I watch all the other amazing events going around me with all their fancy equipment. Me? I stand on the blacktop and laugh about the materials I'm given: cardboard boxes and tennis balls.
I'm supposed to invite children to bounce a tennis ball once and have it land in the box. We quickly rename this Olympic event the Ballistic Ball Bounce that Baffles Even the Best.
It's so difficult and addictive that even the 5th graders stay at the station to bounce the balls into the box. All day long, folks line up to bounce the ball into the box. Teachers can't succeed. I don't even make one shot all day.
Someone--a 3rd grader perhaps--holds the world record at 13 successes, and he runs around Field Day proclaiming his victory.
As I consider my materials--a box and a ball--I remember the summertime frenzy for expensive toys and glamorous activities. Might I instead put a box in the driveway and call out, "Come one, come all to the Ballistic Ball Bounce that Baffles Even the Best"?