He Said, She Said

 Last Friday was a long time coming.  Some weeks are definitely longer than others.  Or so it seems. When lunch time finally rolled around, I was more than ready for a break from teaching about capacity, mass, and elapsed time. I'm sure the third graders were feeling the same.   

Lunch arrived, delivered to a COVID approved table outside our doorway in labeled, brown boxes. As directed, the students queued up, automatically three feet apart awaiting me handing them their box of lunch while double-checking that they indeed ordered lunch that morning.  One chocolate milk or two?  Nachos or pancakes? Half of the cuties headed to the Media Center to eat, making sure to tell me they would see me soon.  Goodie!  The other half washed their hands and proceeded to open their brown box lunch and dig in.  

As I stood by the microwave supervising the students who brought their own lunch, a little boy approached me.  

"Can I have a pancake?" I heard him ask as I reminded one little luncher that tin foil definitely does not go in a microwave.  I looked down at him.  I knew for a fact that I had already handed out all the pre-ordered little brown lunch boxes from the hallway table.  There was not another pancake box.  

So, I immediately launched into my diatribe about somebody taking a lunch that they didn't order and now someone was without a lunch.  I reprimanded them on making sure and ordering if they wanted lunch and not taking a lunch if they had not, in fact, raised their little hand when I entered lunch numbers in the computer every morning. *Side note:  we have had this lunch ordering problem happen before.

My soliloquy continued and I made sure to make eye contact with the little ones as they sporked pancakes quickly into their mouths and held tightly to their chocolate milk cartons, no doubt afraid I might come snatch a pancake from them.  

Finally, I wrapped up the monologue all the while thinking of how I might manage to acquire an extra pancake box from someone for the starving little one.  I looked down at him, hoping he knew how seriously I was taking this matter. His eyes were wide (no doubt from the lunch admonishment I had just delivered). He moved his mask away from his mouth so I could see his mouth.

"I said Band-aid," said the little boy and I could clearly hear him this time. 

With that, I bent over, laughing.  I pounded the countertop for extra effect. He joined in although I'm not sure he was thinking any of this was funny.   

"Band-aid?" I laughed.  "Oh my gosh, boys and girls.  I'm sorry.  I thought he asked for a pancake and he was actually asking for a Band-aid."  I continued laughing and several others joined in.  I reached in the cabinet, grabbed a Band-aid and asked the little boy if he would like syrup with it.  That elicited a chuckle from him, which is good, because I'm sure he thought I was absolutely cuckoo at this point.  I'm sure several students were saying to themselves that they were never going to order lunch again to avoid this whole scenario playing out again.

We resumed lunch, all was well with the world.  

Later that afternoon, a student asked for a Band-aid (it's elementary school - it's perfectly normal to give out a lot of Band-aids every day).  

"Did you mean 'pancake'?" I replied.  "You want a pancake?"  

Half the room erupted in laughter - the other half had missed the whole show as they were eating in the Media Center.  Guess you had to be there. 

"From now on," I declared, "Band-aids are known as pancakes in this classroom."

And like all good little third graders, they accepted this without question. 

My only worry  question is: How many other things have I misunderstood due to masks?