Lunch Laughs

 COVID lunch time is much different than B.C. (before COVID) time. First of all, there are only eleven students that stay in the classroom with me to eat - the other half are sent to another room to ensure social distancing while eating. On first glance, the thought of having only eleven students to monitor while eating sounds like it would be a dream come true. But just remember to take into account that they are eight and nine year olds and having their mask off, eating their lunch, and finally having some social time during the day brings out the loud in them. And the silly. 

Most days I just listen in as they talk back and forth and create new little games to play together.  Occasionally I have to jump in and put a stop if they go off the rails. 

I'm typically sitting at my desk, checking email and eating my own lunch while I also supervise the little lunchers. Conversations run the gamut every day so for your reading enjoyment I thought I'd share the most amusing. 

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As one little darling ate her sandwich, she asked the class, "What is your pet peeve?"  Since that term isn't known by many third graders, immediately one boy announced, "Dog!" followed up by "Duck.... but I've never seen one pee!"  Cue the riotous laughter at someone saying, "pee" and we were off!  

"What is a pet peeve anyway?",  a curious boy eating carrots asked. 

"Well a pet peeve is something that really bugs you and bothers you.  Like, my pet peeve is people who are late," explained the little girl.  Then she rolled her eyes for effect.  A girl after my own heart, this one. 

Once the term was explained, the room exploded with little voices sharing their pet peeve, which only made me think of how one of my pet peeves is students shouting out and talking over each other. 

Finally, as always happens, one of the cuties noticed me and called over the others, "Mrs. Jeppson, what is your pet peeve?"  

And before I could even reply, a voice came out of nowhere and exclaimed, "US!" 

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Another day, another lunch and on this particular day, the little ones began saying, "Everybody look at (student name)."*  At which point ten students looked at the named student.  All students played along, even eating their lunch very demonstratively or making a silly face when being looked at.  I have no explanation for this game and in over twenty years of teaching, this is a new one that doesn't really seem to have much fun value, but that didn't seem to stop them.  And as usual, after several minutes, they included me in their game.  "Everybody look at Mrs. Jeppson."  Eleven little heads turned my way and they looked at me.  

"What's so unusual about this?" I asked them.  "You look at me all day!  I would think you'd surely want to look at someone else."  

*Note:  no students were harmed in this game.  It wasn't mean-spirited in any way

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One lunch was a back and forth about what would you do if [insert any item] didn't exist in the world.  They began with What would you do if ice cream didn't exist?  It was fun to listen to their creativity and hear the items they were choosing.  Naturally I had to throw in my two cents by asking them What would you do if coffee didn't exist?  

"Bleck!" I heard from several students.  "Coffee - yuck!"

"The items are supposed to be something good,"  clarified one little for me. 

My favorite reply was from one little Einstein when the question What would you do if pizza didn't exist? was posed.  

"I'd invent it!"  

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Last Friday's conversation made me really laugh.  As they were all eating, one little boy suddenly stood up and announced, "Hello, 911.  I have an emergency...... there isn't any mustard on my sandwich!"

 
Not to be outdone, suddenly five other students had an emergency and began announcing in turn, "Hello, 911.  I have an emergency."  And then they would input their own personal lunch emergency.   Soon it was a full blown game with one student after another mimicking a 911 operator.  

The funniest part was later that afternoon, a boy emerged from the bathroom and announced loudly to the entire class, "911 emergency!  We are out of paper towels in the boys bathroom!"

911 indeed.

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Sometimes even the little kiddies get tired of inventing, explaining, talking and playing games during lunch so inevitably at least once during the lunch time, a student will simply yell out, "Quiet Game!" and we all know what that means.  Then they make a game of trying to be quiet for a few minutes. 

 No easy feat.  

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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?  

 

It's Lunch Time!

First, let me paint a picture of what lunch looks like in a third grade classroom during COVID.  Twelve students stay in the classroom to eat their lunch at their desk, and the other eleven go to the Media Center to eat.  All of this is needed to keep the little ones six feet apart when they take off their masks and eat their lunch. I'm in charge of the classroom lunchers dispersed throughout our room as they eat and chat.  I'll be honest with you... listening every day to eight and nine year olds having lunch conversations runs the gamut from funny to gross and back again. Sometimes at warp speed.

Although I'm in the room to monitor lunch (and typically sitting 

at my desk checking email or grading papers) I feel my main job is to act as the referee.  I call out reminders of the lunch rules, alert them of time remaining, and also, at times, throw a flag on the play and stop particular conversations from veering off the rails.                                                                                         

Case in point: today's lunch conversation began with everyone declaring their idea of the "grossest food ever".  Sushi and several different vegetables were named and agreed on,  but soon they had moved on to disgusting combinations of food items and when I heard the words "bird poop", I called it and declared, "New Topic!" A familiar change to "reasons younger siblings are so annoying"  took hold with each student trying to top the other with lively stories of their siblings. Ah, to be a fly on the wall in some homes!   

After a bit, I noticed that they were all calling out endings to the sentence starter: "My town is called..."  For example, one little cutie says, "My town is called ice cream because I like ice cream."   Another played along with, "My town is called I have the most annoying brother in the world."  Still another declared, "My town is called supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"  You get the gist.  Most were really just nonsensical words put together that made everyone laugh. The game continued and seemed to be getting louder and sillier with each new participant.  Eventually, one boy jumped to his feet, and waving his arms announced, "My town is called I'm the best at sports and I am funny and great!"  Well.... kudos on the self confidence little guy.  However, we had five minutes left for lunch and I was tiring of their little game so I stood up, turned on my microphone, and declared, "My town is called time to clean up in five minutes and make sure you wash your desk off with an antibacterial wipe and put a book on your desk for IDR." I sat down to a silent room. "And my town can go outside early if they get ready!" 

Someone shouted out, "We've been roasted!"  The room erupted in laughter as the students began cleaning up. Touché little friends - two can play that silly game!  

For more fun, read an earlier post on how teachers are like stand-up comedians:  Two Juice Box Minimum