I went to Hill Field Elementary School during my childhood. Each grade from kindergarten through 6th grade had three classes. While I really had no complaints about the teachers that I had during those formative years, I always seemed to be assigned to the one teacher each year that did not take their students on a field trip. My siblings all went on at least one field trip each year at the same school. I even pleaded for my Mom to write a note allowing me to skip my class for a day so I could go on a field trip with a different teacher. My Mom would reassure me that sooner or later I would get to go on a field trip with my own class. Part of wanting to go on a field trip stemmed from my desire to ride in a school bus. I had never ridden in one of those iconic big yellow buses, and I felt deprived. Of course, the other reason was to skip a day of school and have some fun!
Years came and went, and I was assigned to Mr. Mellor’s 6th grade class. Still no field trip. I must admit here that in Mrs. Adam’s fourth grade class we did have a “walking field trip,” but it didn’t really count. We walked for no more than a quarter mile from the school house to a rundown farm with animals. Okay, really it was about two acres with a few goats, one horse and some chickens. There was no bus ride, and the whole things was as exciting as watching a tree stump. It didn’t count.
With about two months left of my entire grade school experience, Mr. Mellor announced that we were going to have a field trip during the last month of school! We would be going to the zoo! Mere words cannot express the euphoria that overcame me. I even raised my hand and asked if we would be riding in a bus to get there. The zoo was over 30 miles away. Mr. Mellor was taken back by my question, but refrained himself from pointing out the high degree of stupidity contained in my question. He simply answered, “Yes.” Life was complete… or about to be. Most of my classmates had been on multiple field trips, and I am sure I was way too excited for this event. Permission slips were sent home for parents to sign. A list of things to bring was provided, which included a sack lunch.
The night before the field trip was almost as magical as was Christmas Eve. Within hours I would be riding the bus, going to the zoo on my very first field trip. It was almost too good to be true. I was even healthy – no sickness or broken limbs that would somehow intervene to ruin this momentous occasion. The next morning after the pledge of allegiance and school announcements, Mr. Mellor looked troubled. Something was wrong. I could sense it. NOOO! With fear and anger mounting I raised my hand and asked, “Mr. Mellor, we’re still going on the field trip, aren’t we?” His answer was a quick, “Yes,” followed by a deliberate false and poorly presented caveat, “…but we have had to make an adjustment. There are not enough funds to allow us to take the bus all the way to the zoo and pay for entrance fees. So instead of going to the zoo, we will be going to the sewage treatment plant here in town.” STUNNED SILENCE! The what?!?! We are going on a field trip to the sewage treatment plant? What?! “The principal insisted that if we still wanted to go on a field trip, it had to be close by and educational,” Mr. Mellor went on to explain.
I wanted to hurt someone. Okay, not just someone; first Mr. Mellor, and then the principal. Really? Of all the places that could be “educational” in a city, that’s the best Mr. Mellor could do? Even when we started driving away from the school on the bus, I thought, “He must be messing with us. I’ll bet we’re still going to the zoo.” Nope. Ten minutes after we left the school we were at the sewage treatment facility… with our sack lunches. Picture 30 students in stunned bewilderment, each holding a sack lunch in their hands looking at a series of 100 foot wide open sedimentation tanks. Wow! Now that’s educational!
The facility director began enthusiastically explaining how the sewage from our houses gets to the plant and that by the time it has been processed, the resultant water is drinkable. Right! You drink it and I’ll believe it. About this time, Jerry – the class clown with no sense – while holding on to the railing, flipped his skinny body to the inside of one of the smelly sedimentation tanks that was swirling with raw sewage just a foot below his feet. Why would he do that? Who knows, but finally there was something cool happening! If only he could fall in now! He didn’t. He just got yelled at by both Mr. Mellor and the facility director.
On a previous occasion earlier in the school year, Jerry, who was always willing to risk his life for a laugh, pulled the following stunt. Mr. Mellor was at his usual position – sitting at his desk at the front of the class while we worked on our assignments. A teacher came to the door and asked to speak with Mr. Mellor for a moment out in the hall. Upon exiting the classroom, Jerry sprang from this seat and ran to the front of the room where he positioned himself beneath Mr. Mellor’s desk, in the space where the chair goes. I remember thinking, “This is gonna be awesome!” In a moment, Mr. Mellor was back. He quietly walked over to his desk, pulled out the chair and slid forward. At this very moment, Jerry screamed at the top of his lungs to scare Mr. Mellor. It worked. Mr. Mellor likewise yelled and went flying backwards falling off his chair. Jerry stood up smiling basking in this apparent victory… for about one second. That’s when Mr. Mellor got his hands on him. He picked him up and quickly carried him out of the room with fistfuls of shirt in both hands. We heard Jerry’s body hit the wall and another scream.
Well, the sack lunch at the sewage treatment plant wasn’t very appetizing with the smell and presence of raw sewage all around us. We sat and ate it on the lawn that was routinely watered by treated sewage water. I moved on to junior high, braces and glasses. I never saw Jerry after elementary school. Mr. Mellor retired early from teaching that year. He went on to work for Coca Cola delivering drinks to businesses in the area. I never went on another field trip, and I’ve never been back to the sewage treatment facility. Maybe it was educational though. I still remember it well… and even with some fondness. Fondness maybe too strong. I’ll bet in the annals of elementary school field trips, this may have been the worst. That’s why it stands out. But hey, I got my bus ride!
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