Personal narrative with no relevance.
The Autumn of my sophomore year in high school was an experience I will never forget. There was of course the crisp fall air, the vivid reds and oranges of falling leaves, and perhaps unique to my memory, the screaming of hundreds of school kids. Now, these were not ordinary school kids let me tell you. These were field trip pumped, 6 year old apple picking fiends.The largest cause of this predicament was that for a logic I may never quite understand, I had decided to home school for a year. Another contributing factor was that my parents run an apple orchard, hosting thousands of children every year for an authentic orchard experience.
My books not scheduled to arrive until November, what better use was there of my time than a job? Apparently this was my parents logic, because I was scheduled for 9 a.m. every morning. It was a simple routine that I actually learned to enjoy over the weeks.
At 9 O'clock I walked down to the big gray and red barn that served as a check point, gift shop, and fruit stand in one. I loved the feeling of stepping out into the cool autumn air, and the consequent redness that would spread through my cheeks every morning. The dew was still slightly frosted onto the stiff blades of grass and I could hear the distinct crunching noise your feet always make as they leave permanent prints in the frozen ground. As I walked through the large apple shaped door I was immediately hit with the smell of Poppy's cider donuts. (Poppy is my grandfather and he makes the best cider donuts in the world. I'm not sure exactly how he got his name, but I think it might have something to do with his tradition of making popcorn every Saturday night.)
Once I arrived on site I had something I needed to take care of before getting down to business. You see, me and one of the other employees had a pact. Every morning I would walk into Poppy's little work space and take two cinnamon sugared donuts to go, and then one to eat at the moment. The truth was that I only did eat that one donut. The other two were smuggled out to Kim, my co-worker. Honestly, it was doing everyone a lot of good, because I know that Poppy loved to see me wanting three of his donuts every morning. As for Kim, well he really appreciated it too because he got a free breakfast!
Now that my friendly duty was served, I headed to the back room to pour what seemed to be an endless number of Dixie cups full of apple cider. The cider jugs were so cold that I finally invested in some bright blue monkey gloves with bananas on the finger tips. You wouldn't see me pouring without them.
Once the busses started pulling in there were several jobs that I would do depending on where I was needed. The groups had to be checked in of course, and then there was always the duty of leading each group to their activities. This job proved to me to be one of the most frustrating. No matter how slow it felt like I was walking, the curious children would linger farther and farther back, their senses absorbing every detail of the new place. I would stop and turn, kindly prompting them to keep walking, but behind my smile was a nagging impatience and an uncomfortable shifty feeling that you can only understand when hundreds of eyes are on your back.
Although leading was not my favorite task, it doesn't mean I didn't love working with the kids. My favorite job was helping out in the Apple Tree Theater. My responsibility was to choose several of them to help out in various aspects of the show, whether it be dressing up on stage or controlling the spot lights. It was so much fun to see their faces light up when I explained to them what an important job it was they were being given.
One girl, who I will never forget, looked up at me with wide eyes as I walked by in my cowgirl hat.
"Are you a teenager??" She asked, her shrill voice in complete awe.
"As a matter of fact I am!" I exclaimed, beaming back at her.
I couldn't help laughing at how fascinated she was in me. It made me stop and wonder how many of these kids actually looked up to me.
My favorite memory of the entire experience happened one day in mid October. My aunt was visiting us from California, and at this particular moment she was standing by the coffee counter, which she visited frequently. I was pouring cider in the back room when I heard her scream. I quickly set down the cider gallon on the counter and ran out to see what had happened. It took me a second to realize that she was actually bent over in laughter, not in pain.
"LOOK!" She managed to yell between her laughter and desperate gulps for air.
Curious, if not a little confused, I looked out the window where her finger was pointing. I saw two teachers talking, their class formed in groups around the tables. Then, as my eyes lowered, I saw what she was pointing at. Right next to, but unannounced to the teacher was a lone boy, his pants at his ankles and arms at his sides, peeing all over the ground. His classmates stood uncaring around him and his teacher, so engulfed in her conversation, had not even noticed. Finally she turned and saw the boy, screamed, and frantically started trying to pull up his pants while he stood there nonchalantly enjoying his field trip. At this point I don't know what became of him, mostly because my aunt and I were both on the floor, clutching our sides, and laughing without shame in front of all the other customers in the store.
posted by Kimmi @ 7:33 PM
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