Sometimes… I wish my mom wasn’t there…

When I got started in the culinary arts program and mom joined with me, I was thinking, ‘Yeah, this will be fun. We’ll be able to hang out and learn new things together.’

But I’ve learned that having dear ol’ mom there isn’t so great sometimes.


Going to class with mom is like going to class with Jesus.


At the end of our lab session, we have to sign out. On Tuesday, the crowd surrounding the sign out sheet was thick. I was next in line but a guy came out of nowhere and attempted to take the sheet from my hands. Fortunately, one of my lab partners grabbed it back and gave it to me. I signed the sheet and the sign out stealing guy expectantly jabbed his hand in front of me and grunted for my pen. No ‘Please may I use your pen?’, or even a ‘Do you mind?’, nothing. Just a belittling grunt, like I don’t even deserve to be spoken to like a real human being. I stopped and stared at him with complete indignation then clicked my pen shut and said, ‘Actually, it’s my pen and I’m leaving. Use your own!’ with all the attitude of Kanye West at the Grammy’s.

Mom just looked at me and nodded her head in shame.

Sure my tone wasn’t exactly friendly but I followed it with a fake smile. That has to count for something!

Mom! He was a jerk!

I swear I heard her moral police say, ‘Turn the other cheek’ and ‘Do unto others’.



Then…

The teacher was in the middle of explaining kitchen safety and said, ‘In case of fire or if you get burning liquids spilled on you, these chef jackets are meant to be ripped right off’ then proceeds to demonstrate by tearing his jacket off, exposing a tight t-shirt clinging to his obviously well toned body.

Drooling in class? Bad idea?

All the girls blush and giggle, meanwhile, mom leans over and whispers, ‘I didn’t know that. What great jackets.’


Uh. Yeah mom. The jackets are great.


So is the chef’s chest.

But I can’t say that. I’m forced to stare at my notebook and say, ‘Jackets. Yeah. Great. Whatever.’



Paula, you should really be in this class.

Sure, he sets off my gaydar but let’s see… he rides a motorcycle, he’s a super great chef, he works out, and…he’s the only teacher I’ve ever had that makes me want to pray for a grease fire.