Looks like a Penguin to me...

Every year about this time, the morning air gets a little crisp, the leaves start changing into a beautiful array of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns, scarves and mittens get pulled out of their hiding places in the depths of dark closets, and the question, "Excuse me, Miss Terry, is that an eagle... or a penguin?" echoes through the hills of Northeast Georgia.

Huh?

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, it's that time again. Time for the 6th grade's annual jaunt to the exciting town of Eatonton, GA, where we will spend three days joined at the hip with 76 12-year-olds at Rock Eagle 4-H Camp. We take classes with the kids, we eat with the kids, we SLEEP with the kids.

Oh yes. It's a trip that every 27-year-old singleton dreams of. You know, that nightmare where she's suddenly old enough to be a mother 76 times over? Where she's all of a sudden not only required to teach her students 8 hours a day, but to also remind them to take their medications, make sure they're eating balanced meals, and tuck 16 of them into their lumpy bunkbeds on two consecutive nights? Yeah. That one.

I should clarify that I'm exaggerating. The trip isn't that bad. We get to be outdoors for three days and break up the monotony that hits this time of the schoolyear. We hold snakes and turtles and pet the feathers of live screech owls and hawks. We take night hikes in the pitch black darkness of the Northeast Georgia wilderness, using only our hearing and fumbling feet to guide us. We eat delicious meals like fried chicken and mashed potatoes, made specially for the teachers, while loudly poking fun at the kids' nasty-looking meals of chicken patty sandwiches and tator tots. It has its highlights.

On the other hand...

My first year, when Amy and I were sharing chaperone duties in one cabin, a child decided that she couldn't sleep and, therefore wouldn't let us sleep, either. Every 20 minutes, she'd appear at our door to inform us that she was still awake. Finally, Amy just about lost it and told her that if she came back one more time, she'd need to have her shoes on and her sleeping bag in hand because we'd be marching her over to Mrs. Hattaway's cabin to let her sleep in her room. (Mrs. Hattaway is the traditional, strict, AWESOME teacher that all the kids are scared to death not to respect.) We didn't hear a peep from the kid the rest of the night. Go Amy!

Anyway, we leave tomorrow. Praying for good weather, a lot of patience, and a Divine intervention that slips Tylenol PM into the girls' drinks at supper time...