Last night, I attended the Spring Sing concert at Jan's school. Actually, Jan was required to stay for the concert, and since I have to pick her up anyway because her broken pedal foot is still mending, I attended by default. One of the kindergarten teachers was out sick with the swine flu or some shit like that, so Jan supervised her class. This consists of greeting the kids and their parents in the classroom, telling the parents to scram, leading the kids down the hall to the gym while telling them to shut up and not make so much noise, herding them into the gym and up on the stage while telling them to shut up and not make so much noise, getting them to stand in the right order while telling them to shut up and not make so much noise, and telling them to shut up and not make so much noise while the parents mill around the gym and the Principal shouts at them on the feedback prone microphone to sit down so she can get the damned thing started so she can get home before midnight already.
Jan does this with ease. She can do any job in that school, including mowing the grounds and unclogging poop choked toilets if it comes down to it. So, the singing part of the concert is only 20 minutes long because kindergarten kids have the combined attention span of one gnat. And the songs were the usual fare; Bingo, 5 Little Kittens, etc. Jan told me that last year, the music teacher had them sing Beatles songs. I am not making this up. Now, it may just be me, but I would pay serious cash to hear a bunch of five year olds sing "Back in the USSR" in concert.
Anyway, they run out of songs and the music teacher thanks the Principal and all of the teachers involved, mispronouncing only half of their names, which is pretty good. The kids are on this bleacher thing with bars all around it so they don't fall off and kill themselves, so there is only one entry/exit point. The teachers are trying to get the kids to go out through this opening, but they all start milling around and end up crawling through the bars or jumping off the back of the bleachers instead. No one will go through the exit. It looks like a bunch of penned-up baby cows trying to avoid the slaughter house. Jan told me later that one of the kids had peed his/her pants and there was a big puddle of piss there.
Guess I can't blame them for picking an alternate route.