Kid Proof

 We can't have nice things. 

I say this because something always happens. "On accident." 

The quotation marks are there for a somewhat dubious purpose. I cannot say, in my heart of hearts, that when the soccer ball goes flying over the fifteen foot high fence that encircles our playground that there was not an element of chance in the actions of the leg and foot that launched it. Which is essentially the cornerstone of most physical endeavor: The voice inside or outside saying, "I'll bet you can't." 

Imagine the dull surprise with which this feat is met. Each and every time it takes place. Sometimes we are fortunate, and the aforementioned soccer ball, or basketball or football or anything remotely round, ends up on the roof where it can be retrieved by the simple act of climbing up on the roof and fetching it down. A scene which might have a lot to do with the innate reasoning behind the children's interest in putting it up there in the first place. "Look! Mister Caven is up on the roof!" Such a sight can really break up the start of another boring institutional day. 

This is pretty standard stuff, and has been for the years that it has been under my purvey to keep track of those round things. The next level of shamelessness comes from things that cannot be as easily kicked over the fence. An item like a soccer goal, for example, is expected to withstand a certain amount of punishment. We have a school full of burgeoning Messis and Ronaldos. Even those who are content to play within the painted on boundaries of our soccer field are eager to test the limits of the standards at which we put out each day for them to kick the ball. 

It's our fault, really. We see these things in the catalogs they send us and we believe we have finally found a solution to the disposable nature of our playground equipment. The most recent victim of this folly was the "collapsible" pair of goals we purchased back in December. Putting them together the first time inside the relative calm of my empty classroom, I was impressed by the way they seemed sturdy and nominally flexible. I hoped this would allow them to bend but not break. 

This should have sent a warning to that nerve that anticipates the eventual disintegration of all matter. Lord Kelvin might have stumbled upon the Second Law of Thermodynamics much quicker if he had moved his laboratory to an elementary school playground. Entropy always increases. I'm here to tell you. And this phenomena is never more in evidence than when six-to-ten year olds get their hands on anything. 

The discussion around here, as we come tumbling toward the end of another school year is this: Should we buy new goals? We have. Because our students are soccer mad. The follow-up is the one with which we are currently wrestling: Should we set them loose on these nice new PVC pipes and nylon nets? 

It only occurs to me now that we could probably be providing a service here, by allowing PE equipment manufacturers the opportunity to use our playground as a test kitchen. You say the item you have for sale is tested for durability? Let us get our hands and feet on it for a week or so. 

We'll send the pieces back to you.