Cheese Boy

Obsession, fascination, fixation, appeal, favorite, partiality, predilection: cheese.

Have you ever loved something so much that you talk about it all the time? Have you ever loved a food so much that you wanted to eat it every day? Well, Brandon does. He loves cheese. He craves cheese. His little face lights up when he thinks about cheese.

Brandon is a small, lively African American boy, with the cutest, most magnetic, toothless grin that just makes me melt. He bounces into class each morning euphoric and eager. His curiosity and character are contagious. His questions and comments are unexpectedly witty. Even though he is only six, his disposition is quite charming.

The day that I realized he had a peculiar, perplexing interest in cheese was the day they served chili in the lunch room. That morning Brandon stood at the lunch choice board and muttered under his breath with a hint of anticipation “Yes! Chili with Cheese!” and then swiftly, yet carefully, moved his name under choice one. Later, as I was lining up the children for lunch, I could hear his whispers “We are having chili with CHEESE today! We are having chili with CHEESE today!” When in the lunch room, Brandon being the competent little line leader that he was, was in line first to acquire his lunch choice. However, when the trays were being passed out he stood back and let the other children go before him. He just stood there against the wall with his shoulders slumped, his chin on his chest, and tears forming in his disappointed eyes. When I questioned him about his unanticipated behavior, he looked up at me dejected and astounded and between snivels mumbled “but there is no cheese on the chili!” and with that he began to cry. I just stood there in the heat of the cafeteria, bewildered, trying to think of a solution to this never-had-before dilemma. Never had I had a child’s world crumble because of cheese. But I felt compassion for little Brandon. I helped him take his classic yellow lunch tray that contained the cheeseless chili and guided him through the line. As I was walking him to his seat I spotted the staff salad bar - that must have cheese on it – I muttered to myself. I then took Brandon over to the salad bar and scooped up a whopping spoon full of cheese. Brandon’s eyes got wide and his smile grew with jubilation as he watched the cheese start to melt on top of his chili. He sprinted to his seat with his meal, then suddenly got up and rushed back to me, giving me the biggest, greatest hug and exclaimed “thank you Ms. Dubois, I love you!”

And from that day forward the two (Brandon and Cheese) became inseparable. I have had countless cheese conversations with Brandon, about which cheese he likes best, what color cheese he does not like, and which lunch choices contain the ingredient. But nonetheless it always puts a little cheer in my heart when I see his face light up at the thought of CHEESE!

Picture Day

In the fall we take pictures. This is a ritual practiced in pretty much every school in the U.S. of A. This is the time parents can buy their precious child’ portrait. This is the picture that will go in the year book. This is the all important photo. This is picture day. Every year I get a little apprehensive on picture day and this year was no different from any other…

As we are all awaiting that imperative call from the front office, I decided to read my students a few stories so that they would not get glue, pencil, crayon, marker or dirt on their clothes before getting their picture taken... As I was reading I looked patiently at my 20 wiggly, jiggly students. Jordan had a pair of scissors and was impetuously cutting a piece of white paper into tiny little triangles which she instantly placed in her shirt pocket. Joshua was spinning senselessly, spontaneously around and around in circles but staying uncontaminated. Addison sat kris-cross-apple sauce and quiet as a mouse hoping the other kids wouldn’t disturb her perfection. Kelsey was sitting proudly in a chair instead of the floor because she was wearing a new dress. Marlon sat still for the first time in days; it must have been the new hair cut. Justin sat away from the group in his brand new jeans. Earlier, Sarah had shown me her new shoes and Logan arrived beaming with delight because his dad put gel in his hair that morning. Now, Sarah was ripping the Velcro on her shoes repeatedly making an irritating reverberation and Logan was gently yet incessantly taping the top of his own blond head with his fingers.

The rule is, when the front office calls the room, the teachers are to line the children up by height. I have yet to figure out why. I understand why in the spring, because they take a class picture and need to stand on the risers but why in September? But I did it anyways. Barley. It all started with Brandon: “I’m the line leader, I need to be first.” “Sorry, not today, Jordan is shorter than you.” “But who’s going to lead the line?” Then the others joined in with happy chorus: “I don’t want to stand next to her,” “Can I go to the bathroom?” “My shoes are untied; can you tie them for me?” “Joshua cutted!” “Why are we going to the gym? It’s not time for PE!” “He’s taller than me, you put him in line wrong,”“she pushed me,” “Are we going to lunch?” “I’m hot!” “Nadia’s crying because she lost her hair bow!”

We finally made it to the hot, scorching gym…late. We immediately got in line behind a kindergarten class. After putting my class back in height order for the second and third time, and chasing Joshua back in line, each child had the opportunity to sit on the stool, back straight with a big smile. By the time it was my turn, I was red, hot and sweaty from the oppressively muggy gym. By the time it was my turn, my hair was going in every direction. By the time it was my turn, my shirt was wrinkled and bedraggled. By the time it was my turn, the photographer had developed a tick. He promptly flashed his camera and sent me on my way with my jumbled, muddled class. Picture day, is always and adventure.