I’ve just been preparing kai (food) for our week ahead and whilst in the kitchen my mind wandered, as it does, and it got me thinking about how teaching is a bit like preparing a Christmas dinner for a big family. Here are my thoughts...
Let’s imagine it is Christmas Day (or any special occasion
where whānau or family may come together to share kai/food) and you are hosting
the event. You have prepared well, considered the menu, done the shopping and
have everything set up to go.
And then people start arriving.
Your brother pops in to introduce you to his new partner,
and yes he’d said he was bringing a date so it’s all good. You have a good chat
and in the midst of the conversation you learn that your brother’s partner has
just become vegan. You immediately run through the menu in your mind to see
what is vegan friendly and realise that you need to whip something up. So you
trawl through some websites to find recipes that you have the ingredients for
in your home. Crisis averted, you have found a couple of dishes that will work,
phew! You also go and change the seating plan as perhaps it might not be best
to sit your brother’s vegan partner and your strongly opinionated beef farming
uncle together.
Now, you start cooking the meal you have prepared and your
mum and aunty arrive in the kitchen. They start opening the oven, poking the
roast and making tut tut noises at the vegies. It feels like they are doing an
autopsy on the meal before you’ve even cooked it. They start talking about how
they used to prepare the Christmas dinner and how they used the Woman’s Weekly
recipes or the Edmond’s cookbook and don’t understand these young ones who have
to do everything through computers. After giving you a bunch of advice you
didn’t ask for, they tell you they are sure you will do fine and then toddle
off to wander around your garden- probably to discuss what you could be doing
better there. You proceed with doing the potatoes the way you read on Jamie
Oliver’s site which makes them crunchy on the outside and fluffy inside.
At the same time your niece wanders through and asks what is
going to be for lunch. You tell her. She screws up her nose and says ‘yuck!’ to
it all. Oh well, can’t please them all.
Then your sister comes in and reminds you about your
nephew’s peanut allergy, you assure her it’s all under control. After she
leaves you dive into the bin to look at packets to make sure there are no
peanuts in any of the packaged foods. All good, just make sure he doesn’t have
cheesecake and everything should be fine.
Now you get on with the cooking and realise that one of the
rings on your oven isn’t working… damn! This is definitely not what was
planned. It will all work out OK of course, just a bit of juggling required.
You take a big breath, check in with the cooking times, and rearrange the pots.
The meal will be a few minutes late.
Just while you are doing this your partner pops his head
around the door to see how you are getting on. You tell him that everything is
fine and he smiles and says ‘that’s good, I knew you’d have it all under
control’. He then tells you that he forgot to mention that one of his
colleagues from work who was going to be alone for the holiday season is
joining you all for the meal, he didn’t think that one more would be a problem.
You smile nicely and say, ‘I’m sure we can work it out’ as you peel another
potato and map out how you might rearrange the already full table. You ask him
to grab another chair from the garage and quickly rearrange the table as well
as you can- it’s not as perfectly laid out as you had envisaged but it works.
Your cousin pops in to let you know that the kids are
getting a bit restless and to see if you need any help… you consider saying yes
please but realise that explaining what needs to be done and where everything
is will take longer than just doing it yourself so say you’ve got it sorted but
suggest that they might take the kids outside for a game of cricket. Killing
two birds with one stone, you continue with preparing the meal.
Finally it is time to eat.
You call out to everyone that the meal is ready. Some are
still out in the garden, some are watching a holiday movie, a couple have
already started on the wine and are well on their way. Slowly everyone drifts to
the dining table.
There is a tremendous spread on the table and people pause
for a moment then start digging in. There is a happy bubble of chat. Bowls and
plates of food are being shared around. Happy sounds of people enjoying their
food ensue; your brother’s partner enjoys your whipped up vegan delights, your
uncle loves the roast, the kids are hungry after their game of cricket so tuck
in (including your fussy niece who doesn’t utter yuck once to your surprise),
and your mum and aunty notice how fluffy and crispy the roast potatoes are and they
even ask you for the recipe.
You sit back and smile. It was really hard work but it was all
worth it.
Everyone is enjoying the fruits of your labour, as are you.
It is a moment of bliss and the mess you have left behind in the kitchen is
forgotten for now.
It wasn’t perfect, to be honest if it was going to be
perfect you wouldn’t have invited anyone to come along but then that would’ve
missed the point wouldn’t it?
So much of this scenario is like teaching. Constant change,
everyone has an opinion, you work your butt off trying to keep everyone happy, you
can feel quite lonely and unappreciated at times, people think you can cope
with anything (and you often do even in trying circumstances), you have to make
do with the resources you have rather than the ones you want or need, your plans rarely
go exactly to plan… but in the end you get the job done and when it all flows
it really is a thing of beauty. Sure, there is always more to do, but your
efforts are worth it.
And it’s never going to be perfect, that’s the point! Let’s
embrace what it is instead of what we imagine it should be and enjoy the imperfection
of it all, just like a crazy family Christmas dinner.
(Please note: this story not an actual representation of any
real Christmas I have attended or hosted... yet!)
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