Why Motherboard, Professor?
I teach classes about identity, writing, and Literature to college students. At the point in the semester when they start to write personal essays I instruct them to make lists of different identities they hold in their own life stories. I do the same exercise with them every semester. I’ve been making my own identity list for over a decade now, three times a year. Here’s my most recent list: Mother, daughter, sister, aunt, partner, friend, neighbor, teacher, learner, helper, writer, reader, listener, cook, walker, activist, design-lover, foodie, cat-mom, documentary fan, empath, sensory-seeker, curious being.
Given that I’m also mid-life, I’ve accrued lots of identities. Some are fixed, but most are fluid.
When I was in high school, I played sports and wrote poetry. I taught tennis in the summer and worked in a bakery in the fall and winter. I college, I loved being at school in Boston and I loved heading to my small hometown many weekends throughout the semester—sky scrapers and silos. I’ve been an “and person” for most of my life, often driven by curiosity, but also tethered to loyalty and security. I’ve worked at Berklee College of Music in Boston for decades, and I’ve gotten my Master’s Degree, and I’ve had a child, and I’ve published a book, and I’ve spent many hours making meals for family, friends, and neighbors.
If my identity is so vast, why can’t my roles and my interests be vast as well? Why can’t my life be made up of many stories?
When my students used to read stories by Junot Diaz I would bring in Dominican food. When we read Jhumpa Lahiri, I would bring in chicken korma, garlic naan, and matar paneer. I encourage students to write about the food of their childhoods, as these award-winning writers have. A Korean American student wrote about how kids used to laugh at him in elementary school when he brought his mother’s handmade kimbap for lunch. As he presented his essay to us, we devoured the delicious, salty handmade rolls that he made based on what he’d learned from his mother. When he finished reading his essay, the class cheered and thanked him. What had been embarrassment as a child became pride as a young adult.
I don’t see what I do as a professor as that different from making Motherboards for people. In both cases, I get to use my strengths: researching, curating, creating, sharing, connecting, helping. I always tell my students that stories can be found everywhere.
Story through food unfolds differently than a written story does, and that’s what I love about it. You get to see food, smell it, touch it, hear it (think: snap of a great baguette), and finally taste it — my favorite part of the story!
