Toonie Thursday

“If you are gonna have pizza for dinner, umm, I mean, lunch, please line up and give me your toonie so I can mark your name down,” the supply teacher, Ms. Williams, squawks from Ms. Salmon's desk. “Otherwise, open your books and begin reading.”

A handful of students get up from the group tables scattered across the room. We shuffle over to Ms. Salmon’s desk.

“If you’re ordering one slice, please make sure to have your toonie ready. If you are ordering two, please make sure you have two. When it is your turn, come up and let me know what you want to order.”

We form a staggered line. I think about what I want. My stomach's craving one pepperoni and one cheese slice. But nobody's ever ordered two different flavours before. And I don’t want to seem greedy. Or like a bother. But, it is what I want. Good thing I’m at the back of the line, I’ll see if anybody else orders two different kinds.

“I’ll have two pepperonis, please,” Jelani asks.

“Me too,” Mehki adds. They slap their toonies on Ms. Salmon’s desk and Ms. Williams draws a single diagonal line through each of their boxes on the attendance sheet for Thursday, October 9th, 2008.

I form a fist, unravel my fingers and clank my two twoonies together. It should be fine, since I have the exact change. But, I know the school only orders whole pizzas and most students usually buy two slices, and they wouldn't order two whole new boxes just so I can have two different kinds. But, then again, some kids only order one slice.

“I’ll have one cheese, please,” Qynton smacks his toonie down. Ms. Williams draws another diagonal line, this time starting from the other side of his box. I get nervous. There’s no system to mark down my order now. Hopefully, the last kid in front of me will order two different kinds.

“I’ll have one cheese and one veggie please,” Xiyon places his toonies on Ms. Salmon’s desk.

Yes! This should be easy then. But Xyion’s head blocks my view and I miss how Ms. Williams jots his payment down. My turn arrives.

“I’ll have two slices please but, could I have one pepperoni and one cheese, please?” I plop one twoonie on the table, waiting for Ms. Williams confirmation before placing my other down.

“Huh? Do you have enough for two pizzas?” Ms. Williams' eyes peel up from the attendance sheet.

“Of course I do!” I respond.

“But, here,” Ms. Williams points. “I only see one twoonie.”

“I have the other, here, in my hand!” I open my right palm.

“Oh. Alright.” Ms. Williams shakes her head. “So please, tell me again, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“I want one cheese,” I say. Ms. Williams draws a single diagonal through my box. “And one pepperoni, please,” I continue.

Ms. Williams draws another line, this time starting from the other side of my box, to form an X. None of the other kids’ pizza payments were marked down like that.

“Eugh,” she scorns. She scribbles out her X.

I softly rest my other toonie on the desk and take a step back. Ms. Williams pulls out the attendance sheet for the next day and draws a diagonal line through my box, exactly like it was drawn for the other kids' cheese pizza payments.

“I know this is a different day but, this will prove that you payed for your pizza, and I’ll leave a note on my desk to remind me,” Ms. Williams bends down, pastes a condescending grin on her face then stands back up. “If you have already bought your pizza, please head back to your desk and put your head in your book,” she expresses to the class.

I step towards the reading boxes tucked in the small shelves along the back wall of the class, select a book out of the level-P reading box and stride back to my desk. I pull out my chair, sit down, open the book, and cringe at myself for going along with Ms. Willliams’ flawed pizza system. She better not forget she put my name down on the other attendance. The least she could do was remember that.

“What do you guys do for lunch? Do you all line up by the door and go out together? Or do you usually go out one by one?” Ms. Williams asks the class.

“We all go out together!” everyone cheers, knowing well that Ms. Salmon usually lets us out group table by group table.

I stare up at the clock. Five minutes left until lunch. I pretend to skim through three more pages while really paying attention to the two lunch helpers dropping off six pizza boxes, with a piece of tin foil stacked on top, on the round back table.

The lunch bell rings.

“Okay, well go on then! Get your bags,” Ms. Williams hisses, puzzled as to why students weren’t already heading to their cubbies. Half of the class gets up and cluelessly walks to the door. They never had this kind of power before.

The other half of the class lingers over to the back table. On it, rests the four pizza boxes and a file folder. Ms. Williams waddles over, sits in Ms. Salmon’s wheelie chair and opens it.

“So, you're all gonna tell me what you ordered and I will give you your pizza. Then, quickly and quietly head back to your desk,” Ms. Williams instructs the students in line. “That goes for everyone,” she addresses the rest of the class. “I don’t want students lingering around during lunch, so stay seated at your desks while you eat!”

The students at the front of the line begin to let Ms. Williams know what they ordered.

“I got two pepperoni, please,” Jelani says.

“One cheese please,” Qynton adds.

Ms. Williams double checks the attendance sheet before handing each of them their pizza. Her voice gets louder as the line gets shorter. Slices are leaving their boxes one by one, and in the blink of an eye, there's only six students left in line and one box of pizza. There’s no way there’ll be enough! Maybe a few lunch helpers are going to return with more.

I’m up next. I look down at the table. All that’s left is empty grease sheets and tipped over pizza tables and empty pizza boxes and a clump of tin foil.

“I ordered one cheese and one pepperoni, please,” I smirk.

“Hmm,” Ms. Williams squints. Her eyes peel up from the attendance. “Nuh uh, missy. Nice try! Your name isn’t marked down!”

“But I gave you my toonies this morning, remember?” I ask.

“So then why isn’t your name marked down? And why isn’t there any pizza left?” Ms. Williams badgers.

“I don’t know! But I paid for some!” I retort.

“Why, you lying little…” Ms. Williams bites her tongue. “You can’t just say you ordered pizza, not having paid for it, and act like a brat to try and get some. That’s an insult to students who actually paid for their pizza. Now go sit back down!” Ms. Williams points to my group table where Mehki, Jelani, Qynton and Xiyon sit.

I rotate so she can no longer see my face, and tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I mope back to my desk, rip open my chair and plunge back into my seat.

“What’s wrong?” Mehki worries.

“Yeah, what's wrong?” Jelani drops his jaw with a mouthful. Qynton does the same.

“She won’t give me any pizza! She says I didn’t pay for it!” I wail.

“What?! But we all saw you, this morning!” Mehki contests.

"Yeah!" Qynton and Jelani add.

“Well, she says I didn’t,” I pout.

“You have to say something!” Jelani stands up.

“I already tried! It’s not going to work!” I whine.

“Come on. We’re going,” Mehki insists. He grabs me by the hand and drags me to Ms. Salmon’s desk, where Ms. Williams sits. She’s chowing down on a tuna and egg sandwich like a cow.

“Miss substitute teacher! Lea didn’t get her pizza, but she paid for it!” Jelani yells. The rest of the class overhears and turn their heads.

“Well, it doesn’t say she paid for one on the attendance. Now go sit back down and enjoy your lunch!” Ms. Williams commands.

“She paid for her pizza! Give it to her!” Jelani screeches. “We all saw her in the line, this morning!”

“Yeah!” Mehki and Qynton agree. All of my classmates get up from their seats and begin to chime in.

"Just because she was in the line this morning doesn't mean that her name is marked down, or that she paid for pizza!" Ms. Williams scoffs.

“But, we all saw you, remember? You marked it down on the other attendance!” Xiyon recollects.

“Yeah! Give Lea her pizza!” Mehki insists.

“Yeah!” the class cheers, forming a semi-circle around Ms. Williams like a mob.

“Okay, that’s enough! She could have some pizza, but there’s none left!”

“What’s this?” Qynton asks. He runs to the back table, peels open the clump of tin foil that's been resting there since the beginning of lunch and laying inside, is one cold pepperoni and one cold cheese slice.

“Give that to me!” Ms. Williams yanks the tin foil clump from Qynton. “Here you go sweetie,” she bends down, hands it to me and smiles, completely ignoring the dried tears on my face. She hobbles back over to Ms. Salmon's desk and continues chomping away at her sandwich.

I look up at the clock. Only five minutes til recess. My eyes begin to water again as I think about the fact that everyone else got to take their time and actually enjoy their food. Meanwhile, I have a few more minutes to stuff my face and finish two slices of cold pizza before lunch ends.

---

The following day, the Principal and Vice-Principal sat down with Ms. Salmon for a candid conversation.

The next morning, Ms. Salmon formally apologized in front of the class for what had happened, and Ms. Williams was no longer called in to substitute for the entire school year after that.