Lots of stuff gets better in college, including field trips. Daisy and the rest of the University Singers climbed on a bus this morning in Columbia bound for Chicago. They are to attend a national music conference. I should know more about it, but I no longer sign permission slips. I remember bits and pieces of my childhood field trips. I sampled poi on a field trip. That's no typo. I meant "poi" as the field trip was in Hawaii. Also in Hawaii, the bus enjoyed endless rounds of "100 Bottles of Coke on the Wall." G.I.s drove the buses; many teachers had husbands in Viet Nam to worry about. We were nine-year-olds. Our voices were undoubtably sweeter than Vietnamese gunfire and more distracting than the worry over unwanted knocks at the door. That was before I knew the song was intended to be "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and before coke meant more than Coke. North Carolina teachers believed in field trips, maybe they wanted out of class, too, as about 40 children were packed into each classroom. The field trip to hear a symphony perform "Peter and the Wolf" was almost as boring as sitting in class. I liked the symphony hall's velvet seats, but not as much as I enjoyed the thrill of standing at the gallows on another trip. On my favorite field trip, we watched thousands of cigarettes roll off an assembly line. North Carolina is The Tobacco State; it was the early 1970s; and the surgeon general shouldn't scare decent folks trying to enjoy their inherited gift from the "Indians." As school children, we didn't know Indians were Native Americans; we didn't know people from India were Indians. We thought they were "people from India." But I digress. I chaperoned a few of Daisy and Birdie's elementary school field trips. The No. 1 rule: No singing on the bus. Children's untamed voices must be more grating now without the Vietnamese bullet worry factor. I hope the "no singing" rule is relaxed on Daisy's bus. The University Singers can sing much better songs than beer/Coke ballads.
Lots of stuff gets better in college, including field trips. Daisy and the rest of the University Singers climbed on a bus this morning in Columbia bound for Chicago. They are to attend a national music conference. I should know more about it, but I no longer sign permission slips. I remember bits and pieces of my childhood field trips. I sampled poi on a field trip. That's no typo. I meant "poi" as the field trip was in Hawaii. Also in Hawaii, the bus enjoyed endless rounds of "100 Bottles of Coke on the Wall." G.I.s drove the buses; many teachers had husbands in Viet Nam to worry about. We were nine-year-olds. Our voices were undoubtably sweeter than Vietnamese gunfire and more distracting than the worry over unwanted knocks at the door. That was before I knew the song was intended to be "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and before coke meant more than Coke. North Carolina teachers believed in field trips, maybe they wanted out of class, too, as about 40 children were packed into each classroom. The field trip to hear a symphony perform "Peter and the Wolf" was almost as boring as sitting in class. I liked the symphony hall's velvet seats, but not as much as I enjoyed the thrill of standing at the gallows on another trip. On my favorite field trip, we watched thousands of cigarettes roll off an assembly line. North Carolina is The Tobacco State; it was the early 1970s; and the surgeon general shouldn't scare decent folks trying to enjoy their inherited gift from the "Indians." As school children, we didn't know Indians were Native Americans; we didn't know people from India were Indians. We thought they were "people from India." But I digress. I chaperoned a few of Daisy and Birdie's elementary school field trips. The No. 1 rule: No singing on the bus. Children's untamed voices must be more grating now without the Vietnamese bullet worry factor. I hope the "no singing" rule is relaxed on Daisy's bus. The University Singers can sing much better songs than beer/Coke ballads. 
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