I work in a middle school cafeteria, which means I interact with the entire student body every day. The kids always notice when I switch out my ID badge holder or lanyard—especially when it features something fun like Hello Kitty, Stitch, or Labubu. So two weeks ago, I decided to run a little experiment: would they notice if I coordinated my outfits by color? Week one was yellow, head to toe. Week two, I painted my nails light blue and wore blue all week. Tonight, my nails are red, and I’ve got a full week of red ready. So far? Not a single comment.
It’s become a quiet game I play with myself—color-themed weeks, waiting to see if anyone catches on. Next week is green, and I’ve already laid out the outfits. To close out September and welcome October, I’m going all in on pink. I’ve got plenty of pink pieces, and it just so happens that Friday, October 3rd is “Mean Girls” day. If you know, you know. It’s silly, but it brings me joy. I wish I’d started taking daily photos to document the journey, but I’m already halfway through, so it feels a bit late now.
Still, I love the ritual. Picking a color, painting my nails to match, building outfits around it—it’s a creative outlet tucked into my routine. Even if no one notices, I feel more put together, more intentional. It’s a small way to bring color into a job that can sometimes feel repetitive. And who knows? Maybe one day a student will say, “Hey, weren’t you wearing green all week?” and I’ll get to smile and say, “You noticed!”
The kids are observant in their own way. They’ll spot a new lanyard instantly, but maybe clothes are too subtle. Or maybe they’re just focused on lunch and friends and the chaos of middle school life. Either way, I’m not doing it for the recognition. I’m doing it because it makes me happy. Because it turns a regular work week into something playful. And because it reminds me that even small acts of creativity matter.
I’ve started thinking about extending the experiment beyond October. Maybe I’ll do patterns next—stripes, polka dots, florals. Or themes like “retro week” or “book character day.” It’s a way to stay engaged, to keep things fresh. And if it sparks a conversation or a smile, all the better. I may not be a teacher, but I still get to be part of these kids’ daily lives. And that means something to me.
So here I am, halfway through my color-coded month, quietly amused and fully committed. It’s not groundbreaking, but it’s mine. A little personal project tucked into the rhythm of cafeteria trays and student chatter. And whether anyone notices or not, I’ll keep going—because joy doesn’t always need an audience.
