Devonne Brown

A School Story

“Do you want lunch or after school bus duty?” I was astonished that I was given the courtesy of a choice. New admin. 

Lunch duty was quick, twenty intense minutes in the middle of the day, an inside job. After School bus duty had been known to last forty-five minutes, and it was all outside.

“Give me your answer after lunch.” I could think about it while I covered an ancient corkboard with baby pink paper. I had decided in mid July that baby pink would be the color of the year for that board. I didn’t care about borders or content. Ideas would emerge from the void and onto the pink void. It would be magnificent. But the real question before me,  bus or lunch duty? 

This decision had “consequences,” a word folks in the education biz threw around like holy water. I began to think about bus and lunch duty when I stood  in front of the giant paper rolls on straight edged clips for easy tearing. I started unfurling baby pink paper from the mother roll and rerolling it into another tube of pink paper. In forty years of paper wrangling skills, I developed the precise repetitive movements necessary to roll big paper rolls into smaller rolls, tight enough to control. Control of space, place, and time. I rolled the paper into another new roll so I could cut it and move it to another place and work with it another time. I needed two rolls. I would commit to either Lunch or Bus Duty when  both rolls of paper covered the board. 

  Against all the safety rules in the school manual, I lined up a row of chairs under the bulletin board. Each chair was a staple shot’s length away from the next so I could step, unfurl, and staple with ease. I held the roll against the wall with my shoulder and began to smack the staples as I unrolled the paper. Boom. Since the paper was lined up right, it was a matter of unfurl, staple, and think. Boom. Repetitive movement solves problems. Boom. “Lunchroom, enclosed space, noise, round ‘em up, line ‘em up, climate control. Possibility of fighting. Endless. Notes. To. The. Bathroom.” Control. I was indeed a control freak and I would need control to suffer through that.

“Hey, what duty you got? I got GoMart. I hate that I have to go all the way across the street to watch the urchins. At least it’s outside. Do you need help with that?” asked Second Year, Social Studies. She still marveled at things like bulletin boards.

“I’m good, thanks. Lunch or bus duty, I’m going to let them know which one in a minute,” I said.

“Wow! You get a choice? Who are you?”  asked Second Year.

“I am a Goddess, worship me.” I said.

“For God’s sake, save yourself, take Bus duty. The cafeteria is loud and there’s no way out. There’s no escape from the lunacy that runs rampant  in the cafeteria. The kid’s have been hoarding their energy all morning. They feed, they feed on sugar, caffeine,  and each other’s crazy. They take it with them for the rest of the day. After Bus Duty, they take it all home,” she said. 

“Good to know,” I said, like I didn’t know. Boom. Another staple. Another few square inches of baby pink paper stuck to the wall. I reflected upon her words. Lunch duty sucked. There was no doubt about it. I had said as much myself to anyone who would listen when I needed to say it. I felt validated.

The last staple went into the last roll and I couldn’t make it to the office quick enough. 

“Sign me up for After School Bus Duty,” I announced to the secretary.

The principal overheard me, “Sorry. Just filled that.”