On Saturday my husband and I headed out to take care of errands. One errand included a stop at Cosco for just a few grocery items. As we headed out, I looked forward to the lunch we would enjoy, the flowers I’d pick up for the table, and a possible stop at the bookstore. I neglected to consider the emotional state of a Cosco on an early Saturday afternoon WHEN THEY ARE FEATURING FREE SAMPLES! We fought our way through the throngs of shoppers, and I was afforded a small break during which I sat on a lawn swing in the display of outdoor furniture. People streamed past me holding Dixie cups of a new raspberry apple juice and napkins wrapped around chicken taquito samples. Happily they moved from aisle to aisle collecting little tastes of featured products. This thrill to collect little snacks while shopping started me thinking about food and its power.
Now that I think of it–Snack time was my favorite part of kindergarten. Half a graham cracker never tasted better than it did at the circle table in Mrs. Visser’s kindergarten classroom. And the milk was divine even though the carton was almost impossible for my little hands to open. I would’ve enjoyed it even more if we’d been allowed to keep blowing bubbles in the milk so they cascade out the small, ripped opening at the top, but we were also learning to be “civilized”
My relationship with food can also be captured in this story my mom enjoys retelling to anyone who’ll listen. It goes something like this. Apparently she had trouble motivating me to do my two little chores which included shaking out the rug by the back door and cleaning the sink in the bathroom. As the story goes, my mother could not motivate me to do these tasks with the usual promise of money, so she got creative. She developed a credit system under which I would earn points to be used for the purchase of meals and snacks featured on an elaborate menu my mother created. My mom is an artist, by the way, and the menu was a beautiful work of art complete with tantalizing meal descriptions. I loved “saving up” my food credits, so I could invite a friend to enjoy a meal with me at The Kitchen Table Cafe.
Food also took center stage during my recovery from the stroke. Quite simply, I wasn’t eating enough food while lying in Bronson Hospital’s I.C.U. and orders for a feeding tube loomed over every meal. Nothing tasted good, so my family started bringing in food from “the outside.” Malts, frosted shortbread cookies, and the Peanut Butter Pie, sold by the slice in the hospital cafeteria, found their way to my bedside table. Just the sight of that stock pile of sweets made me feel loved. Food can do that. It can make you feel loved.
In addition to the food piled up beside me at the hospital, food from friends filled my home. My family still fondly recalls an especially delicious lasagna dinner brought to the house by my “teacher family” while I was hospitalized. My mother told me all about the “real chocolate cake someone made from scratch.” She was awestruck by the baskets full of food and casserole dishes filled with dinners for days, appearing at the door for weeks and weeks. Every conversation we had about all the food ended with my mom saying, “You have such an amazing group of friends.” All that food stuffed in the refrigerator filled my heart with love for the beautiful people in my world. People who know the power of food.
Food captures the hearts of students, too. Years ago, a master teacher and our school’s Academically Talented Instructor, Marianne, visited each classroom to lead an introductory lesson on French. I was a little nervous about her lesson, hoping the students would behave well. I shouldn’t have spent a moment worrying–she captured their hearts the minute she entered. Her piercing blue eyes, the way they looked at each child, soaking them up in her gaze, was mesmerizing. And she was carrying a basket covered with a blue gingham cloth. Every student wanted to know what she was holding in that mysterious “Little Red Riding Hood” basket. She spoke to them in French, had them introduce themselves with a chosen French name, and introduced them to the French words for cheese (fromage) and bread (au pain). It was then Marianne pulled the cloth from the top of the basket to offer each child a small cube of cheese and a hunk of French bread. Even though this moment was 0ver twenty years ago, I vividly remember the delight and excitement of that morning.
Since then, I have looked for ways to pair food with lessons, and the results are motivating for me and the kids. The truth is I’m most happy with a lesson when there are equal parts enjoyment and challenge. I’ve used O.R.E.O. (Opinion, Reasons, Explanation, and Opinion Restated) cookies to review the elements of an Argumentative Essay, I’ve made homemade ice cream in a freezer bag to demonstrate the parts of an Informative Process Speech/Essay, and we’ve drawn icing punctuation marks on graham crackers while reviewing the jobs of each punctuation mark in sentences. I will continue to imagine more ways I can incorporate a taste experience. This sensory connection enriches the learning experience and strengthens the bond between me and my students. Plus, I also enjoy an excuse to snack just like all those crazy Cosco shoppers!
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