“Be Prepared!” I heard my daughter shriek as I pulled myself out of bed this morning. “WE ARE PREPARED!” her brother shouted. “Be prepared!” “WE ARE PREPARED!!” Each tried to be louder than the other. They repeated this over and over as I got myself ready for the day. Where did they get this bizarre chant? Well, see, their father has been out of town for the last two weeks, and I’ve had to take them all with me to Cub Scouts.
Back in the summer, when I had such a great time teaching a handful of little boys about trees, I didn’t realize it was a job interview. I laid out my tree cuttings on the picnic table, played lightning rounds of Identify Those Leaves, talked about growth rings, and drew a tree, roots and all, on my whiteboard. Then I packed up my things, put on my sunglasses, waved goodbye to my little class, and drove away.
Which brings us to this fall, when I was presented with a square yellow shirt three sizes too big and a room full of 8-year-olds at the end of their day. And I began to discover a strange thing. Pack Meeting. The last meeting of each month is a group meeting with several ages of boys, during which awards are presented and announcements made. My very first pack meeting, I sidled into my folding metal chair and glanced nervously around. No, I wasn’t the only one wearing the bright yellow camp shirt. This gave me only a modicum of reassurance. That there were other women willing to don this interesting fashion creation was dubious comfort.
My head snapped back around as the slight woman leading the meeting suddenly bellowed, “BE PREPARED!” I nearly jumped out of my chair when everyone around me roared, “WE ARE PREPARED!” She did it again. And again. I turned in astonishment to my colleague, the other Wolf Den leader. “Are we prepared?” I mouthed. She nodded solemnly.
“Now it’s time for announcements!” the meeting leader said. “Who’s singing the song for announcements?” Three boys separated themselves from the audience and came forward. “Announcements, announcements, a horrible way to die…,” they sang, more or less together, with squeaky pre-adolescent voices, “…announcements, announcements, a horrible way to be bored to death, a horrible way to die…” Everyone laughed, the boys returned to their seats, and I found no occasion to change my expression of shock, nor the giant question mark that was forming in the air above my head.
“Awww,” the leader said, “Give ‘em a round of applause!” Upon which, every boy and every adult in the room clapped, each set of hands moving around in a circular motion. I glanced again at my den-leader partner. Her face, and all the faces of the adults in the room, were as serious as though they were applauding an opera. I began to feel that I had stepped out of the normal reality that I understood and into a sort of parallel universe. I surreptitiously searched the faces of the adults to find a trace of the reaction I was having, and found nothing to reassure me. These were adults I knew from other facets of life. They had seemed rational enough then. I realized that this had been going on long before I was issued a yellow shirt, and would go on long after it was retired. But…how could I have missed something this…odd?
I felt that this meeting was quickly going in a direction that I could not follow. They were actually speaking English, but the way they put the words together completely baffled me. Soon the awards were being handed out. After every scout received his plastic baggie full of belt loops, beads, and embroidered arrow points, a solemn “round of applause” was given. One boy advanced to the next Cub level. He was accorded a special honor.
“Come on up here, you boys in his den,” the enthusiastic leader said. “Climb up the mountain and give him a yodel.” They were reluctant. “Come on,” she coaxed. Before long, they did, in fact, come up before the group and climb up an imaginary mountain to give their friend a yodel. By now I had thought nothing could surprise me. The yodel thing, though, gave me one final jolt.
So now, when we gather for Pack Meeting, and she shouts “BE PREPARED!” I say in an uncertain voice, (because it is expected) “We are prepared!” Because honestly, what on earth could ever have prepared me for this?
4 comments:
Thank you for that. As I sit here at work, bored and dreading getting my tonsils out tomorrow, this was just want I needed. As if the yellow shirts weren't enough (I'd have that thing at the tailors quicker than you could say "Gap Favorite Tees"), the climbing up the mountain was indeed the cherry. Me thinks there is a breed of women boy scout leaders, and I'm thinking of a few favorites from Franklin. You, my dear, do not fit into that mold.
I too was shocked at my first den meeting. Who knew that boys had cheers? I think I went home and said that I was glad I had only girls. But then again, I wonder what New Beginnings meetings are like these days.
Yep....that's pack meeting!!
My father made us attend all pack meetings for my brothers. When they were finally old enough, I was 10. Not only was everyone in the room chanting and cheering, but they expected me to join in as well. It was horrifying for someone as young and impressionable as I.
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