Who Taught You?

Peeling and chopping potatoes

Who knows how to make mashed potato from scratch?

It's a question I often ask when I'm talking about Auntie's Cookery Academy.

Almost every hand in the room goes up.

Then I ask a different question.

Who taught you?

And something interesting happens.

The room goes quiet.

People start thinking. Eventually, I hear a few voices.

"My mum."

"My nan."

"My dad."

"My auntie."

Because most of us don't remember being formally taught how to make mashed potato. There wasn't a lesson plan. Nobody handed us a certificate afterwards.

We just learnt.

And that's the point.

The things we don't remember learning

I have a very clear memory of being about four or five years old, standing on a chair in the kitchen.

My mum was making shepherd's pie and I was counting the potatoes as I dropped them into the saucepan.

It seems completely insignificant.

But I was learning.

I was learning that potatoes needed peeling. That they went into water. That you boiled them until they were soft. That eventually those potatoes would become the mash on top of a shepherd's pie.

Over the years, there would have been hundreds of moments like it.

Watching. Helping. Asking questions. Getting things wrong. Being shown again.

And not just in the kitchen.

How did you learn to use a washing machine?

Who explained that different clothes need washing differently?

Who showed you how to change a light bulb?

How did you learn that you need to budget for the electricity bill before spending what's left in your bank account?

Who taught you how to make a shopping list, clean a bathroom, book an appointment or fill in a form?

For many of us, the answer is simply:

Someone.

Now imagine nobody did

That's the part we want people to think about.

We talk a lot about young people becoming "independent" as though independence arrives automatically with age.

At 18, you're an adult.

Here are your keys.

Off you go.

Except knowing how to live independently isn't instinctive.

It is learnt.

If you've grown up surrounded by positive adults, you've probably absorbed thousands of tiny lessons without even realising it.

You've watched someone turn ingredients into dinner.

You've heard conversations about whether something is too expensive.

You've been reminded to take something out of the freezer.

You've watched someone deal with a bill, make an appointment or work out what to do when something goes wrong.

Individually, these moments seem tiny.

Together, they create a toolkit for adulthood.

The importance of having someone

This is why positive influence matters so much.

It builds knowledge, of course.

But it also builds confidence.

The next time you need to do that thing, you know where to start.

Eventually, you don't need someone beside you anymore.

That's what independence should look like.

Not being expected to know everything on your own.

Being given enough knowledge, encouragement and experience that you become confident enough to do it for yourself.

For young people who haven't consistently had those opportunities, the gap can be enormous.

And it isn't a failure of intelligence or ability.

You cannot know something you've never had the opportunity to learn.

Why we teach through food

At Auntie's Cookery Academy, food gives us an extraordinary way into those conversations.

Cooking is practical. It's immediate. It's something every young person will need throughout their life.

But a kitchen can teach far more than recipes.

Planning a meal teaches organisation.

Shopping for ingredients teaches budgeting.

Reading packaging develops understanding.

Cooking from scratch builds confidence.

Working alongside other people develops communication.

Getting something wrong and trying again builds resilience.

And sitting down to eat something you've made yourself creates a very simple but powerful feeling:

I did that.

Because sometimes the difference between feeling completely overwhelmed by independence and feeling capable of it starts with something incredibly small.

Someone taking the time to show you how.

So I'll ask you again:

Who taught you?