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A few days into the school term, our youngest came home with a complaint. She said they were being made to sit by houses (assigned) instead of with their friends at lunch time.
Her main problem is that every table has a mix of seniors and juniors that she doesn't really know. She claimed she would have no one to talk to during their lunch break. Disaster!
Of course this was the perfect opportunity for me to share my own high school mealtime drama. That was my way of assuring her that what she was experiencing was perfectly in order and that she would be fine.
I told her that back in the day, we too ate our meals at tables arranged by houses rather than friendships. Every house had about four tables and each table had 12 places and two or three people from every class.
Once we had filed into the huge dining hall, which also doubled up as our assembly hall on Fridays and a social event venue for other occasions, like cow dances (minus any 'bulls'), then a bell was rung for silence after which two for the meal.
After that, the two girls on trolley duty from every table would head to the kitchen and wheel back the food, which would be placed at the head of the table. The senior seated there would then serve the food and pass it down until everyone had a plate.
High school is where I learnt to use a knife and fork and to wait until everyone was served before we began eating. Our table etiquette was put to the test over the space of one week every term, when every house had a chance to sit at the high table (set up on the stage) for lunch with the headmistress and her deputy.
This was definitely the worst week of the term for any student – no elbows on the table, no talking with mouth full, no noisy chewing, no eating too fast or too slow AND you had to finish the food served whether you liked it or not. I remember many days of suffering through rice pudding dessert, which I cannot stand to this day.
That was also the week you wanted to make sure your uniform was clean and in good condition (the frayed shirts and holey sweaters and socks were for 'normal' school days when you were not under so much scrutiny).
And then there was the dreaded test – we believed the headmistress waited until you had just put a forkful of 'murram' into your mouth to ask you a question, which of course you had to answer because this was, after all, the school head! The test was whether you would display good manners and swallow first or answer immediately so she didn't think you were being rude.
What made this experience even more stressful was that house points were awarded (or not) for whatever was observed at the high table. It was normal for us to beg our prefects not to send us there lest for one reason or another we did something that would cost us points.
Then there was the phenomenon known as 'floating'. The dining space was never quite enough so most houses had at least two juniors who were left to fend for themselves at meal time. This involved walking around the vast hall asking at different tables (not necessarily your house) if there was space for you. Often, you had to look for a plate and fork ('floaters' usually had to make do with crippled cutlery, which only prolonged the floating ordeal as you laboured to spear your food with the one or two prongs).
When you couldn't find a place anywhere, you would have to go to the kitchen and face the hardhearted cooks who were convinced that the students were always trying to con them out of an extra bite. You would be asked all sorts of questions to prove that you were a real 'floater'. If it was possible, I'm sure they'd have made us fill out and sign forms. In duplicate.
Having said that, there were times when students desperate for a small luxury like milk – reserved for the people on special diets – would try all sorts of tricks to get some. These included putting on the most miserable face and approaching the cook on duty with a sob story on how your (imaginary) stomach ulcers were acting up. But as long as you didn't have a doctor's letter, you were wasting your time.
At the end of the day, I think I turned out okay despite six years of boarding school food, so I'm sure mixing with people in her house for just one meal a day is not going to do our youngest any harm.
