Norm

Sometimes, in the morning as I get ready for work, I will pull up Facebook (I know how old I am), and watch a short video about something. Usually, they are just funny shorts or snippets from shows that I currently enjoy or used to enjoy—when they originally aired on television (again, I know how old I am). “Why bring this up?” you may ask (and even if you don’t, I’m gonna tell you). I bring it up because of what happened two Fridays ago.

Today, this Wednesday is the first day of school for my second part-time job. It is the first day of school at the local college where I work. Two weeks ago—also on a Wednesday—was the first day of school for my first part-time job as a Teacher Aide at a local middle school. What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, it’s Wednesday.

See, when I was actively publishing a story regularly, I posted once a week on Wednesdays. And, when two Wednesdays ago approached, I thought to myself, “I should post something… But what…?” And, because I didn’t have an answer, I didn’t. Then, on that Wednesday afternoon, I had an idea. But, the day had already come and gone so… No post. “Next week.” I thought to myself. “Next week.” Yeah… That didn’t happen.

So, I really wanted something. I enjoyed the exercise of writing. The creativity of it. The way it made my mind work. I missed it. I just didn’t have any poignant stories. “So what?” I thought. “Do they all need to be?” I asked myself. “Well, no. I guess not.”

Spoiler: This one is not.

If you are familiar with the television sitcom Cheers, you should also be familiar with the character Norm Peterson. Yes, Norm was the fellow that sat at the same bar stool day after day after day. That was his seat. Oh sure, there were a few times he moved to other stools, but that one was his.

Well, two weeks ago when I opened up my Facebook for a quick little video to help put me in a good mood, I got this snippet:

“That’s my seat.” Yup, it was and is. I laughed and thought nothing more of it until later that day.

At the middle school where I work, I assist our diabetic students at lunchtime with their numbers. We check blood sugars, look at their carbs, set their dosage, all the good stuff. Now, to help understand the situation, when the students enter the lunchroom—for school lunch, they enter from one set of doors which are located along one end of the lunchroom. If they bring their own, they enter through another set of doors, that are located on the same wall as the first set of doors but are placed at about halfway of the length of the lunchroom.

And now some history: When I was trained by my predecessor, she recommended a very specific place to sit. This spot allowed her to see any of the diabetic students walk out of the lunch line, that way she wouldn’t miss them on accident. My problem with that was, that my back would then face both of the entrance doors. No good. Those in the military should understand.

My solution: Sit on the other side of the table. See, in our lunchroom, we have an allergy-free table. It’s just a small section of tables near wear the students exit the lunch line after they get their food. And I sit at the end right where the kids leave the lunch line with their food trays. From this vantage point, I can see all the children enter the lunch room—and look for my students. Also, all they have to do is just sit down across from me, we do their numbers thing and then they can go eat with their friends or whatever. It’s the best spot. And that is where I sit. Five days a week. Three times a day. 6^th Grade lunch. 7^th Grade lunch. 8^th Grade lunch. For years. Everybody knows it. Everybody.

Except the new 6^th graders.

So, it’s like day two of the new year and I was a few minutes late. Late meaning that I got there at the same time the students did. I normally arrive early for the lunches so I can get my things, sit in my seat, and be ready to help the students. Now, to help get all the students through the lunch line easily, every grade staggers the time that certain classes go to lunch. Some go a few minutes early. Some on time. Others are a few minutes late. As I walked into the lunchroom I saw her. A new 6^th Grader (to be fair, they’re all new) just sitting there. In my seat. Eating her lunch. In my seat.

For a moment I got upset. “Wha…?!?! What does she think she’s doing? That’s my seat! Why is she sitting in my seat? Doesn’t she know it’s my seat? What the crud?!?” In my best attempt to not panic, I walked over to the closet to collect my supplies for the student who was going to need my assistance and tried to figure out how to get that 6^th Grader to move. Then, it hit me: I was Norm.

How was that 6^th Grader supposed to know? I couldn’t fairly get mad at her (I said ‘fairly’). I would just have to figure something else out. Which I did: Don’t be late ever again. So, the next day I wasn’t late for lunch and when she arrived to sit in ‘her seat’ I could see she was mildly upset by my presence. I understand. I’ve been there, pretty much since the Ford Administration.