11:30. We line up our subway riders. Three headcounts later, we lead them into the Met. Security ushers us past the coat check and into a large, carpeted room with felt-covered benches. An attendant instructs them on the Museum rules, then opens a group check-in closet. Row by row, the freshmen deposit their backpacks.
“Alright. See you back here at one,” Johan says.
Vinnie and I look at each other, then at him. “If any of them doesn’t show, we will never find them,” I say, “letting fourteen-year-olds loose isn’t an option.”
The kids don’t want to travel en masse, since it’ll slow them down. I propose a compromise: three teams of ten students and one chaperon each. We adults agree in principle. The freshmen, not so much.
As soon as they ascend the stairs to the Greco-Roman Gallery, they disperse.
Marble relief a glimpse of smiles on passing faces
I soon lose everyone. Ten minutes of searching later, I text the guys. Johan replies, we’re in the middle room. We told them not to leave the floor.” Great–except I’m in the middle room, and I see no one. I finally encounter Vinnie, and then some of our crew arrive. We regroup and join the bus crew for a tour of the second floor.
They spread around the various Grecian urns and statuaries. Two sets of students reenact a funeral relief as a photo op. When we’re all ready to move on, Johan realizes that we’re missing two freshmen.
A boy and a girl.
penny fountain the report I loathe to file