The lunchroom

Survived (and even enjoyed! Shhh, don't tell) my first observation this week. Whew! Onward and upward.

At PSOhYes, student teachers are expected to do two days in the lunchroom of the three days you come to school. You do the lunch period that your own class has lunch (there are two lunch periods). Half of that time is recess and the other half is in the lunchroom; half the grade eats while the other half runs around. It's a logistical exercise for managing large groups of students; paired rows of kids coming out and going in the building simultaneously is slightly reminiscent of the Beijing Olympics displays, with the lines snaking around each other intricately. PSOhYes is pretty touchy-feely and Bank-Streety when it comes to the classroom, working with families, etc., but with the existing staff to student ratio for lunchtime, it's pretty much a crowd-control exercise, start to finish.

The teacher who manages the whole process for that period also does mini-mini lessons with the 125 or so kids: carving into their recess time with a megaphone (outside) and microphone (inside) to discuss the finer points of how we help each other have a nice lunch with as much time for playing and eating as possible. When the whistle blows, put the equipment away and line up. When your table is called, line up quickly and make sure you have all your stuff, trash, and so forth. A little social-emotional curriculum with your go-gurt.

It hadn't occurred to me that I was anything other than an extra adult set of eyes, but you do learn a lot about your kids (and about kids in general) in the lunchroom. A classmate told me that when she was working as a para, she was involved in writing IEPs at the school because she knew some kids better, and in more varied contexts, than some of the teachers, because she was with them at early drop-off and in the lunchroom.

In the lunchroom kids are not allowed to get up and roam, so they raise their hand if they need something (bathroom, water, to have you open some item in their lunch). Today Sam* raised his hand, and when I went over, he informed me that Tanya* and Brad* had traded items in their lunch. This is strongly discouraged because kids are often not mindful of their own food sensitivities, never mind other kids'. My daughter has a peanut allergy, so I am aware of this policy and why it exists.

I don't love a tattletale, but I couldn't very well overlook this once I had the information. I said, basically, look: I am not mad, I can see how this is tempting, but there are important reasons why we don't share food, and here is what they are. I asked them to trade back the food items. The whole table was listening, by this time.

Brad was fine, Sam went back to his lunch, but Tanya was completely horrified at being tattled on. I tried to wrap it up quickly and move on to another table, to try and make it seem like less of a big deal, and I saw Tanya shaking her fist at Sam. I watched her struggle with her frustration. Emotion took over her face. She dropped her head on her crossed arms and began to sob.

I was pleased to see her friends rally around her and give her hugs. She was somewhat mollified, but still upset. So I went over to her again once her friends had offered support and gone back to their lunches.

"Tanya, you are not in trouble. I am not mad, and I really, really understand how tempting it is. I really do. It was a mistake, but not a big deal. I know how unfair it feels to you," I said, without naming names and calling Sam out.

She nodded, tears spilling out of her eyes. I told her I was going to forget about it and she should too, and helped her dry her eyes.

She told me that afternoon that she was still really angry, but she was trying to let her feelings "fly away." Go Tanya.

A minor, silly incident, but I feel like I know these kids just a little bit better, having been there with them. Hopefully, next week in the lunchroom, it will just be food jars and defective juice box straws.

*All names are made-up