“We are going to medieval times for a field trip,” said Mr. Doyle, my fourth grade teacher, “but I want you and your parents to know that with the outbreak of SARS in Toronto, you are going at your own risk”. Peter, a boy in my class wasn’t allowed to go. I begged and begged my mom to let stay home, but she had to go, as she was already chaperoning. So inevitably, I went too. I was filled with fear on the hour long bus ride to what was supposed to be one of the most fun experiences of fourth grade.
The show was great. The knights were fabulous and the story was terrific and I loved how every so often the blue night, our designated knight, would throw a carnation up to the stands, one of which I caught even though I am convinced he meant it to reach my best friend Alex. She was way prettier than me. But despite the show and the medieval meal, and the shouting and laughter, I could not get over my lingering worry of SARS. I had heard that one of the symptoms was a loss of leg movement. So every so often I would crouch a little in my seat and put my weight on my legs to see if they still worked. Every half an hour or so a nine year old girl, sitting, then standing a bit, sitting, then standing, all while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. I realize now that I probably looked crazy. If that was my kid I would be horrified. My mom just asked me what I kept doing and when I told her, seemed to ignore it and told me to relax.