What is the worst part of helping at Vacation Bible School?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Okay, that’s not fun, but it lets me say, “You’d better eat your salad or you’ll ennd up looking like me.”

No, the real worst part is being a good example. Normally, gaining and holding the moral high ground is a hobby of mine, but it doesn’t normally involve SINGING AND DANCING. And if I were a woman I wouldn’t have to do it but, since I’m a guy I am supposed to PARTCIPATE and show the little boys that it’s okay for them to participate, too. I’m actually supposed to be a positive, masculine influence. ME?!?!? How screwed up is that? If participation is so cool, why do generations of boys know INSTINCTIVELY that it is NOT? And do these women understand how contrary to the laws of physics it is for me to do “sidestep-crosskick-reverse sidestep-crosskick?” Inertia is not something you can ignore when you feel like it.

Just two more days. At least I don’t have to go to the swimming party tonight and pretend I’m too cool to swim because it’s preferable to more snotty comments from kids too young to have manners.

2

WTF happened to the rest of my post? Here it is in full:

Is it the feeling that, as a non-believer, it is hypocritical of me to be doing this?

Nope. Never had much problem with what people with stronger beliefs, of any sort, have called my hypocrisy.

Is it being around a bunch of five-year-olds?

Well, there is that, but it means that, when the outdoor activities got rained out we watched part of “The Veggie Tales Very Silly Singalong II,” which is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.

Is it missing dinner because I’m too busy making sure they eat theirs?

Well, it IS a contender, but not it.

Is it having the little bastards look at me and say, “You’re fat! Why are you so fat?”

Okay, that’s not fun, but it lets me say, “You’d better eat your salad or you’ll ennd up looking like me.”

No, the real worst part is being a good example. Normally, gaining and holding the moral high ground is a hobby of mine, but it doesn’t normally involve SINGING AND DANCING. And if I were a woman I wouldn’t have to do it but, since I’m a guy I am supposed to PARTCIPATE and show the little boys that it’s okay for them to participate, too. I’m actually supposed to be a positive, masculine influence. How screwed up is that? If participation is so cool, why do generations of boys know INSTINCTIVELY that it is NOT? And do these women understand how contrary to the laws of physics it is for me to do “sidestep-crosskick-reverse sidestep-crosskick?” Inertia is not something you can ignore when you feel like it.

Just two more days. At least I don’t have to go to the swimming party tonight and pretend I’m too cool to swim because it’s preferable to more snotty comments from kids too young to have manners.

3

What’s the worse part of helping at Vacation Bible School?

Maybe that your working at a vacation bible school?

Just kidding. But seriously, how good of a councilor can you be if in your gut you don’t want to be there. Granted if it were Meatballs and you were Bill Murray, I’d say shut up and have a good time.

But this is vacation heathen school and you are stuck being a good role model. How old are the little heathen’s you are there with again? 5. Thats too young for sly remarks isn’t it.?

4

how about leading the singing at one.

Yup. Ironic isnt it? I am leading the singing for the kids.

Blue Skys and Rainbows anyone?

5

actually, I really am looking forward to it. I was just being fascetious. :slight_smile:

6

I used to run the nursery at VBS. The purpose of this nursery was to allow VBS teachers to have childcare for any kidlets too young to participate in the classes. I was paid from a portion of the overall tuition, a necessary expense so that they could get enough teachers.

On the last day one of the teachers who stopped by to coo at her daughter asked me, who was the baby I was holding. I dunno, Danielle somebody.

“Danielle? None of the teachers have a baby named Danielle.”

It turns out that one of the VBS mothers was dropping her baby off to be taken care of, for free, in the nursery, while her older kids were at VBS. She’d leave to do god knows what, having the morning free since she’d found a way to foist the baby off on someone. With no way for any of us to contact her if we’d need something. Talk about nerve.

7

Which is actually what I’m doing. Plus, my wife is the main kindergarten teacher and, as I am not about to endanger my long-suffering husband award AND because I get lonesome at home by myself, I’m there. As for my personal philosophy, I’m still church librarian. It’s amazing I don’t implode into a tiny ball of internal contradictions.

8

I thought it was going to be evenly distributing the juice and cookies to each VBS group.

One summer that was my sole job. My best friend and I sat in the kitchen all day and prepared cookies and juice trays. It was…amazingly boring, but we could talk about duran duran and how we were going to marry roger taylor, so it was all good.

9

My proverbial hat’s off to the lot of you. I can’t do it, myself.

[semi-hijack]
When I was about six my mom had cancer and she was getting chemo during the summer and needed her rest, so she booked me on what felt like continuous vacation bible school engagements at all the local churches. I didn’t think anything was particularly odd about that at the time, and afterwards pretty much forgot all about it.

Until I was about 20, when I volunteered to help out at my church’s VBS. First morning, as soon as the lead teacher broke out the felt-board and the paper plates and macaroni, I started on the first and only real panic attack of my life. Somehow managed to get through the week without running screaming from the building, but have religiously (tee-hee) avoided VBS ever since.
[/semi-hijack]

10

Personally, I think my worst VBS gig was last year. I was the “special lesson” teacher of the evening. I built a tent in one of the classrooms and had a little script that I was supposed to read.

That wasn’t bad.

There was a tape that came with the curriculum, that was part of this lesson. We talked about David and Goliath, and the tape had this distorted giant’s voice essentially asking for blood.

The older kids were into it.

The preschoolers however… No less than four little boys burst into tears when the giant “taunted” them via tape. I spent the rest of the time promising that there were no monsters in the church.

11

My hubby LOVED teaching the 5 year olds in Vacation Bible School. He’s great with kids anyway, but here? Here he was MISTER Hubby, Authority Figure. All those bright shiny faces conditioned to obey the teacher ESPECIALLY if the teacher was a man! By the end of the week, he’d taught them to sing The National Anthem, complete with the final scream of the last 2 words (Play Ball!). And, of course, they all learned to make fart noises with their hands.

Power corrupts, people!

12

I taught VBS one year. In my class was a child of about 7 who was hemophiliac. All the other children had been carefully instructed- they are not allowed to hit this child, or knock him down, or anything that might cause him to bleed even a little bit.

You can probably guess the rest.

He was a holy terror, and would do everything in his power to try to make the other children angry, including calling them the worst names he knew and running up to them, hitting them with an object, then laughing, “You aren’t allowed to hit me…”

I wonder how long it took before someone went ahead and clocked him anyway.

13

I only started helping at VBS a couple years ago (and possibly will again this year), but some of the comments the kids make could be the worst part… depending on how you take them. Here are a few amusing-ish stories…

Story 1: A couple of years ago, my friend Denise was helping to teach the Gr. 4 class. Since it was summer (mid-July?), Denise was wearing a tank top with a lower neckline than strict modesty would dictate. (hey, your neck area has to be cool in the warm weather, right?)

During the middle of the lesson, one of the kids (Jonathan… who’s infamous for this sort of thing, really) stood up and pulled down his T-shirt… announcing: “Hey, look at me… I’m Denise!” Needless to say, that was a major distraction… and Denise did not appreciate it.

Story 2: A couple of years ago, the kids insisted that Denise must know what Veggie Tales was… unfortunately for them, she did not. She got at least a vague idea, thanks to the kids mentioning it many times during the week. Every time the kids would mention Veggie Tales, Denise would be like: “Okay, can we go have lunch now?” (I think it made her hungry)

Story 3: A couple years ago, my sister was helping out… she later told me that one of the kids (Hien) had asked her where I was every single day. No, I didn’t help out that year… and I guess she noticed.

Touching, but I guess it shows the weight of expectation that the kids place on you. You should be there at VBS since you like the kids, you should help every kid out, you should know everything there is to know about the Bible and stuff… yup, it’s enough to make you wonder whether you ever held the same expectations of your counsellors and leaders as a kid.

Story 4: Last year, the twins Adam and Andrew were coming up with nicknames for everyone. Mine was “Lassie,” as in: “Lassie, have you gone to rescue Timmy from the well yet?” (I personally found it surprising that a couple of eleven-year-olds knew about such an old TV show, but I digress)

I tried to get them to call me by my real name, but no dice. (my friend Nai-Chiu got nicknamed “Ah-Choo”) They continued to call me “Lassie” whenever they saw me around at church till at least February, until I finally told them I wouldn’t answer to “Lassie” unless they called me by my real name more often than not. That seemed to work… they still very occasionally call me that (like once every month or so), but at least it’s not every week!

Story 5: Last year, a six-year-old kid named Carlie told me (in all seriousness): “You know, I could pick you up and throw you in the garbage can.” When I told her that it would be impossible (I was much older and heavier than her, for one thing), she then told me that she’d get her two friends Louisa and Hannah to help her. Since Louisa and Hannah were also small-built six-year-olds, I don’t think that would have helped much!

I should add that Carlie was also the one who nicknamed me according to what kind of food we had for lunch on any given day. “Rice-Head,” “Noodle-Head,” “Oreo-Head,” “Spaghetti-Head,” “Chicken-Head,” etc.
Aside from all that, trying to keep the kids in line and being a visible good example were stressful parts of VBS as well. Although there was the time last year when the kids wanted me to hear them say their Bible verses. I’d have been happy to help them, but the verses were in Chinese. (which I don’t know much of) So I’m not sure how much of a help I was in the Chinese class, other than keeping an eye on the kids. Oh well.

Will I be helping out this August? Who knows… maybe. The kids provide amusing stories, though. :slight_smile:

F_X

14

I can relate to Flamsterette_X…

The worst possible thing about a VBS is teaching a music lesson to young children all with recorders…in a language you know nothing about (actually I am thrilled, I leave for Haiti next week to go do this, I will remember to pack extra motrin)

Or how about explaining what the heck VeggieTales is to a bunch of hyperactive children in Barbados (did that a few years back)

15

Oh wow, I did that too! I own alot of armour and roman costume so I got ‘volunteered’ to play all the parts.

The weirdest one was part 3 of that series when the lesson included re-creating a Jewish funeral! The booklet suggested you get the tots to practice wailing! Who writes this stuff? I changed the program that night I can tell you.

16

At least you weren’t supposed to get them to rend their garments. There’d be hell to pay when the parents showed up.

As for Flamsterette_X’s friend Denise, our new youth minister is fresh out of college and, as she is entering the full flower of womanhood, the styles that are aimed at slender adolescents don’t really work anymore, like lowriding pants, and she looks like she is there to fix the Norge when she bends over. Every evening this week I’ve wanted to yell, “Get your ass back in your pants, girl!” She doesn’t seem to notice the whistling sound of wind blowing over her crack.