top of page
Galesburg.png

'A community engagement initiative of Galesburg CUSD 205.

Summer | 2025

Where Confidence is Cooked from Scratch

“They come to school because they want to be in this class. Sometimes, it’s the only class they’re passing. And I’ll take that.”
Listen in English
Escuchar en Español

It was two weeks before the start of the school year when Sarah Barrett got the call. The culinary instructor at Galesburg High School had just stepped down, and Principal Jeff Houston was in a pinch.

He’d heard from Sarah’s mom—then a counselor at the school—that her daughter had a passion for food and people, a hospitality degree, and years of experience coordinating weddings, banquets, and corporate events.


So he made the call. Would she be willing to take a leap?

Sarah’s answer came quickly: “Why not?”


Nearly a decade later, she’s still saying yes.


Sarah teaches Nutrition I and II to sophomores through seniors, along with two culinary arts sections offered through the Galesburg Area Vocational Center (GAVC)—classes that draw students not only from Galesburg, but from Knoxville, ROWVA, United, West Central, Williamsfield, and Monmouth-Roseville.


And what she’s built is more than a cooking class.


“People think I just teach recipes all day,” she says. “But it’s math. It’s science. It’s literacy. It’s teamwork. And it’s confidence. The kids don’t even realize how much they’re learning because it’s all hands-on.”


Students rotate through kitchen roles, learning how to work the line like a real team—head chef, sous chef, dishwasher, expediter—and are pushed to take ownership of the entire process: timing, safety, taste, and presentation.


By year’s end, Sarah steps back.


“I hand them the recipe and walk away,” she says. “I want to see what they’ve learned.”


The results? Remarkable.


“They’re plating their own dishes, snapping photos, showing them off with pride,” she says. “That’s when I know it’s working.”


Her students don’t just gain culinary knowledge—they gain life skills. They calculate ingredient costs, scale recipes, and even make shopping lists from scratch. Sarah uses Walmart online ordering to stock the classroom, teaching students to think in terms of quantity, quality, and cost.


It’s not just about what’s on the plate. It’s about ownership.


Some students enter the class having never cracked an egg. Others are seasoned home cooks already feeding their families. Sarah meets each where they are—and by the end of the year, she sees them helping each other grow.


“One student flipped a crêpe perfectly,” she says. “Her partner lit up with pride—not just for her, but because she helped teach it. That’s the magic.”


A few students each year go on to culinary school—this year, two are heading to Illinois Central College, and another to a culinary program in Missouri. But even those who don’t pursue food professionally leave with new skills and confidence.


“They may never become chefs,” Sarah says. “But they’ve learned time management. They’ve worked on a team. They’ve found something they’re proud of.”


And for some, that pride becomes a reason to show up.


“I have students who come to school just for this class,” she says. “It might be the only one they’re passing. That breaks my heart—but it also makes me determined to keep showing up for them.”


Raised in Knoxville, Sarah brings more than technical skills to her classroom—she brings credibility. She worked in hotels like Crowne Plaza in Springfield and with Frontier Hospitality Group in Davenport, planning high-pressure events with tight timelines and even tighter expectations. That real-world experience shapes how she coaches students—offering not just recipes, but a realistic view of the industry.


“I can tell them what it’s actually like in a commercial kitchen,” she says. “The pressure, the pacing, the expectations. It helps them see the stakes—and the possibilities.”


In a school as large and complex as Galesburg High, Sarah’s classroom offers something rare: a space where students feel seen, skilled, and safe to try.


“This might not be their forever,” she says. “But if they leave here a little more confident, a little more prepared, and a lot more proud—I’ve done my job.”

Previous Story
Next Story
bottom of page