Since my first year of teaching, I have had weekly lunch bunches that occur twice a week. Sometimes, they happen Thursday and Friday and sometimes Wednesday and Friday. It depends (at times) on my stamina throughout the week. However, inevitably, even if a day or two is skipped, lunch bunches always occur regularly on Friday. It used to be a lunch bunch reward for those who were deserving. However, in my third year of teaching this shifted to "whoever wants to come and release their emotions" and this year we have a limit of four (but on a volunteer basis.) Whoever wishes to dine on the slanted rectangular table near the chalkbaord, may do so. Fun is always had. Laughs always echo. Ideas constantly soar. Everyone is deserving of whimsy.

It was probably around my third year of teaching where I had enough energy to really listen intently to the conversations occurring with a group of four children. I suppose I was a bit blown away. Not only did the topic change every second, but often times, the individual responding would be replying to a completely different comment that had already passed by. I found myself becoming a bit frazzled just trying to listen to all the ideas being thrown around the table at lightening speed.I was also perplexed by their ability to find humor in conversation when in reality, four conversations were continuing all at once (sometimes completely disconnected.)

Until I realized that there is less and less whimsy in conversation as we grow older which is why I was feeling frazzled. I was used to drawn out thoughts, space between words and less desire to converse. There is less time for banter and less time for thinking about the strangest, smallest, most interesting topics, thoughts and unanswered questions that make up our world. We are so busy trying to keep to the "status quo," that we cannot even think to keep up with the questions we never think to ask the world. And though some may have looked into my lunch group on Friday and critiqued how no "major" topics were discussed. I would quickly refute and say to them, "A question worth discussing is always a question that was worth asking." Some of the deepest conversations can bubble from the simplest of topics, or the most random. No one ever said whimsical thinking was organized. 

Student One: I just love dessert (Student opens up lunch to drink chocolate milk first.)

Teacher: Does everyone have a favorite dessert?

Student One: Not so much

Student Two: I love cake. I just love cake so much. 

Student Three: My older brother...My older brother hates cake

Student Four: I think the crave happens for my mom with the cheese cake. She can't get enough. That's what she says. I love brownies.

Student Two: Oh I love brownies too. Well sometimes. I have these brownies at home with sea salt. They taste really weird. I don't like sea salt. 

Student Three: Sea salt? What's that?

Student Four: Salt from the sea obviously

Student Three: (Begins flattening his roll like a pancake and opens up the butter.)

Teacher: Oh my. You making a pancake?

Student Four: I can do that too I think (tries to flatten the brownie.)

Student One: I don't think that method is going to work. Too much fudge on the brownie. 

Teacher: Are you going to eat your salad a little, too?

Student Three: Maybe I will. It tastes funny. 

Student Two: Then-he's an omnivore obviously.

Student One: Does he only eat veggies? Are you a vegetarian? 

Student Two: There are a couple of people in our class who don't eat meat. 

Teacher: This is very true...everyone eats differently

Student Four: (tries again) Maybe you are right. This isn't squishing. 

Teacher: What happened to the crease in the middle of the cosmic brownie. Aren't there usually two pieces?

Student Four: Sometimes the fudge in the factory goes right over the crease line. That's what you are seeing. I think.

Student One: This is the greatest pizza ever. I love pizza. It came right out of the oven when we got it. 

Student Three: I like pizza from that place outside of school. 

Teacher: Does the place have a name?

Student Three: You know. Like the place you go to get pizza. 

Teacher: Pizza Hut?

Student Three: No, not really. 

Student One: This pizza is dripping with grease

Student Three: I like super greasy pizza from the place you get pizza. That's so good but usually I just have some rice with some seawood at home for dinner. 

Student One: If you think this is greasy, you should try the school grilled cheese. 

Teacher: Oh is that one bad, too? (with half smile.)

Student Two: It like glistens. I have seen it.

Student Three: It reflects light I think.

Student One: My parents alternate cooking every night. But it's mostly my mom. Everyone is a good eater except my sister. She's so picky. 

Student Four: I just love the sprinkles on the brownies with the chocolate. Somtimes, I count them and sometimes I forget to count them. We order in or like my dad asks us what we want and stuff, and it's pretty good. Sometimes it's Chinese Food and rice and stuff. I hate rice actully. Why do grownups like rice? I like chicken, though. That's an adult food. Rice tastes like nothing.

Teacher: Do you need a little drink?

Student Four: Yeah. I need a breather. My mouth is moving faster and faster.

You should have seen my friend yesterday. He took his capri sun and BAM. He stuck the straw right through the side. 

I think he's secretly really strong. (Takes another drink of lemonade.)

(Resounding giggles)