Lunch Lady Land

For some reason, the other day, a memory hit me. Not a frightening one or a particularly significant one, but a memory nonetheless. I think it was because I've been watching my friend Chad work day and night on a project (he's the new product developer for an educational software company) that seems to have no end. It's a software that basically allows parents/guardians to add money to their child's 'lunch account' at school. By using a credit card, a parent can easily add credit so their child can eat lunch at school.

My memory was the one with Mrs. Hess (or Juanita Ernst, can't remember whom) and her lunch ticket cart. Every week this woman would take her media cart and roll it from room to room and offer wee kids the chance to purchase lunch tickets. At so young an age, I can still remember whose parents had the most money. Our teacher would let us line up at the front of the class, pull a wadded up check from our little pockets and approach the ticket cart. As we fumbled our little hands to hold out the money, in return we received a number of tickets (the same ones used for drawings, wound around a big roll) corresponding to how much was written on the check-I think at that time lunches were like $.90. I still remember some of the kids walking away proudly with a stack of tickets folded on top of themselves-a virtual smorgasbord promising peanut butter sandwiches and mushed turkey and gravy on potatoes. Others returned to their desks with enough for the week. And still others-with one or two goldenrod tickets that held the hope of mere days worth of lunches. I now wonder about the kids who never visited the cart.

It's funny how at such a young age we were subjected to the scrutinizing eyes of our classmates. Who came away with the most tickets? Who remained at their desks, averting their eyes onto a list of spelling words or math problems?

I don't think it's ironic that Chad and his wife, Liz, share a compassion for the people, the wee kids who never get to buy a lunch ticket, never have their 'account' full. They started a non-profit organization, Project Foodstock (watch the video here) to ensure that every kid gets to eat not only while at school, but at dinner time, every day. It's the contribution, not only on the clock, but in their free time, of friends like the Caswell's, who bring action to their convictions.