So today I may have slightly underestimated what I signed up for.
There are about 70 kids at this school… and I’m fairly certain 69 of them are completely feral. I’m not even joking.
This afternoon I ran three taco cooking classes:
5 enthusiastic mixed 7-year-olds
6 very loud 14-year-old boys
4 mixed 13-year-olds
Each class was meant to be 45 minutes. In reality, it felt more like four hours and a minor endurance sport.
The first class was pure chaos. One 7-year-old clearly running on rocket fuel couldn’t sit still for more than a minute, fell off his chair a couple of times, and then very enthusiastically volunteered to use the sharp knife to cut the lettuce even smaller.
That was a firm “no.”
Moments later he was pretending to stab the other kids with an imaginary knife, which I’m fairly sure wasn’t part of the taco recipe.
The second class was louder. The third class decided they didn’t want to speak English at all, except for one very proud student whose main goal was to swear in English. Apparently that lesson was the most interesting part of the day.
By the end I wasn’t sure whether I had taught cooking, passed out and had a bad dream, or survived a small uprising.
And the funny thing is… in the photos they look like absolute angels. Sweet smiles, calm faces, little chefs happily making tacos. If only the camera had captured the soundtrack.
And the best part?
I have three more classes tomorrow.
After that… no more cooking classes.
Which, for the safety of the children, the knives, and possibly my sanity… is probably a very good thing.
