I’m sitting at the big wooden table, planning out our morning meetings for the week after spring break, while I. picks at his food and doodles a dinosaur on a post-it.
He first requested to have lunch in the classroom with me a month ago. He wasn’t hungry but he had a few bites. We talked a bit. He worked on his cover for the informational writing piece we were publishing.
Since then, he’s asked to come every day.
“Why does I. eat in the classroom?” All the other kids ask.
His reason, if you ask him, is that all the boys talk about is Fortnite, and since I. doesn’t play Fortnite, he can’t participate in the conversation.
“What would you prefer to talk about?” I asked him that first day.
“Literally ANYTHING else,” he said, his eyes widening. “But whenever I try to change the topic, they end up going back to Fortnite!”
I think it’s not just about Fortnite. I think he also prefers the quiet. A pause in the overwhelming social activity and noise of the day. The cafeteria can get pretty loud, especially with this group of 5th graders. They all talk over one another.
“Ms. Amy, name an animal?” I. interrupts my slice writing.
“Um…” I think. “A panda.”
He looks off to think, then gets back to doodling.
These are my lunch periods now. Me and I., sitting in silence or listening to soft music while we both work at something.
I’ll get back to it.
Between Thought and Expression 
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