Tears immediately gushed from his eyes and he yelped once again. As I’m quickly eating, smearing peanut butter across my cheeks, Daniel screamed. Gulping and opening wide for another piece, Daniel frantically looked side to side, hoping a staff member would notice. I snatched Daniel’s sandwich and before he could stop me, I tore a huge piece off and shoved it down my throat. So many thoughts were buzzing through my tiny head and I didn’t know what I was doing. At that moment, approximately 12:15pm of March, 2008, I wasn’t thinking. I saw the strawberry jelly oozing from the soft, white bread. After all I went through… and then buying school lunch? I couldn’t.ĭaniel’s sandwich was sitting silently next to me. I looked around, unable to find a solution. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was all I hoped for that day, but didn’t receive.ĭaniel glances at me and my poor, empty lunch box, and continues to munch from his apple. A fresh, honeycrisp apple, my all-time favorite granola bar, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He ripped the Velcro and pulls an apple, granola bar, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of his Cars lunch box. His lunch box was red and had Lightning McQueen from Cars on it. The home-lunchers stared at me, judgmental.ĭaniel, a tall, shy, brown-haired boy who always brought home lunch, sat next to me. “You told me that your mom made you a PB&J! Where is it?” Did that mean I needed to buy a school lunch? Starve myself? Ask the other fortunate home-lunchers for crumbs? I sat in my spot: frozen.Ī parade of home-lunchers skip to my table and sit down.
The one thing I had been looking forward to… was gone. As I opened my eyes to reveal the sandwich, my heart dropped.
I closed my eyes and slowly ripped the Velcro, hearing angelic voices sing around me. I sat at a lunch table still showing off my possession. “She has a home lunch,” “I wish I could be like her,” “isn’t that Katelyn Anderson?”, I heard students whisper. Later, as lunch ladies slopped “food” on trashy plates, I raised my head high and passed the other students, carrying my homemade lunch to my side. Before the bus arrived, my mom slapped two pieces of white bread together with peanut butter and jelly. My mom happily nodded, grabbing my bright pink lunch box. One morning, however, I asked for something more. On a typical morning before school, my mom would make me a healthy breakfast usually consisting of eggs and toast. Students praised the kids with home lunch. Elementary schoolers despised school lunch. They wore tattered, ragged uniforms that had leftover spaghetti sauce stains. There were 6 or 7 smelly lunch ladies in ripped hairnets who practically lived in the kitchen. Anna spent hours on her blue and pink eyeshadow in the morning. My class consisted of monstrous, booger-filled kids who couldn’t spell ‘mustard’ or ‘kite.’ Tyler always wore a ratty tomato-red sweatshirt and smelled of rotten milk. Wacker!!” I sobbed to my principal with leftover crumbs of white bread in my mouth.Įarly March, 2008.
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