One thing we love to do with DooF is collaborate with schools and organizations that share our mission to get kids excited about good food. As media content creators, we play a special role in bringing attention to the work they do. Recently, we collaborated with the Farm and Garden Program at Le Conte Elementary School in Berkeley. One of pioneering programs of its type in Northern California, Le Conte involves kids deeply in the story of food from garden to table. ‘Farmer’ Ben Goff and his colleagues Brenna Turman and Katherine Russell teach a curriculum that includes gardening and cooking, and also manages to incorporate vocabulary, math and social studies skills. Even with all the Three Rs stuff, the kids seem to relish the classes the way some kids relish Phys. Ed, as a break from their normal classroom activities. As we’ve learned from DooF, the magic of food offers a way to teach without seeming like you’re teaching. Our experience with Le Conte also showed how this type a partnership can offer unexpected bonuses to its participants as well as wonderful content for DooF.
The idea of a classroom full of brash kids taken over by an engaging if slightly incompetent teacher struck us as perfect for DooF. After considering several possible programs, we met with Ben and his colleagues to talk about collaborating. Our plan was to place our ‘English Food Expert’, played by DooF animator Josh Kurz, in the classroom with a group of handpicked kids from the program. Handpicked, for although we weren’t interested in anything scripted, we would be relying quite heavily on the kids to be knowledgeable and amusing. And Josh, neither food expert nor–beyond some very entertaining spoof material–Borat, was still something of an unknown quantity. For his character, we asked him to draw from the English tradition of names that are also foods, e.g. Mr. Bean, Mr. Mustard, Mr. Chips.
After getting the blessing of Le Conte Principal Cheryl Wilson, Ben selected twenty-five third and fourth graders to meet with us for filmed interviews. We ruled out fifth graders, as we planned to continue the program in 2007-08. Our hope was to find eight kids with the right combination of charisma, food knowledge, self-confidence and consideration to handle our ‘English Food Expert’. Discovering ’star quality’ among a random sampling of elementary school children may be a stretch, but from the first interview, where young Efijon shared his philosophy about Jolly Rancher candies, we knew we were onto something special.
jolly-rancher-warning1.mov
Next we met with Ben, Brenna, and Katherine to talk about how School of Broc should unfold. All good television, whether sit-com, docu, or reality-based, relies upon some sort of narrative. Our plan, going in, was to work within the structure of the Le Conte School program to ensure a degree of culinary pedagogy. But would it be entertaining? And suppose the kids clammed up under the lights and refused to share what they knew. Also, how much should we divulge to them about our fictional ‘food expert’. Borat and his Ali G brethren famously duped a number of politicians and celebrities by passing themselves off as real interviewers, but we were not interested in doing anything at the kids’ expense. We would rely upon the familiarity of the scenario—hapless substitute armed with a lesson plan they all know, a traditional dish called ‘Hoppin John’—and hope things didn’t get out of hand.
Before jumping into the classroom sequence, we filmed the kids talking about cooking techniques, Hoppin John, and what they would do if suddenly confronted with a substitute. Since we’d only have one ‘take’ to capture the cooking class, we decided upon a three-camera set-up, with multiple microphones. As the kids entered the classroom, a Mr. Worchestershire (pronounced ‘Wister’) in mismatched sweater, golf pants and a tweed vest, squeaked his long name across the white board.
The first reaction most children have to a substitute, especially one who doesn’t know what he’s doing, is to go nuts. But here’s where that combination of self-confidence and consideration proved especially crucial. One kid, Sri Raj, announces to the camera, “We have to teach him.” And teach him they do, about knife skills and hygiene and ‘Hoppin John.’ Someone reminds Mr. W that he’s supposed to be in charge of the cooking. To which he reacts like any sensible person confronted with a situation for which he’s completely unqualified. He panics. But the kids gather round the stove and a gentle choreography unfolds. Our three-camera set-up, which nearly fell apart in the early classroom chaos, suddenly starts to pay off. In the foreground, a cooking wok transforms like a canvas as onions go in, then bell peppers, then collard greens. In the background, kids chop, slice and gather ingredients while Mr. Worchestershire, so confused only moments ago, finds his inner adult and directs operations.
As clever as we thought we were when we conceived of DooF, there was one thing we never wanted to lose sight of. Yes, story and narrative matter, as do performance and production values. But the main consideration is really quite simple. You point the camera at the food as it cooks and people watch. It wouldn’t appear to be anything so extraordinary. Yet as ingredients are placed in pots and skillets and grills and ovens we witness a transformation which, to many devotees, is something akin to alchemy. This happens for viewers and, most importantly, for kids as they participate. Even in the presence of all the equipment, with a film crew hovering just out of frame, our made-up character, Mr. Worchestershire, and eight handpicked food experts from the Le Conte Elementary School Farm and Garden Program, experienced something magical, and a genuine lesson took place.
And unlike the oft-repeated cliche of clowns, magicians and stunt people, you CAN try this at home!
doof_le-conte-lesson-plan-for-hoppin-john.pdf
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