I wrap up my lesson and head into the hallway with my trusty teal wheelie cart. My lunch tucked in neatly on the second shelf. I wheel to the PLC room, but the red sign reminds me that there is a meeting in progress.
I make my way around the corner, through the library to the conference room… it’s empty. I grab my lunch box, and begin to unzip it as my stomach reminds me that I usually eat at 12:30 and that yogurt was LONG gone at 10:00.
As I pull out my beautifully portioned leftovers, a voice startles me,
“Oh, I’m sorry, I have a lesson with a Distance Learning group now.”
“No problem,” I reply, “And grab my container, and toss my lunch box on top of the cart, and wheel myself into the library.
Now where? My room is full. The teacher’s room is far if I really only have 15 minutes to eat now.
A table sits askew in the center of the space. The space where kids would sually be bustling about grabbing books. I set my lunchbox down and make my way to the microwave in the copy room.
“OH, there you are, do you have a minute?” our school social worker asks.
“Of course, walk with me, I need to warm up my lunch,” I reply as my stomach sends me yet another reminder that it’s late!
We chat by the microwave for the two minutes it takes. We walk together back to the table. I don’t open the lid for fear of looking rude. We wrap up and she apologizes for taking my lunch time.
I remove the lid and stare down at last night’s dinner. I scan the room. Pick up my plastic fork and stab my first green bean.
“Oh, hey, I know you are eating lunch, but do you have a minute?”