Cooking Class

Picture standing behind a counter top as 10 or so children come running in the door, all demanding a snack and yelling about something or another.  You remind them for the thousandth time that they have to hang up their bags and wash their hands first.  They then proceed to complain about the snack that they were previously demanding, probably because it contains a vegetable (oh the horror) and there are wheat crackers instead of white crackers.  You've imagined my life now, or at least part of it.

Now that I've been here a couple of months, I've obviously gotten a lot deeper into my work (which I love, by the way... most of the time).  Just one part is teaching cooking classes on Tuesdays to elementary-aged youth of the town as part of the Afterschool program that PACT, my non-profit, offers.  In addition to that, I also take care of their snack every day after school, and most days it really just feels like I have 10-15 rambunctious children.  I cook for them, occasionally do laundry, listen to their stories and complaints, attempt to get them to mind, and clean up their dishes.  Sooo many dishes.  We don't have a dishwasher, so it feels like I'm literally always doing dishes.  If you think that cleaning peanut butter out of one measuring cup is bad, try like 10.

When you imagine me teaching youth cooking classes, you might picture a group of children in little aprons and chef hats staring adoringly at me as I demonstrate bread kneading or knife skills.  Ha.  More like me desperately trying to control a room full of unruly little devils.  They are grabby, loud, manipulative, constantly moving, needy, rude, and picky, among a number of other things.  Tonight I had to discipline three girls for eating mouthfuls of raw rice after I took it away and told them not to. Seriously?  RAW RICE?  If you're going to get in trouble, go for the big box of leftover Halloween chocolate sitting on the counter.  There are cooking days that have gone well, and days that have made me want to cry (I've only actually cried once).  Justin gets mad at me when I call them devils because he thinks it's too negative.  I think it's more just that I am realistic...

And yet, I love them, and I love it when I can tell they actually understand or remember something.  There are just the moments that make it all worth it.  Like when Estephanie tells me that she started coming to Afterschool because she loves cooking day.  Or when I get Christian or Ellie to try just one bite of something without dramatically gagging.  Or when tough little Brian begs to cut up the onions and then paces around the room with tears streaming down his face.  Or when at least half of the kids like the pureed pumpkin and sweet potato soup (a miracle).

Yes, little by little, these little devils have made themselves lovable.  They've become part of my days and my life.  I love it when they tell me their stories and cling to me when they're too scared to go into the haunted house on Halloween.  When they ask me to read to them or to watch them play soccer or show me their drawings.  I love it when I can tease them and when they want me to play with them.  Teaching them and corralling them may stress me out... like I'm always pretty nervous on cooking days... but I'm glad I'm doing it.  And really, they need it.  They need me and the other staff here at PACT.  Not even the cooking skills so much as just a positive couple of hours in their after-school day.  

These kids have much harder lives than mine ever was. Almost 100% of students in the Green River elementary school qualify for free and reduced lunch.  Currently, every single child that comes to Afterschool is Hispanic.  Their parents seem to work all the time, and many of them just run around the town doing what they want.  They don't have a plethora of positive role models, and they probably don't eat very well at home.  All of these things help remind me to be patient with their behavior and their eating habits... most of the time.    

Cook days have gone a little better as both they and I have adjusted our expectations and gotten used to one another.  If I can teach them just one or two things by the end of the year, whether it be that vegetables and whole grains won't kill them, the meaning of the term "fold"... or even just how to work quietly, listen, and share... I'll feel like I have succeeded in some way. It's baby steps.  

I think this is the only picture I have of cooking day, which Hope snapped on our very first venture.  This is during tasting time, when the children proclaimed the salsa to be "gross" and have "too much onion", and then proceeded to eat 10 chips full.

Oh, and P.S... Please go and thank a childcare provider or elementary school teacher.  And if you are one, THANK YOU.