THE ANNUAL FACULTY VS 6TH GRADE KICKBALL GAME!!!
Let me paint a picture for you: When I taught at Santaquin, I didn't even go outside for the game. Last year's game at my new school Taylor was a little harder to hide from. Our school is small enough, it was totally noticeable when I was hiding in my classroom, "looking really busy". I was drug outside and each time I came up to kick, I subtly went to the back of the line. One of the 6th grade teachers declared there would be no bunting at all in the game. Hello!!! Bunts are my secret weapon!!! When our team was outfield, the ball actually came toward me in one of those perfect-pop-fly-completely-catchable-easy out- kind of kicks. What did I do??? I screamed, pulled my arms inward and jumped out of the way. The principal, who possesses quite a bit of athleticism, started laughing as he said, "You really are afraid of the ball aren't you?" I'm thinking to myself, "Duh! If I wasn't wearing sunglasses, you would see the giant tears pooling in my eyes from complete and utter anxiety of just being out in the field, let alone actually participating in the game!"
This year, I am the school's P.R. person so I have to take all the pictures to turn into the newspaper and District website about different things happening at our school. Now I'm sure that very few people would actually care about reading an article about the kickball game, but I INSISTED that I could not possibly play in the game because I was the ONLY one who came prepared with a camera to capture this event. Too bad one of the school's parents (whose husband played in the game luckily) showed up with hers with left me with no more excuses. The teachers wouldn't even let me get away with the "I just had a baby 6 weeks ago" excuse either. After about 4 innings, I went out into the field and stood there and prayed aloud that the inning would end fast. Luckily it did. The teachers actually were killing the 6th graders so we didn't spend much time outfield. However towards the end of the game, my principal, Chad, (who I will egg his house later this week for this) drug me up to kick. He actually kicked for me and then drug me around the bases blocking all ball shots from in the inside of the baseline. I was so focused on being pelted with a giant red ball by an obnoxious 6th grader, that I had no idea when to run or stay so I was glad he was there to drag and yank me around. Afterall, he got me into this mess. However, when I was running into home, I think I got caught up in the moment and kept running when I should have gone back to 3rd. Chad was dragging me one way, and I was pulling towards home. Then I noticed a 6th grade boy closing in on me with the ball. Jenna, a 5th grade teacher describes me as doing a "perfect pirouette" as I was trying spin around to avoid being pelted. Chad even tried to dive in front of the ball to cheat and block me from being hit. However....I WAS OFFICIALLY OUT! I'm just glad that the kid was nice enough to toss it at me instead of actually pelting me.
So my kickball career has officially begun and I'm already sucking at it! But here are some pictures of the game. Too bad there are none of me!!! Teachers won by a landslide by the way...
Robin Provstgaard...our secret weapon!
This is business...the principal actually removed his tie.
The school kids watching us win!!!
Some of the teachers waiting to kick.
Jane Tuckett...representing the 4th grade team!
2 comments:
My heart swells with so much pride that I can hardly express it with words.
(Other than I completely failed you as a friend. But let's not focus on that.)
At least you were in the game. Pain is temporary.... but PRIDE is forever. It's pretty much a new slogan for your 'jock' self. No matter what these kids make of themselves... you will have always beat them at kickball. It's pretty much the most important game they will ever play.
Love the commentary! And hurray that you played. Since I had the excuse of "having a baby in 5 weeks" I couldn't play and it was worse! I was monitoring the precious children on the last day of school. Fighting, punching, swearing, grass pulling, you name it. Be happy you played and got officially out. You didn't have to be Mrs. Meany.
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