Listen

Sometimes we only realize how easy we have it when we get to know the misfortune of others. This makes us sad, upset, even angry when we encounter it. We anticipate depression and awkward feelings in our future, but no feeling as awkward as the ones you feel when immediately confronted by the person or situation.

When my work asked if I would take on a special project, instructing a cooking class for foster, homeless, and at-trouble youth, I happily said yes. It was a chance to combine my love of teaching (yes, this is what all this MA hullabaloo is about the past few years) and cooking. Furthermore, it would give me a chance to better interact with the kids my company works with.

I've been shadowing the current teachers, a delightful retired couple who after five years are ready to hang up their apron strings, in order to learn about their process, see what works and what doesn't, and let the kids get to know me a bit better and me them. They've invaluable and hilarious and make the process all the better. I listen and learn the things I need to know (how to fix the tripped breakers), want to know (what dishes you should avoid teaching, like making pasta from scratch), and don't want to know (what kids have cutting problems).

Now, rounding up thirty-plus twelve to eighteen year olds (some with kids of their own) and trying to accurately instruct them on how to use a knife safely, use a skillet without burning the chicken, or seed chilies is a unique sort of chaos. You only let it reign so much in certain ways. It cannot ever be fully quelled. Rather, you find little problems and offer little solutions which give you and the child a sense of accomplishment. Total control and having them all listen is, I've learned, an impossibility, but some do listen and in that you find joy when one of them comes up to you the next week and excitedly tells you she made dinner for her new foster family and they couldn't have been happier. Then she thanks you, and you're glad you listened and realized how much those small things mean.

Yet, listening is my real problem. I hear too much. Things I'm not ready to hear because I cannot respond. Many of the kids attend the cooking class because it is simply a meal, and I turn a blind eye if they decide to make more than one mini-apple cake even though we're low on ingredients because they might not get to eat tomorrow. Something that terrifies me when I realize some of them aren't even old enough to drive. Or listening as one of them tells me how she slept in a tree the previous night to keep herself safe from drug dealers and other crazy people on the street. How she tied her shoelaces together around a branch as a means to keep herself from falling out and hurting herself. (It worked, surprisingly.) And all you can do is listen, because sometimes that's all they want at the moment, and, honestly, there's so little I can actually do except help her read the recipe and teach her to make an apple cake because someday, I hope, she'll have a kitchen to do this in and someone to make an apple cake for.

And all this listening makes me sad. One of the therapists on staff tell me not to worry, many programs, like the one I work for, do what they can. Many of these kids will be alright, and, at the same time, many won't. You do what you can and sometimes it works. When it does it keeps you going. It keeps the moral glitter of what you do shining.

The bad feelings only last so long. It makes me feel guilty or even ashamed to say that after an hour or so I soon feel overjoyed and thankful for just how bad I have it. I have school debt? I didn't get to the gym? I'm almost out of wine? Fuck my problems. I slept in a bed last night. Life is good and my problems aren't that epic. Comparison is at times one of the greatest lenses of perspective.

Next week I'll be there again. The class will work and stumble its way through making stir-fry and if we make it through without any injuries I'll call it a success. I'll teach one or two more how to properly use a knife and I'll listen to whoever wants to talk.