Why Don't You Take a Cooking Class?

I took a cooking class the other day. It was held the morning after an all-day beer festival so my brain was processing information at a slower rate than normal. The cooking school, ICE, offers real degrees in cooking, but they also have a recreational division where any idiot can walk in and learn how to make a soufflé. The teachers have to go between students who they grade and civilians who they cater to, which can be a tough transition in a teaching environment. I cooked in my class to the extent that I could, which meant that I spent most of the time walking around opening drawers trying to find measuring cups, cutting boards, and knives. But you can only open and close the same set of drawers looking for the same set of things so many times, and you're not allowed to use your phone in class since you have to wash your hands after you touch it, so I ended up standing around holding various kitchen accouterments and staring off into space for extended periods of time. My teacher noticed toward the end of class and asked me in the sweetest, most non-condescending voice she could muster: "Rocky, do you feel like contributing? Or is that something you just don't feel like doing right now?" I told her I'd be happy to help, so she asked me to chop something, but I couldn't find the salad spinner to wash it, couldn't find a cutting board to chop it, and I'd already dumped all the knives in the dirty dish bin. I thought the food tasted fine without it anyway.