Chopstork

My first time in an American school was 2nd grade at Tuckahoe Elementary. My parents told me before I left: “They are going to ask in the morning if you want to buy lunch today. Raise your hand so you get a lunch.” I was alert when class started, waiting for Mrs. Perzkowski (I think that was her name) to ask the question. She ran through her morning ritual, and then, “Who’s getting hot lunch today?” People raised their hands. I hesitated…and didn’t. What’s hot lunch? I need to buy my lunch. My question never came, and I remained silent.

Later in the lunch line she counted heads. One lunch short. Uh oh. If I eat, is someone else going to starve? People started asking questions. Some kid even asked me directly, “Did you raise your hand?” I might have said yes, but my guilt must have shown. How was I supposed to know “hot lunch” was the same thing? Now I’m not getting lunch. I was sad.

Good thing teachers are smart though. Mrs. Perzkowski got me a lunch out of nowhere (I guess when you’re a kid you don’t realize they make extras just in case). I got to eat without taking anyone else’s lunch. After that, lunch was great. I knew to raise my hand for the hot lunch. And I had a friend that would always share her desserts with me. I think I wasn’t allowed to get ice cream for lunch.

In elementary school at NIS in Japan we’d go on a week-long camping trip to Kazuno every year as a class. It wasn’t really camping; we stayed at a sweet cabin, and it had just been renovated too. The days were filled with hikes and local field trips and activities, and at night we’d hang out by a camp fire, go on night hikes, and play flashlight tag. Everyone took turns on cleaning duty and cooking duty each day. One night, I had said I wanted to pour the water on the fire to put it out. By the time I went to bed, I had forgotten about it. One of the teachers remembered and came to get me to put the fire out, since I had wanted to. But I was already in my pajamas, and I had packed some old red ones that I didn’t like anymore, so I really didn’t want to. I was too embarassed to say I didn’t want to, so I went anyway, and someone saw me in my ratty pajamas and said they could see my underwear through my pajamas, and I was even more embarrassed. I hate my old red pajamas, even in Australia.