My favorite memories of my crappy elementary school come only from the 3rd grade with my favorite teacher Mrs. McKenzie and not from any of my other five teachers from hell. Certainly not from Mrs. Lapp who put me in the stupid level reading group as punishment from talking ALL the time and never shutting up, and certainly not from Mr. Banks who sent me to the Principal's office in 5th grade for writing catty letters fit for the movie "Mean Girls" (the nerve!). Mrs. McKenzie was different. She was a sweet nurturing teacher who loved to read aloud to the class, or at least pretended for our sake to love to read. She would sit atop her stool by the black board and read riveting tales from "Where the Red Fern Grows" and "How to Eat Fried Worms". I adored her. Perhaps the most exciting time was when she would give in to our cries on a rainy days when we couldn't play outside and pull out the "Going on a Bear Hunt" story. If you never had the joy of experiencing this book in the way that our Third Grade Class of 1989 did, I feel for you. We got to pound our hands our desk and stomp our feet on cue, make a ton of noise and let out all of our energy. The book reads in a sing-song fashion and goes like this:
(Leader)
We're going on a bear hunt!
(Group)
We're going on a bear hunt!
We're gonna catch a big one!
We're gonna catch a big one!
I'm not afraid!
I'm not afraid!
Are you?
Are you?
Not me!
Not me!
Here comes the gate
" " (Group Echos)
Now we're on a bear hunt " "
We're gonna catch a big one " "
I'm not afraid " "
Are you? " " Not me! " "
We're coming to a tall mountain " "
It sure is high " "
It sure is wide " "
Let's climb up it " "
Well, there's nothing over there " "
Nothing over there " "
Nothing back there " "
Hey! Wait! I think I see something
Quick! Everybody run down!
Shhh, it's a cave " "
Looks like the kind of cave that B-bears live in " "
I don't know if I want to go in there
You think we oughta go in?
Are you nuts?
There's probably a bear in there
All right I'll go in, You stay here,
And if I find a bear, I'll come out and get you
And we'll all go in and grab him together
Now, quiet, don't make a sound while I'm in that cave,
Cuz if you wake him up, I'll be in trouble
Bears are awful ornery when they first wake up, you know
OK, I'm going on in
Oooo, It's dark in here
It's really dark in here
I can't see a thing
Agh, there's spiders webs
Ooo, what was that???
What's this??.... it's soft, uh oh,it's kind of fuzzy
Ahg!!!!!!!!! Run! Everybody run!!
I saw a bear!!!!
Jump in the water! Swim fast!!
Do the backstroke!
The sidestroke, the doggie paddle
Jump out of the water
Run through the mud!
Forget the tree!!
Go through the tall grass
The short grass
Quick! Go up the mountain
Down the other side
Go thru the gate
Into the house, under the bed
Under the pillow
Hide!!!!!
Uh, it's awful quiet around here
I'm not afraid
I'm not afraid
Are you?
Are you?
Fast forward 20 years later. Wyatt, Brett and Mary and I went to Borders to look at books for Wyatt. And what did I find? Tucked away in between two large hard back books I spotted a little paper back copy of "Going on a Bear Hunt"! I was so excited that I was finally going to get to be Mrs. McKenzie! I was going to share the joy of the hunt with my little boy. He was going to love it. I read it as soon as we got home, of course. He listened with intensity and when it was over he said "Goo gen" (which means "do it again"). We read it over and over- probably 15 times over the course of three weeks. Then suddenly he stopped asking for it. When I would suggest that we go on a Bear Hunt, he would immediately say "NO". I decided that we just might need a break from hunting and put the book away on the shelf in his room, and I shelved it in a corner of my mind as well. I sort of forgot about "Going on a Bear Hunt."
Fast forward to 7 am this morning. Wyatt is screaming in his room. Not the usual "come get me out of bed" scream. But a scared scream. "Dada, Dada," he keeps saying over and over. I open the door and he is looking horror-stricken at the window. He looks up at me and continues to cry and ask for Dada. Sensing something was wrong, I ask if he had a bad dream. "Yeah, I carred (scared). Da Bear oba deya (over there)," he points at the window and his eyes grow large. It seems he hadn't forgotten about "Going on a Bear Hunt".
Oh no. I have succeeded in scaring the crap out of my two year old. I didn't have enough foresight to see this coming. And, for that, I am an idiot. Let's face it, the age in which a child can see that the perceived threat of a bear coming into his house is unrealistic is probably somewhere around first grade, maybe later. I was 8 years old after all when I fell in love with the book. I cannot help but feel on par with the parent that lets her 5 year old watch horror movies like "Chucky" and "Friday the 13th." I bet Mrs. McKenzie didn't let her cute son Cameron (whom I only saw in pictures on her desk, but still had an uber-crush on) read horrifying books about being chased by bears when he was but a baby. Mrs. Lapp on the other hand, that evil B*&@, I bet she tortured her children with books like this when they were bad!
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