There are those thst stand, nervously
On the edge, looking out across a bumpy lake
While others pile into canoes
Leaky, after twenty years of use.
Rafts are built with plastic barrels
Tied together precariously
With ropes and logs and other bits of trash,
Some fall in and cling to others like survivors
Of Titanic, far from here, this lake
In central England, safe and self contained.
Yet teachers still jump forward,
None wanting to on that trip that will be known
Always and forever as the one
Where a kid didn’t come back…..
I’m off on my first water sports school trip tomorrow and I’m a little bit scared. Just picture 90 crazy twelve year olds piling into a lake while attached to a blue plastic barrel. Scary, I know. Pray for me, and pray for them. I’ll let you know if we all come back in one piece.