My Life As A Taco

“And who can give me an example of a food from the grains and cereals group?” says Miss Krizinski. There’s a collection of play food from the kindergarten kitchen on the low table beside her. David C and Michelle got to go down to the kindergarten room to pick it up from Mrs. Wilson. That’s all the way out the big doors and down the hall.

Kindergarteners are babies. That’s why they have to be in a separate section from the big kids. The closer you are to being a baby, the closer your class area is to the big doors. We’re Grade Twos so we’re like halfway down this side of the class area. The Really Big Kids – the Fours and Fives – are on the other side of the school, separated from us by the library area. 

Only the kindergarteners are really, really separate - like a different room just for them. All the other classes only have dividers or spaces between them. This is called Open Concept and we’re suppose to just want to stay in our areas and be able to decide what we want to learn and stuff. Except if you go to a different class area, you’ll end up having to put your head down on your desk instead of going out for recess. And I would choose to not learn about stupid food groups, but Miss Krizinski said I have to stay at my group table and listen.

Jennifer D puts her hand up. Again. “Let’s give someone else a chance, shall we?” says Miss Krizinski. “Jenny? How about you? Want to give it a try?”

I don’t. But I know from experience that Miss Krizinski isn’t really serious about the whole learn-what-you-want thing. Also, I have to be “Jenny” instead of “Jennifer M” because there already is a Jennifer M in our class. There’s also three Davids and two Michaels. They all have different letter last names so Miss Krizinski can just use their initials to tell who she is taking about. Two Jennifer M’s was too confusing for her, I guess. It’s ok though. I don’t super-mind being a Jenny because I really hate Jennifer D and this makes us more different.

I slide out of my chair and head to the front. The remaining options include a big plastic broccoli, a pink pork chop, a rubber fried egg, and a few other foods nobody likes. There’s only two grains and cereals stuff left. One is a mini box of Raisin Bran. Gross. The other option is a foam piece of bread that little fingers have picked away at leaving a hole in the middle. I hand it over triumphantly.

“Very good Jenny! Bread is a grain and an important part of a healthy diet!” Miss Krizinski eyes the hole in the play toast with suspicion, like she’s wondering if I could have done the damage just handing to her. I may have picked at it back when I was a kindergarten baby, but I’m pretty sure I only went as far as a few flecks out of it. This missing chunk is someone else’s handiwork. I see her set the crumbling piece to the other side of the table instead of putting it back in the bin with the other foods that have already been identified.

I march back to my group table, knees high, arms swinging and plop into my chair between Dawn and Peter. Across the table, Stupid Robert makes a scrunchy face at me and mouths “very good jenny penny” and sticks out his tongue. I hate Stupid Robert too. He should go kiss Jennifer D and get married and have stinky, smarty pants babies.

“Now Grade Twos, we are going to start a writing assignment about healthy food. Imagine YOU are a healthy food. What is it like to be YOU? What would you do in a day? Print your story on loose leaf like this,” she says holding up paper and flashing her this-isn’t-a-choice smile. “Then we’ll make construction paper covers to form a booklet. You can decorate the front of your booklets and add ill-u-stra-tions, if you want, in your story. Do we all remember what “ill—a—stray—shuns” mean?“ asks Mis Krizinski, waving her hand around like she is drawing and scanning the room to make sure we all get the big word for pictures. 

“Who would like to bring the crayon buckets around to the worktables? Jennifer D? Ok, go ahead. And who would like to hand out the construction paper? Robert?”

See. Jennifer D and Stupid Robert. Watch, I’m going to get stuck with a yellow construction paper.

This is going to require a lot of thinking. Stupid Robert already said he’s going to draw about an apple and gave himself red construction paper to match. An apple is boring. What’s he going to say? “I sat in a tree all day.” I can do better than that.

My Life As A Taco

Hello my name is Tina Taco. I have a great life as a taco. I have meat letus tomato and lots a cheese in my shell. I am a healthy food. A person made me.

I like to run round the dinner table. A person cote me and now I have to sit on a plate and be quiet and listen.

Now the person eat me. I am going down in to the tummy. This is a really long trip. I see a light at the end.

I came out the back of the person and in to a big bowl but I am a really smart taco and I can swim.

I swim out a long long river and end in The Lake. I live in The Lake now and I am very happy.

The End

Perfect. I worked really hard on my story. It’s like five pages plus pictures and I think I really made the yellow construction paper work. Joke’s on Stupid Robert because tacos are really exotic and from Mexico and it’s really hot so there’s probably lots of sand. Yellow worked out just fine. I’m one of the last kids handing in my booklet before lunch but it was worth the effort. This, for sure, is Good Job Sticker material.

I have to run really quickly home now so I get to see the whole episode of Batman before I have to go back to school. My brother and I always get to eat our sandwiches in front of the tv and watch Batman on school days. But no drinks in the living room. We guzzle our milk in the kitchen before heading back out, wiping our mustaches with our arms as we go.

Miss Krizinski hands back our booklets just after music class. We slide over the bookshelf dividers and join with Mrs. Clark’s Other Grade Twos for music. We are all still shifting back the shelves and settling in so it’s pretty nosy when Miss K gently puts my yellow-covered story down in my spot, leans in and whispers, “See me at recess please.” Inside the cover, the “See me” message is echoed in red pen on top of the first page.

Approaching Miss Krizinsk’s desk, I’m not really sure what to expect. I’ve had all kinds of “Jenny, settle down; Jenny, put that away; Jenny stop being a chatter box” talks with teachers. I don’t usually put much effort into most schoolwork, so this Good Job chat is a new experience. Miss Krizinski sees me coming, looks down, takes a deep breath, and looks back up at my face, her eyes wide and eyebrows arched up. She has her not-a-choice smile on, except with more teeth showing. She was probably surprised I could write such a good story with pictures – illustrations – and everything.

“Jenny, I need to talk to you about your story,” she starts, dropping her teethy smile.

“Yes.”

“My Life as a…a…Taco.”

“Yes.”

“What did you mean by…. I mean…. What’s this all about?” She’s frowning a bit and looking hard at me like she’s forgotten why she wanted to talk.

“You wanted to talk to me about my story,” I remind her, setting it on her desk.

“I know. Your story." she agrees, and then clears her throat. "I’d like to think I’m not sure what this story is all about. Do you have an explanation?”

 “Well see – I’m a taco. Well, Tina is a taco but we’ll say I’m Tina because it’s supposed to be us as foods. I just thought Tina went better with Taco than Jenny,” I say. We don’t have a Tina in our class so maybe she’s not sure it’s my work. “And, like you said, this is my life… as a taco,” I say pointing at the booklet. I get that maybe the name was confusing, but she should know the rest of this. She gave us the assignment in the first place. I tilt my head at her and wait to see if that clears it all up.

“Uhm, yes. I see,“ she says. “And what are you trying to say here… with this?” She crinkles her nose and points to the page where Tina Taco is going through the person.

“Well, if I was a taco… we had tacos for dinner the other night... have you ever had tacos? They're new. It was really good. We normally have like dry, gross roast beef but this wasn’t like that… and anyways… if I was a taco… I would be a food,” I say lifting my palms up and waving towards the story, so that she could better see the connection here. Nothing. She’s staring at me blankly with her mouth a bit open. “So, yeah..” I continue, “This is what happens to food.”

Miss Krizinski clamps her mouth shut, pauses, and then starts writing something in teacher-writing in her marking book. “I see…”, she says, not looking at me. I don’t think she does. Maybe she didn’t read it right.

“And this picture here… what’s this a picture of? Is that a chair?” she says, holding open my booklet and pointing to my drawing.

“That’s the person who ate the taco sitting on the toilet. See… this is the toilet,” I point out. “And this is Tina… swimming. And there’s a pipe out of the toilet.” I look up at Miss Krizinski. It doesn’t seem like she’s following the plot well. “Before The Lake,” I add, helpfully. I turn the page for her. “And here’s The Lake. And Tina. And fish. And…” I stop. Miss Krizinski’s lips are pinched tightly together.

“And you think this is funny maybe?” she asks sharply, staring down at me.

“Well not for Tina. Not at first. But, I mean, it comes out all right in the end,“ I say. I actually never thought about making the story funny. Miss Krizinski didn’t tell us it was supposed to be.

There’s a long pause while we stare at each other. Miss Krizinski is searching my face for something but I don’t understand what she’s looking for. I know I wiped off all the crumbs and milk from lunch.

She makes a few more notes in her book, looking back at me every few seconds and then back at her teacher-writing.

“I… I… I just don’t know what to say about this Jenny,” she says eventually, shaking her head. “I can’t even imagine how you ever thought of such things. I’m… I’m shocked.”

“Thank you!” I say, smiling up at her. I was starting to get a bit worried but see, there it is: Miss Krizinski can’t even believe how totally creative I am. I stand waiting for my Good Job Sticker. I think I’m going to pick one of the scratch and sniff ones. And I’m not going to let Jennifer D or Stupid Robert smell it. No matter how much they ask.

We stand there looking at each other. Miss Krizinski breaks the standoff with another deep breath.

“Alright then Jenny. You can go,” she says.

I’m confused but I shrug and walk away, still grinning. Maybe the Good Job Sticker part is later. “Ok, well, can I have a scratch n’ sniff one when you do the presentation?” I ask behind me as I head for the central hallway, out to our cubbies.

“I don’t..what… Jennifer Matthews..” she squeaks at me when I’m almost out of range. I turn, still beaming with pride. 

“You’ll be taking your story and a note home tonight,” she says flatly. “I want a chat with your parents about all this.”

“Ok.”

After school, I race home. Gilligan’s Island will be on soon. I want to grab a snack and get to the good spot on the floor first.

“Hi Mom!” I yell coming into the kitchen, dumping my school bag. “Here ya go.” I flip the story and note on to the table and turn my attention to the cupboards.

I root around for a bit, come up with some peanut butter, bread slices, and a banana. I start putting my sandwich together, looking over occasionally at Mom. She alternating between looking at my story and the teacher’s note. The red is slowly rising up her neck and she has that same pinched look Miss Krizinski had.

“Jennifer…” my mom says slowly.

“Yes.”

“What happened at school today?” she asks, tilting her head at me and still pursing her lips.

“Not much,” I say, shrugging. I didn’t even get my Good Job Sticker yet. I load my snack on to the Tupperware plate and start to head for the living room.

“Oh!” I say, just before leaving. “Guess what mom… I’m going to be a writer when I grow up.”