At 3:30 this afternoon I will walk into an empty high-school cafeteria. I will unload several hundred paper plates, cups, and plastic utensils from my van. I will tie my apron on, check my clipboard, and fill my cup with ice water I won’t get a chance to drink before the ice melts and it turns lukewarm.

At 5 this afternoon, one hundred high-school students will walk into that same cafeteria and find a full dinner, hot and waiting for them. There will be pasta with sauce and cheese, pasta with sauce and without cheese, and pasta with just olive oil. There will be meatballs, salad, and Italian rolls. There will be dessert and beverages. There will be 15 parents and grandparents with smiles on their faces, ready to serve all this food to the cast, crew and orchestra of the spring musical.

After weeks of planning, fighting with my spreadsheet (I have a love-hate relationship–mostly hate–with Excel), several hundred emails and not a little panic, it’s time for Tech Week Dinners.

Over the weekend, I had several parents contact me out of the blue to ask if there were still any holes in the schedule of volunteers or food. I am happy to say that because of these generous people, who had already donated plenty and offered their help, there are no more blank spaces in my spreadsheet.

Organizing an event of this magnitude that relies completely on donations of food and help is a huge exercise in trust. And, every time, it all comes together. And, every time, I am blown away.