The day that I cover in Reception is cooking day. I embrace the learning of this valuable life skill at such a young age, and clearly the children do too as it is a very popular activity: oversubscribed in fact. It is also a bit of a dietary minefield. In this class we have 2 lactose intolerant, 1 gluten-free, 1 severe nut allergy and three vegetarians. So that means dairy free margarine, soya milk, special flour or no flour at all, no meat and no nuts. Flexible baking is the order of the day. Each week a parent signs up to help. I am eternally grateful to them for turning up and being willing to do battle with the temperamental cooker in the teaching kitchen. A note has gone out to parents to say that the teacher will provide the recipe and the ingredients and parents just have to turn up and cook. This works well, until I get a parent who hasn’t read the note and arrives with their apron already on and their own ingredients to make meat pies with a cheesy pastry crust topped with a sprinkling of nuts. The BIG decision is who gets to go cooking. Only 4 children can get a much coveted place in the cooking group, usually the child of the parent who has come to help plus 3 more. It’s the three more that causes the problem. The first time I was faced with this weighty decision I passed the buck, suggesting the child with the parent chose the 3 more. 29 hands shot into the air accompanied by dramatic gasps and frantic waving. The child with the parent was Chantelle. She moved closer to my chair for protection, overwhelmed by the number of friends she suddenly had. I offered to help her. I chose Mackenzie, Landa and Leonie. There was an outcry. ‘They’ve already done cooking before’ Jahvarnie exclaimed. Landa jumped up and down saying ‘I haven’t, I haven’t!’ I called order with a good old fashioned clapping rhythm. At that moment Mrs Swift returned from the photocopier. ‘I wonder how Mrs Finch chooses the children for Cooking?’ I asked, trying not to sound desperate. Mrs Swift handed me a clipboard with a class list on it and a few names ticked off. I noticed Landa was right, he hadn’t done cooking yet as his name had not been ticked. Mackenzie and Leonie’s had and so I was forced to disappoint them. They took it remarkably well. Chantelle was still standing silently next to me. I lowered my voice and suggested Landa and two more to her. The others were quiet, straining to hear the verdict. Chantelle nodded and pointed to Landa, Marley and Lauren. The four of them skipped off to get aprons as I ticked them off the list and silenced the complaints that remained. Now when I choose the children to do cooking I take the short, sharp, shock approach. I move seamlessly from the register to the cooking list and reel off the children’s names before they have time to think. Sometime around morning break cooking smells begin to waft down the corridor and into the classroom. I love this moment when the children stop to sniff and try to guess what the bakers are baking. Is it sweet or savoury? A hint of ginger? Dairy free cheese straws again? Peter asks for the hundredth time if it is jacket potatoes. And then the triumphant bakers appear bearing trays of steaming goodies followed by a slightly dishevelled but glowing parent. We sit in a circle and munch, making appreciative noises, while in between or even during mouthfuls the chefs share their culinary expertise. Mrs Swift makes the parent a much needed cup of tea.
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