In the winter of the fifth grade, both parents lost their jobs. How to collect enough lunch money for me to hand it over to school the next day has become my mother's biggest headache.
I found Mrs barnett, who is in charge of the student canteen, and she promised to arrange a job for me there so that I could have a free lunch.
When I told Miss Donner, the head teacher, that I had to finish class early every noon, her face showed an unhappy expression. The school stipulates that dinner is served at noon every day 1 1: 30. I have to get to the restaurant at 1 1: 00 and fill the sugar cans and salt bottles on each table. Besides, for everyone's convenience, I need to keep stacking boxes of milk on the counter. Besides me, there are three other girls in the restaurant doing similar jobs with me.
My main job is to clean up the leftovers on the plate and give them to estelle, who is in charge of cleaning. I picked up silver-plated tableware from each porcelain plate and threw it into a special pot. Napkins are thrown into the trash can; The unfinished food on the plate was put into the dustbin. At first, I always scraped leftovers with a spoon, but my classmates ate quickly because they were in a hurry for class, and soon the plates piled up. I had to roll up my sleeves and use my palm as a rag to quickly wipe off the things on the plate. Rice, mashed potatoes and beets are easy to clean, and they are still warm in the palm of your hand. The most difficult thing to get is the stuffing in gravy and various pies, which requires skill to scrape off. The dish handed to estelle must be clean, and then she will cook it in a wire cage.
At first, I was ashamed and didn't want my classmates to see me scraping leftovers. But soon I entered the role, and my eyes were only on work, and I was doing it faster and faster. Later, I wiped two dishes with my hands at the same time, and no residue could escape my eyes.
Estelle and I are like comrades fighting side by side. We often laugh because we are sweating like a fish out of the water. I wash hundreds of dishes every day and hand them to her. In this process, I never dropped any tableware on the concrete floor. I learned how to avoid juice and sauce cleverly and not let them splash on my clothes.
Even though all the students have left the restaurant, my work is not over yet. I have to take the waste paper in the waste paper bucket to the incinerator behind the school and burn it completely before I can come back.
Miss Donner always stares at me when I walk into the classroom. No matter how many times I wash my hands, my fingertips still smell of leftovers. All afternoon, I have to accept the baptism of eyes. The head teacher will frown when he sees me, and other classmates will envy me for leaving the classroom for 2 hours.
One day two months later, Mrs barnett gathered four students who worked in a restaurant. She said that the county health department requires all employees working in restaurants to attend food safety and hygiene courses. The course will be held in the city hall and will last for two weeks. The course is held twice a day, and our students attend the course starting at 10 in the morning.
You can go to town every morning! That's exciting news. When I told Miss Donner about it, her frown became tighter.
Might as well not come to school. She said.
At that time, we seldom had a chance to go to town. I feel like I'm on a novel trip every morning. There is only one driver's seat in the bread delivery truck we are sitting in. We four students must stand in the pile of bread and hold fast to the iron shelf where the bread is placed. The driver forgets our existence every time he turns a corner, but every time before getting on the bus, he will repeatedly tell us not to show our heads, otherwise the boss will not let him go when he knows that he is carrying people.
The course is held in a basement, and the people who teach us work in the state health bureau. We are the only children in our class, and everyone else is a waiter, a chef or the person in charge of the restaurant. Everyone laughed when we walked into the classroom on the first day.
After class, I need to speed up my work because I enter the restaurant later than usual. At the same time, I returned to the classroom even later. The head teacher's face is getting uglier every day. As soon as I entered the door one day, she said, welcome back, world adventurer. Many people laughed at this.
When it rains, the incinerator behind the school is useless. We must take the waste paper bucket to the basement of the school, where there is a stove to burn waste paper. The janitor patiently taught me how to put on thick gloves and open the stove mouth, but I always missed the point. Throwing paper in will bring out black smoke and leave traces on clothes and bodies.
On the last day of health class, it rained heavily, and it was very late when we got to the basement. I sweated a lot because I was anxious, and subconsciously wiped my forehead with gloves covered with carbon black. When I got back to the classroom, everyone laughed at me.
Robert, come here for a second. Miss Donner said.
When I approached her desk, Miss Donner took out a tissue from it and wiped my face with it. After wiping the cinder off my face, she made me stand in front of the whole class.
If you don't come to class, you will wander around the world. Look what you got. As she spoke, she raised the black paper towel in her hand and slapped me on the ass.
The whole class burst into laughter again. The difference is that this time the laughter is very neat. I smiled, too, because a sense of pride rose in my heart, so I knew I won: I opened my eyes in the city, I missed some classes, I annoyed Miss Donner, but after I overcame so many seemingly insurmountable difficulties, I won the lunch on my own. Just like the disappointments in life, this slap is no big deal. I should laugh, shouldn't I?