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Kudos to school
lunch ladies!
By Melissa Martin
I remember the lunch ladies wearing white uniforms and hairnets as they
dipped and dished food items onto plates. Some smiled. Some grumbled.
But these hardworking women put up with a cafeteria full of noise and
nonsense day after day and year after year—until retirement.
The following is a funny fictional story I penned to express my
appreciation for the school food staff; cooks, bakers, and servers.
My name’s Milliard – but everyone calls me Mills, except Granny
Ruderbaker, the lunch lady boss. I go to Whipple View Elementary
School. I’m going to tell you a story about the funniest day of the
year for the kids, definitely not for the lunch ladies, the teachers,
or the principals.
It all started in the cafeteria when Mrs. Ruderbaker, the chief lunch
lady retired. She held the title of longest working lunch lady in the
state. And she was proud of it.
Now Ruderbaker ran a tight ship in the school kitchen. Hairnets,
plastic gloves, aprons, the works. Her nickname for herself was
Sergeant Rude the Baker – Serge R.B. for short. That’s what the other
lunch ladies called her. The kids and the teachers called her Granny
Baker at her request.
“Good day, Millard,” Granny Baker would say. “I want to see you eating
all those yummy carrots and tasty peas today. Vegetables are our
friends.” She’d look you right in the eyes until you agreed. If you
looked up or down or sideways, she’d repeat it until you answered, “Yes
ma’am, Granny Baker.”
On salmon, stewed tomatoes, and turnip day – which was always a Friday,
most kids packed their lunch. I felt sorry for the kids who forgot –
because Serge R.B. patrolled the cafeteria trays with eagle eyes.
“Excuse me, do I see turnips left on your tray?” she’d ask. The unlucky
kid would cramp the food in, follow it with gulps of milk, and then
turn shades of green.
The unbelievable, but hilarious day was a Friday, the last day of
school before summer vacation. Serge R.B. would not change the menu –
that’s what I heard – even though it was her retirement party. But she
allowed parents to bring in desserts, ice cream, and punch.
I was setting at a table with my lunch bunch buddies like I do everyday
when IT happened.
“I’m having a chocolate caramel cupcake with cream cheese icing and red
sprinkles for dessert,” said Molly. “Ahhhh. I’ll munch one of each kind
of cookie dipped in tapioca pudding. Yum,” exclaimed Carlos. Lamont
replied, “That’s disgusting. Peach pie and ice cream for me.”
Prissy Missy, she doesn’t mind that we call her that because she knows
she’s the clothes matching queen of the school, said, “Well, I’m having
fresh fruit salad. Sugar ruins your smile.” As usual Molly rolled her
eyes.
CLANG. CHINK. CLACK. CLATTER. CLUNK. THUD. THUNK. SLAM. SPLAT. BOOM.
BAM. BONG. CRASH. SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT.
“It’s still my kitchen! I haven’t left, yet!” yelled Serge R.B. We
heard her hollering, but couldn’t see her yet. Then all the lunch
ladies from the serving line to the kitchen staff dashed into the
dining area. They darted around the room looking for cover.
“Run! Serge R.B. is going berserk! Get the principal! Get the janitor!
Get the nurse! Get the school counselor! Call the police! Call someone!”
A hush fell on the entire cafeteria when Serge R.B. rushed out covered
in stewed tomatoes. She twirled a large wooden spoon. While chasing the
lunch ladies she slipped and crashed into the dessert table.
Cookies, cakes, pies, ice cream, and fruit flew into the air and landed
on the parents, the teachers, and the kids. Most everyone, except the
lunch ladies, scrambled under the tables. To my surprise, all the lunch
ladies started throwing food at Serge R.B.
Things got funnier when the school principal and assistant principal
marched into the messy cafeteria. “What’s going on? Are the students
having a food fight?”
SPLAT. Pie and pudding landed on their nice suits, but not from the
students.
The teachers tired to herd the kids and parents outside, but everyone
kept sliding and slipping on the gooey floor. “Look at me. I’m skating
on ice cream!” shouted Lamont. Carlos replied, “I’m a human banana
split!”
Finally, we all ended up on the playground. “Your clothes will wash,”
Molly hugged a crying Prissy Missy. “Yum,” exclaimed Carlos as he
munched on a handful of rescued cookies.
Some of the younger kids rolled around in the grass with deep belly
laughing. The teachers sprayed the food off with a water hose before we
could get on the buses to go home.
“Goodbye! Have a fun, but clean summer,” I hollered and waved to the
school crowd.
Well, that’s how I remember the funniest day of the school year and the
lunch lady food spat. I heard that after everything calmed down, Serge
R.B. had a pleasant retirement party—without food. I’ll miss Granny
Ruderbaker telling me to eat my vegetables.
Melissa Martin, Ph.D, is an author, columnist, educator, and therapist.
She lives in Southern Ohio. www.melissamartinchildrensauthor.com.
Contact her at melissamcolumnist@gmail.com.
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