by Molly Monahan
BELLINGHAM--Whenever I explain my AmeriCorps position as a Common Threads Food Educator to other people, it can take a while to fully encompass the experience. I tell them I was trained as a teacher. (Editor's note: all CTF educators receive a three-week teacher training prior to entering schools) I teach garden lessons during the spring and summer and cooking lessons during the winter. I tell them that our garden lessons are Next Generation Science Standard aligned, and we get to delve into very interesting natural science topics with kids from 5 to 12 years old!
I tell them that I have the incredible opportunity to write middle school lessons, teaching 7th and 8th graders about selective breeding, genetic modification, biodiversity, and soil carbon sequestration. I always end my descriptions with this piece of gratitude: every single day, I witness multiple times over, the reason I am doing this work. Many times a day, I see such joy, discovery, and curiosity among the kids that we serve.
There are students who "always hated squash, but love this stew;" kids who brought recipes home and made it with their family; kids who asked for cookbooks for Christmas and kids who brought seeds to garden class hoping to plant them with their friends.
There are classes who become so engrossed in designing their own "ultimate survivor animal," during a unit on adaptations that they beg for the class period not to be over. "Just 10 more minutes, please!"
I get to see 8th graders harvest herbs in the garden, then two weeks later enjoy, a "garden tea" party (no sugar or honey involved!) And there's always the forever baffling experience of 3rd graders begging for more raw kale to eat. RAW KALE! Oh, the wonders of cumulative exposure over time!
One story stands out to me as a wonderful portrait of the impact of the service we do. I was teaching a 4th grade cooking class, making hummus in a blanket (homemade hummus scooped into a kale leaf and topped with carrot ribbons). One student was initially wholly disinterested in the cooking process itself, scorning the knife and cutting board before him. I let him be and focused on supporting the other students with their various chopping, mashing and spice-adding tasks. When I returned to his area, he was mincing garlic like a professional! I ask him if he minces garlic at home, and he says that yes, he does, but he will NOT be trying the food, he is just helping to make it. I say that this is perfectly alright and move on. Once we serve the hummus, he receives a portion, eyeing it tentatively and debating with his friends whether he should try it. As is the custom, we say together, "Bon Appetit, it's time to eat!" and taste their creation. In the subsequent mob for seconds, this student is first in line. By the time the period is over, he's had four servings. The next time I visit his class, we are making Milpa (or Three Sisters) Stew: corn, beans, and squash. He is beyond excited, telling me that he doesn't usually like squash, but he is excited to try today's recipe. He chops squash, onions, and garlic with glee, has seconds, and asks me not only for a recipe for the stew, but another recipe for the hummus that we made more than a month ago. This class period runs into their recess, and he is the last student to leave, taking about 10 minutes out of his recess to savor the last of his stew and dig through the used paper folder for a hummus recipe in Spanish (which he finds, by the way)! The story ends this way: the next week, while I'm at the school to teach different classes, I see him in the hallway and say hello, ask him if he's made any of the recipes at home yet. He asks me what we're cooking next, and the heartbreaking answer is that his class has had all of their cooking classes, so there will be no more cooking classes this year. I tell him this, but add that I will email his teacher some other different recipes that he can take and make at home. At this, he smiles wide, pumps his fist, saying "Yeah!", thanks me, and skips, literally skips, down the hallway.
