Never Too Late

One of the pivotal voices in my parenting was that of John Holt. John Holt’s early writings centered on how children learn, how they fail and how to support a life long love of learning. His work was positive, inspirational, and doable. One of his last books to write was a memoir of how he learned to play the cello as an older adult. In it, he shares his frustration, his persistence, his joy at working on this task he had long wanted to do. He eventually became proficient enough to play in the community orchestra near his Boston home. Though he hadn’t started lessons as a child or youth, he was able to make this dream a reality.

When someone wants to learn about dough, improve their handling skills, make pie, shape buns, learn techniques for better cookies, this is all possible, regardless of your age. It helps to have hands large enough to hold common tools, to have strength enough to wield a rolling pin, to be tall enough to reach the mixer, but even these potential drawbacks can be mitigated. YouTube and Instagram are bulging with content to teach all us anything we might want to know. We can prop our screen against the flour bin and get our hands dusty and doughy.

Sometimes, though, a community is needed. Sometimes there needs to be a community settled around a table or along a counter, gathered with the same goal: learn or improve a new skill. Our Bread Camp this past weekend was just such a community. Five participants joined, two with more experience, two with some experience, and one with no experience. The two with the most experience were friends, commuting far enough from home requiring overnight stays at a local hotel. Their camaraderie was infectious, quickly drawing the others into their circle of laughter. There is much information given during these Camps and the volume can be overwhelming. The brand new bread baker had the support of the other four who augmented, underscored, encouraged with their own experiences, while they themselves received new ideas and reinforcement for their own loaves. There was no competition, no verbose overlording, just a desire for making better bread.

This is why I teach. Though exhausted after each session, I said goodby to the students Sunday afternoon, enriched well beyond the amount of tuition. My heart was full, my mind was full, including new ideas received from my group. My work space was a mess but that’s what today is for. I want folks to be successful with any class they take with me. If that success comes with laughter and light, my job cannot be any better. I started The Tiny Kitchen nine years ago. I started the Cottage Bakery arm only 4 years ago. I wanted to do this and I did. It’s hard work, but it wasn’t too late to follow this dream. I am lucky for it.

What do you want to do?