I was, like a lot of children, a picky eater. This was fine with Mother at home, but when it came to the “old line” teachers at school, things were different.
I don’t remember much about lunch during my two weeks of Headstart attendance. The one thing I do remember about food in Ms. Edna Loy’s Headstart class was a cake provided for those of us who had a birthday in July. I remember it had green icing, like grass, and that it was delicious.
I remember lunch in first grade better because of my legendary teacher, Ms. Hazel. Ms. Hazel lived during the time of the Great Depression, which resulted in a prevalent belief that nothing was to be wasted, especially food. “Waste not, want not” was the adage of the day. I’m sure Ms. Hazel taught in many one- and two-room schools before there was a lunch program, when students had to bring their own lunches. Undoubtedly a lot of the meals brought from home were sparse, as many people in those days did not have a lot of cash to spare on food, and care had to be taken that what was brought did not need refrigeration or cooking on school premises, as electricity, cook stoves and refrigerators were often non-existent or lacking.
My mother and dad did not raise me to be wasteful. Neither believed in forcing me to eat what I didn’t want, but I was trained that if I didn’t want it, leave it alone. I couldn’t waste what I didn’t put on my plate. They tried to get me to attempt new foods, usually without great success.
In the Maynardville Elementary School cafeteria of 1971, there was one choice—"take it”. There really wasn’t a choice to “leave it”, as no respectable cafeteria lady or teacher was going to let it be said a child was not fed under their watches, even if the child didn’t choose to eat.
Looking back, the food at Maynardville Elementary in the 1970s was great. We were served “real food”, not sandwiches and potato chips (food like that was reserved for “bag lunches” for field trips). School lunches in those days, both in my humble opinion and of several others that I know, were far better than now. When soup beans and cornbread were on the plate, I ate like a champion. Of course, they were accompanied with some form of “greens” and the ever-present squeeze-bottle of vinegar. (Even now, I never eat greens, and the only vinegar I like is dill pickle juice.) I would put ketchup on the fried potatoes and sometimes the brown soup beans (never on the white “navy” beans).
Our food was served on thick glass plates that probably weighed more than the food served on them. We carried this food on these plates to our tables on smooth brown trays that did not have compartments to hold items in place. All grades were served on the same type and size of bowls, plates and trays. There were many accidents, especially for us younger students who didn’t have the greatest hand/eye/foot coordination.
I didn’t like pizza when they first served it in my later years of elementary school. I thought it looked like a bunch of leftovers that had been hobbled together. I did, thanks to school lunches, come to love pizza. I always loved the school’s barbeque sandwiches. I used to collect them from students who didn’t eat theirs and put them in Ms. Wanza’s refrigerator in fourth grade, and I’d eat them all during the evening and during bus wait.
Perhaps the greatest food served in Maynardville Elementary’s cafeteria was dry spaghetti and turkey and dressing lunches. How I’d love just once more to taste that wonderful dressing. School lunch dressing just doesn’t seem to taste as good now as it did then. The turkey dinners always had an orange for dessert. I never cared for oranges, apples or bananas, but I’d take them home to my mother, as she loved them all.
Maynardville Elementary only went through seventh grade when I was a student there. One great treat of being a seventh grader was when the lunch ladies gave out the remaining dinner rolls to us on a “first come, first served” basis. You had to be aggressive, fast, even mean sometimes, but those rolls were worth the trouble. They were so fluffy, so light, they honestly practically melted on your tongue! Never have I tasted as good of a dinner roll since!
But back to first grade. I remember one day there was blueberry cobbler for dessert. I have never really cared for fruit, and on the rare occasions I might eat fruit, even today, it will not be in the form of a cobbler. For whatever reason on that day, Ms. Hazel decided that I was going to eat my cobbler. I remember forcing down a few bites, probably just enough to satisfy her and get her to go help some other child’s nutritional needs.
One happy day in first grade all the fates joined together. I don’t remember the particulars, but a lunch was served that had everything I liked. I ate every bite of that meal, and Ms. Hazel was overjoyed! She called Mother at home to tell her that I ate everything on my plate.
Ms. Hazel was a kind woman. She could lock in on what we now call “tough (or rough) love” (just ask any of us whose heads were almost shaken off our bodies for an infraction), but she cared for us—consequently, it worried her when one of us didn’t eat.
And with me she had reason to worry. I was very scrawny when I was a first grader. My wife has decided I had rickets, for in every picture of me in shorts when I was a child, she says I looked bowlegged. I also remember being victim to grievous, runny boils on my legs. Ms. Hazel tried to doctor me by pouring rubbing alcohol in them. This resulted in screams that made others in our hallway think someone was dying. Bless Ms. Hazel. She put me on her lap and rocked me until my pain subsided.
Ms. Hazel would be glad to know that today I weigh a few pounds more than my doctor wished. She’d probably be happy to know that I have learned to eat salads and coleslaw. I’d be happy to see her one more time, hug her neck and thank her for all she did for me.
Dad went to Maynardville one day and came back with the news that Ms. Hazel Walters had married Cecil H. Butcher, Sr. I was still young enough to be crushed that the teacher I loved had thrown me over for another man. She hadn’t forgotten me, though. She told Dad to tell me that I was still her boyfriend!

FROM THE INTERNET
While working at a pizza parlor I observed a man ordering a small pizza to go. He appeared to be alone and the cook asked him if he would like it cut into 4 pieces or 6. He thought about it for some time then said 'Just cut it into 4 pieces; I don't think I'm hungry enough to eat 6 pieces.
They Walk Among Us