Chương 8: Book 1 - Chapter 7

The bell rang just as I reached the door and the hallway filled with the noise and bodies of the students of Stigler High.

"Welcome!" A soft female voice called out as I quickly entered Home Ec to keep from getting run over.

"It's nice to meet you! I'm Ms Double, and you must be John!"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm John."

"Well, the next four weeks will be a cooking delight. Since this class is just before lunch break, we will be cooking things that we will get to enjoy for lunch!" she said with genuine enthusiasm.

"That sounds wonderful. I've never cooked before, but I have read a number of cookbooks. I'm looking forward to the challenge."

"Yes, it will be quite fun, this is a cooking class, but today we aren't cooking." She held up a small pamphlet.

"First you learn about kitchen safety. This is the Oklahoma State food handlers guide. You are required to read it and pass this test before you are allowed to cook."

"May I do that now, ma'am?" I asked. She handed it to me and pointed at a table with chairs.

"You may. I am told you are quite good at tests. I look forward to seeing this demonstrated." I sat where pointed to, read the pamphlet, which was only 36 pages, and then set it to the side. She set a pencil and test on the table and I answered every question on the test. It took me 5 minutes. She picked up the test, glanced over the answers, and wrote a large A across the front in red ink.

"Very good! With that hurdle out of the way, we may begin! As I said, today is learning about safely using the tools of the kitchen.

"I will start by identifying every piece of equipment in this room, and then I will give a demonstration of how to safely use a knife." She paused, her voice hardening.

"If you ever fail to use a knife safely, I will ban you from using them in this kitchen for the rest of the year." At my nod, she began by opening drawers, pulling items out, setting them on the counter, and naming them. Where necessary, she explained what they were used for. The counter we were at had a number of drawers and cabinets, and when she was finished, the table top was piled high with cooking implements.

"Now, to be sure you were paying attention, you will take each item, identify it verbally, and return it to its correct location. Each location is labeled with the name of the item that goes there, so no excuses."

"Is this test timed?" I asked.

"It is not timed, but lunch begins in 30 minutes. Please do not make me late." As quickly as I could, I put each item away, but I did ask for help with the blender, as it was absurdly heavy and I was only seven.

"Well done, John. Now, I shall demonstrate the safe use of a knife." She began, demonstrating with a quick, deliberate pace.

"When moving in my kitchen, you always carry only one knife at a time." She carefully collected three knives one at a time, placing each on the counter we were working at.

"Look closely: I never carry anything else in the same hand, and I don't juggle. I keep the blade pointed down toward the floor, and the sharp edge turned inward, parallel to my body, but never touching it. This ensures that if I trip, only the handle hits the floor, and the blade is nowhere near a person." Then she fetched and washed an apple from a basket. She paused, placing the wet apple on the cutting board.

"If anyone is cut by your knife due to your stumble or slip," she warned, her voice dropping slightly, "it had better be you. We are responsible for the tools we use. Now, watch my grip as I work..." Then with the knife she showed hand positions holding each handle and blade, identified the three knives by name and task they were used for, and proceeded to slice, peel, and chop the apple. She used a scraper to pick up the apple pieces off the cutting board, and dump it into a bowl.

"Never scrape up food with a knife in my kitchen, it makes them go prematurely dull. Knives are there," she said pointing.

"Get one, and return here." Following her knife rules, I carefully retrieved a knife from the storage block, and set it on the counter.

"Well done. Remember the rules and we will get along just fine in my kitchen. Now, tomorrow we have choices."

"Choices?" I asked.

"Yes, tomorrow shall we make hamburgers, or meatloaf?"

"Your choice ma'am, I'm happy with either."

"Meatloaf is more challenging. Let's do hamburgers, and we will do meatloaf Monday." The bell rang then, but before I could leave I was required to put the knives away for washing, clean the work surface, and wash the bowl with soap and hot water. Ms Double ate her apple slices as she supervised. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The high school cafeteria was very different. I stopped, stunned, examining the four sections.

This hadn't been on the original tour. I was late, and the room was filled with people and noise. I examined the choices. A hot food section listed this week's rotating menu on the wall next to it. Today it featured chicken nuggets. The pizza section was closed, its sign said Wednesdays and Fridays. But there was a pizza section! I wanted to do a celebratory dance, I was so excited. The salad bar looked good and it seemed to be the same every day. The fourth section had drinks.

It had cups with dispensers for ice, milk, fruit juice and water. I got chicken nuggets, green beans, and a self built salad. After showing my ID, I bypassed the register, found a spot to sit, and began eating. Improbably, a girl sat across from me. She was blond, athletic, and well built—a definite cheerleader type.

"What's your name?" she asked me.

"John Cook, and who are you?" I replied.

"I'm Amber. I have to ask. Some of us saw you yesterday getting a tour, or at the office this morning. Are you really a student here?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Amber. I really am a student here. Today is my first official day."

"That's amazing, what grade are you in?"

"Today I'm a Freshman. Next week I hope to be a Sophomore."

"Really?" she said, her eyes widening.

"Really," I told her.

"Is that even allowed?" she asked.

"I hope so, three weeks ago I was a third grader."

"No way!" she exclaimed. I smiled at her.

"Yes way!"

"Are you a genius or something?" she asked disbelieving.

"Are you interested in the size of a guy's brain, Amber?" I asked, still smiling. She blushed for a moment, then took control of herself.

"Why yes, I like them very big," she said, looking straight at me and wiggled her eyebrows. We both burst into laughter, but I was the one blushing now.

"Well done, Amber. So, what grade are you?" I asked.

"I'm a Sophomore," she said.

"Favorite teacher? Any that I need to be careful around?" I asked.

"Ms Hershey is good, she's my English teacher. Mr Morrow can be a pain. Heaven help you if you don't do your homework, it's 80% of your grade in his class. He teaches social studies. Everyone loves Ms Double she bakes cookies several times a month and brings them to the lunch room."

"I just had my first class with her, right before lunch."

"Normally she has that period free. I guess that means she won't have free time to bake cookies."

"I'll ask her. Oh, and tomorrow we are making hamburgers in class, since it's just the two of us."

"Oh wow, one on one cooking time with Ms Double! How did you arrange that?" she asked.

"The school arranged it, just like all my classes requiring hands on work. I've also got a list of subjects and books for classes where I don't see a teacher unless I need help. I work on them on my own in study hall, do the assignments, then take a test to pass the class. Once I complete all the subjects for a school year, I get bumped a grade. The exceptions are the hands on classes, those I'm supposed to have the initial book work done this weekend, and then it's four weeks of classroom work."

"What classes are hands on?"

"Home Ec, Biology, Chemistry, Art, and Woodshop."

"That's five of the six periods!"

"My list says that I have to complete Biology first, which is supposed to take a week, then it will be replaced with Chemistry. I'm not sure about the others, they are all after lunch, and I haven't been to those classes yet. In the morning my first two periods are supposed to be in study hall where I'll be working on the rest of my classwork."

"You will like Mr Archer, he's the art teacher. I don't know who the Woodshop teacher is, it might be Coach. Biology is Mr Hanson. He might do Chemistry too. He's okay," she said, showing that she wasn't a fan.

"He gets so excited when we do dissecting. He's always afraid somebody's going to hurt themselves with a scalpel."

"I've got Woodshop next. Then Art, then Biology. How do you guys have so many classes in a school year but only six periods?"

"Some classes are only a single semester. Classes that run all year we may not have every day. English is only Monday, Wednesday, Friday while Social Studies and History are Tuesday and Thursday. Electives are all Tuesdays and Thursdays, language classes are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. AP classes are 5 days a week. Some schools have more periods by making them shorter, we have longer periods so we get more done in class."

"Thank you, Amber. This has been very informative. I'm looking forward to my time here. It's my goal to finish and get my diploma this year, but I might have to take some summer school classes to do that."

"Wow, really? When will you start college?" she asked.

"Hopefully this fall," I replied.

"I've been invited to University of Tulsa if my ACT score is high enough and I graduate from high school before the next school year begins. I'll be their first eight year old student, and the youngest ever on campus." Amber stood up and waved, shouting, "Clark! Come here, you need to meet the new guy." A very large student walked over to Amber.

"This is my brother Clark. He's been accepted at TU for this fall too!

"Clark, this is John the Genius," she said, giving me a nickname that would follow me for the rest of my life.

"He's eight, and he is going to be at TU when you are." Clark gave me a careful, appraising look, then put his hand out. I shook his hand but mine was dwarfed in his.

"Nice to meetcha," he drawled.

"Nice to meet you, Clark. It is good to have a friend already when I'm at TU."

"Are you really only eight?" Clark asked.

"Actually I'm seven, I'll be eight in July," I replied.

"And you really are a student here?" he asked. I looked at Amber and smiled.

"I think I need a t-shirt that says, 'My name is John Cook and I belong here'. It sure would've saved me trouble this morning," I added. Amber immediately recounted the gossip she had already collected to Clark.

"Ms Balfour got fired when she threatened him," she told him.

"She thought he was playing a trick on her—or so she claimed. Ms Avis said that she knew he was expected, that Principal Endicott told all of them to send the new student, John Cook, to his office when he arrived. She also said that she keyed Principal Endicott's Toyota on her way to her car!" It was suddenly clear why Amber had been the one to greet me at lunch. She had probably been looking for me just to collect all the latest gossip directly.

"Hey, I'll see you around, John," he offered, heading with his empty tray to dump it by the exit. Amber looked up at the cafeteria clock, and exclaimed, "Look at the time!" She started finishing her lunch as quickly as she could. With a mouth full of her final bite, she headed to dump her tray, and offered a simple but mumbled, "I'll see you later. Good luck!"