There’s a nice sunny Home Ec. room on the third floor of my junior high school. I’ve been wanting to stop in. Today, I went for a wander in my free time and heard noise and smelled food right up the stairs. Excellent, I’ll just go check it out.

Home Ec. is taught by the youngest female teacher at this school. At 27, she’s the closest to my age. I’m the youngest person in the entire staff by over 4 years. And she’s the youngest of the regular teachers by far. Home Ec. must be an elective. There were only two boys in the class. I wonder what their motives are. To be around so many girls? To learn how to be a chef? Because they actually like cooking and want to learn how to help around the house? Because all the other classes were filled? It’s still extremely strange for a Japanese man to do housework. I read an educational book in the school library (it was both in English and Japanese) about a fictional Japanese girl staying with a family in the US. She was positively floored that the father of the family was making breakfast. In my middle school, a brief term of Home Ec. was required of both boys and girls.

I asked a few of the groups what they were cooking. Most of the dishes started out looking like some kind of stir fry, everything tumbled into one pan and with lots of oil. Later some of the meals were put in casserole dishes and got toppings. The one that looked the most like I might be able to eat it was omuraisu, an omelette on top of rice. One group said they were cooking “cow rice.” Good try. “Beef and rice,” I corrected. I said I was a vegetarian. “Me too!” said one of the girls. I was so impressed. Oh, poor, brave Japanese girl, trying to be vegetarian here! She even had to cook meat in school.

There were no ovens in the Home Ec. room, only toaster ovens. Full sized ovens are somewhat unusual in Japan and this hurts my heart. The girls in Home Ec. were using a toaster oven. My friend from Chicago has a little combination oven/microwave at her Japanese apartment. Now how does that work?

The class seemed like they were having a good time. Watching them, I regretted being so resentful of my Home Ec. class in middle school. I was a big dork back then and way too serious about school. Maybe I was furious that I had to waste my time on such a domestic chore when I could be learning something properly academic. But really, Home Ec. was a joke at my school. We were taught how to make pancakes, which I already knew, and how to slop some tomato paste and already grated cheese on already made biscuit dough to make “mini pizzas.” No wonder I didn’t have any fun. These kids get to hang out with their friends to make their favorite dishes.

After they cooked their group dishes they served them up for each group member. Most groups served individual portions onto dishes. The omuraisu group dug in all together with spoons. The very pretty girl, Moe, brought me a dish from her group. I told her I was a vegetarian. She didn’t seem to understand. I said “niku,” meat, and made that horrible X with my arms that the Japanese are always doing. I think it’s rude, even if it’s not actually rude here, but it’s the easiest way to say “No.” or “Can’t be done.” or “Not today.” or “Not available.” The universal negative sign. No meat! I thanked her and then thanked her group profusely. I hope they understood that I really, really did appreciate it. I left soon after. I was afraid others might offer me some of their dish (although only Moe was that generous so far) and I would have to make an awkward refusal. On the way out I noticed that the “vegetarian” was happily eating her cow rice.