I’ve traced the root of my sickness to the great possibility it may have been contracted during the All Kindergarten Feast. Last Wednesday 100 Pre-K and K students and their teachers sat down at long, well-decorated, tables and ate Thanksgiving food that was PREPARED BY THE STUDENTS. Each class was assigned a dish, from turkeys to cranberries they had it covered. My class specifically prepared the mashed spuds.
The previous day the Lead Teacher and I opened several large bags of russet and white potatoes, handed the kids dull peelers, and told them to get to work. I actually didn’t realize that kids this young could even handle a peeler much less successfully peel something. I was wrong, some of them were very competent but most of them were slow. Two very eager peelers set the precedent, and pretty soon there was a line of kids waiting for a peeler to open up. First they agreed that each volunteer could peel three potatoes before passing on the tool. This resulted in a lot of waiting around…so they lowered the maximum to two. One girl advised the kids to “peel away from you” which was disputed by a few but well received by others. I watched a band-aid struggle to hang onto a damaged thumb while one boy cheerfully peeled away. “That band-aid better not end up in the mashed potatoes,” I heard myself warn. “This is fun!” Several kids exclaimed, and I noticed the most enthusiastic peelers happened to be the youngest children in their respective families. ( This ties into the whole theory that the youngest tend to be more motivated, more driven to do things like chores and homework because they see older siblings do it and they want to as well…until they realize that neither homework, chores, or excessive potato peeling is fun). By mid-day I had taken over one of the peelers, because I realized we had a mound of potatoes left and minimal–if not passionate–progress had been made by the students.
The next day we prepared the potatoes for boiling. The kids scrubbed the dirt and grime off the naked potatoes. I made trips back and forth to the kitchen, each time bringing another fresh set of spuds to be mashed. The kids who were not interested in peeling became very interested in mashing. They hacked away at bowl after bowl of softened potatoes. We stirred in milk, we stirred in a stick of butter, and we mashed away. Granted their strength was minimal so there were many large chunks left in the mashed potatoes. I watched one boy lick the spoon and continue stirring. We made way too much in hindsight, but the children had a good time. I vowed to avoid the potatoes at all costs because I had no trust they were void of kid cooties. Unlike cranberries where you can boil away the germs, or a turkey where little to no kid contact was had, these potatoes sat at room temperature for hours before they were finally placed on the Turkey Table in the main room.
The feast was pretty good, it almost felt like cheating having so much Thanksgiving food before the actual day. There were a few students who ate sandwiches from home instead, which always surprises me: What the heck is your problem with Thanksgiving chow? It’s the best stuff in the world!
OK, so I don’t know if the feast is what gave me strep throat. I learned that I was only one of many staff and students who came down with the dreaded bug over the holiday. The nasty infection must have been traveling in the air. But I avoided the mashed potatoes, I swear I did!