I packed a leftover lunch for school this morning. A ham sandwich on a wheat roll. Some green beans. And potato casserole. Those all came from the kitchen of my mother. The potato salad, I was saving for our supper.
Imagine my pleasant surprise to see that the cafeteria was serving GRILLED CHEESE today! I LOOOOVE their grilled cheese! So I left my leftovers stashed in my mini-fridge for tomorrow. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Just before the 10:53 bell for 1st lunch, I stood in my classroom doorway, chatting with my student. You heard that right. I have one student that hour. It's a different kind of class. And my roster has declined by 83% since the first week of school. I can't help it that they run afoul of the handbook. One day they were there, the next day not.
So I'm standing there discussing the pleasant smell emanating from the kitchen. It's right across the hall from my room. I definitely detected the aroma of brownies. My student suggested chocolate cake. And who should walk up the hall at that moment other than the teacher of all things cooked. Actually, the teacher of all things built went by first, but I knew better than to consult his olfactory senses, so we just waved. But the food teacher raised her nostrils to follow the imaginary cartoon stream of wafted scent. She pronounced it chocolate cake. The teacher of all things made simpler went by. I'm amazed that any work gets done around this place, what with the traffic in that hallway at 10:53. Miz Learning Made Easy declared the smell to be a combination of chocolate cake and Play-Doh.
No matter how you slice that aroma, I voiced my opinion that we would never see it on our trays. That has happened for years. We will smell the most delicious treats...yet they never materialize. It's like the cafeteria is a Hillmomba Triangle where tasty dishes disappear.
After 3rd lunch, I caught the eye of the teacher of all things cooked as she went back to class. She was beside herself. And she was beside me, ranting about the meal. "You were right. It certainly wasn't on the tray. There was only one thing they made on that tray: the grilled cheese! Canned soup. Frozen waffle fries. Boxes of raisins. Canned diced pears." She should know. She's the expert.
But you all know how Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is a cockeyed optimist. The grilled cheese was real. And it was spectacular.
3 comments:
Nothing like a good grilled cheese, is there? Maybe the lunchroom workers were cooking up a treat for themselves?
Did you run towards the grilled cheese (dressed only in a towel) and fall into it, before detecting it was real AND spectacular?
At our school, if we smell something sweet, we know it's green bean day. (A spoonful of sugar makes the vegetables go down.)
Kathy,
They used to cook up special treats for the custodians, but a stop was put to that fraternization.
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Sioux,
No. There were students around. I had no desire to be the lead story on the evening news.
Our green bean day is marked by an aura of onion. There are as many onions as green beans. I don't mind. I like onions. That's the only vegetable they serve that I eat. Well, except for ketchup. And those reconstituted mashed potato flakes.
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