Cafeteria Days

“Line up in single file along the wall in the hall,” says the teacher. “No talking!”

We obeyed. “Yes ma’am!” we say, anxiously awaiting to see if it’s soup and sandwich day. “We haven’t had it in quite a while, so I bet it’s today!” Slowly, the line of hungry students heads toward the cafeteria door.

We slowly move forward, across the tan colored ceramic tile floor, past the dark green velvet curtains that cover the stage. The stage where I may or may not have played a mushroom in Peter Pan and an Elf in Rumpelstiltskin, both extremely vital parts to the plot. I wish I still had that ability to spin hay into gold.

We move forward, inching towards the glow of white, starched and pressed, apron wearing ladies, each with a hair net, just ahead. We walk through the line as if we had a single thing to say about the food that was being place on those big, sea foam green rectangular trays with the built-in compartments for the exact amount of food that would be placed on them.

“Yes! It’s soup and sandwich day!”

We shuffle across as the ladies in white place a bowl of vegetable soup, in a matching sea foam green bowl, a tuna sandwich, some saltine crackers and a square piece of white cake with the sweetest white icing on the tray. The lunchroom manager, also dressed in white but sporting a black bow tie at her collar, as if to remind everyone of her authority, looks sternly down the line of lunchroom workers, making sure that every sandwich and every cake square was properly placed.

Sloshing the soup from side to side as we make our way to the table, we seat ourselves to begin our feast. Chairs with light colored, smooth, shiny wood on the backs and seats, and attached to metal frames with shiny silver colored metal taps on each leg, surround each long, rectangular table. The sound of thousands of tap dancers dancing on the ceramic floor begins as each student moves the chairs from the table to take a seat.

“I’ll trade my sandwich for your cake,” someone asks. “I’m good. No thanks,” I say. “I don’t want to trade anything today.”

I thought to myself, “I'm thrilled with everything on this tray. I even made it to the table without sloshing soup on my sandwich! I hate soggy bread.”

We finish our meals, down to the last drop of milk in the square, cardboard carton. We wait to line up for the return to our classroom, where we will wash our hands, return to our desk, and hope we get a freshly printed assignment from the mimeograph machine.

To smell.

Then do the assignment.

From the mind of me.