The Horror... The Horror...

As Jared has opted for homeschooling again this year, because the one subject is way beyond my capabilities (Chemistry) we have joined a homeschooling co-op in Hanover where somebody far, far better qualified than me can teach Jared how to make high-powered explosives in the kitchen sink. He is also taking another class and, because it is a co-op, I not only take the chemistry class with Jared, but I have to help with two others: American History and Culinary Arts.

The Culinary Arts class is a class of seven little ladies all under the age of 10 and I stand there while the teacher does her thing, but if she has to miss a class, it is my job to step up to the plate and teach it in her stead.

This terrifies me.

First, though an accomplished cook, I don’t know if I can effectively communicate the art and secondly, I view all females under the age of 21 as fabulous creatures best kept at arm’s length. Lacking sisters and daughters in my life’s experience the feminine world leaves me, at best, completely befuddled.

I fear if I had to teach a series of classes on culinary arts, the third week would go something like this:

“Good morning, ladies! In today’s class we are going to learn how to boil water.”

“But you taught us that last week!” “And the week before!”

“Ah, yes, but you see today we are going to learn how to boil water by using an intense stare. Now you will discover that it will take the entire time we have staring at the water in our cups, so please start and do so silently and don’t make any sudden moves or noises that would scare me.”

“This is silly!” “I don’t want to do this!”

“Now, now. Look at my cup. See! It’s steaming already!”

“YOU POURED YOUR WATER OUT OF A THERMOS! IT WAS ALREADY HOT!”

“You know, you kids have it all too easy! When Laura Ingalls Wilder was six, she fought a cougar bare handed and stitched herself up afterwards with her mother’s sewing kit!”

“That’s gross! That never happened!” I’m telling the director!”

“But it’s true! I saw it on Little House on the Prairie. (Hummpphh! Should have named it Little House, Oh So Dreary.)”

“Mr. Loewen?”

“Oh! Yes, ma’am! Welcome to our class. Umm, can I help you?”

“Are you trying to teach these children how to boil water again?”

“Well, yes. All good recipes start with boiling water. It’s how I make my famous Pasta With Tomato Aspic.”

‘MRS. DIRECTOR, THAT’S JUST SPAGHETTI WITH KETCHUP ON IT!”

“Now, now, children, we must have order. Now Mr. Loewen, teaching culinary arts is clearly not you’re…let’s say, gift. I think we need to move you to a better class more suited for your skills.”

“Well, ma’am, if you think so.”

“Please report to the Room #5. We have you reading Little House on the Prairie to thirty eight-year old girls with ADHD and authority issues. ... And please stop crying and wailing in front of the children. It’s not proper.”