Community Engaged Learning: Where Lifespan Development Meets the Dinner Table
When I first sat down to interview Professor Ariri Onchwari, she made it clear that her course on human development across the lifespan couldn't be contained by the walls of a standard classroom. She wanted her students to understand the architecture of memory, brain development, and how childhood trauma shapes a life, but she knew those concepts would remain sterile on a whiteboard. To truly understand these concepts, she told me, I want my students to get out into the community and meet people where they are in life. This is exactly what they did. Ariri planned three class sessions to be hosted off-campus in collaboration with the local Duluth community.
When I later interviewed her students, freshmen Mia, McKenna, Sophia, and junior Brynn, I got to see exactly how Professor Ariri's vision came to life. They tracked the story of how their class transformed the fellowship hall of the First United Methodist Church into a living laboratory. Working alongside women associated with the Duluth Center for Women and Children (DCWC), they met local residents of all ages, mostly women, to see how textbook theories could be mapped onto real people’s lives.
The students reflected on the nervous energy of their first night out in the community. Attendance was low, just one local mother and her son showed up. But instead of a failed lesson plan, a few boxes of pizza transformed the evening into an intimate turning point. Food became the ultimate equalizer, there is a unique vulnerability and warmth in sharing a meal that strips away institutional roles. Over slices of pizza and simple handwritten table prompts from Professor Ariri, they talked about what dinner looks like at home, childhood traditions, and family histories.
Sitting eye-to-eye over a casual meal broke down academic walls instantly. It didn't feel like an assignment, it felt like a shared human connection, proving that the simple act of eating together can fast-track the trust required for deep community work.
By the second event, the kitchen was a beautiful sort of chaos, proving once again that food has a radical power to synthesize learning and connection. The students laughed as they recounted how they had to pivot when human life didn't follow the schedule. Brynn, who planned to run games for the kids, found herself washing dishes and playing those same games with her own classmates when the children had to step out for a bit. Sophia ended up talking about the teenage brain with Professor Ariri’s own son.
Meanwhile, the kitchen served as a sensory classroom. The students received a piece of living history from a community member who taught them how to make traditional potato candy, a sweet mash of potatoes and powdered sugar rolled with peanut butter. Cooking and cleaning alongside community members created an organic space where stories were traded and laughs were shared.
By their third gathering, the hall was packed for a planting workshop. Students brought egg cartons and upcycled containers to plant dill, basil, and all kinds of herbs alongside community members, bridging the gap between food consumption and sustainability. As the students recounted this to me, I could hear how the community had completely reframed their education. They weren't just observing subjects, they were watching development happen in real-time.
They pointed out the vivid differences between an energetic 8-year-old and a shy 12-year-old wrestling with identity. They listened to older women speak with a deep, soulful commitment to their neighborhood. When community members asked tough questions about brain science that the students couldn't answer, it didn't feel like a failed quiz. The students told me it drove them back to campus eager to dig deeper, learn more. They were no longer just studying for a grade, they were learning for the people who had trusted them with their stories.
Listening to both Professor Ariri and her students, it was clear that the truest form of learning happens when we step outside our comfort zones and gather around a shared table. As one student shared with me at the end of our interview, "I feel like just getting out of the classroom automatically makes it feel like it's “less work” and more of just a fun thing just because you're not confined to what you're typically confined to in a classroom."
The herb plants are now growing on the students' windowsills, but the real growth happened internally. As an interviewer looking in from the outside, I realized Professor Ariri had achieved something radical. She proved that education is at its highest when it ceases to be a commodity acquired in a classroom, and instead becomes a bridge built directly into the hearts of the community, anchored by the simple act of sharing a meal.