Week 2 begins

Tuesday, August 21: week 2 begins (after a day off to take care of the daughter).
I'm exhausted. The heat hit me hard today, and I didn't stretch this morning. At 39 years of age, getting ready for the kitchen requires the same warm-up as a swim meet did at the age of 21. I won't make that mistake again; my back was aching by just after noon. But it's such an exhilarating workout compared to the usual tedium offered by gymnasiums. Tomorrow, I expect and anticipate the same punishment.
My contribution to the service: today's roasted green chile soup; tomorrow's carrot cake. Mom would be proud; the cake garnered unsolicited praise from one of the longest-serving cooks. The Chef instructor told us early in the program that he still remembers the first compliment he ever received from a chef. I now know how he feels - all for a stupid carrot cake. I'll take it.
There's apparently a well-known question among chefs which amounts to, "what would your final meal be if you were on death row?" A similar question was posed to each of us today in order to preach the importance of passion in this field. To wit: if you were planning your final meal what would it be, where, with whom, and why? (My reply: roast chicken at Gibbs Farm, Tanzania, with wife and child because we already experienced the finest meal of my life there and I'd like to replicate it. Simple). Here is how one my my colleagues (I'll call him J.) responded: anything at McDonalds with Minister Farrakhan becuase I like it.
Minister Farrakhan. Louis Farrakhan.
I was SURE I was prepared for most anything when I started this program. No.
Later he shared his steely opinion that carrot cake is hateful and "bad for you." I looked on the Nation of Islam's web site and found no reference to carrot cake, so I assume it was his own opinion. Safe to say: he's the most interesting classmate I've ever had.
For better or worse there are others who copy his habit of talking a LOT in the kitchen and doing very little. It's depressing, but I try hard to basically ignore it and get as much done by myself or with those who are trustworthy. Then there is my compadre, Juan (not his real name), a talented young Mexican cook. He's improving my kitchen-Spanish, and I'm helping his English. He's serious, hard-working, curious...a delight. Damn young, though (they all are). Another big young dude is from Fiji; all the older Mexicans speak to him in Spanish. He shrugs his shoulders. Hillarious. No monopoly on stereotypes in this setting.
Overall I'm the most serious of the bunch, but that shouldn't be surprising; I'm the great outlier. The rest are to be admired for doing something to help themselves. There is a great deal of chatter about money, and it's understandable. I hope each one of them makes enough to be happy, and more. But I don't understand what seems to be the utter lack of interest in cooking among so many of them, so quick to have (mostly wrong) answers, so uncurious. My expectations are likely far too high; but I won't change them. Not now.