Katie leads physical education. Disaster ensues.

High School students are mostly astute enough that their teacher and I can't get away with communicating over their heads via the spelling out of longer words. So this morning, instead, he scribbled on a post-it note, circled it, followed it up with a question mark, and shoved it into my view: "P.E.?"

My response: a measured, verbal "Sure..."

Within the hour I had secured disks from the Hike Haus and was leading the kids to the tailings for an impromptu go at Holden's Frisbee Golf Course, which is internationally certified, whatever that means. We were crossing the foot bridge over Lower Railroad Creek, and one girl suddenly commented that we should have fencing for phys ed, then promptly screamed.

Apparently, she had gone for a particular stance to illustrate her fencing comment, and instead kicked her Birkenstock right off the bridge.

I peered over the side, and there went the Birkenstock, floating down the river.

Now everybody was screaming, and why shouldn't they be? Two girls tore down to the creekside, including one that was missing a shoe; I tore after them, the others followed... There ensued this properly manic scene where I got as far as I could on a dry patch of river rocks while the shoe floated by just out of reach in the creek's center and I nearly fell in...

Two boys from the class suddenly appeared thirty feet down stream, having gone around and taken the road. Seven girls, including myself, shrieked simultaneously to alert them of their proximity to the shoe. A bit of a search, and much pantomimed shrugging, and we gave all up for lost.

We processed back to the footbridge, the girls and I arriving first. I called a vote, absenting myself and awarding the girl who had lost the shoe a value of three votes, as to whether we would press on to Frisbee Golf or spend our phys ed period hiking down Rail Road Creek, in the direction of the school, to see what we could see. Overwhelmingly they voted to pursue the shoe.

We sought the boys to tell them our decision, and having gained the road, spied them emerging at last and with some measure of struggle from the bushes. One had soaked his trousers up to the knees and slowly held aloft... A dripping wet Birkenstock.

It dissolved into one of those cuddly class-bonding moments that make actual accomplishment of any sort of goal impossible: I looked at my watch, sent them all for hot chocolate, and called it a day.