A funny thing happened on the way to having Mondays off. With my wife in Portland this weekend, I was asked to take over the privilege of accompanying the girls to a homeschooling field trip at the Willamette Heritage Center. Knowing nothing about the event or the place, I of course agreed. I am agreeable.
I arrived with my family half an hour early and after a not inconsiderable interlude in the restroom (there were five of us) we returned to the car to finish our audiobook. When we returned, soaked with rain, to the lobby, it was full of moms and their kids, many of the latter of whom had the foresight to be wearing bonnets and other items of period clothing. This was the real deal, a group reservation and a guided tour with a docent (what a situation-specific word). I didn’t know what to expect, but one thing I didn’t expect was for a childhood of school field trips to come roaring back at me.
Roaring? That would be the tyrannosaurus rex skeleton at the Natural History Museum in Denver, home of what I attest are some of the best wildlife dioramas in the world. And I will never forget the debut of the Ramses II exhibit, seen on a different trip. Then there was the Colorado School of Mines Geology Museum, which was way more fascinating than it had any right to be, and those plays that came at strategic times in my development that lead me to be a Theater Major, and…of course. The farm I visited in Kindergarten with the pig that I’m still convinced tried to eat me.
Field trips are special. I had forgotten their particular associative power. I went to the zoo several times with my family, but those school trips were somehow more exciting, even as they were more “educational.” As my daughters are more than a little enthusiastic about the workings of a water-powered woolen mill–or anything to do with history–I’m sure it will work out well for them too.
Thank goodness I packed a lunch. Sheesh.