Field Day

Yep. You heard me.

"Field Day."

Conjures up some memories, doesn't it? Hot May days, red clay on your tube socks, popsicles, tug-of-war, relays, and ice cream. My friend Vanessa, a schoolteacher, gleefully tells me come every May about what they call Field Day at her school. I think she enjoys watching me roll my eyes. I kid you not, they call it "Personal Record Day." Because God forbid that we might have kids who are actually winners over other kids, because . . . well, then there would be losers. We wouldn't want to teach our little ones that sometimes people win, sometimes they lose. Even worse, what if they were to learn that classic lesson about being a gracious loser? Nope, much better to let them run around a field like chickens with their heads cut off, achieving nothing, learning nothing, but with their precious self-esteem intact.

Oops. Totally got off the subject. This was about Rollie, and about his first field day. In his own words.