact with our students and share lunch together.  I noticed that Allie was especially clingy.  She held my hand most of the day.  Once, when I let go, she said, “Oh, Miss Caldwell!  I’m supposed to make sure you stay with us!”  While I was thinking that I was helping watch all the kids, it turned out that one of them had been assigned to make sure I didn’t wander off!

The River

Walking through a cathedral of trees,


Bold shafts of sunlight illumine lofty green branches,

And warm the air with the heady scent of pine.



A carpet of needles leads to a river.



The water sings a deafening, riotous song,

That both beckons and cautions those who might be bold enough,

To join its path.



Two kayakers stand on the river’s edge,

Two bright yellow crafts, two helmets strapped securely,

Paddles held like walking sticks, grounding them to shore.



Eyes watch and calculate the rapids in view.



This rushing water, these deep drops and twisting turns,

Have the power to devour, to defeat.

A kayaker can paddle like mad, only to be spun silly in a whirlpool,

Overtaken by waterfalls,

And emerge soaked, bruised, and exhausted.



This same water, these same deep drops and twisting turns,

Have the power to strengthen, to teach.

Small, well chosen, deft strokes will navigate unpredictable current,

Overcome any torrent,

And bring unbelievable joy in the wild exploration of it all.



Rivers don’t think much of being controlled,

Nor do they have much compassion for those who struggle.

Rivers rush, rage, push.



Water consumes.



But I am consumed by a different force,

A greater power,

Allowing me to do something the river can’t do:



To choose.



Today, I choose to learn from this place,

This path, these waters.

I call on the wisdom of those with better experience,

And release grace to myself for the skill set I have now.

I name this an adventure,

And remind myself that by His Name,

I reserve the right, the authority, to command every last ripple to be still.



Let’s go, Lord.



Let’s go.

Sick Heart

Proverbs 13:12 says "Hope deferred makes the heart sick..."  My heart is sick.  For two years, I have searched for answers to anxiety and sit here tonight feeling worse than ever.  How long must I suffer, and simultaneously hope that I will heal?  Crossing a busy street makes my throat clench up.  Getting out of bed is a monumental task some days.  The fear that people close to me will reject and leave me is more than I can take. 

Two years seems like a silly, short amount of time compared to what others struggle through.  I guess I'm weak.  Call me crazy, but I don't want another day of this hell.  I am losing all I care about because I can't get the hang of believing the truth or memorizing enough verses.  Read this book, people will say.  Or, pray.  Prayer will solve it.  Try medicine.  See a counselor.  A psychiatrist.  Exercise.  Meditate.  Take vitamins.  Done, done, done, done. 

I'm writing this because I'm angry and it feels like everything good is slipping away from me.  I don't want anyone to tell me what to do.  I want someone out there to tell me that they get it.  That they too have been here and felt this. 

I know this post is raw, but it needs to be.  When I looked tonight, I couldn't find a blog with someone who was "in the sh**", as my friend would say.  I hope that someone will find me and say, here's someone in the sh** with me.