09/17/2026
Open letter to my students:
Being a student in my kitchen isn’t always easy. I know that.
I ask you to be prepared. I ask you to clean as you go, follow procedures, work safely, and take responsibility for your part of the team. Sometimes I ask you to try again when you thought you were already finished.
I want you to understand why.
Learning to cook is only part of what we do here. You’re also learning how to solve problems, communicate, handle frustration, and follow through when something gets difficult. Those skills will matter wherever your life takes you.
When I ask you to organize your station, I’m teaching you to be ready.
When I remind you to wash your hands or check a temperature, I’m teaching you that someone else’s safety depends on your decisions.
When I ask you to help your group finish cleaning, I’m teaching you that being part of a team means taking responsibility for more than your own task.
And when I ask you to take pride in your work, I’m asking you to recognize that your effort matters.
I won’t ask you to do work that is beneath me. I can wash a dish, grab a broom, wipe down a table, or help clean up a mess. Being your teacher doesn’t make me too important to do the work we share.
You deserve that example from me.
You also deserve a classroom where you can learn without being embarrassed for what you don’t know yet. I expect mistakes. You’re students. This is where you practice.
A batch of cookies might spread too much. A sauce might turn out wrong. You might forget a step or struggle with a skill that seems easy for someone else.
That doesn’t mean you don’t belong here.
It means we need to figure out what happened and decide what to do next.
Ask the question. Listen to the feedback. Take a breath and try again. There is courage in doing something you haven’t mastered yet.
I don’t expect everyone to walk into this kitchen with the same experience or confidence. Some of you have cooked for years. Some of you are learning to measure ingredients for the first time.
You all have a place here. You all have something to contribute.
What I ask is that you come willing to learn—and that you give the people beside you room to learn, too.
Be patient with the person who needs another explanation. Include the person who is quiet. Own your mistakes without blaming someone else. If you finish first, look around and see who needs help.
That is how you become someone others can count on.
Some of you may become chefs, bakers, restaurant owners, or leaders in this industry. Others will take a different path. Either way, I want you to leave this classroom knowing you can contribute, solve problems, and create something you’re proud of.
You don’t have to have your whole future figured out today.
Start with the next task. Do it with care. Build on what you learned yesterday.
My responsibility is to teach you, support you, and hold you to standards that help you grow. Your responsibility is to give yourself a chance—to participate, to practice, and to keep going when the first attempt doesn’t work.
And when you succeed, I want you to recognize your part in that success. You listened. You adjusted. You put in the effort.
You earned it.
So when I ask more of you, understand that I believe you have more to give. And if you’re struggling, tell me. We can work through the next step together.
Tomorrow, we’ll walk into this kitchen with another opportunity to improve. Bring your effort, your questions, and your willingness to try.
I look forward to seeing what you create—and who you become along the way.
Chef Luff
