Life Lessons Optional
Matt Olson- Food Blog Recently I’ve been intrigued by all the cooking tricks I’ve never learned. I have, for example, no clue how to properly cut
Matt Olson- Food Blog
Recently I’ve been intrigued by all the cooking tricks I’ve never learned. I have, for example, no clue how to properly cut vegetables. I spend a portion of my time hacking them into bits every night, which takes way longer than it should. Slicing and dicing veggies properly is easily learned through instruction. I just need some advice from that food network all the cool people are watching these days.
But why, though, am I even needing advice? Something as simple as cutting veggies seems so easy to teach, you’d think we’d all have had a lesson or two by now. Perhaps the females in my life have, and the gender walls we’ve built have kept me from learning this. If so, I’m jealous. I mean, ignoring all those male privileges, guys have it pretty rough…
It would seem I’m not the only one coming to college missing a few essentials. I’ve met enough freshmen who can’t do their own laundry or operate a vacuum. Way to look ahead, kids. Shoulda learned that in middle school. Of course, why blame the kid when we can point fingers at their educators? High schools have been booting Home Economics all the over the country. Brilliant.
Luckily we spend all that time in school learning how to pass standardized tests, which is extremely helpful after high school. I love being adequately prepared for life success.
Hmmm… If only Linfield had some sort of college preparation course for freshman? Good news! We have this Colloquium thing that does all sorts teaching to… Wait, maybe not. The only thing I remember from my Colloquium is that most people, including the professors, aren’t sure what it’s for. Might be time for a change. I’d love sessions on food preparation, cheap nutritional meals, daily health seminars, and living advice. A session run by college seniors on things they bought that dramatically improved their college career would be amazing. It’s like people enjoy watching me bumbling around, hacking at vegetables. Embarrassing.