I spent two days this week going into local lunchrooms for college recruitment. As an admissions counselor, lunchroom visits are one of my favorite types of recruitment. While some recruitment events may be a little on the boring side, going into a high school lunchroom and observing teenagers in their natural habitats is always entertaining!
I wish I could say that I was an impartial observer in this venture. But alas, I was once a teenager, too, and my own experiences have probably colored my impressions. What follows is an attempt to document my observations of the creatures and goings-on of this unnaturally natural high school setting.
I'll start with the "teacher table." The head honcho, the big cheese, the leader of the pack, the princiPAL sits in the middle or at the head of the table. You can tell it's him or her by the way he or she sits. Confidently. The "I am a Leader" pose. He or she demands respect. A born school administrator. I imagine that as a child, this individual was always "Mother" in Mother-May-I. The male version of this rare species sits with his elbows slightly propped on the table beside his tray. He reminds me of a lion hovering over a kill. His eyes constantly dart up from the food in front of him, taking in his surroundings with a keen knowing and understanding. It's almost like he's waiting for something, for a food fight to break out or for a troublemaker to slip up. He's on the edge of his seat and ready to pounce on the next kid who jumps out of line.
The female principal is a little less predatory. She is equally confident, but perhaps a tad more discreet. Her confidence permeates not from her pose or the way she moves but from somewhere within. She is secure and eats her lunch assuredly. She is in no hurry and has no concerns. Her students will stay in line, or they will pay the price. They know that, and she knows that, so she doesn't worry about constantly watching them. If something happens, she'll handle it when it does.
The teachers around them enjoy their lunches and the chance to socialize. In a way, they've become their own clique. Chatting and enjoying each other's company. Adding to the din of the cafeteria. And boy, is there a din!
I'd forgotten just how loud a high school lunchroom could be. The sounds are unmistakable, as are the smells. Ah, to get back those days of pizza and corn, tater tots, and mystery meat. I can still taste it. That incomparable combination of pizza and corn. Whoever thought that up was a genius.
But the food isn't the star of the high school lunchroom. Nope, the lunchroom is definitely ruled by the clique. It's been ten years since I graduated high school, and not surprisingly, little has changed. You can practically label each table after one look. It's so typical of us to band together into groups, little packs where we're completely comfortable. Heaven forbid we come out of that comfort zone. Yet in life, there are always little surprises...the square pegs that just don't fit anywhere and are completely happy with that. I've always been a square peg, but I haven't always been happy with that fact, especially not in high school. Nowadays I fully embrace my uniqueness, but even I struggled when it came to lunchroom politics.
As I watched the inner-workings of the cafeteria, my eyes always seemed to be drawn to the quiet tables. Like the table where a young man sat reading a book, completely engrossed despite the volume level and the drama around him. I suppose his book was probably a kind of defense mechanism of sorts, but I couldn't help but be proud of him anyway. He wasn't concerned with acting a part or gaining popularity. He was comfortable enough with himself and his own interests that he could ignore the call of teenage angst and just be. Or the table packed with budding young artists, all gathered around a friend with his guitar. They stood outside in the courtyard on a cold, rainy day and seemed to genuinely be enjoying each other's company.
I could go on forever about all of the cliques and the unavoidable awkwardness of teenagers, but the bell rings, and my stint as a cultural anthropologist ends as suddenly as it began.
But while we're on the subject, what was your favorite lunchroom meal? Despite all my love for pizza and corn, I liked fish stick days because of the hushpuppies!
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| What I wouldn't give to bring back those days of culinary perfection! |
I wish I could say that I was an impartial observer in this venture. But alas, I was once a teenager, too, and my own experiences have probably colored my impressions. What follows is an attempt to document my observations of the creatures and goings-on of this unnaturally natural high school setting.
I'll start with the "teacher table." The head honcho, the big cheese, the leader of the pack, the princiPAL sits in the middle or at the head of the table. You can tell it's him or her by the way he or she sits. Confidently. The "I am a Leader" pose. He or she demands respect. A born school administrator. I imagine that as a child, this individual was always "Mother" in Mother-May-I. The male version of this rare species sits with his elbows slightly propped on the table beside his tray. He reminds me of a lion hovering over a kill. His eyes constantly dart up from the food in front of him, taking in his surroundings with a keen knowing and understanding. It's almost like he's waiting for something, for a food fight to break out or for a troublemaker to slip up. He's on the edge of his seat and ready to pounce on the next kid who jumps out of line.
The female principal is a little less predatory. She is equally confident, but perhaps a tad more discreet. Her confidence permeates not from her pose or the way she moves but from somewhere within. She is secure and eats her lunch assuredly. She is in no hurry and has no concerns. Her students will stay in line, or they will pay the price. They know that, and she knows that, so she doesn't worry about constantly watching them. If something happens, she'll handle it when it does.
The teachers around them enjoy their lunches and the chance to socialize. In a way, they've become their own clique. Chatting and enjoying each other's company. Adding to the din of the cafeteria. And boy, is there a din!
I'd forgotten just how loud a high school lunchroom could be. The sounds are unmistakable, as are the smells. Ah, to get back those days of pizza and corn, tater tots, and mystery meat. I can still taste it. That incomparable combination of pizza and corn. Whoever thought that up was a genius.
But the food isn't the star of the high school lunchroom. Nope, the lunchroom is definitely ruled by the clique. It's been ten years since I graduated high school, and not surprisingly, little has changed. You can practically label each table after one look. It's so typical of us to band together into groups, little packs where we're completely comfortable. Heaven forbid we come out of that comfort zone. Yet in life, there are always little surprises...the square pegs that just don't fit anywhere and are completely happy with that. I've always been a square peg, but I haven't always been happy with that fact, especially not in high school. Nowadays I fully embrace my uniqueness, but even I struggled when it came to lunchroom politics.
As I watched the inner-workings of the cafeteria, my eyes always seemed to be drawn to the quiet tables. Like the table where a young man sat reading a book, completely engrossed despite the volume level and the drama around him. I suppose his book was probably a kind of defense mechanism of sorts, but I couldn't help but be proud of him anyway. He wasn't concerned with acting a part or gaining popularity. He was comfortable enough with himself and his own interests that he could ignore the call of teenage angst and just be. Or the table packed with budding young artists, all gathered around a friend with his guitar. They stood outside in the courtyard on a cold, rainy day and seemed to genuinely be enjoying each other's company.
I could go on forever about all of the cliques and the unavoidable awkwardness of teenagers, but the bell rings, and my stint as a cultural anthropologist ends as suddenly as it began.
But while we're on the subject, what was your favorite lunchroom meal? Despite all my love for pizza and corn, I liked fish stick days because of the hushpuppies!
