Lunch Bunch

I'm not sure how and when it happened, but during their lunch period, a group of 5th graders come to my classroom to have their lunch. Actually, I think it began when I had asked a student who I worked with in small group last year to help organize my room. Okay, I'll be more honest: sometimes, there are some kids that organize my desk and room for me. I'm a mess. I'm sloppy. I lose things. Maybe it's ADD. Or ADHD. I tell people it's the state of being genius and that I'm busy with abstract concepts; who has time for straightening up and worrying about where I put files? Except, of course, when I need the paperwork. Too, when I am wanting the room straightened, I am a tyrant, bellowing, "FENG SHUI! FENG SHUI! I NEED EVERYTHING IN LINES! THE CORNERS MUST MATCH!" Two days later, the girls and boys who cleaned my desk say, "Um, Mr. Anonymister, didn't we just clean your desk for you?" To which I respond, "Someone broke in the classroom and messed everything up!" I always promise to follow up with filing a police report. The kids just shake their heads at me.
So the one student I had asked to help brought a friend to help organize. And then I think that kid brought a friend. And so on. Until eventually there has been about core group of about ten students, mostly 5th graders, who hang out at lunch. It's sweet. Sometimes they help organize things in the classroom. Sometimes we don't even talk at all because I'm busy working and dramatically hold my hand signifying that I have no time to talk. On those days, they have rap sessions with each other. Other times, if it's a smaller group of kids, we might talk candidly together. They might tell me about hating their mothers ("Yes, I know the feeling," I respond.) and fathers ("He be drinking too much beer with the neighbor."). Or, they might confide about the homeroom or specialist teachers that they loathe ("Yeah, her breaf be like a dumpster, and her armpits be nasty. And when she talk, she be spitting."). To these, I stifle my giggles, and lamely relate to having to respect my own boss.
What has touched me about this "lunch bunch," as a colleague calls them, is that they voluntarily hang there. I know they feel safe. I know it is a haven and that though sometimes they are there to work, always they can just congregate, relax and simply be. What has been remarkable about it to me at times is that the lunch bunch gathers even on days when the weather is beautiful and they have the opportunity to play sports at lunch time. Most of the boys love sports.
One of the boys who comes is a recent addition. He just transferred to the school around December. He is sophisticated, sometimes too much so, for an 11-year-old. He is a great dancer, full of energy, and quite funny. I have told him he talks too much. He also lacks a filter for his mouth. He is very much like me.
Today, I had him stapling some papers and he looked at another boy and exclaimed, "Oh no - BERT!"

After, he proceeded to laugh hysterically.
I looked at the boy he was referring to and, indeed, he resembles a Muppet.
Although I had always thought he looked more like a Sleestak.



Point is, this boy who made himself laugh has a mean streak. And I had to nip it. I had to tell him he could not make fun of anyone in my classroom. And that was going against my instinct because the shit was funny. I like to see when a person makes himself laugh