Volunteering to go on my son’s school trip made me worship his teachers

As a result, the three boys around him, including my son Theo, suddenly started shrieking too.

‘Let me clean that up,’ I smiled brightly, fishing in my pocket for a tissue. I scooped up the teeny-tiny poo, but hadn’t even reached the bin when the boys’ yelps echoed around the barn once more. 

‘He’s done it again, Miss!’  

I wished I’d brought more tissues.

This week, I was on Theo’s class trip to a local farm. I’d been asked to be one of the parent volunteers, after Theo, who suffers from terrible travel sickness, had thrown up on the way to a museum last term.

Up until then, that was the only aspect of the trip I’d given any thought to: getting him there without vomiting.

I’d bought him acupressure travel bands, stocked up on travel sickness tablets and packed a spare uniform, a fresh pack of wipes and a ton of sick bags. We had dry crackers for him to munch on, and his water bottle was nice and cool.  

Except, I didn’t realise that I’d have more things on my plate…

As I arrived at the school, I was handed a list of the three other children who had been assigned to my care for the day. And my nerves only built as I was told that under no circumstances was I to lose or mislay any of them. 

As we walked to the coach, the children in their high-vis jackets clutching their packed lunch boxes, my heart went out to them. One of my little ones was clutching my hand and cuddling my leg – they were still so small.

The teachers filed us onboard, we helped the children fasten their seatbelts and, with a head count – the first of many – we were off.

Theo snuggled into me silently, his cheeks turning pale as soon as we pulled away. Everyone else was talking – to me: ‘The boy behind me is kicking my chair’, ‘Are we nearly there?’, ‘Is that the farm?’

I asked the boy in question to stop swinging his legs (which he did – for approximately six seconds), pulled up a map on my phone and broke the news that we were still 24 minutes away.

As the bus pulled in indeed 24 minutes later, I gave Theo a high five for arriving without throwing up. But when I got off the coach, I realised this wasn’t just a farm. There was a sheep-racing track, an outdoor adventure play centre and even a soft-play. It was a far bigger day than I’d expected… 

Immediately, the interactivity element started. We were going to be holding guinea pigs and rabbits. And now Toffee, the furry friend in question, was pooing everywhere.

As I cleaned up the third, and fourth poos, I gave a quick look around to see if any other adults were getting their hands dirty. But no, all of the teachers and parent volunteers were smiling happily, passing around rabbits and guinea pigs to excited children.

‘They make it look so effortless!’ I thought, in wonder.

We then walked around the cow and sheep pens – with me keeping a close eye on my four boys, always panicking slightly when one of them drifted off my radar. Then, we got to feed goats.

Now, let me tell you, every single one of those – gulp – 60 children were absolute superstars. They lowered their voices when their guide told them to, held out their hands calmly and waited their turn. I could have taken at least half of them home, they were adorable.

The little boy who’d reached for my hand never stopped hugging me, either. ‘He’s so lovely,’ I whispered to Theo. ‘He’s a hugger,’ he told me knowingly.

And the teachers were just so adept at everything. With a single word, the children would be with their partners, in a neat line. And they seemed to know every child inside and out. If there was a tear, they’d know how to raise a smile, as well as stop any bickering before it got out of hand. 

Next thing on our agenda was bottle-feeding a lamb – extremely cute until the lamb made a run for it. But even the excited cries of the children didn’t disrupt the teachers’ calm. Instead, they simply smiled and soothed.   

At lunchtime, I peeled bananas, opened crisp packets, cleared away unwanted sandwich crusts before courageously holding back the children from leaping into the soft play before another school had left.

There was a brief 25-minute respite while they bounced, swung and ran, which I used to down my flask of tea. But, before too long, it was back to wiping noses, zipping up coats, making sure no-one had forgotten their lunchbox and that everyone was accounted for.

An afternoon of tractor rides and petting baby chicks followed and by the time we were getting on the bus, all of the kids were sleepy-eyed and slumped-shouldered. And they weren’t the only ones: I was exhausted.

As I looked at the teachers, doing a final head-count and taking seats next to any emotional children, I felt a massive wave of awe. 

Of course, I’d always respected teachers; questioned how they could control a classroom of children when I could barely manage my own two kids, but seeing them in action, right in the thick of it, really hit home the extent of their job.

The nurturing, educational, responsibility of not only teaching, but impressively taking care of so many children at once.   

So, as I collapsed onto the sofa that evening, I raised my cup of tea to all of the teachers out there. You’re flipping awesome!