Mac n cheese and the grade school project

There are a couple of classes that stand out as the best in my long educational career.

First, typing. Sophmore year of high school. I hated it at the time. But having to look at that blank paper in the electronic typewriter, listening to the teacher yell "don't you dare look at your fingers!" was flustering. I didn't look. I fumbled for an entire semester, and in one entire semester, I learned how to type, having no preconception that the internet would take my days away.

Second, behavior modification. I had that class in Jr. college This was a daunting class to enroll in, because I didn't really know what "behavior modification" meant and wasn't sure of my reason for taking it. I had taken the class as an elective to my psycholgy degree, in my first year of undergrad. What I found was that I am fascinated with human behavior, and it gave me an amino boost of interest in the world of marketing and advertising. It gave me a fresh look at what makes people tick.

Thirdly, speed reading. The class, taught by Dolores, a friend of a good friend's mom, was probably the most boring class ever taken. All we did was read a book every week. I thought, I could do that on my own without paying per unit. But I learned how to skim a page in about 30 seconds and get the gist of it. It works with certain topics. Like Harry Potter.

But the most memorable was a class I took in grade school. I had to cook food over a fire for a week straight.

What did I choose?
Macaroni and cheese and hashed browns. I think I gained a lot of weight in that month despite being a gymnast, which requires incredible stamina and a tolerance for pain that rivals ANY sport you can name. I started those coals with a girl scout concoction of egg crate, hampster wood shavings, and wax, to act as a fire starter. Then I made that fire roar, put an iron skillet of grated potatoes and egg on that pan. After that was done, I heated water in the pan and made a batch of mac n cheese. The perfect breakfast for a growing girl.

After that, I made mac n cheese like this routinely. I missed the way it made me feel: like someone at some point had to work for their food. I imagined being a gatherer. I imagined what all those people were doing when they got to the island and had finally found food. Only I had a stove and a microwave just a few steps away.