How To Make Easy Doozits
If you were asked to give a, “How to” speech at a moment’s notice, what would you talk about? What special task or skill do you know how to do well? What topic could you jump right into and teach someone else all about? It’s a tough question, isn’t it? We all probably have at least one thing we feel competent in, but do we feel competent enough to teach someone else how to do it?
Ms. Greenbaum, my fifth-grade teacher, assigned me a “How to” speech once. I was ten years old, hardly a master of any subject unless you could count pestering my older brother, in which case I was a bonafide expert. I remember worrying on my walk home from school that day, unsure of what I could talk about for my impending speech. I shared my concerns with my Mom and she suggested I show my class how to make cookies, the no-bake kind, of course. We had a recipe for “Easy Doozits,” a deliciously odd combination of peanut butter, orange juice, and graham crackers that was a family favorite. I had helped my mom make Easy Doozits dozens of times so I felt confident going it alone for the assignment. I pre-measured the ingredients into small baggies and loaded up the kitchen tools I would need. I printed out copies of the recipe for each of my classmates. It was a hit. The class loved the cookies and I got an A on my speech. (Thanks, Mom.) The following year, Mrs. Berry, my sixth-grade teacher, assigned the same speech. By then I had become proficient in latch hook, so I took my class on a riveting journey of how to make a rug using nothing but one-inch pieces of yarn and a hook. (I’m pretty sure my classmates would have preferred Easy Doozits.)
Since Mrs. Berry’s class I wasn’t assigned a “How to” speech again until I reached college, and this time it was for an actual speech class. We were given three minutes’ notice. I had no time to go home and ask my mom. I had to come up with a skill on the fly and talk about it with confidence and clarity for a solid five minutes. I panicked. Any “talent” I could think of seemed utterly pointless. Nobody wanted to hear about my knack for picking the perfect birthday card on the first try or for getting the bread-to-cheese ratio on a homemade panini just right. And I wasn’t sure inhaling an entire bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups without vomiting could be considered a skill so much as a cry for help. I ended up mustering up some nonsense about how to quick-clean your apartment in five minutes flat, using obvious “hacks” such as sanitizing wipes and a few squirts of Febreze. I struggled to think of anything useful I could offer in terms of teaching others. Why did it seem harder as an adult, when surely I had developed many more skills and acquired far more knowledge as I got older? Why did I feel I had less to offer the more I matured?
I’m certain I’m not the only adult who grapples with this. While we may function well in our day-to-day lives, tackling tasks and responsibilities as well as the next person, if we were given a moment’s notice to stand up and give a “How to” speech, most of us would struggle a great deal. The things we're “good at,” don’t matter to anyone but us, do they? Hear me well. They DO. Want to know how I know? Because everything I’m proficient in was taught to me by someone else.
I know so many things, from how to braid my daughter’s hair, check the air in my tires, properly address a formal letter, and write a successful blog! (I still don’t know how to fold a fitted sheet, but honestly, DOES ANYONE?!?) I don’t know about you, but there are very few things I know because I was self-taught. Nearly everything I know how to do was imparted to me by the knowledge and wisdom of someone else. Where would any of us be without the amazing people who post their “how-to” videos on YouTube? Thank you, Jim, from Cincinnati, for not making me feel like a complete idiot as you taught me how to plug a hole in my sprinkler system last summer. Now I know! I also know how to eliminate hard water stains from my toilet bowl and get grease out of clothing, all thanks to the expertise of friends who have gone before me. None of us would be who we are today without the mastery of others’ skills. No matter how minuscule you think your talents are, they are worth something to someone.
Motherhood has reassured me of this truth a hundred times over. In any other life, the fact that I can read, do basic math, write in cursive, or follow a recipe, would be wildly unimpressive, but to my kids, these things make me a superstar. “How are you so good at that?!” is something I get asked a lot by my children. I’m careful to tell them that I didn’t always know those things; someone taught me, and that’s why I teach them. Is there anything better than seeing your kids master a new skill that you taught them? It’s so gratifying, no matter how simple it is. We are finally at the point where both our children can hop on their bikes, buckle their helmets, and speed off down the street without needing us to lift a single finger. It’s AMAZING. My husband and I can sit on the front porch with our beverage of choice and bask in the glory that we taught our kids how to be completely independent on their bikes. Our knowledge, however simple, matters. Our children rely on it every day. They will grow to be a mix of our influence and the influence of others. I can’t stress enough how important your talents, strengths, and abilities are. They are worth showing our children, “how to.”
Everyone has something to offer, whether you’re a parent or not. We all underwent some training when we began a new job. We gleaned from teachers and professors with loads to teach us on the subject. We all know how crucial those lessons were to becoming successful in our pursuits. We wouldn’t get very far if others chose to hoard their knowledge for themselves. The Bible tells us we are each blessed with specific gifts, each one given by the same God and with the same purpose: to serve the community around us, (1 Corinthians 12). No one’s skill set is of higher value than another’s. We each have different circles of influence, yet our impact is equally significant. You are of utmost importance to God, therefore what you know is important too. I know this because just yesterday I watched my daughter drag her bike up the driveway, sit down in front of it, and carefully put the chain back on, all by herself. “How did you know how to do that?” I asked in surprise. “I watched Daddy do it enough times that I figured it out!” She beamed, and so did I.
You too can make Easy Doozits. Just follow these simple steps:
Lortz Family “Easy Doozits”
Mix: 1 1/4c. graham cracker crumbs (about 15 squares), 1/4 c. sugar, 1/2 t. cinnamon and 1/2 t. nutmeg.
Add 1/2 c. peanut butter, 1/3c. light corn syrup, and 1-2 T. orange juice.
Roll in 1/2” balls. Roll each ball in your choice of sugar, powdered sugar, or coconut.