"Wouldn't it Just Suck if I Fell Right Now?"

Matt Smith,

Have you ever watched a child try to tie their shoe? Did you ever ponder the preciousness of that ability, and think how fleeting childhood is as you watched the Herculean effort it took for that child to perform an act that -- to you -- seems to be just another of the day's activities? Knowing that to you it's something you barely give a thought to, but to that child, it's an Olympic event? Did you watch their face scrunched up with all the determination of a... a... well, a very determined thing? And did you wish for a moment that, just as they've given that determination and that effort, you could find something that you could give your all to as well?

Nope. Me neither.
Really, I just wanted the kid to hurry up.

Today is another shining week in the travels of Kate and Meredith. We're here now in Bemidji, MN (say that three times fast, why don't you?), teaching Stranger and Body Safety to every second grade class in the city. Since it's only taking up a week, it's safe to assume that Bemidji isn't exactly a bustling metropolis. It is, however, able to "nyah nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah nyah" in the faces of some other towns that I've been in. Which is to say that it has a university and more than enough grocery stores and eating establishments than two 20-something girls could ask for. Unless we asked for more than, say, 30. Then we'd be plum out of luck.
(How did the plum get to be the unlucky fruit? As fruits go, I really don't think it's that unfortunate. Now a pomegranate. That's unlucky. Who wants a name like pomegranate? Who even BUYS pomegranates? Sometimes I confuse them with pomeranians, but I know I've never actually bought a pomegranate. Now THERE'S an unlucky fruit.)

A bit on the topic of Stranger/Body Safety -- although, really, by this time, I could tell you more than a bit. I could tell you a lot. In fact, I could teach you a 35-40 minute class on the topic, but I'll spare you the time. You might want to use that time later to tie your shoe.

Ever played the Penis Game? Being a Masquer, I assume that you probably have, but I'll explain it here in detail (which really doesn't take us all that far, it being a rather simple game), just on the offchance that I get old and forgetful someday and can't remember all the torrid tales of my youth. Simply put, it's a headset game. The Masquers on headset in the booth and the ASMs on headset near the stage try to say penis as quietly as possible, getting progressively louder. There's really no point to it -- as there is no point to a great many things in this American life -- but the word "penis" sure does warrant one snorkel of giggles from all of Masquerdom.

The same applies to second graders. During Body Safety, it was my job to address the male "private parts." Now I'm sure I said it loud enough for all parties involved, but I also said it at a high rate of speed while looking at the floor. I am now certain that if, God forbid, I was ever to have a child, I would be able to explain Good Touch/Bad Touch to them, but it would happen all in one breath....

"Theboy'sprivatepartslookdifferentandhaveadifferentnameHisprivatepartis
calledthepenisandit'sdownhereandhisswimsuitcoversitaswell."

Needless to say, I spent most of the beginning of that particular class looking at the ground. I could very easily tell you the colors and texture of every second grade classroom's carpet in Bemidji.

Stranger Danger is an entirely "other" subject, as most children already have some very strong opinions on what a stranger is, and how they should avoid them. More than once, in answer to the question "What is a stranger?" we got the answer, "Some guy who tries to take you," or "A guy with guns who tries to hurt you." (What are these parents teaching their kids? Are they just watching too much "Law & Order: SVU?")

The Child of the Week (or the COW) has to be the girl who, during our stranger safety class, asked, "What if, what if, um, what if you're not really home alone 'cause your parents are upstairs sleeping, and a stranger comes to the door, and your parents are sleeping really hard, they're having a really good time sleeping, what should you do?"

I, of course, had to spend some quality time looking at my old friend, the carpet, again. Kate swallowed and answered. "You should probably go home and ask your parents what they want you to do in that situation."

God love her. I always wondered how parents explained sex to their children. Now I know. "A really good time sleeping." Perhaps that's where the phrase "sleeping with someone" comes from. I might change it to "a really good time sleeping with someone," or maybe "sleeping really hard with someone." That's just perfect.

On Friday, Kate and I bought "School's a nice place, but I wouldn't want to live there" bumper stickers, which I thought was appropriate for our last week out of town in our final weeks at CLIMB. I would have bought the "I lived in Minnesota and all I got was this lousy bumper sticker" bumper sticker, but, of course, those don't actually exist.

Oh. And Kate fell into the Mississippi River.

Love, peace, and granola bars,
Meredith