I haven’t shared any stories from the past in quite a while, so I figured it was about time to embarrass myself (yet again)…
When I was in ninth grade (and in high school), my parents decided it was time to move. This was devastating to me, and not just because the new school district had ninth grade in the junior high (I’m really not still bitter about this.)
Anyways, I was at a brand new school, with new classes, and of course, new classmates. And in ninth grade, you want to fit in. Desperately.
Two weeks into my new school, I was taking an introduction to languages class. We were in the Spanish Unit and were assigned a project and partner to work with. I was ‘lucky’ enough to be paired with our ninth grade class president, captain of the every sports team, and all-around most popular girl at our school.
To say this was intimidating was an understatement. I was painfully shy (still am sometimes), and was extremely anxious about working with her.
And added to all that, it was a cooking project.
(Now, I’m going to preface the rest of the story with a disclaimer – this isn’t a really horribly awful cooking story. No one was maimed or injured… It was just at the time, as a ninth grader trying to impress and fit in, it scarred me. Just a little.)
S (let’s just call my partner S) was very comfortable in the kitchen. She decided to work on the harder portion of the meal (the meat) while I was assigned the corn. Frozen corn.
All I really needed to do was heat it up.
I wanted to look like I knew what I was doing, so…I followed my gut, got out a pot, put in some water, and dumped the corn in. I turned on the heat and left to help S anywhere she needed it.
Did I stir it? Nope.
Did I double-check the water level? Nope.
Did I check on it at all? Nope.
When I returned to it many, many minutes later – there was no water left, and I had a disk. A corn disk, you might say. It wasn’t burned, at least. But it was solid. I literally could pick up every piece of corn in one hand. Not exactly what we were looking for.
My heart started pumping because now I had to admit my mistake to S. She took it in good grace, but I still remember this as one of my most embarrassing moments of childhood.
(It didn’t help that we were at my house, and my mom may have cracked a couple of jokes about it right then and also every time we would see her after that.)
Good thing S had a great sense of humor. And was truly a nice girl.
Because we became great friends and still get together even now.
But every time we do – she insists on going out or doing the cooking herself.