What's in an education?

I go back and forth on my stance on furthering my education when it comes to college.  However, when it comes to thinking about culinary school there is only one thought on my mind.  I want to attend one..a really good one..so very badly.  However, I have no idea how I would go about doing so.  I was not allowed to further my education as a Hassidic girl.  No college for me.  It was high school and then the hopes of immediately marrying me off to the highest bidder.  But I had no intention of getting married until I realized that it was my only way out.   I was fortunate to meet someone who understood where I was from and where I thought I wanted to go.  We sort of "left" together - but on separate paths.  This was the gateway to my divorce and freedom.  He went off and married again.  I went off to see what the great wide world was like.  But at the time that I left there were no resources.  Nobody to help me get started in the great blue yonder.  Nobody to teach me the facts of life, or how to be responsible for my finances.  Nobody to teach me how to better myself.  Leaving meant that I was completely alone.  I had little to go on.  Very limited funds.  No great job that brought in much money.  I found a job working for a beeper/pager company.  They paid me minimum wage.  I managed to pay rent...but had little money for anything else.  Then I found a job with a company that designed industrial kitchens and sold commercial kitchen equipment.  I managed to teach myself all of the important programs, like Word, Excel, Lotus, Wordperfect, I studied both Apple and IBM programs avidly and taught myself enough to impress my boss.  I was there for 4 years when I realized that working there was a dead end job that would leave me no room for growth.  I definitely wasn't working in my desired field.  I love cooking.  I love baking.  But the closest I could get to that was selling prep sinks, dishwashers, ice machines, walk-in coolers, blast freezers, kettles and brazers to hospitals, nursing homes, prisons and the occasional restaurant.  I couldn't find a way to afford school, had no credit to get a GSL, nobody to cosign or be a guarantor.  I had to simply work full time to pay my bills.
I managed to find myself in a headhunter's office after going through scads of ads in the papers.  There was no internet back then.  This goes back about 16 years.  I met with the head honcho at the company.  I mentioned that I have an intense fear of tests and begged them not to give me one.  The guy looked at me like I fell off of a distant planet.  I ended up getting a job through them.  And tomorrow I celebrate 15 years with that very company.  It is a very male dominated industry...the world of security and communications.  And I often feel I will never get very far with them either, in spite of my efforts to show how good I am at what I do.  Still, it seems that the guys get all the breaks.  They get all the raises.  They get all the backing of the higher ups.  Me, the ever-eager-to-please female ex-Hassidic girl with very little education but a good deal of wit and smarts?  I get the shaft.  Well - there, anyway (but I won't stand for that in other areas of my life).  Today, in honor of tomorrow's esteemed 15 year anniversary, I get Proseco and a lovely cake.  A nice gesture..yes..but I sure could use a raise.

Yes - it's true.  I am petrified of tests.  I have this intense fear of failure.  I get nauseated at the mere thought of having to be tested for any reason.  I can handle a blood test far more easily that a written or oral test.  I am so scared of failing that I often would black out or hyperventilate while being tested.  This is why I have failed the written DMV test 7 times.  Yes.  7.  It is now a big fat joke to me.  Something I laugh about on the outside, but ache and beat myself up over on the inside.
I am learning not to listen to those voices in my head anymore - and I know that I will meet that challenge and exceed all of my expections - but first I have to face it again.
But back to the culinary school thought...
I know that if I attend a school for culinary arts I would be helping myself in so many ways.  I would probably learn effective tips to becoming more efficient and accurate.  I would learn the correct way to pipe flowers or borders or to tint fondant and roll it out and apply it.  I would learn how to keep certain flubs from occurring when I make my petit fours and my cake balls  I would learn every way possible to keep my chocolate couverture from blooming.  There are so many techniques that I am dying to learn from the confectionery greats.
Enter the greater issue...Money!  Culinary school costs a small fortune.  Why does education have to be so very expensive??? 
So now I sit...typing...wishing I could win the lottery because it seems to be my only chance at getting this opportunity.
So...what's in an education?  Everything.
And that's why I am doing everything in my power to ensure that my daughter gets a good one.  And a college degree.  (She's not even 5 yet, but I will see to it that she does!!!)

Cooking and Baking With Your Kids

I derive such absolute pleasure from seeing the look on my daughter's face when I tell her she can help me cook or bake.  Her interest in food is quite impressive.
She loves to sit and watch cooking shows with me, especially if they involve contests and judging.  She has a very keen opinion on who should win and why.  I must say, quite often, I am with her on her choice and reasoning.
My little chef-in-training is all of 4 3/4 years old.  Yes, 4 3/4.  She has very strong likes and dislikes; some based on textural preference, some on flavor.  While she used to love spicy food as a baby, she changed once she started day care.  Suddenly she preferred chicken nuggets over turkey chili.  I guess I knew there was a chance of that happening, but I thought it would happen much later.  The good news is she is still often open to trying new foods, but only on her own terms.  I hope and pray her taste matures again and she decides it's okay to try chicken feet or tripe.  She is one of the only children I know who likes Korean blood sausage and boudin noir.  I was pleasantly shocked that she tried either and loved both.
Cooking with my sweet girl is such a blast.  I get to teach her about measurements and ratios in a fun way - in a way that she can grasp at this tender age.  She loves to season meatballs and chicken and sauces and she really gets a hoot when I let her form the meatballs.  I can't possibly get away with making a cake or cookie batter on my own.  She always HAS to stir the batter, mix in the chips or raisins or nuts, flatten the cookies on the tray, sprinkle on sugar or sprinkles.

I have the best little helper ever.  When she was just a tiny little two year old she actually pressed the crust into tart pans for Thanksgiving pecan pies.  I was testing a raw crust recipe made with dates, pecans, flax seeds and coconut oil.  It was such a lovely crust and it had a really nice texture. I watched, adoringly, as her tiny little pudgy hands worked so deftly at pressing that crust so carefully into the pan.  I absolutely melted inside.

This was definitely my girl.  No question.  She would look at me and grin after every few pats and I saw pure joy in her eyes. I see that same joy every time I ask her if she wants to help me in the kitchen.
I think that such a deep bond is formed when you bring your kids into the kitchen to cook with you.  The kitchen is a warm place, a room filled with good memories for many.  I think that my happiest childhood experiences involved cooking and the kitchen.  It seemed to be the only place I could earn some form of approval from my parents.  I baked some delicious devil's food cakes, cheesecakes and cookies, and my father always loved it when I chopped the salad because the veggies were always evenly chopped into a tiny dice.  My knife skills were actually pretty good for a teenager.  When I was about 12 years old, it was my job every Tuesday night to make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  It became a family favorite.  It actually was also one of my baby's favorites and she had it for dinner on her first birthday.  Notice, saucy mouth open and waiting for more!

I hope that my daughter remembers her time with me in the kitchen and looks back on it fondly.  I truly wish for her to cultivate her love of food, of cooking, of judging, and - quite possibly - of writing about it all.