Playing hooky might be just what you need
I hope I don’t lose my teacher discount card for admitting this, but playing hooky is so much fun!
I never skipped school when I was younger, but as an adult I’ve joined the Dark Side.
I blame my one-year leave of absence. The plan for this year is to write and have a few adventures, doing the sorts of things usually impossible for teachers. Like travelling during the school year, or staying home on a P.A. day. I plan to drag the entire family along too. Starting with my kids.
“We’re going on a Family Adventure!” I inform them.
My sons immediately start scanning the room for exits. They know from long experience that “family adventure” is code for a trip to the library, museum or an educational conference.
“This will be fun,” I reassure them. “It will help you grow as a citizen, and experience hands-on learning. Plus, you’ll get to miss a day of school.”
Their ears perk up at this. “Can we go mini-golfing?” Ibrahim asks.
“Can we sleep in and watch movies?” Mustafa asks.
Nope, no, definitely not. I’m feeling restless. This needs to be bigger than the usual activities, to miss a day of school.
“I’ve never been to the CN tower,” Ibrahim says.
“I wouldn’t mind going to Ripley’s Aquarium,” Mustafa offers.
Bingo. We’ll play tourist in our own city and we’ll go on a weekday to avoid the locals.
I buy three Toronto City Passes, which give us access to five attractions: the CN Tower, Ripley’s Aquarium, Casa Loma, the ROM, and either the Toronto Zoo or Ontario Science Centre. My husband begs off our family adventure. “Someone’s got to work around here,” he says.
We pick a Tuesday, and wake up early to take the RT and then the subway, an uncommon adventure for my suburban kids. When we emerge from Union Station, the air is frigid and Ibrahim is the first to spot (one of ) the world’s tallest free-standing structures. “I never thought it would be so big!” he says in awe.
We pass a homeless couple surrounded by shopping bags, sleeping underneath the bypass at Lower Simcoe. Another uncommon experience for them. My kids are silent as we pass. They later tell me they wondered if the couple were cold.
The lineup at the CN Tower is comprised of tourists from Europe, Asia and a few rowdy school groups. Ibrahim stands on the glass floor and poses. Mustafa refuses to smile for the camera. “Act like you’re having fun,” I coax.
“I am having fun,” he says. “I just don’t know if this picture is going to end up in the newspaper.”
After lunch we visit Ripley’s Aquarium. My kids have been here before on school trips and they play tour guide, pointing out the giant fish tank holding sharks and warning me that the moving walkway meanders at a snail’s pace.
Next, we hit the Path in search of gourmet doughnuts from Jelly Modern. My kids can’t believe the breadth of the underground network that snakes below the city.
I ask what’s next on the agenda; the best part of a family adventure is making your own itinerary. But it is 3 p.m. and their feet are aching. They vote to go home.
The next day, Mustafa returns from school with a bulging backpack. “Mom,” he says seriously, “I want you to know that I had a lot of fun yesterday.”
“Me too!” I’m feeling pleased with myself.
“But I can’t do it again. I missed too much school work. I’m sorry.”
I have to laugh at this abrupt end to our Weekday Family Adventures. Given the freedom to wander, my 11-year-old son is grounded in his reality of school and homework . . . exactly as I was at his age.
I hope he has developed a taste for lived experiences though — just enough to occasionally indulge in the spontaneous. Even if he has to make up for missed work later on.
Also, I think I should keep my plans for a family road trip to Arizona to myself for now.
That’s the problem with skipping school. Once you start, it’s really, really hard to stop. Uzma Jalaluddin is a high school teacher in York Region. She writes about parenting and other life adventures. Reach her at ujalaluddin@outlook.com.