Leveraging Lunch Supervision

It’s About Connection—Not Just Supervision

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard from an administrator was this:

"When you’re new, you get all the duties."

Bus duty. Lunch supervision. Tardy sweeps. Recess duty. Hall monitoring.

He scrunched up his face and said, “It’s easy to get disgruntled about these tasks that anyone can do. You’re supposed to be leading the school, and instead, you’re just… managing the madness.”

Then he dropped the secret:

This is where you build culture.

The Power of Showing Up

He told me that at the start of the school year, he made a commitment to greet every student by name when they walked through the door.

The ones he knew? “Good morning, [Name]!”
The ones he didn’t? “Good morning! I’m Mr. ____. What’s your name?”

He offered high-fives to every student. 9 out of 10 left him hanging.

By October, things had shifted. He knew more names. Kids expected a high-five. If they didn’t take one, they at least smiled or waved.

It became a ritual. A foundation of trust.

Lunch Supervision: A Hidden Opportunity

For me, the lunchroom has been one of the best places to build on those small moments of trust.

It’s where I can:

• Check in with a student who seemed off earlier.

• Have a positive conversation with a student I had to redirect earlier.

• Simply invest—no problem to solve, just adding trust to the bank for later.

But beyond relationships, I also use lunch supervision to teach care—for our shared space and for each other.

• No cutting in line. We respect each other’s place.

• Clean up after yourself. You don’t leave until the chocolate milk puddle and smashed hamburger bun are gone.

• Take responsibility. Spilled your food? Whether it was an accident or not, you clean it up.

I tell them:

“It’s not the custodian’s job to clean up after you—it’s yours. And actually? We should be helping them. That’s what we do for each other.”

Shifting the Lunchroom Culture

When I was first assigned lunch supervision, the nutrition staff warned me:

"It’s a disaster."

Kids were screaming, cutting in line, ramming into each other, spraying water everywhere.

And yet, I noticed something.

The norm in our lunchroom was for the adults to stand together—glued to their phones, chatting with each other, or simply watching from the sidelines.

But I knew I had the power to break that mold.

I wasn’t just going to blend in—I wanted to be in the mix.

Leading by Example

I started modeling active supervision.

I wasn’t just there to oversee; I was there to engage.

I walked around, stopped to chat, said hi to different groups of kids, redirected the horseplay, and held them accountablefor picking up their messes.

I wiped up spilled ranch and ketchup, saying aloud:

“Eek! Someone could slip!”

Kids noticed when I picked up squashed grapes off the floor.

“Miss! That’s gross.”
“Yeah, I know! But it’s slimy, and I don’t want someone to slip. Plus, we need to help Miss Vi (our custodian). It’s not fair for her to have to deal with this.”

When a clementine went flying across the table:

“I know it seems like it would just… ‘splat!’—but if it hit someone, it would hurt. Plus, it’s not Vi’s job to clean up after you.”

At first, some of the kids thought I was unreasonable when I wouldn’t let them leave without wiping up the puddle of applesauce under their tray.

But as I stayed consistent, something shifted.

Slowly, others—especially the new staff—started adopting similar active supervision behaviors.

It wasn’t about just standing around.

It was about being present, engaged, and intentional.

And soon, it became clear:

This wasn’t a meaningless task.
This was an opportunity.

An opportunity—for us and for the students—to create a positive, respectful, and connected space.

And Over Time? They Got It.

Now, when someone spills? They grab napkins on their own.

When a kid gets a little too enthusiastic with a “hug”? The whole table swivels to watch me walk over.

“Ooooooo…”

But the best part?

Even with all these expectations, we still laugh, talk, and have fun.

I love sitting with different groups of students, learning names of kids who haven’t been in my class, and just being present with them.

Because lunch duty isn’t just crowd control.

It’s a chance to shape the culture of the school—one conversation, one high-five, and one clean lunch table at a time.

Over time, these small, daily interactions add up.

A name learned. A mess cleaned up. A laugh shared.

This is how we build school culture.

Not in the big assemblies.

Not in the grand mission statements.

But in the in-between moments—the ones we choose to show up for.