To read about the School Board’s decision to eliminate field trip funding for the Columbia school district’s elementary and middle schools next year, click here.
The following is a short synopsis of a few of the most memorable field trips from my childhood. These memories do not portray the educational value of a day spent in an environment outside of school, but rather that a day experiencing the real world results in some of the most wonderful memories a child can make.
Child prodigies—of crafts. I remember taking a class field trip to Hallmark’s Kaleidoscope event when I was very young—probably around first grade. I’ve always been a self-proclaimed artist, and for all I know this could have been the springboard to my creative side. I specifically remember drawing a picture on a plain piece of white cardboard that was placed into a “fancy” die cut machine, transforming it into a homemade puzzle.
All I have to say is, “Why?” My second grade class visited a mushroom packaging factory. Why, you may ask? I have no idea. Maybe they explained the history of the assembly line or the recent technological advancements in robotics. I’m only sure of two things: 1. They gave each of us a giant, free sticker—which was really just the nutritional content packaging label. 2. I touched something I wasn’t supposed to, which resulted in an oil-stained hand. I hid my hand in my pocket until I got home because I was afraid of getting in trouble.
Cow poop on my Mary Janes. The summer between my second and third grade years, my parents moved us from Joplin, Mo., back to where they grew up: Lowry City, Mo., population 728. And wouldn’t you know that back in the ’70s, my great-grandpa sold some of his land to the school district so a new, consolidated high school could be built. By the time I got there in 1997, the facility was K-12. Apparently every year the two third-grade classes walked over to his old dairy farm, which my great-uncle still maintains.
When I woke up that day I somehow forgot all about the “trip” we had been talking about nonstop for the past week. I remember being so excited about wearing my plaid jumper and black Mary Janes. Bad decision. The second I walked into class all my friends looked at me like I was an idiot. So I walked to the dairy farm in my little schoolgirl outfit and tried not to step in cow poop when we were in the barn. On the walk back, we took turns shaking a container of cream. By the time we got back to school, a chunk of butter was at the bottom of the container. We spread it on some bread and ate a proud snack.
The bear and the bull. In fourth grade, my gifted class participated in “The Stock Market Game,” which was a statewide competition among students who bought and sold shares in a mock stock market. We had to check our stocks weekly and keep records of every transaction. It’s nauseating just to think about it. A couple of older sixth-graders placed at the state level, so we all got to attend the awards banquet at a fancy conference center in Kansas City. I remember sitting though some speeches during dinner, and I’m sure the speakers must have been important. The best part was that we got to stay up past 10 on a school night. My best friend Mallory and I snuck out sugar packets that we ate straight out of the package on our way home so we wouldn’t fall asleep.
That’s art? Our gifted class teacher was both eccentric and eclectic, so naturally in sixth grade we visited the Nelson Atkins Art Museum in Kansas City. This was my first time experiencing real art in person, and I absolutely loved it. I could have spent days in that art museum, but we were only there for a few hours. My most vivid memory of that day was when Mallory and I discovered a huge canvas. One half of it was painted black, and the other, white. We asked our teacher what it was all about. I remember she told us it cost the museum $500,000 and then suggested if we looked at the piece from a different angle it worked like an optical illusion. We looked at it a lot. It just looked like a big canvas that was half-black and half-white. I guess we didn’t get it.
Meeting “celebrities.” When I was younger, I loved to read. I’d stay up late hiding in my closet with a flashlight reading the Babysitter’s Club series and other such childhood nonsense. My elementary school library participated in the Mark Twain Book Award Reading Program.
Each year, some state literary group chose 20 books that were written or illustrated by Missouri natives. To my recollection, if you read five of the books you could spend a day at Central Missouri State University (now UCM) where many of the authors gave presentations and signed personalized autographs. It was a bookworm’s fantasy. I met my favorite childhood author, June Rae Wood, multiple times. I remember thinking, “These people are celebrities! I’m so lucky I get to meet them!”
