Reflections on the last four months

Fifteen weeks, most of them pretty intense. A few more tense than anybody would have liked, a few triumphs, a few regrets. Some seriously depressing moments.

Regardless of how you recall the experience (most, with fondness) -- unquestionably, the predictable part is done. What is next will be part based on the student's particular talents and drive, part on dumb luck -- right place, right time.

Pretty much everybody that'd moved to BC for the class has gone back to where they live -- one to Quebec, two to Colorado, one to Washington state and one to Manitoba. I'm kicking back in British Columbia for a couple more weeks, to do all those things I thought I'd have the energy for after class and on weekends. Wasn't planning the kind of intensity that the class turned out to offer. I was just dead nights and weekends.

Of this Baker's Dozen, about 1/4th don't plan an entering the restaurant trade directly: two of us were just in it for personal enrichment, besides me, the other "enrichment" case, attended largely for the credential that allows him entrance into a school in Italy.

A couple already work in the industry and wanted to do something finer -- make themselves something better than they were. I think they'll get their wish. They're both talented: one's personality will help him excel, the other's may hinder their progress.

It turns out the most common question that's asked of school applicants, is "When I complete this class, am I a Chef"? The answer is probably "no" (when you leave school with an MBA, are you an Executive?) -- Chef means "boss", the guy, or increasingly gal, who is in charge. We got a good education, most of the people in the class, if they desire to become Chefs, have the potential -- but it isn't something you step out of school, and have embroidered on your school uniform:

"Today I am a Chef".

Not. What'd I get out of this? A different set of things than I expected. Sure, I learned technique -- the stuff you could read about in most decent cookbooks, but without someone to show you, it isn't the same experience -- "book smart". What I hadn't bargained for -- so I guess it came for "free" -- is the ability to be creative. This does not come easily for "left-brainers". I had rational thought processes inculcated from the time I was 17 (when I started college) to the time I stopped working (2002) -- twenty-eight years. Creativity wasn't rewarded -- there was a correct -- algorithmically correct -- way of doing things. If the answer wasn't apparent, well, analyze it some more. It wasn't until circumstances forced me to stop thinking about what I was trying to accomplish -- and just do it -- that I began to really grow in the classroom.

Postpartum Blues

I grew fond of most of my classmates. Even ones nobody could stand -- were interesting people in their own rights. We spent the evening together largely as a group (no, not that way) -- with drinks and dinner at two venues around Vancouver. Chef Christophe came buy the first bar and joined us for a round; Chef Tony came by the 2nd, close to midnight. It was good to see each of them, both for closure, and to connect with them on a personal level -- we'd maintained a relatively arms-length relationship during the class.

The next few days after (the weekend followed our graduation day) I woke up and had this sinking, empty feeling -- that I wasn't going to have the chance to interact with this folks -- students in particular -- probably ever again. It was like losing a friend suddenly -- although each of us knew it would happen, and poof, that'd be it.