Today I ate lunch in one of the most unique arenas. It is one of those places many of us travel through but we seldom ever return to visit again. A place where not only are the pangs of hunger set at bay, but the hierarchal order of society is continued to be shaped and molded in our minds. The place I’m talking about is the Middle School cafeteria. Today in this place I was able to feast on much more than a simple chicken cordon bleu sandwich with sides of government issued cottage cheese with flecks of pepper, a helping of sliced cubed peaches in heavy sauce, and stale “tater tots” that could not be redeemed by any amount of ketchup or mustard.
I drank in what it was like to be back in those days that long passed me by when I daily tried to navigate the seas of junior high. Where at one moment the waters were cool and calm as you find you’ve aced your math test but only a little while later to have the waves crash over the bow as your shirt was stained from peaches and cottage cheese “accidentally” spilled down the front of you by your worst enemy. Now faced with this tragedy you must sail through the rest of the day trying to hide your stain marked shirt from the stares of other students who either understood what you were feeling or from those who simply looked on in disgust and passed you by like a power boat jetting by your simple little dinghy.
I watched students enter the lunch room running with reckless abandon. Some eager to meet with their friends and share the latest news of who is dating who and what teacher now holds the record for detentions awarded. I also saw students who tried to go unnoticed, those students who were just trying to get through the day without being in the middle of any major incident.
Personally, I received a fairly warm welcome. Due to past events with junior highers, I have made connections with many of them. However, for those who didn’t know me I received an interesting reception. The looks from the students who did not have any clue as to who I was were very comical. Some in the 7th grade whispered to themselves that they thought I was a new 8th grade student who just moved from out of town and did not know that he was out of place. Others simply stared and the funny looking, slowly balding beardo. I was finally asked what I was doing there why I would want to go and eat lunch with a bunch of 7th and 8th graders. At first I joked that it was because I had read the latest Zagat Survey which ranked the Middle School Cafeteria as the up and coming place for culinary delights. While the students did not believe this first response, they also did not believe my second and truthful reason. I was there to hang out with students on their time and on their turf; to meet with them and get to know them in their own environments.
In my short time in the cafeteria here is what I learned in no particular order:
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1. <!--[endif]-->School can be a source of joy for some students as they connect and interact with their friends and a source of pain for others as they try to simply get through their day without being picked on or made fun of. This often times requires the students to keep a low profile as they try to go unnoticed.
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2. <!--[endif]-->Seventh and eighth grade students do not know what a Zagat Survey is. Pokemon character? Um, no.
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3. <!--[endif]-->I missed the equality of humanity we try and instill into the generations that come after us. I watched as students jockeyed for position in the food lines and at their tables. I listened as students talked about each other in both positive and negative ways. And I spoke with students who it was clear they hadn’t had a kind word uttered to them all day.
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4. <!--[endif]-->The person who invented the chicken cordon bleu sandwich using the lowest grades of chicken, cheese, ham product, and buns need a stern talking to. For this is certainly not a culinary delight!
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5. <!--[endif]-->I am still struggling for position in line and a place at the table.
Awaiting the Savior,
Thadd
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