by Sarah Rubin
It was a cold February morning at Veterans’ Memorial Elementary, and I stood in the school kitchen with both my gloved hands submerged in a five-gallon bucket of cubed pickles. I grabbed them from the briny depths by the fistful and deposited them in a cluster of neatly arranged, four-ounce cups. Nearby, my colleagues Erin and Grace chopped pickled daikon radishes into bite-sized coins. It was Pickle Pioneer Day, an event of our own creation, and we were hustling to prepare samples for the entire student body before lunchtime.
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