The Program

As a former elementary school student, father of four, and an active Children's Ministry volunteer (I use the term "volunteer" loosely), I have been to and participated in my fair share of school programs. I think it's fairly safe to say that when any of us hear that our child will be in a school program, we all envision the same thing:

Small, cramped seating in a room designed for midgets along with a hundred other parents that would rather be home watching re-runs of CSI while little Johnny and Sally Sue stand on some risers built circa 1957 and belt some song that feels like a familiar tune but now has completely unintelligible lyrics. If you're lucky enough to have a hi-tech elementary school, you might even get the benefit of seeing one of the kids speak into a microphone announcing the next song or welcoming you to the event by saying something like, "Mmmmrrrrsssf…..pppt….SCREEEECCCH….jajkllllmmmm….ppt…SCREEEECH…pppt…..mmmarmmmssh." Your youngest kids might even say, "That sounded just like the teacher from Charlie Brown, Mom."

So, when Emma came home a few weeks ago and asked if I was coming to her program, I was relatively sure what to expect. "Of course, I'm going," I told her, "I can't wait to hear you sing." She looked at me like I was crazy.

"Sing? Dad I don't think we're singing," she told me. She had no idea what kind of program it was going to be, but she was certain that there would be no singing. As much as I tried to understand, I just couldn't wrap my brain around the concept. I asked if it was a play, if it was a dance, if it was a hundred different things that might have made sense, but she kept telling me that it was just a program. Finally, I decided that Emma was confused. After all, I knew that Dr. Green, the music teacher, was involved, so obviously they would be singing.

Last night was finally the night. Emma was so excited. She told us all about just the right clothes she had to wear, where she needed to be, and every five minutes she reminded us what time she had to be there. Confident of what we were going to see, I was slightly confused by the fact that we were going to the high school gym rather than the elementary school, but I didn't let that bother me much. The gym is just across the street. Maybe the PTA finally decided we needed a little more space to spread out.

After a brief PTA meeting (they can only rope us into going by getting the kids hyped up about doing a program, apparently), the kids came out to the gym floor. They all lined up nice and neat and looked to their teacher for instruction. Wait a second. They weren't looking to Dr. Green. "Who's that lady?" I asked Leah, "The one that keeps blowing the whistle."

"That would be the gym teacher," she replied. Total confusion set in. What was the gym teacher doing at a music program? And why were the kids all grabbing hula hoops?

Well, Emma was right about a lot of things. They didn't sing. Stevie Wonder and Lee Greenwood sang thanks to the CD player (the first time I ever understood the words to a song at an elementary school program), but the kids didn't sing at all. They also didn't dance. But they did do hula hoops, play with a giant parachute, wave around some paper plates (and bang their friends in the head sometimes), twirl streamers, and do jumping jacks. Well, only the second graders got to do jumping jacks; I think they might be too dangerous for first graders, but Emma is really looking forward to next year when she can do jumping jacks, too.

I was completely flabbergasted and far more entertained than ever at an elementary school program. I was riveted as I tried to figure out whether they were going to break into stretches or dodgeball on the next song. Personally, I think it was brilliant. It may have been the first P.E. program ever done, but this could really catch on.