Never was there a more potent symbol of social status in high school than the cafeteria lunch table.
When I was in high school, the cafeteria tables roughly broke down into:
— The Cool Kids (cheerleaders and majorettes)
— The Smart Kids (chemistry and physics nerds)
— The Jocks (male members of the football and basketball teams)
— The Homemakers (girls who exchanged Singer sewing patterns)
— The Outcasts (looking back, shame on all of us)
— AND The Rebels (of which I was the ringleader)
In addition to me, The Rebels included:
- Anastasia (none of the following names are real), the Know-it-All, who hated anything ordinary, but won the Betty Crocker Homemaker Award, after accepting a dare from us to take the test even though she had never cooked and never wanted to. The Homemakers were appalled.
- Beatrice, the Artist, who never had eye contact (think Ally Sheedy in “The Breakfast Club”).
- Persephone, the Rich One, who had both fall and spring wardrobes as well as a car.
- Blythe, the Just Plain Odd One, but clever.
Interestingly, I was ringleader even though I carried a bagged lunch. It was, however, not an ordinary brown lunch bag, but a Crown Royal Canadian Whiskey purple cloth bag that I had absconded one night from a home office desk drawer while babysitting three neighborhood kids from hell. I should have taken the whiskey, too.
Every day at lunch, The Rebels smugly assessed other tables: “Check out Hermione’s bouffant – it’s taller than her head majorette hat” or “Don’t look, but here comes Sybil and her notebook covered with troll stickers. Pretend to be eating” or “Did you see Sebastian and Clarissa tonguing under the football field bleachers? Yecch!”
Unbelievably, for all our table trash talk, Anastasia and Persephone were voted by their fellow classmates — and consented — to be attendants to the Homecoming Queen our senior year. (We did not know that Anastasia was pregnant at the time which was anything but ordinary.)
Feats of The Rebels were no doubt the talk of other lunch tables. Following my lead, we goaded several dozen senior girls to accompany us to the school auditorium to boycott classes until girls – like the boys — could wear blue jeans to school. We were successful. You’re welcome.
We – actually, it was probably just me – one week refused to go to Home Ec[onomics] classes which we cynically called, “Home Wreck.” I had burned the bacon in a cooking class and received a D-minus (thank god that grade didn’t factor into my GPA) for an A-line skirt because, among other flaws, I had stabled the hem. (Today I use duct tape.) I wanted to take Work Shop like the boys so I too could craft a wooden desktop book rack. I was not successful.
But feats such as these paled in comparison to the underground newspaper The Rebels created and distributed after Blythe discovered a used band-aid in her cafeteria-made vanilla rice pudding. Yecch!
NEXT IN Part TWO: The Rebels seize the power of the printed word.
The last photo in this post is not the actual used band-aid (yecch!) found in the vanilla rice pudding created by the high school cafeteria lunch ladies and their hair nets. Blythe did save it and it will strategically reappear in Part TWO of the exploits of the Lunch Table Club.
Several of my posts over the past month have been about my high school adventures. I found it curious that now that I am tapping into more “active energy” to write about my life, that these are the stories that have immediately trickled down (and continue to trickle down) to the tip of my pen. I pondered this for awhile, but finally landed on a theory that will most likely be the topic of a future post.
Thanks for reading, by the way. It means so much to me. xoxo
Wow I am so impressed that you remember all these details. Aside from some major incidents I remember very little about high school. All the details engage me. Excellent writing. Please continue. I look forward to part 2. PS It does not surprise me that you were the ring leader of the rebels. So you.
Thank you, dear Charlotte. To make you feel better, I saved a lot of what I had written down back then. Why did I save all this stuff? Future posts will reveal all . . . or at least all that I can remember.
Who can forget hemming an A-line skirt with a stabler? Damn, I HATED Home Wreck!
I thought it was a typo in your post, but now I am wondering if it is just your rebel spirit to call it a “stabler” instead of by its proper name, “stapler.” I have shared your use of this Home Wreck tool in place of sewing. I used to staple badges on the twins Cub Scout uniforms when I didn’t have time to sew them on.
I agree with Charlotte that the details are engaging. I am grateful that you wrote so much down. I wouldn’t have many stories to tell in detail from those years. I’m looking forward to Part 2!
Good grief, Beth, I DID misspell staple/stapler not only in my post but in a COMMENT to the post! You are kind to pass it off as endemic to my “rebel spirit.” Maybe I was simply yearning to be stable.
I am grateful to have a fellow stapler in arms! xoxo
Such spunk and daring in your high school shenanigans! And told with such honesty and humor. You are so REAL in these high school posts. We’re right there in that cafeteria with you, a little frightened of you, a little delighted by your adventurous/rebellious spirit!
p.s. Thanks to Beth…I almost went to look up “stabler” in the dictionary to see if there might be an alternate spelling of stapler!
“Spunk and daring.” Hmmmm. That’s charitable, because I believe I was a big fat pain the administration’s — particularly the principal’s — ass. Wait for PART Two.
I have no idea how I won the Danforth Foundation Leadership Award my senior year which is bestowed by the faculty. Perhaps they were jealous of that spunk and daring. Wish I had some of it now.
The Crown Royal “lunch bag” was a giveaway that you were a rebel.