As the students from our most recent start in January were leaving 6 straight weeks of kitchen work and heading for their first round of Gen Ed classes, I challenged them to contribute to the Platt Culinary Blog. I asked them to blog about their experiences thus far here at Platt College. Below is the winning blog from Robert Nalagan.
"When I grow up"
Sweat beaded off of my chef cap, and my heart was racing like water coming to a boil. I could not stand the heat and I was not even in the kitchen yet. Thus began a new chapter in my life, as my first day of classes commenced at the Culinary Institute of Platt College. I know I am talking like this happened a long time ago (at least, it feels it happened a long time ago) but in reality it's only been six weeks. Six weeks of school, four weeks of being in the kitchen, 42 days of pure action. This is culinary school, and I am a culinarian. The first time I looked inside the kitchen, the first aid kit unhinged by itself, as if it was daring us to try to dodge the bullet, taunting me and my class with impending danger. I remember thinking to myself "Bring it on!" And then I cut myself the next week.
Okay, okay, that felt like a commercial for the Marine Corps. The fact is, for the first time in my life, I'm enjoying myself in school. I wake up now and look forward to class. It's pretty ironic, coming from a guy who, more often than not, opted to skip class in college. Even more ironic is that this is the best I've done in school at any point in time. There's a proverb that states that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. It's different this time, it's different in this school. I've always had problems taking criticism and always saw it as slander against me. I don't get the feeling that the chef instructors are enemies. In the last six weeks, I have learned a multitude of information in such a short time. I have actually had to become a fast learner in order to keep up, and I've never been a fast learner at anything before. This time, however, I find myself doing things I never dreamed I could do. I have learned so much: everything from how many ways a chef can actually poison or kill someone with food, to learning it's wrong to cut holes into meat to let a marinade seep in, to even learning how a self-doubting man (such as myself) could do things he denied himself to even dream of. It's been only six weeks since I started, but in the those six weeks, I feel like living a whole other life. It's like I'm looking at a whole new Robert each time I look at myself in the mirror.
When I slide on that chef's hat, when I button down that coat, I see someone different inside, even though it's the same face I've always seen on the outside. I'm still imaginative and creative and goofy, yet it's behind a new shell. It's no longer the dummy in front of the mirror, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm no longer the Robert who walked invisible wherever he roamed. Now I am seen, I am acknowledged, I am accepted. For the first time in my life, it feels good to be me. People used to always ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Second to being an NHL goaltender, I just wanted to grow up happy. I gotta admit.... It feels good to be a grown up now.
Sweat beaded off of my chef cap, and my heart was racing like water coming to a boil. I could not stand the heat and I was not even in the kitchen yet. Thus began a new chapter in my life, as my first day of classes commenced at the Culinary Institute of Platt College. I know I am talking like this happened a long time ago (at least, it feels it happened a long time ago) but in reality it's only been six weeks. Six weeks of school, four weeks of being in the kitchen, 42 days of pure action. This is culinary school, and I am a culinarian. The first time I looked inside the kitchen, the first aid kit unhinged by itself, as if it was daring us to try to dodge the bullet, taunting me and my class with impending danger. I remember thinking to myself "Bring it on!" And then I cut myself the next week.
Okay, okay, that felt like a commercial for the Marine Corps. The fact is, for the first time in my life, I'm enjoying myself in school. I wake up now and look forward to class. It's pretty ironic, coming from a guy who, more often than not, opted to skip class in college. Even more ironic is that this is the best I've done in school at any point in time. There's a proverb that states that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. It's different this time, it's different in this school. I've always had problems taking criticism and always saw it as slander against me. I don't get the feeling that the chef instructors are enemies. In the last six weeks, I have learned a multitude of information in such a short time. I have actually had to become a fast learner in order to keep up, and I've never been a fast learner at anything before. This time, however, I find myself doing things I never dreamed I could do. I have learned so much: everything from how many ways a chef can actually poison or kill someone with food, to learning it's wrong to cut holes into meat to let a marinade seep in, to even learning how a self-doubting man (such as myself) could do things he denied himself to even dream of. It's been only six weeks since I started, but in the those six weeks, I feel like living a whole other life. It's like I'm looking at a whole new Robert each time I look at myself in the mirror.
When I slide on that chef's hat, when I button down that coat, I see someone different inside, even though it's the same face I've always seen on the outside. I'm still imaginative and creative and goofy, yet it's behind a new shell. It's no longer the dummy in front of the mirror, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm no longer the Robert who walked invisible wherever he roamed. Now I am seen, I am acknowledged, I am accepted. For the first time in my life, it feels good to be me. People used to always ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Second to being an NHL goaltender, I just wanted to grow up happy. I gotta admit.... It feels good to be a grown up now.
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