From Bowls of Cereal to Iron Chef

Last week a dream of mine came true: I was an Iron Chef. I am in no way, shape, or form a cooking machine and don’t even pretend to be an aluminum chef. I would say my expertise is on the other side of the plate—the eating. Fortunately, the main ingredient of this challenge was teamwork and not cooking. Even though I’ve never worked with Norah, Brianna or even my own partner, Haroun, we functioned like a well-olive oiled cooking machine. I think what gave us the edge was our preparation before cooking. We all went up to the ingredients to get some ideas, came back, brainstormed a ton, and each decided on roles to take that we felt comfortable doing. Brianna’s father took charge of the grill, Norah’s mother owned that soup station, and Haroun and I took the point guard role: dishing out assists to every station by getting ingredients, prepping the vegetables, or cleaning the stations. In the heat of the challenge I don’t think we were focused on winning, we were all just trying to complete our tasks and not let each other down. When we first got started, I thought that the size of the working space would be a huge problem, but since the ingredients and food were moving from station to station more than any of us, there wasn’t a single problem.

There were three courses in the lesson I took away from this competition. The appetizer is communication. Before we started cooking, we all took a look at what we had and came up with a plan. Each of us openly shared their cooking experience (or lack there of) and at the ingredients that we had to work with. We knew what we wanted to make after learning what we could make. The main dish was emphasizing and playing off strengths. As much as I would have loved to been at the stove or on the grill, I knew that’s not where my team needed me most. The division of labor for this competition really allowed the entire group to flourish and we each put ourselves in a position to succeed. One of the overarching lessons learned in BLF is recognizing and using strengths, and I think that this competition allowed everyone to find their niche in the kitchen. Finally for dessert, we have accountability and encouragement. Everyone was dependent on each other to complete the dish, so we each looked after each other. Whether it was cleaning up for someone after they finished or showing them how to slice and dice onions, no one was just focused their own task. 

Oh, Dip

I wouldn’t consider myself having a keen eye for art. I am still scarred of getting a B in art class in high school. It’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the arts, it’s just my ability to constructively dissect and analyze a piece is a little less profound than what my high school art teacher had wanted—or so I thought. I came in a little out of my element and a little overwhelmed by the artistic juices just oozing from the walls. But I left with confidence and ownership in what I observed. 

I am a huge sucker for acronyms, so the ODIP lesson really caught my attention—to get a complete understanding of something we have to observe, describe, interpret, and prove. Observing and describing—no problem! We do that subconsciously with everything. But to get the full experience and perspective, we need to actively engage in interpreting and proving.

The workshop for these lessons was really helpful in the art museum because it’s pretty easy to ODIP; choose a piece, look at it, ask why the artist created it in a certain way, and then prove why the artist created the piece. It’s pretty simple in this setting because the piece isn’t physically changing and the interpretation is subjective. Applying this to life gets a little bit stickier because the world isn’t a stagnant piece hanging on a wall and our the lenses which we view the world also change. The mastery of ODIP and critical thinking is a cardinal virtue to development in anything. To successfully gain understanding of how to lead, we have to first observe and describe our strengths, interpret how we can use those strengths and then put them into action.

I came out of the workshop not with a newfound knowledge of art—but with the ownership and skills of systematically breaking down what is presented in front of me, whether that is a painting, a challenge, or myself. If it took us almost a half an hour to ODIP a painting, looking at the world in a critical way will be a never-ending cycle of observing, describing, interpreting, and proving.

For the past two and a half years, I’ve tried to avoid going to North Commons…but with little time to wait in line anywhere else I have unregrettably compromised my morals (I realized the food is actually top notch). So since it has become a new part of my life, here goes ODIP on NoCo, one in the morning and one during dinner.

Observe: North Commons in the morning

Describe: Lots of empty seats, weary and tired students eating or cramming before class, lots of light, pictures of fresh fruits and vegetables on the walls

Interpret: Students who eat in the morning are coming in for a rushed bite right before class and don’t have time to socialize.

Prove: Mostly everyone is sitting alone and reading a textbook, rushing to do homework, or haven’t even taken their jacket off.

Observe: North Commons at night

Describe: Much more crammed, dinners are breaking bread with friends

Interpret: People linger here much longer, having conversations and eating more.

Prove: Tables are mostly full and implicitly, this meal costs twice as much as breakfast.