Christmas Dinner

It was my first day of internship at an Elementary School for my University class. I remember it was a nice day the snow was finally melting. I leave my home in White City to go get gas it was around 1.60 per liter. I drove to the north area of Regina with my bought coffee and meet up with my class friend before entering the school. The red brick on the outside of the school was faded and the green paint of the door was chipped off in areas. My friend and I walk into the school and were surprised to see how many cultural posters were hanging on the walls. The principle leads me to this small classroom with less then fifteen desks and before I enter, she says “good luck this classroom is very different”. I place my stuff at the back of the classroom on a table and I begin to observe the classroom. The desks were piled with stuff, there were things everywhere and more then half the desks had some sort of fidgets. The grade four teacher walks in trying not to look exhausted and greats me with a half smile. The bell ring and the hallways begin to flood with children. I am nervous now because it was not what I was expecting. I thought all schools were the same and I was thinking the school was going to be like how my elementary school was. I was surprised to learn that kids did not have to wear shoes inside because families could not afford them. I tried to talked to this little boy whom kept his head face down on the desk at all times. He had rips in his shirt and his pants were all patched you could not tell what the original colour of them were. He told me that Christmas is his favourite time of the year because the school gives out dinner kits to the families in need and he knows he will have a full meal that night. This is something I have never had to worry about. Growing up in a middle upper-class I was so privileged but also sheltered. I was sheltered because being poor is not something we talked about or that I would think about. After my experience at this school, I got into my car and I just cried all the way home. I felt bad that I complain about the price of gas and that I never worry about food, clothes and shelter. Where as this little boy likes Christmas because he knows he will be fed. This made me more aware of socioeconomic statuses.