23. Twenty-three people. 23 people were in my eighth grade class. These were the same 23 people (give or take about 3) that I had been with since the first grade. My elementary school had only one classroom per grade. First through fourth were on the first floor, and fifth through eighth were on the second floor. Fifth grade was a landmark - we began switching classes for morning subjects. This was the same year girls got to change from jumpers to skirts. Which meant it was the same year girls started wearing bras. If you haven't figured out by now, I went to a small Catholic elementary school. It was the same school my dad and his siblings had attended.
Anywho, my school was small. There was no longer a functioning cafeteria when I attended. No daily hot lunch. To work around that, and I guess to keep things interesting, every Wednesday the school found a way to offer a hot lunch. The menu was set a month in advance and it was things like pizza, or McDonalds burgers (no fries, chips). And that was our excitement. And of course, we walked to school both ways uphill in the snow, our recess was on the blacktop church parking lot (that part is true), and a paper cost a nickel. Whatever.
Warren's school is one of the largest elementary schools in our district. They do manage to keep the class sizes to 20 or just under, however, there are 6 or 7 of each grade. I do know that there are seven first grade classes. SEVEN. His school houses kindergarten through fifth grades, and I basically freaked the first time I was there. It was designed back in the day of open classrooms, so there are "pods" where groups of classrooms are, connected by random hallways with offices along the way. Somehow this school manages to make itself seem small and welcoming, which is awesome.
But I'm rambling. My point is, that kindergarten was half days, so first grade is W's first opportunity to buy a lunch. We got the menu the day we dropped off our supplies. I told him the choice for Monday and he passed - so I packed a lunch. Yesterday, he decided to buy his lunch. I hyped it up as a fun adventure meanwhile thinking that if it was me back in first grade there is NO WAY I could have managed to buy my own lunch and consume it with 140 other first graders in the alloted twenty minutes. I knew from other parents that the teachers help the kids get through the line and handle the prepaid lunch cards, so I was confident Warren could manage.
When he got home, I asked about his day. And per my handout from the school, I asked specific questions, "how was art class? Did you have music or PE
today? Who did you sit by at lunch? What was your favorite part of the day?" Then I asked about lunch.
Me: How was buying your lunch for the first time?
W: Um, it was sort of difficult. (For real, difficult. It's one of his new choice words.)
Me: What was difficult about it?
W: Well, it wasn't pepperoni pizza, it was cheese. And I couldn't pick my sides, and it was cooked carrots and I don't like those, and an orange but no peeler, and I don't even know how to do that. And I couldn't open my milk, so I raised my hand and someone came to help me. But it was just confusing.
Me: It sounds like you did pretty well for your first time. Do you want to do it again?
W:
W:
W: Yeah. But let's just pack a lunch for a few days.
Me: That's fine.
W: You could just read me the choices and if I like ALL of the food, then I'll buy my lunch.
That's a fair deal, or at least I think so. I don't care, I'm proud of him. I know it's not a major milestone by any means, but for an anxiety ridden kid like myself Warren, I'm proud. And in case you were wondering, he'll be buying again on Thursday when it's tacos, mexican rice and corn. "I like ALL THOSE THINGS," he said. Ditto that my man, ditto that.