I love my job. I get to work with more than 100 students each semester, who are some of the raddest humans on the planet. I teach Food and Nutrition in the Davis School District. It is a popular elective that involves creating and eating and draws a wide variety of students with varying backgrounds.
At our school, there are English language learners, refugees, students experiencing homelessness or facing food insecurity, learners with various abilities and unique skills, incredible athletes and scholars, and students with a variety of health and emotional issues.
The kitchen is a beautiful place for connection. We gather weekly and rub shoulders while baking, frying, learning, laughing and cleaning up (a lot) messes. We share stories and experiences while we scrub dishes, sanitize the counter for the millionth time and eat some pretty amazing cookies.
Students share about upcoming tennis matches, soccer games, or how much homework they have. I’ve shared in some anxious conversations, too. Teenagers worrying about things they really shouldn’t have to — fear of ICE raids on family members, parents working multiple jobs to make ends meet, suicide, moving away from people they know and love and how to navigate attending school with chronic illness.
As students enter and exit my kitchen lab, there are “touch points,” as I call them. These are small contact points providing moments of happiness and relief such as the lotion that sits on my desk. As a baker and teacher, I must wash my hands dozens of times an hour. If I want to keep my skin from turning to alligator hide, good lotion is not just a luxury for me, but an essential. Last year, a student quietly walked up to me and asked if they could use my “fancy lotion.” “Of course,” I responded.
The student was so delighted with this simple experience they soon became a regular visitor —stopping by my classroom throughout the day and weeks ahead just to have another hit of the magical lotion. Word spread among the students. Ms. Wilson’s special lotion caught on. Soon multiple students (girls and boys) were stopping by my classroom to wash their hands with the sweet smelling soap I also buy for the kitchen, and to use the fancy lotion. We would smile and talk briefly before they dashed to their next class.
So how can a container of “vanilla cashmere” lotion, a few steps up from the standard generic brands, change a moment in a typical Utah school day?
I have learned two lessons. First, everyone wants to be seen and valued. In recent years, research has illustrated the damaging emotional and even physical impacts of increasing loneliness and isolation in our society. When we share something that has value with others, their personal sense of value also increases. Their desire to be in the classroom, to receive instruction and to feel at ease in a vulnerable setting (junior high!) also expands. Band-Aids, hair elastics, markers, notebooks, Jolly Rancher candies and pencils were given out by the dozens as students found a safe space to land and find safety.
Second, we all have our own unique opportunities for touch points daily: The way we respond to an email, text or phone call. A “thank you.” Holding a door open for someone. A kind response to a social media post. A high-five or fist bump in the hallway. A “you rock!” yelled out the window when we see someone we know. Inviting someone to sit at your table. Or my personal favorite: Students sharing their finished recipes with friends in other classes or a sibling down the hall. The proud product they want to share with someone they love.
Small acts have power. You won’t find a group that understands that more than teachers. We see it every day.
Education is often the subject of criticism and complaint, but I feel honored to be numbered among a group that gives wholeheartedly daily. Yes, there are fires to put out (literally and figuratively in a kitchen), crowded halls to walk and lessons to repeat for the millionth time. But crossing paths with growing humans is an honor I hold sacred.
Renowned anthropologist Jane Goodall once said, “You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
Be a cheerleader, not a critic. Buy the fancy lotion and share it with everyone you meet.
Shellie Wilson has a bachelor’s of science degree in communication and business and a masters degree in education. She is the mother of two sons, loves to play pickleball, and has had a side business of cake baking for 20-plus years.