I was having fun and the kids were having a blast. I started to relax and enjoy myself. This is what Field Day is supposed to feel like.
One of my kids who received the bucket 'o water to the head!
Don't feel sorry for them... it was hot! They were begging me to soak them.
Until my fifth group of kids. Everything began just as it was supposed to. The kids were excited but under control. It was perfect... until one of the third-graders slipped and fell hard on her chin. I watched as she went down and I knew it would be bad before she gasped her first tentative sob. As I gently pulled her crumpled form from the ground she looked up at me with pain in her eyes and blood in her hands, and I knew there would be stitches.
After her mother had spirited her off to the doctor's, I returned to Duck, Duck, Splash. I know it wasn't my fault but I felt horrible nonetheless. I plastered a smile on my face and tried to ignore the weighty lump in the pit of my stomach. I mentally called on my former enthusiasm, but the crimson flowers of her blood on my shirt continually gnawed at me.
So, Field Day...
I'm giving you one more year and then I'm OUT.