The sound of silence

I wish you could hear the peace that settles over the table of 25 of us, when we finally begin eating. It is a sound to treasure. This multi-cultural feast is a class tradition.

Third graders (and a few hard-working younger children) help set the table with tablecloths, plates, napkins, utensils, and vases of flowers. Every year before we sit down to eat, we read "Foreign Food," the story of Boubacar, a second-grade boy from Mali, West Africa, who shares a favorite cultural food with at-first doubtful friends. We discuss why I might have chosen to read this story on the day of our feast, and then each child tells about the food s/he brought and why it is special to his/her family.

We sit together at our long dining table (constructed from desks) and patiently pass dishes from left to right--newly adventurous eaters taking small servings of unfamiliar foods. When all of the savories have made their way around our long table and I have ladled 25 cups of hot cider--an unfamiliar treat for my southern city students, the hosts (my assistant and I) announce it is finally time to begin eating. That's when the unimposed silence sets in. Ahhh . . . a quiet peace that I wish I could put in a box and save for later. Happy Thanksgiving!