The Lunch Lady
The pungent smell of the blacktop
Pairs with the earthy smell of woodchips
As I pass out the school lunches
And wish I worked somewhere with good tips.
I stand and watch a heated game
Of kid soccer play out
I watch the goalie block a corner kick
Before I hear a shout.
I turn, the Kindergarteners are racing
To be the first to tattle
On the little boy who's insisting
On holding a dance battle
I'm saved from solving that problem
By the ringing of the bell
Yet I know more problems will be coming
For the older ones must eat as well
They like to act much cooler
When they tattle on their friends
Yet their tears still flow when their skinned knees
Prove beyond a Band-Aid's mend.
The older ones like to play
Group games on the field
Sharks and minnows is their favorite
As their daily play's revealed
Sure, I gotta yell at them
For climbing up the slides
And I have to have a whistle for
When I find where trouble hides
Yet, overall, these kids are great
They bring sunlight to my life
Their random hugs, smiles, and laughs
Are the only tips I need for my strife.
I hear one of them yell, "Hey teacher!"
And I smile and think, well, someday soon
I'll be filling my kids up with words
Instead of forks and spoons
For now, though, I turn with compassion
To try and address their malady
I look at their big, open eyes and say
You can call me the lunch lady
No comments:
Post a Comment