Soup and fractions

As I stood at the stove this morning chopping and putting things in the fish chowder that was simmering away I thought about the time I made my first soup  It was at Sixth Avenue School in Columbus where I had a class of third graders who needed a BIG pot of soup and could have used one every day. I missed a lot back then being a new mother myself and teaching full time, I didn't see then what I can look back and notice now. These were poor children, some probably abused and some really neglected.  Others were taken care of as best the mother could do and there were caring eyes on this small group of nurtured children.  I'd say, now looking back, there were twenty-five that needed the soup as well as care. I had never made soup for thirty-five (or at all) and was afraid I would mess it up, but I set the children busy washing and chopping and stirring while discussing measurements (which were a bit of a mystery to the teacher too if truth be told.) The smell was incredible and all eyes were on that soup pot.  The custodian at my request stopped in several times that day to give advice and to taste the results.  I was stunned that you could add water to the pot without ruining the batch.  Once the recipe was followed it said nothing about stretching the soup by adding water.  That's how cooking clueless I was.  That day a tradition was started and every Monday morning something was cooking in room six at Sixth Avenue School. There are different degrees of poor.  My family had to work hard for a little bit of money, but I knew I was loved and when you are loved you can stand about anything.  Not all of this class had two-parent love or even love by one, but they were well behaved and eager to come to school. We had a lot of fun and on Mondays they had full stomachs and fractions.