Every once in a while, but not all too rarely, one teacher will bring food to school for the rest of us. Everyone loves it. Except me. Within milliseconds of entering the teachers’ room, I’m entreated to eat. Everyone gets at least a friendly reminder that there’s food, but I’m always bombarded from all directions. It’s not quite as bad as the title might suggest, but it can sure feel that way.
The food is good, but I can’t enjoy it, because whatever I take and however much I take, it’s always wrong. Don’t you want this and don’t you want that? I try not to answer that I would have taken some if I had wanted it, but I can’t always help myself. Today I said—with a slightly stressed smile on my face—Everyone must think I’m too stupid to eat by myself. My colleagues were quiet after that. I understand why everyone thinks they need to hound me into eating (and that they don’t think they’re hounding me), but that doesn’t make it less stressful.