February 13, 2009
By Erika Davis BRONZE, Sigourney, Iowa
Erika Davis BRONZE, Sigourney, Iowa
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Salty was the smell, smooth was the texture, and my mom could even slap it with jelly, bananas, chocolate, celery, apples, and Oreos to create the ultimate saliva satisfaction. Peanut butter was, and still is, my favorite food. If my mom didn't hide the jar, I'd even eat it plain.

The first day of kindergarten, I raced to the lunch room overjoyed for my usual peanut butter and whatever my mom chooses sandwich. Realization hit me when the hair net lady laid a turkey sandwich on my tray. Pushed through the lunch line, I became sad; not because I would go hungry, but because that thick, salty feeling would not be touching my tongue today. Since that day, my mother has been sending me off to school with a yellow lunch bag packed with some sort of peanut butter sandwich.

Since then, I have grown to be such a more mature third grader than most. The school began to take notice, after 811 days, that I was not interested in the school lunch. Therefore, they created Macy Day. On Macy Day, Monroe Elementary served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Everyone loved Macy Day, and me, because it was the best lunch served. I didn't just like Macy Day because I was satisfied with a peanut butter sensation, but I was also the most popular girl every other Tuesday.

On Thursday of my thirty-third week of third grade, I pranced into the office to deliver a note for my teacher. Reaching to lay the note on the office counter, I heard the secretary gasp even over my hum that I had gladly continued since I stepped out of the shower that morning. I stopped my hum and slowly turned my back to leave. My excellent hearing was waiting for an explanation, but I was confused by what the secretary said next. 'Sa-ma-nila, NO WAY!' I interpreted this as lunch today was going to be a real special salmon.

I jogged down the hallway, glancing into rooms to avoid teachers, so I could be the first to tell the class we were having a special lunch today. When I reached room 204, I loudly informed them about the special lunch, but no one seemed as excited as I was. Instead, they moaned and continued working. Sadly, when I went to lunch the special salmon was not served. So I went back to the classroom and retrieved my yellow lunch bag. The rest of the day went very slow since all my classmates were moaning, and four students even went home supposedly sick.

The next morning, before I jumped in the shower and began my hum, my mother touched my forehead and began to have a nervous breakdown over my hot head. While she was scurrying for the doctor's phone number, she said something about sa-ma-nila. I sighed with relief. Happily, I explained to her that she didn't have to worry because I didn't eat salmon for lunch yesterday. She rolled her eyes, and within two minutes of lecture and tears, I understood that salmonella is a germ that makes you sick and that you can get it from peanut butter.

The doctor diagnosed me and the entire 702 students and faculty positive for the nasty bacteria. School was cancelled for seven days to guarantee full recovery. No one was happy about this cancellation of school. Within three days, the principal called my mom explaining that there had been so many complaints that Macy Day was cancelled as well, but this cancellation was permanent. Forever. I was never again popular every other Tuesday, or popular period, at Monroe Elementary. I was not able to share the happiness that comes along with peanut butter paste, but I was able to bring my very own peanut butter sandwich everyday for forever.

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