A Student Teacher, 120 6th Graders, A Field Trip, A Homeless Man, An Experience

                Nothing makes an educator more nervous than taking students out of the school and into the world on a field trip. The stakes are particularly higher when the students are 6^th graders and the field trip is to a historical museum full of irreplaceable and valuable artifacts, involves a walk through a downtown urban area, and a meal at a restaurant during lunch hour. This was the position that I placed myself in last month. During a college class last semester, I learned of a local history museum that had received an endowment from a patron that covered the cost of buses for student field trips to the museum. I am quite interested in local history and wish to impart some of it onto my students, regardless of their own interest. I believe that people should know something about the history of where they live and that 12 year old human beings are desperate to figure out just where they fit into this wide wacky world. Local history can help put a person in context.

                I suggested to the 6^th grade team at my placement school that this museum would be a prime location for a field trip. The idea was accepted and my stress level began to rise. A few blocks worth of walk to a small city park decorated by sculptures was added to the field trip itinerary, as was a meal at a restaurant. Details were hammered out over the following month and the day of the trip was upon us when I realized just how worried I was. I was afraid that my students would not be interested in the material. I was afraid that my students might act like fools outside of the classroom. I was afraid that my colleagues would consider my idea of visiting the museum to have been a horrible mistake once we were there. I was very afraid that my students might accidentally or intentionally cause damage to an irreplaceable artifact. I was afraid that my students would embarrass the teachers and school with poor behavior at the museum. I was afraid that something bad might happen during the walk through downtown. I was afraid of a million variables. Why had I suggested this trip?

                As it turned out, the students were not riveted by the material in the museum. But, they behaved well and did not cause any problems (or damage thank God) during our time there. The walk to the sculpture park was anticlimactic. Students got loud, but they had spent two hours being told to hush in a museum and we were outside. I was beginning to think that all of my worries had been in error. Then we went to lunch…

                One teacher and I somehow were put in charge of over 60 6^th graders in a fast food restaurant. The food ordering process was slow and painful, but our students had been advised to bring lunch money and they all made their way through the line. A warning phone call had been made to the restaurant manager the previous day, but he still was sweating the influx of adolescence into his eatery.  One student dropped his food and it was replaced at no charge (probably out of fear of a riot.) I ordered my own food and took a spot near the back of the restaurant where a few of my more troublesome students were eating and chatting. It was then that I noticed a man sitting alone at a booth.

                One student approached me and whispered “That guy is homeless. He’s making a sign that says ‘Homeless- please help’.” That student was discreet, however many of my students were not. Soon several of them were walking by the man’s booth and staring at him before slipping back to their peers and snickering. My Spidey-sense began to tingle.

One student with whom I have had constant issues due to his immaturity was sitting at a table near the man. He watched as his classmates acted distastefully. Suddenly he spoke. “That ain’t right y’all. That could be you someday. That’s messed up, you acting like that.” I nearly stood and applauded this uncharacteristic display of maturity. Instead, I beckoned him to my table and he hesitantly came over. Before he could ruin the moment by defending himself, I told him how proud he had just made me. “You just proved to me that you are a kind and mature young man.” He shrugged off my compliment and pulled a couple of dollar bills from his pocket. “Can I give him this?” I asked him to leave it at my table and told him that I would give it to the man when we left to “avoid making a scene.” He nodded approval and left the money on my table.

Suddenly, several students approached my table as if they had all been privy to the conversation. Before I knew it, fifteen or so dollar bills and a handful of change sat before me. Ours is a school where 86% of the students are economically disadvantaged. These are poor children. But they wanted to give what they could give to help this man. When the time came for us to leave the restaurant I took the offerings in my hand and approached the man. “Here. My 6^th grade students wanted you to have this.” I said. “Thank you” he said. “God bless them.”  Before I knew it he continued “Nice to know they aren’t rude like SOME PEOPLE!” He turned and glared at a few of our 6^th grade girls who had been less than considerate with their behavior.

“Let’s go.” I nervously barked and gestured to the girls whose eyes had tripled in size. Though they never follow orders without retort, they listened to me in that instance. We all left the restaurant.

My heart was in my throat as I followed the last student onto the bus to return to school. I had every right to be fearful of the activities of that day. But I had been given a glimpse of hope for the future.