Free Off the Menu by Stacey Ballis Page A

can’t go out in public without being recognized. She is resigned to the fact that in order to do what she feels is her calling, she has to give up some of the things she used to love, like shopping and eating out. I’ve seen her spend more than six hours in a bookstore after a reading, signing copies of her memoir, taking pictures with everyone who asks, kissing babies and soothing the people who become so overwhelmed by her electric presence that they break down in tears. She would never dream of leaving unless every person there has what they came to get, regardless of how exhausting it is or how much time it takes.
    When she comes to Thanksgiving, which she has now done about eight or nine times in the years we have known each other, she makes special time with everyone. She admires my dad’s antique woodworking tools and reminds him how many compliments she gets on her custom closet, which Bennie designed and my dad built for her. She praises my mom’s cooking, telling her that it is no wonder I am such a good chef. She consistently refers people to Sasha’s law firm, Alexei’s accounting office, and Natalia’s chiropractic service.She actually wants to hear about all six of my nephews’ sporting events and science fairs and my two nieces’ recitals, math competitions, and spelling bees. She’s a mean hand at Wii bowling, which the kids love, and loves football, which wins points with the rest of us. She brings stacks of signed books from famous authors for my sister and sisters-in-law to take to their book clubs, and CDs and DVDs for the kids, and sports memorabilia for the guys. She is like Santa Claus and a fairy godmother and your favorite aunt all rolled into one.
    “Good. You let me know what I can bring. In the meantime, we ’ave a new prrrroject I need your ’elp with.”
    I finish my bite of tuna. “Of course, what is it and how can I be of assistance?”
    “You know the school prrrroject, it goes verrrry well,
sí
?”
    “Of course. You must be so proud. I think it is fantastic.”
    “
Sí.
Of courrrrse. Verrry ’appy. So good for the little ones. But the teenagerrrrs. We ’ave nothing for them.”
    I know this has bothered Maria for a while, the fact that all the programs are limited to younger kids, and not available in high schools. But the initial research indicated that teenagers would simply opt out of any cafeteria food that they didn’t want, especially since most of Chicago’s public high schools are open-campus for lunch and surrounded by fast-food joints. Home Ec hasn’t been taught in Chicago since the late 1960s, and the standard science curriculum just doesn’t have room in it to do more than touch briefly on nutrition. They try to sneak it into PE a bit, but never very successfully. And PE is tricky because any student participating in an active extracurricular like a sports team or marching band gets PE credit and doesn’t have to attend the class.
    “Well, if you can continue to get your program out therewith the grammar school kids, they will eventually bring that knowledge with them into high school.”
    “Trrrrrue. We think this also. But we do still want to do something for high schools. So we think, what about an after-school program, like an internship or job? They learn cooking, with nutrition and food safety, and maybe the best ones get scholarships to culinary school?”
    I think about this for a moment. “It seems amazing. Not every kid is cut out for academic colleges, but there are many jobs to be had in the food-service industry, especially in a city like ours with so many hotels and restaurants and catering companies and even colleges and universities. And there aren’t that many scholarships available for culinary school.”
    “This is what we arrrrre thinking. We ’ave permission from Clemente High School to do a pilot prrrrogram, eight students, all seniors, one semesterrrr. Once a week cooking class after school, with a full week during spring