I Don't Want To Teach French Braiding

In seventh grade, part of an English assignment included giving an oral "how-to" presentation.  I'm not sure what this had to do with the English language, grammar, writing or anything at all.  Perhaps it was a major time killer.  I've blocked all of that out.  What I do remember is the project I chose: the French Braid.

Why I chose to demonstrate this particular task, I have no idea.  While I have a rudimentary idea about the steps involved in braiding (three strands of hair each taking turns crossing over on top to become the middle strand...picking up additional strands of hair as the braid moves along the scalp) I am not good at it.   More accurately,  I'm really, really bad at it.  I can just barely braid my own hair (and it wouldn't win any beauty contests) and while I can't think of the last time I even attempted braiding someone else's hair, I don't imagine I was any better at it all those many years ago.

In fact, I know I wasn't because the one image I have stuck in my memory of this presentation is using a classmate who was known for her beautiful long hair as my model.  She sat with her back facing the rest of the class and I awkwardly took the hair spilling down her back and created a sort-of braid that certainly didn't inspire anyone.  Then, I demonstrated securing the braid by wrapping an elastic band at the bottom, promptly tangling her hair into one giant knotted mess.

My point is: I had no business teaching anyone about French braiding because I didn't really know how to do it.  I can still see that poor girl struggling to get the elastic out of her own hair, her face wincing painfully as she pulled her hair with each tug.  Mostly, I remember feeling humiliated because it not only didn't go as planned, it went poorly.

Tomorrow night, I have all of the Young Women coming to my home for mutual.  I had originally panned on only having the Laurels, but with Christmas time busy-ness, it just worked out better to have all the girls come.  My plan for the Laurels was to teach them how to make Kung Pao Chicken, a dish I think works well for single girls because it's easy to adjust ingredients to make it for one or several.  Although I successfully navigated my first year living away from home eating Campbell's tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on my snackmaster, I feel compelled to prepare these girls for adulthood and, like it or not, the need to eat never goes away.  So, I imagined these girls learning a few recipes...something to impress the beaus, if you will.

Now, less than twenty-four hours from my so-called instruction, I am filled with French-braiding anxiety.  You see, I am not Chinese and have only made this dish about a half a dozen times and although I think it tastes pretty good and each time I've made it I have gotten great feedback from my family, I suddenly know that I have no business teaching these girls anything about cooking.  What was I thinking?

What do I do now?  Carry on hoping to avoid a repeat of the Giant Knot of '87?  I'm pretty good at soup.  Should I demonstrate that instead?  It's not nearly as....va-voom-y (watching a pot simmer for a half hour isn't exactly as exciting as a sizzling wok) but safer.  I also thought about making fudge and peanut brittle and wrapping it in pretty packages to hand out to the widows and widowers on Sunday.  Fudge is a no brainer but I have a pretty spotty record with the peanut brittle, last winter being the first time I attempted to make it.

Basically, I want our mutual evenings to have a purpose.  I want to prepare these girls for their future world.  I want to arm them with confidence and knowledge and the ability to bless the lives of others. And, since I've already changed the location from the church to my home, I feel like I need to have a real reason for it being here (i.e. using a kitchen).  But, maybe I should just scrap all those plans and pull out the Karaoke machine instead.

Now, there's something I feel comfortable teaching.  The art of karaoke.

That surely gives them a skill while blessing the lives of others, don't you think?