Funny

I spent this afternoon trying to shepherd a group of eleven kids, grade one through grade seven, during the annual "Fellowship Fest" (an afternoon of team-building games) at my old elementary school. My mom (the principal at said school) asked me to fill in at the last minute for a teacher whose wife just had a baby.

So yesterday I met my energetic group to decide what our name and distinctives would be. After heated discussion, the majority decided that we would be the "Bow wow cows" and that we should all wear black and white, a hat, and sunglasses. I was also convinced that we needed some sort of face paint so that we would stand out, so I spent this morning running around St. Catharines looking for black and white face paint. (Which, apparently, is rarely available outside of the months surrounding halloween.)

I showed up this afternoon with black eyeshadow and a white lipstick, and the kids proceeded to put cow spots all over each other with the black powder. One particularly innovative youngster grabbed some black magic markers from her desk, so a few kids had 'bow wow cows' written all over their faces, arms, and legs.

Being back at my old elementary school, I was struck by how much things change. Children I used to babysit were in charge of the afternoon's games. I didn't recognize most of the teachers. The school is undergoing renovation and construction, and I hardly recognized the place where I spent 9 years of my childhood.

At the same time, so much was the same. I was second-guessed by a second grade teacher--three times. The band teacher complained that the high school musical was, as is customary, way behind schedule. (They haven't run through the entire musical from start to finish yet, and the show opens on Thursday. Ouch.) Some kids were competitive and mean, despite the fact that the whole point of FELLOWSHIP FEST is to encourage co-operation and commaradarie (sp?) among the various grade levels.

I don't know if I have a point to all this.

Spending all afternoon with children significantly younger than me made me feel old. Should that really surprise me? When I told my parents that seeing all the kids who had grown up so much since I babysat them made me feel old, my mom just said, "Get used to it, honey."

I suppose she's right. As Jonathan Horlings said on his blog recently, you can't stop time from marching on.