Christian Living

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I was not the typical college student and had worked a few years before deciding to go for my degree in Dietetics Technology. When I graduated in 1982, I was 28 years old and looking to add some adventure to my life. It would have been easy enough to get a typical job in the food service industry, but I longed for something off the beaten path.

One day while I was cruising through the student center, a brightly colored piece of paper tacked to the bulletin board caught my eye. A high school academy in Indiana was looking for an assistant cook. The pay would be $60 a month plus room and board. Yes, you read that right, $60 a month. That would certainly be an adventure, and there was a free plane ticket since I lived in California, so I signed up and was soon winging my way towards this new opportunity.

It didn’t take long after I landed to realize I had made a terrible mistake. Fear welled up in me, and I was tempted to get back on the plane and fly home, but it was too late. The couple who had arranged to pick me up was waiting to whisk me to the academy. I had sent 5 boxes of my belongings earlier and with a suitcase in hand, was dropped off at an apartment in the girl’s dorm. I would live with the lady I was replacing for a week while she trained me to take over her job.

First of all I had never liked working with kids, and I was now faced with an overwhelming sea of high school faces every day. I naively thought that since this was a “Christian” academy that the students would all be little angels, but nothing could be further from the truth. Each day before the cafeteria opened students would be kicking and banging on the doors, and once inside would steal ice cream from the freezers. Good behavior was non-existent and I was constantly chastising someone for something.

My job was to open up the cafeteria at 4:30 am and cook breakfast. In those days, it was all you can eat and with an army of teenage boys, I flipped pancakes all through breakfast. Next, I would help with lunch prep and after lunch I could finally leave. My saving grace was a Dairy Queen about a mile away and many days after work I hiked down there to drown my sorrows in a veggie burger and peanut buster parfait.

Our academy also baked its own bread and cinnamon rolls and to feed all those hungry kids, I spent hours rolling, shaping, and baking. I also found out that rats are quite fond of cinnamon rolls, and liked to nibble when I rolled the cinnamon rolls into a closet so the kids wouldn’t eat them all.

It sure didn’t feel like a Christian school, but seemed more in line with a reform school. After the first week I was at the breaking point and I had almost 9 months to go until I could fly out of there and forget I ever laid eyes on these students. One day the principal called to see how I was doing, and I asked if I could come to the office for a private chat. Within seconds I collapsed into a sobbing mess and blubbered out that I hated this school, the students were an unruly mess, and I was ready to leave ASAP and go back to California. He was very sympathetic and just let me talk and cry, and I left feeling a little better.

Slowly, with God’s help, I began to adjust and fell into a routine. I realized this is where God wanted me to be. I continued to have challenges, such as a broken sewer pipe in my apartment, and developing carpal tunnel syndrome and needing surgery.

My term ended in June of 1983 but I ended up staying three months longer. What did I learn? I learned that I am a lot stronger than I thought, and when I thought I couldn’t go on a minute longer, God was right there beside me urging me on. Philippians 4:13- “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

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