It’s a damn travesty that field day has seemed to go the way of the caribou. A damn. Travesty. Did this stop happening after elementary school? My kids never had it. They remain my single favorite days of elementary school.
A most epic day of events that no one was good at, field day brought out the mediocre athlete in all of us. 100-ish yard dash? Yep. Broad jump? Check. And then of course, the tug-o-war! Sixty seven pound 4th graders getting rope burns all for bragging rights for the rest of the school year. All 3 days of it.
Come to think of it, maybe field day was just a way for teachers to get the kids outside. They’d already figured out that we hadn’t learned anything since the end of March, might as well send us outside in the Mississippi sun to tap into our sense of home room pride.
By the time we got to 5th grade, the kickball tourney was the shining star. We were the 5th grade kickball equivalents of Danny White and Kareem or something. No head shots was the only rules. I’m pretty sure I wooed Kim Cucarro once and for all with my kickball heroics. I mean we lost, but I know I had a head band or one of those mesh shirts and some high tube socks. Stud.
Sixth grade was the culmination and Mrs. Jones’ class dominated the softball games and we emerged victorious.
For whatever reason, field day ended there. In seventh grade as I was working on my all important field day outfit, desperate for one day out of the stupid khakis I had to wear every day, I was informed there was no field day.
What the actual eff Catholics? Way to ruin the only good day of the year.
By 8th grade there were dances and other nonsense and I pretty much forgot about field day. I mean I was way more interested in Tori Scully.
Adult field day sounds like a great idea, but probably it just means a lot of knees being blown out and friendships ended by beer fueled arguments. Wait. Maybe we do need field day.