So, you think your job is tough?

How would you like to have 890 elementary school kids over for lunch every day? Is “dumpster diving” your thing? Do you mind getting food and unidentifiable goo in your hair? Can you deal with sneezes and coughs right in the face? Can you cater to every culinary whim or request in a boisterous, stuffy room?

Meet the Newton-Lee Elementary School lunchtime crew – a team of three busy women. Often called the “Cafeteria Ladies” or the “Lunch Ladies,” they are Evelyn Arnold, 58, Wendy Dinwiddie, 42, and Janet Miller, 54, all school system workers, each in love with her job. Their LCPS formal title? “Cafeteria Hostesses.”

“It’s the most underappreciated job out there,” Dinwiddie says. “And, it’s the most important job. No one can learn without food.”

The principal of Ashburn’s Newton-Lee School, Carol Winters, heartily agrees. “I can’t imagine doing that job. It’s a thankless job. But the schools couldn’t function without them. They are so reliable and dedicated.”

You may not know it, but they take gentle and loving care of your kids during one of the most topsy-turvy – and sometimes harrowing – adventures of the school day: lunchtime.

They start every day at 10 a.m. sharp with initial cleaning, and the setting up. By 10:45 a.m., the first 225 kids come racing through the doors. At any one given time, 125 kids are seated, 50 are in line for lunch and another 50 are lining up to leave. By 1:10 p.m., all 890 or so are fed and it’s done. Then the ladies sit down for their own lunch. “At the end of the day,” Winters says, “they are wiped.”

It’s a dozen jobs rolled up into one: Cleaner. Nurse. Substitute mother. Babysitter. Caretaker. Referee. Psychologist. Policewoman. Mentor. Allergist. Disciplinarian. But, more than anything, “friend.”

“For 30 minutes, we feel like a surrogate mom to the kids,” Dinwiddie says.

Every day—amid the trays full of juice boxes and milk cartons, cookies and apples and pizza slices, as well as lunchboxes, thermoses and mini-Tupperware—you’ll find the Lunch Ladies in top form.

Armed with an apron that doubles as a flak jacket, and holding – double-barrel-like – a plastic spray bottle of cleaning agents in each hand, they prepare for the coming storm until it’s “mission accomplished” and the kids are fed and happy.

The setting is one to behold for the senses.

There’s the endless clatter. Noise, noise and more noise. Hundreds of conversations and a steady drumbeat of laughs, screams, sneezes and coughs.
And the smells. They range from the familiar to the truly exotic, and they are not meant for the faint of heart (or nose, as it were).

And the sights to behold. If a hand shoots up in the air, one of the ladies is on the scene in a few seconds flat.

Dinwiddie doesn’t even flinch when, about 20 times a year, a child comes to her, sobbing, to let her know their dental retainer or piece of jewelry was left on their lunch tray and thrown away. It’s time to “dumpster dive.”

On go the latex gloves, and out goes Dinwiddie to the trash bin, and she digs. She’s OK with that. It’s not her favorite hobby, but it’s all worthwhile when she locates the retainer or ring. Only once did she fail in her quest – and to this day she frowns over it.

Winters is amazed at how the ladies handle it. “Their eyes are constantly watching. They juggle 10 different things at once.”

There are 141 such school hostesses in the county’s school system, earning an average of $15 per hour, according to Wayde Byard, the schools public information officer.

Why do these three do all this?

Arnold says, “The work hours are good, especially if you have kids” in school.

Miller says, “You have to love working here. There’s not a lot of thanks. You do it for the kids.” And, she notes, they are all off for the summer and snow days—but they don’t get paid during that time.

Of course, as in any job, they have their pet peeves.

Dinwiddie’s pet peeve? “Exploding Go-Gurts and sodas. And the sneezing and coughing,” she says. For some reason, she notes, she seems to be the one who overhears the so-called “F-bombs.” “I tend to get the kids who want to throw up in my hands.”

She adds that it’s hard sometimes when they are running and walking for three hours straight.

“You have to dress lightly. You’re sweating. And, you just don’t worry about your hair!” she laughs.

Particularly messy days include chicken nugget day and ice cream day. French toast with syrup, grilled cheese with soup and rice mean mess alert in Lanes 1, 2, 3 and 4.

One of the scariest times for the three was in October 2009, where the cafeteria became ground zero for the H1N1 flu outbreak. One child had the swine flu, passed out cold on the spot and was carried to the nurse’s office. One day, 10 to 15 kids fell ill during lunch. “They were dropping so fast,” Dinwiddie sighs.

They’ve had to learn how to administer an Epi-Pen, handle a seizure, cope with choking incidents and everything about sanitation.

And they’ve learned how to handle unruly tots – all with a bit of humor. One of the ladies freely admits, “I’ve wanted to use the water-spray bottle before on something other than a table or seat.” The other ladies chuckle in sympathy.

But the Lunch Ladies dispense just as much love and comfort as they do napkins and water spray. What about a child who forgets lunch, or runs out of lunch money? In an instant, the hungry child at least gets a nice grilled cheese sandwich.

Principal Winters says that with all the Lunch Ladies go through, they don’t complain—but they get little acknowledgment. “We rarely get a parent who stops by and thanks them ... maybe 10 compliments per year total,” Winters says.

Through it all, the trio become close to the kids. Dinwiddie says she gets “very attached to them. We watch them grow up, and then leave – which gives us a heavy heart. It’s so nice to see them change” as they grow.

Miller admits she’s thought of switching jobs before. Once, she was this close to starting a coveted job at Wegmans. But she realized she just wanted to see “her kids” again. “I kept thinking, ‘I didn’t get to say goodbye.’”

So she keeps coming back.

“You just love them, and love being with them,” Miller adds. “That’s the only thing that keeps me here. It’s our kids.”