The thing is, in the life of a teacher as soon as the bell rings, you take off running at about 100 miles per hour. All day. We can multi-task like no other human being on earth. For example, today as I juggled a stack of freshly copied papers with my morning cup of coffee and some laminated pictures and headed towards my room I was already planning what I needed to do in my room once I made it there. Or more like, if I made it there.
The morning arrival is an onslaught of kids handing you notes and homework and asking you questions or telling you stories. Throw in checking attendance, making sure lunch count is being done, reviewing the morning schedule, organizing the notes and lunch money for the office and by 9:15 I'm already tired. Good thing little kids are full of energy, that in turn, energizes me.
Lunch time is the one time where things slow down for a short time and I always wander around the room, talking to some of the kids or just eavesdropping on their conversations. They are so cute and interesting, innocent and positive. They are not afraid to speak their mind and watching them interact conversationally with their peers is always a treat. They are like mini-adults at a cocktail party, carefully picking topics of interest and sharing their thoughts as they sip their little juice boxes and tiny cartons of milk.
Today as I rifled through one of my classroom closets for something that would no doubt not be found in there anyway, I overheard several little ones at a table talking about burps. Sad to say, that this is not a rare conversation but what was interesting is they appeared to be competing about how much their mothers burped and selecting a winning mom. I tried not to laugh as I edged closer to the table.
"Well, I'm telling you, my mom never burps," stated one as he bit into his ham sandwich.
"So, then you lose," declared another. "Cuz my mom burps all the time."
One of the girls giggled at this point. Then she picked up a cheese stick as she added, "Well, my mom can burp, but she only does it when it's appropriate."
Her friend validated her with a nod. "Yeah. Burps are disgusting. So my mom only does it when we can't hear her."
I love girls. Somehow in this conversation they were making their moms out to be burpers, but in the most delicate way possible.
I would have hung around to listen in some more, but I could hear a nearby table talking about who could eat their lunch backwards the fastest.
And I certainly wasn't going to miss that.