Waivers needed!

Generally I get a bit sad at the over abundance of liability waivers we sign in this society.  I don't think we should be as lax as life was in Antigua when we would take a field trip to the beach with busloads of non-swimmers and then provide minimal supervision and have no clue as to how many students we came with and how many are getting back on the bus.  Although no one died on any trip to my knowledge...  I would like for us to find some middle ground between these extremes.  So generally I scoff at the waiver.

But the other day Jon and I got a tough assignment as volunteers at the annual Fall Fun Fest at Theo's school.  They call it a 'fun raiser' but I am sure there would be both more fun and more funds raised if the school could agree with my proposal to have a wine bar upstairs for parents.  The energy and sound levels at this thing drive me right into the nearest sensory deprivation chamber.  If I could stay upstairs in a lowly lit room quietly conversing with parents and sipping wine I would gladly ply my children with more money to spend downstairs.  But my vision is not shared by the district. So I hit my sensory limit early and then clear my kids out of there before any real dough can be spent.

Anyway- because I was not needed to pour wine upstairs, Jon and I got assigned to the sledge hammer bell ringer game.  From hell.  Not only do we willingly put a sledge hammer, a heavy sledge hammer, into the hands of anyone who will give us a ticket, but then we have to try to keep everyone away as the kids take several swings at the target.  Which is very near their own feet.  Toes have suffered greatly under our watch. But it's an absolute miracle that no child standing by, or running through, or across the room, has been brained by the sledge hammer.  The gym is so crowded that anytime we were able to get the sledge hammer-er enough space to swing, others would glimpse this free space and use it as a route to wherever they needed to be.  Kids were constantly jumping into the 'circle of death' as I shall call it.  And those were the ones moving with a sense of direction.  Add to that wondering toddlers and overwrought parents and the situation gets out of hand. 

During our 1.5 hour shift I think Jon and I were able to keep the damage to a few bruised toes and probably some lost toenails in the near future.  But this took both of us flailing around, shouting, having heart attacks.  We passed our shift off on to one quiet woman how had no idea what she was in for.  We tried to give some advice, but then we just walked away and didn't look back.  I walked straight home and into our smallest closet, darkest closet, where it took me some time to restore some sense of equilibrium.