Chapter 2381: after class homework

  Hearing the footsteps, McGonagall raised his head and looked towards the door. Farah put down his hand that was about to knock on the door and said softly: "Mr. McGonagall, I want to borrow a book."
   "Which book you want to read, choose it yourself, and put it back in place after reading it." McGonagall smiled gently.
   "Yeah." Farah smiled and nodded, walked in the door, quickly pulled a book of Nolan Continental Chronicles from the shelf, and then launched McGonagall's office.
   "This girl, I didn't expect to be so interested in history." McGonagall whispered to himself.
  Fara, this child left a very deep impression on him and Mia from the first class, a child with a little inferiority complex.
  In the two weeks of contact, this child has shown an amazing talent in learning cooking.
  If Baker is an industrious child with ordinary talent, then Farah is a genius child in the eyes of others.
  While other children are still worrying about how to control the wide kitchen knife and cut the ingredients into flat sections, Farah has been able to complete all the ingredients for Yangzhou fried rice, and it is the kind that makes McGonagall impenetrable.
  At the beginning, McGonagall was almost tortured insane in the God of Cooking Trial, and Farah only took two lessons to control it.
  The cat blood has given her far beyond ordinary observation and control, and she obviously has a clever mind.
  The talent shown in cooking, as well as the contact between Mia and her classmates, made her seem to untie a lot of knots, and the whole person looked a little more cheerful than before.
  But she is still quiet, but she no longer hides in the corner, and has a hobby of reading.
   McGonagall has everything and a lot of books, so she was allowed to come to the training center half an hour before each class to read.
  Five minutes before class, Farah returned to McGonagall’s office with a book in his arms.
   "If you like to watch it, take it home and watch it slowly, and then come back again." McGonagall smiled.
  Fara’s eyes flashed with joy, but soon he shook his head again:
Mother said, after school, you have to finish the homework assigned by the teacher and you can’t waste time doing other things.

   McGonagall helped her put the heavy books back on the shelf, then looked at her and asked,
If there is no class tomorrow Saturday, will Farah come to the restaurant to do part-time?

  Fara’s eyes lit up, but hesitated and entangled again soon.
   "You told your mother that I invited you to go. Your study progress is different from that of your classmates. I plan to teach you something different." McGonagall laughed.
  Fara put a smile on her face, looked at McGonagall and asked, "Then what time will you be in your restaurant tomorrow?"
   "When you arrive at the restaurant at half past six in the morning, you can work part-time for a whole day. You can experience what you need to do to run a restaurant from morning to night."
   "Okay, I will be there on time." Farah nodded, and then went downstairs.
  Meg cleaned up the lesson plans on the table and went downstairs.
  The children have arrived, and they are not idle, they are practicing knives seriously.
  To be a good chef, solid basic skills are very important.
  Mag walked around in the training hall. From the finished products on the cutting boards of the students, we can see their current level and whether they have been trained at home in the past few days.
  Two classes a week are too short for learning cooking. If you don’t practice at home on weekdays, how can you improve.
  After all, there are few geniuses like Farah in this world.
  Fortunately, McGonagall is pleased that most of the classmates have made significant progress in knife skills, with varying degrees, but there are signs of practice.
   "Clyde, haven't you touched the kitchen knife after returning home?" McGonagall stopped beside a slightly obese teenager, looked at the lumpy potatoes on his cutting board, and asked calmly.
  The young man known as Clyde blushed, put down the kitchen knife in his hand, pulled his head and replied in a low voice: "Old...teacher, I don't have a kitchen knife in my house."
  "No kitchen knife?" This answer surprised McGonagall.
"My mother never cuts the dishes. They just cook them and break them with their hands. My father has a big knife, but he never let me touch them." Clay's head buried deeper and peeked. He glanced at McGonagall, "However, my mother promised me that she would buy me a kitchen knife later so that I can practice knife skills at home."
   McGonagall looked at the teenager whose head was almost buried in his chest, suddenly a little distressed and self-blaming.
   "It's okay, although I didn't practice much, but it is still a little better than the last class. Come on, you can do better." McGonagall patted his shoulder gently.
  Brad raised his head in an incredible way, and met McGonagall’s encouraging gaze, as if a light suddenly shined into his heart, gaining full motivation again.
   "Go ahead." McGonagall said and walked to the next classmate.
  Looking at these children in the new school uniform, he sometimes forgets that they came to Hope Academy. Their family conditions are extremely poor. Some things that he takes for granted may not be the case for them.
  Small book booth used by book friends before .
  For children from poor families, it is difficult for the family to even eat food. It is almost impossible for them to practice cooking at home.
   "Okay, kids, this is the end of the pre-class practice. We will not talk about knife skills in this class today. I will show you the usage of various pots and utensils."
   McGonagall came to the podium, interrupted the students practicing knife skills loudly, and started the class.
   Yabeimia sat upright in the back row, with a notebook on her hand, and even recorded a few important points, like a thirty-third student.
  Unconsciously, the school bell rang.
  The children looked at McGonagall with some expectation. According to the experience of the previous few lessons, Mr. McGonagall would cook them a dinner and let them go home after eating.
   "Children, I am not going to make dinner for everyone today." McGonagall said with a smile.
  The children could not hide their disappointment when they heard this.
   "However, I prepared a gift for everyone." McGonagall raised his hand and pointed to the back of the training hall.
  The children turned back one after another.
   Thirty-two gray-black cloth bags were neatly arranged next to Mia, who was standing and smiling, and a pot was exposed from the cloth bags.
"this is?"
  The children looked puzzled and puzzled.
"After these days of study, you already have a general understanding of chefs. In order to enable you to practice cooking better at home, I prepared an iron pot and a kitchen knife for each of you. There is a sack of potatoes.
  The homework given to everyone this time: go home and cook a dinner for the family with potatoes. "Meg said with a smile.
   "Send kitchen knife and iron pot!"
  The eyes of the children lit up.
  "Do I finally have my own kitchen knife?!" Clay was even more excited and jumped up.