Baby, I'm a Star!

I am a celebrity in my own microcosm of celebrity-hood otherwise known as Room 17.  I know this because every time a student sees me out of the context of the classroom, my name is shouted from wherever said student is and he/she is waving and smiling, hoping to get a wave back.  I'm even treated to hugs if I'm spotted in a vicinity anywhere near the play structure after school.  It's so great, especially since I'll never ever be hounded by paparazzi in my lifetime nor will I ever be featured in People magazine for winning an Oscar.

In first grade, we like to cook.  Before we ever make soup or pancakes, pizza or rice krispy treats (even mini pumpkin cheesecakes one year!), students are reminded of the Rules. 

When kids are asked open-ended questions about Rules, they come up with some pretty bizarre ideas.  They know the basics, which usually start with the word "no."  We teachers have this annoying need to phrase everything in the positive (me, not so much, but I try to keep it balanced).  If a student responds with, "No pinching," I'd rephrase it as, "Keep your hands to yourself" or "Hands off."  So imagine what was said when we discussed cooking rules.

1.  Keep your hands off  (yes, that's very good, what's-your-name)
2.  Be nice  (of course)
3.  Be kind (isn't that what "be nice" means?)
4.  No punching someone in the face (would you do that when you're cooking?) (I don't really want to know the answer to that question)
5.  Never touch the pan (FINALLY a relevant response)

I asked, "Why not touch the pan?"  The little girl (who obviously has helped out in the kitchen) exasperatedly responded with her eyes open wide and eyebrows arched, "So you don't burn your hand."  Duh.

I explained, once again, about germs and clean hands (again with the clean hands-sheesh!).  So rule #1 is to always wash with soap and water first (in the bathroom, of course, so my sink isn't destroyed).  Also, we don't lick our fingers or cough/sneeze on the food we're preparing.

For our first cooking experiment we cooked noodle soup.  I chose soup to go with our story called Hot Fox Soup in which a fox with a big vat in the forest tries to get his animals friends into the vat so he can cook them (none of them take him up on his offer).  In the end, the animals sit down at the table to eat their noodle soup.   It's not that great of a story as there's only so much an author can do with short vowel words.

So anyway....I gave each child a paper plate, a plastic knife, one baby carrot and one small piece of celery.  They were told to chop their vegetables and come up to put them in the pan (in which I was sauteeing pre-sliced onion-imagine 22 6 year olds chopping onion!).  They wordlessly sawed at those poor carrots and celery.  As I was standing at my table sauteeing I imagined myself on a cooking show.  I began to speak like Julia Child.  They didn't get the joke, they probably thought I was just losing my marbles again.  Typical.  I continued in this way for my own enjoyment, though. 

"Now class, if your celery is ragged, just toss it in the pot anyway....who's to see?"  There was a lot of ragged celery and carrots that looked like they'd been through the mulcher.  "Oh, well, it all looks the same in your tummy!"  I added water and bullion to boil, so while we waited we drew what was in the pot. 

One time we made rice krispy treats (supposedly to reinforce "sequencing").  "Ok, class, now we melt the butter-but we mustn't burn it," came my Julia Child voice.  Why?  Why do I do that?  "Then we add the marshmallows and let them melt."  Why aren't the damn marshmallows melting?  And I'm supposed to mix how many cups of rice krispies into this pot?  It sure doesn't look like the dry will mix with the liquid very well, but that's what the recipe says...

I'm sorry, but my right arm was not made to stir rice krispy treats.  A mom came in later in the day and I told her that she'd have to take over while I went to get a massage (joking) so she informed me that she, "always uses less rice krispies" because she knows how hard it is.  Well, isn't she the smart one.

To go with our story If You Give a Pig a Pancake we made.....you guessed it.  Pancakes!  And just so you know, it's about what happens if a pig should happen to come to your window and you decide to give it a pancake since you're making them anyway and a pig coming to your window isn't weird at all.  By this time in the year, they've cooked a few things and have the Rules down.  They can practically get their own squirt and hardly anyone attempts the drip dry method anymore.

I cheat and buy mix.  All we have to do is add water.  But I do bring in my griddle and all the necessary tools.  I feel like a pack mule as I make my way from my car to the classroom the day we make pancakes, what with carrying bags full of groceries, utensils, bowls, cutlery and plates, and of course, the griddle and syrup.

They oooohhhh and ahhhhhhh when I put the butter on the hot griddle (somebody always has to test rule # 5 and he/she is told to "hold your finger under cold water").  They each get to stir it and watch as I scoop out the batter into 6 perfect pancakes.  They watch them bubble as though they were witnessing a miracle.  They clap when I flip them.  Yaayyyy, she didn't screw it up!  A mom popped in and started taking pictures.   These will be so cute in the yearbook, she said.

Wait a minute.  I have an audience, I am screamed at when spotted from afar, I receive fan mail (fodder for another post perhaps!), and didn't I just have my picture taken unbidden?!  Maybe I'll win an award someday, too, I think...nah.  This is the best reward anybody can ask for.

Best. Job. Ever.