Lunch Duty

I am the substitute lunch volunteer for my nine year old son’s class. Yesterday a mother was sick and I got the call to come in. The teacher is phenomenal and was requested by a lot of parents. The boy/ girl ratio is something like 17 to 8. My son, who is profoundly deaf with ADHD, is not the most challenging student. Think about that. At lunch time it can get a bit zooey. I just went on a long field trip with this class and drove a van full of boys. I might have lost patience with some of them.

I don’t know if I have mentioned it here that lately I have been experiencing God’s love in a new and profound way. As a result I am understanding that any problems and frustrations in my life I can usually trace back to a lack of love in me.

One kid in particular really bugs me. My son struggles, Oh wait, that would suggest a fight on his part which is not the case. My son does not pay attention. His teacher struggles to keep him on task. Any chance he gets (or takes) his nose is in a book. His teacher is constantly telling him to put a book away and pay attention. Last week, this other child, told my son to stop reading. It was right after the field trip and entirely appropriate for my son to be reading. The attitude this other boy had was officious and cocky. I might be making that up because I know I am the mother of a child with special needs and therefore a special breed myself (part lioness/part angel of mercy, essentially one bad mother…wait this is a family show…a lady with a fast trigger). I wanted to smack the smug look off this kid’s fat face, but I chose to tell him to worry about himself instead. I smiled and kept my tone neutral but I am sure his spirit felt smacked by mine.

Yesterday, as I approached my son’s classroom I thought about this boy and prayed for love to fill my heart. When I entered the room and saw a sub it sank. The class had already been clawing on her tender meat and turned to me with glee. “Are you substituting today?” several asked. The sub hurriedly handed out the lunch and milk coupons then scurried out the door. As everyone got their lunches there was the inevitable noise. Once everyone had been served I shut the door and began cracking the whip. Boys were bouncing out of their chairs. I stayed on them but when there were multiple repeat offenders I grabbed a marker and marched to the board. I thought I might write down names and start taking away five minute slots of recess. This stunk as these boys needed to be outside running. My other instinct was to start cracking heads but I quickly dismissed that one. And then the grace came as I tore the top off the marker. A little voice asked, “Are we going to play hang man?” Brilliant.

“Yes, we are. I have just the word.” I quickly drew the noose and made six spaces. By some miracle everyone quieted down, eager to be called on. It took some time to get the last letter “n” then the first letter, “r”. After a bit someone got the fifth letter “e”. After some misfires they went back to vowels and got the second letter, “o” and then it wasn’t long before someone guessed “t” to solve it, “rotten”.

“Can you guess why I thought of that word?” I asked.

“Because that’s what we are?” One suggested, which had been my truth when writing the spaces, but wasn’t anymore.

“No,” I was able to say without lying, “what would happen to your lunches if you left them on your desks and didn’t clear them away?”

We all knew they would be rotten.

We had time for one more game. I don’t remember the word; it was just a word and not a hateful barb. Soon they were free to go outside. In relative peace desks were cleared off quickly and I stood, a miracle of love because I had invited it in.

Preventive grace. I’m for it.