A Middle School Memior

  The cafeteria. The one other place that I might eat as many meals as around my kitchen table. I pushed my way through the line chalk-a-block with my fellow classmates. At the head of the line, I pick up one of the school’s famous red trays sporting the even more famous fried chicken. I grabbed an ice crusted chocolate milk, a close to melting orange sherbet,  and some celery with penut butter to dip it in, but casually avoided the cornbread that was more like a brick than a bread. I gave my student number to the cashier and scanned the array of tables outlined with more students. I carefully considered where to sit. This was my first lunch in middle school and my choice would affect my social status for the next three years.