First Rule: Protect Your Lunch

It's good to be home. Just me and that not-sleeve-in-progress. That's all I want these days. Maybe some good television could be added to the mix, but I don't consider it necessary at this point.

As we come into the home stretch of this, the third-to-last week of the school year, things just keep getting harder. As I said to a colleague the other day, "I'm really just dropping by to say hi in the mornings. After that, I'm not here. I'm gone. Checked out. It's over."

Pretty much everyone feels that way. And yet there is still a great deal of time left. Worse, grades close a week before the actual end of school. Hence, we the staff have five whole days of not mattering. We lack any value whatsoever. What do you hold over a kid's head once promotion and failure have been decided? I've lied to the children and told them that the district hasn't determined when ranks officially close. I believe I blamed it on some sort of computer glitch. The ones who were going to pass anyway aren't quite sure if they believe me. The others? Well...it was inevitable.

I can still find it in me to be surprised, though. Even a little amused. Sometimes, you just can't help it.

We have a rotating schedule in our school. Four days in succession are designated as "A" days. The next four are "B" days. On the latter, the kids on my team have their global courses (art, gym, etc...) first thing in the morning and lunch at 11:00. On the former, they work all morning, have lunch at 12:20 then leave me for the afternoon. We have just entered into the "A" stretch so everyone is pretty much starving to death and exhausted by the dinner hour. They scatter when the lunch bell tolls. I couldn't hold them back if I tried. Not that I'd want to. I'm just saying that I couldn't and that we'd best hope any terrorist invasions don't require building lockdowns on an "A" day.

Hence, I was surprised to see a student return to the classroom after lunch dismissal. Loaded tray in hand, he greeted me pleasantly and proceeded into the classroom. I quickly reviewed my morning and ascertained that I had not given any lunch detentions that day. Since none of the kids would ever deign to dine with me "uninvited, " I was perplexed.

"Um...can I help you?" I queried.

He set his tray on the table and declined any assistance. I felt the need to inquire further and asked point-blank why he was back in the classroom when he could be with persons far cooler than I.

His response?

"I have to go to the bathroom."

I can understand the need to use the restroom. I do it periodically myself. What I do not do is take my tray, leave the cafeteria (strictly forbidden without express permission), travel from the second floor to the third floor and return to the classroom I just fled with such haste.

His reason?

"I didn't want anyone to spit in my food."

Oh. Well that makes sense. And I suppose it is possible that there is some spitting going on in the lunchroom these days. God knows, everything else has been tried. Were I in his shoes, I might have even done the same thing. Of course, one has to wonder why he didn't find a bathroom a bit closer and maybe get a duty teacher to watch his tray for him. Still...there was a certain amount of logic to his decision.

Although why he felt that I was less likely to hawk something up into his lunch after the morning we'd spent together is something of a mystery.

SA