If you know us in real life, you know that Kyle is BY FAR the superior parent when it comes to school participation. Looking for a field trip volunteer? Look no further; Kyle is there. Running out of classroom snacks? Kyle is on the way. Want someone to attend a school assembly, a monthly reading program, or a citywide band concert? Theeere’s Kyle. Need a parent to talk so much at conferences that they go over the scheduled time and the teacher has to kindly cut them off and tell them they’d be happy to talk further another day because other families are waiting? That’s me.
However, I’ve become acutely aware that Ten’s upcoming graduation from fifth grade means our elementary school days will soon be behind us, and so I’ve made a conscious effort to cram 12 years’ worth of Good Parent Participation into the last three months. In March, I helped Ten find a shirt for a school spirit day. Last week, I went to lunch.
Grand Forks Public Schools allows parents and guardians to join their students for lunch whenever they want. At least, I *think* it’s whenever they want. And I *think* it’s parents and guardians. I have no idea on either because last week was my first lunch ever. Kyle, the Good Parent, has lunched with both of our boys many, many, many times. My parents, the grandparents, have lunched with the boys. I, the mother, had never even seen the lunchroom. Until now!
“Hello, could Amanda and I join Ten for lunch today?” Kyle wrote to the school administrative assistant in an email upon which he copied me. “We’ll both have the cheese ravioli.”
“Of course,” she replied. “We’ll see you around 12:05, lunch is at 12:10.”
I was in the parking lot at 11:58. Kyle, the lunch expert, rolled in at 12:07. Kyle signed us in and got us little Visitor badges and made jovial small talk with the staff and walked confidently to a random spot in a random hallway and I was about to question its randomness when bingo-bango, Ten and his class came marching along.
“Hi, Dad!” Ten said, waving from the line. “Mom! I didn’t know you’d be here!”
Kyle and I joined the end of the line, caboosed by an adult paraprofessional who was equally unsurprised to see my husband and who nodded at me in the way one would a visiting academic evaluator.
Our classroom train chugged into the lunchroom. Ten begrudgingly hung back so he could lead our trio through the line, and I say begrudgingly because Kyle had to remind him four times that he had to pay for us. Ten consoled himself by handing Kyle a chocolate milk and me a white milk.
“I’d like a chocolate milk,” I said.
“No, you want a white milk,” Ten said, probably because he had never seen me drink any milk of any kind outside of coffee creamer.
“No, I want a chocolate milk,” I said. Ten handed me a chocolate milk soaking in skepticism.
“I’m having Choice One,” he told the lunch lady, referring to the two options available that day – Choice One being the ravioli, and Choice Two being a Sunbutter sandwich. “No sauce.”
She handed him a tray with seven plain ravioli and a garlic role.
“I’ll have Choice One WITH sauce!” I said, overemphasizing the “with” for absolutely no reason.
“Is this your first time here?” The lunch lady asked.
“Yes, it is,” I said, adjusting my chocolate milk into the milk portion of the tray. “I’m very happy to be here.”
“Well, welcome!” She said. “You get to pick two fruits and two vegetables.” She gestured to the area next to the ravioli which was covered in little individual cups of produce. I picked out peas, celery, applesauce, and apple slices.
“That’s too many apples,” Ten said, disappointed.
We sat down at Ten’s lunch table with his classmates and I got to eating what I realized was kind of a lot of food to consume in 15 minutes (Ten’s lunch period was 20 minutes, so minus-five for all of the fun banter with the staff and the argument over the chocolate milk). We originally sat Ten-Kyle-Amanda but I made Ten move between us so that I could chat with him. This also disappointed him, and so he ate most of my apple slices as a result.
I had been warned by basically everyone that lunch was very loud, and I would not describe it as very loud. I would describe it as a room full of children talking at normal child volume in a room without a single soft surface to buffer the sound. At one point, a lunchroom monitor – who, coincidentally, was my elementary classmates’ father – turned off the lights.
“Why are the lights off?” I asked the girl sitting in front of me.
“Because we are being too noisy,” she said, and I gave her my applesauce as a thank you. Ten seconds later, the lights turned back on.
“I don’t think it got any quieter,” I told Ten because nary a decibel had changed.
“It got a LOT quieter,” he said, even more disappointed.
When lunch was over, we handed our trays to three small children wearing aprons and plastic gloves – “Thank you very much,” I told my tray-taker. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.” – and filed back out into the hall.
“Can I come home early?” Ten asked.
“No,” I said.
“MOM,” he said, now at maximum disappointment. He turned and hustled down the hallway to catch up with his classmates.
That night, I asked Ten what he thought of lunch.
“I didn’t like the ravioli,” he said. “But I did like the garlic bread.”
“What did you think of me coming to lunch?” I clarified.
“Good,” Ten said, unconvincingly.
“Maybe next I’ll go to lunch with Fourteen,” I joked.
“NO.” Fourteen said, not joking even a single bit.
“You can become a lunch monitor instead,” Kyle said. “You’re great at turning lights on and off.”
“You’re right, I am,” I said. “If they pay me in chocolate milk and cups of peas, I’m in.”
The photo above is of my lunch.
This week on North Dakota Today, we talked about Arlin and Sarah Fisher, my Nice People of the Week, and a free event for new expecting parents. (Valley News Live)
Steele’s Irene Sprague received a Rosie the Riveter Congressional Gold Medal for joining the war effort during World War II. Irene, who just celebrated her 100th birthday, is thought to be North Dakota’s last living “Rosie.” (North Dakota Monitor)
Every year, Bismarck’s Natalie Shetler mails cards to her graduating former students. (KFYR TV)
Williston’s Spencer and Jolene Eddy are recovering from cancer (and the loss of mobility and speech for Spencer) together. (People)
Fargo’s Connor Arbach is in the pretzel business. (Valley News Live)
Can’t get enough space? Head on over to Gateway to Science. (KFYR TV)
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