Lunch Lady Land

Blogging away while wondering if I ever really knew how to play hopscotch, because surely it can't be as simple as what I think it is...

Well, I promised more uninhibited bachelor tales, so here you go. Parents, safeguard your children.

Last Wednesday, I had lunch at the local elementary school. When I told a fellow blogger about this, her reply was, "For work? Or to be among your real peers?" See what hilarious friends I have. Although honestly, I do think I fit in pretty well with the fourth grade crowd, other than the two foot differential in our heights.

Actually, I met Kywana and the godson and we had lunch with Kywana Jr. That's the real reason for my return to Lunch Lady Land. I must admit I was a bit nervous, with many of the same anxieties any kid would have their first day at a new school. What is the proper lunchroom line procedure? What if no one talks to me? What if I can't find a seat? Will I be able to pilfer two desserts?

The food was set up sort of buffet style, with two lines of kids, one down each side of the buffet. My first misstep occurred fairly quickly. Shortly after I had gotten into line, I heard Kywana Jr. calling to me from up ahead. "Bone! You're in the girls line."

Looking around, I had failed to notice that all the girls were going down the left side, while all the boys were going down the right side. Oops! Hoping not too many kids had seen my gaffe, I made my way over to the boys line as inconspicuously as a six-foot-tall fourth grader can.

Allow me to interject here. When did they start segregating the boys and the girls? It wasn't only in the lunch line. In the hall as we were waiting to go in, classes would walk by single-file with all the girls in the front then the boys. Shouldn't we be teaching harmony among all sexes? I have fond memories of "accidentally" running into Keisha Cantrell at the water fountain after school, hoping she'd smile at me or talk to me. That was the only thing getting me out of bed in the mornings for the majority of my fourth thru seventh grade years. I'm for desegregated, coed campuses. And dorms!

Getting back to Wednesday, first up on the lunch line were beverages. Juice, milk, or chocolate milk. What, no soft drinks? What an outrage. I chose chololate milk. It was like a half pint. Next up was a cooler of all kinds of ice cream--popsicles, push ups, ice cream cups, etc.

Figuring a little conversation would divert attention away from my girls' line faux pas, I exclaimed, "We get to have ice cream!?" The kid in front of me answered, "Yeah. You can get a slushy, too." He also told me to make sure I got an ice cream spoon, which turned out to be a flat, thin piece of wood. Yes! My first day and I'd already made a friend. Although I forgot to ask his name, and later on when we were eating I was looking around the lunchroom but didn't recognize him.

The buffet choices for the day were quesadillas or taco salad. I chose taco salad. With the ice cream and milk, I was quickly running out of room on my tiny plastic tray. I glanced around at some of the other kids to see where they were putting the food on their trays.

Then it was time to pay. Kywana had told me lunch was $2.75. So I was a little surprised when the lunch lady called out "$3.25." Apparently, the ice cream was an extra fifty cents. Glad I didn't get two.

The rest of my fears were eased when I found that Kywana Jr. had saved us all seats. The kids weren't allowed to talk that day because apparently they'd misbehaved or something. Although as guests, we were allowed to talk.

I found out later that they don't get to talk for the first ten minutes of lunch anyway. That seemed a bit excessive. Although I remember when I was in fourth grade, we had this big traffic light in the lunchroom. Kinda like in Mister Rogers' house, but not as fun. The light was supposedly a noice detector. If it was on green, we were being quiet. Yellow meant we were getting loud. And if it went to red, this really large teacher would stand up and yell "It's red!!!" and we couldn't talk for the rest of the day.

The whole traffic light thing was a bit confusing later in life, as you might imagine. I remember when I started driving and I ran thru a red light, Dad yelled, "Bone! What are you doing?" And I told him, "Shhh! It's red." None of this paragraph is true.

Anyway, back to my story. When I was done eating, I showed the kids how to make a little trash can out of an empty milk carton. Then lunchtime was over. We lined up, deposited our trays in the trash can, and exited the lunchroom single-file.

After that experience, as you might imagine, the rest of my weekend paled in comparison. But to quickly recap, Thursday night, I hung out with the Darryls. The highlight of the evening occurred as I noticed Wolfgang taking an abnormal interest in the outcome of the Oregon State/Stanford game.

Wolfgang: "If Oregon State covers, I win $155."
Me: "Wow. That's pretty good."
Wolfgang: "Yeah. Then I'll only owe the bookie thirty bucks."

Yeah, he has a bit of a problem. Unfortunately for him, Oregon State lost.

I took off work Friday--the Friday before the first Bama game. No it isn't a state holiday, yet. Then Saturday, my beloved Crimson Tide defeated Clemson 34-10! Some of the Bama faithful were understandably exhausted from lots of cheering. This picture was taken shortly after Bama's first touchdown:



OK, so 95% uninhibited bachelor tales. 5% cute nephew blog.

"We learned wondrous things from our teacher so nice. Sat on marshmallow desks with teddy bear smiles. The world seemed to all make sense. But that sense seems to slowly fade, after the third grade..."