Sugar Cookies.

I walked into my first day of my 7th hour Home Economics class. I was a freshman, and had officially survived my first day of high school as long as I could make it through this last hour. I found a spot at an empty table. I put my backpack in the seat next to me to save it for my friend Shelby, who I knew had this class also. Soon, she made her way into the classroom, and took the seat I had saved for her. Another one of my friends entered the room. Hillary sat down in the chair next to Shelby, and sighed a sigh of relief.

Taking a 7th hour class can be somewhat scary in high school, or so I found out. All of my friends were athletes, so they didn't have a class and practiced their sport instead. Having no athletic ability whatsoever, I was left to take an elective during that hour. Because of what I had seen in movies and what I heard from upperclassmen, I chose to take Home Ec. I was excited about sewing pillowcases, and learning to bake a cake. And, I figured it would be easy.

Shelby, Hillary and I sat at our table on the second row patiently waiting for class to start. When the late bell rang, I looked around to find that I was one of only six kids in the class. Now I went to a small school, but it wasn't that small. I figured that every single freshman must have decided to try out their talent at a sport, and we must be the only ones who were comfortable with our lack thereof. (Except Hillary-- who was an extraordinary soccer player, and was taking Home Ec in the fall, and would play soccer in the Spring.) I was excited about the small class size. I figured that meant more individualized attention would make me an expert seamstress and baker. And it also meant more food to eat when we cooked.

Mrs. Smith walked into the classroom, closed the door, and introduced herself. (Random fact: Mrs. Smith doesn't have a nose. She lost it to cancer a few years ago, and wears a prosthetic nose in its place. She's truly a neat lady.) She was just getting started when there was a knock on the door. A student in the back opened the door, and in walked 7 special needs students, and their helpers. My class of six doubled in a matter of seconds. On the outside, I smiled a welcoming smile at my new classmates, but on the inside, I was considering trying out for a sport just to get out of the class. I knew that there would no longer be any individualized attention, nor would there be very much food to go around. I was upset that this was the class the counselor had placed me in.

I didn't get out of the class. Something inside me told me to stay. A few weeks in to class, we had yet to leave our desks and make our way in to the kitchen. We learned safety precaution after safety precaution, every single measurement you can think of, and also what each silly "kitchen utensil" was called and it's function. I was perturbed, and was ready to make something... Anything! I would've been fine with making toast, for crying out loud. That didn't happen.

Soon, we started an "Egg Unit." You give me three minutes and I can not only label the parts of an egg, but also tell you all of the diseases you can contract from eating one raw. It was at this point that I was ready to change my schedule. The other classes had been in the kitchen several times. I envied them getting to eat as I sat and listened to an hour long movie about how eggs were formed, and the process of getting them to the egg carton. I was daydreaming about my newly developed desire to play basketball when I heard Mrs. Smith say the magical words, "Tomorrow we will be cooking omelets." My ears perked up, and she read off the names of the people we would be cooking with. I wasn't working with Shelby or Hillary. My name was read in the same group as two of the special needs students.

The next day I dreaded 7th hour. I was worried about having to work alongside the two learning disabled students. When 2:35 finally came, I walked to the classroom, washed my hands, and begrudgingly put on my apron. The two students and their helpers came into the kitchen, as well. Mrs. Smith begin giving us instructions. I followed her directions, heated up the skillet and got out the eggs. Mrs. Smith encouraged me to ask the students what they would want on their omelet. Each one told me what toppings they wanted, and soon I was cracking the egg and starting the process of making omelets. My two helpers got out the salt and pepper for me, and got the plates ready. After the omelets were finished, they helped me pour each of them a glass of milk. We cut our omelets into several bites and tasted our product. It was so great!

Weeks went by and we cooked several different things. Occasionally I got to be in a group with Shelby and Hillary. Other times, I was with my new friends. Shelby, Hillary and I became very close to our other classmates. We enjoyed helping them cook, and seeing their faces when they got to eat their finished product. It was rewarding for us to know that we helped them accomplish something that they couldn't have accomplished on their own. After a couple of times, their helpers were no longer needed in the kitchen because they use trusted us to take care of their students.

December came quickly, and we were trying to decide what Christmas cookies we were going to bake. The sweet young lady I was paired with wanted to make sugar cookies. They were her favorite. I, on the other hand, did not want to make sugar cookies. How boring! I wanted to make something super cool and tricky, to show off the amazing baking skills I had learned. I gave in, and we made sugar cookies. We rolled out the dough and used a star-shaped cookie cutter to cut out shaped dough pieces, then she helped me place them on to the cookie sheet. She got to turn the kitchen timer, and we waited for them to be fully baked. After letting them cool, we used bright colors of icing and pretty sprinkles to transform our plain star-shaped cookies into beautiful Christmas cookies. Even though they were easy to make, it was well worth it. She was so proud of the cookies we had baked together. The sugar cookies made her smile... and that was the most important thing.

Was the class easy? Well, I never worried about my grade. I never had to study. I never prepared anything outside of class.

The class was difficult on a different level. It required patience that I didn't have. It forced me to slow down. It taught me to be thankful for my abilities. It provided me with experiences that none of the other kids in the school got to enjoy. I gained respect for the teachers that have helped these students along the way. I was given seven new friends because of my Home Ec class. I developed a new perspective along the way that has molded the way I think, and the way I view life as an educator. Finally, the class allowed me to see that everyone is capable of learning, some students just learn in a different way.

The class changed my life. 

Sure, I came out knowing how to sew, cook and clean. But I also learned that life is precious. You cannot assume that just because someone has a disability, they are unable. Tasks might take longer, and require a little more patience and assistance. However, all students are capable. The process just looks different.

I will never overlook the simplicity of sugar cookies again, nor will I ever look at them in the same way. They helped me see what true joy is and where it comes from. The cookies weren't boring cookies in her eyes. To her, they were a masterpiece that she had created. They were a beautiful Christmas creation, that sprinkled our classroom with lots of smiles during the Holiday season.

Those star-shaped sugar cookies filled my heart with a certain Christmas spirit that has never left. Praise the Lord for unexpected blessings.