Around this time in Knoxville, TN second graders citywide are beginning to read about the chronicles of Squanto (or Tisquantum, if we're being accurate). Squanto really did little to further the Western world other than aiding the Pilgrims in surviving their first winter and teaching them to colonizing.
As a young, naive second grader myself, I was mesmerized by Squanto's life. In his biography we learned about how Squanto feasted on corn meal to survive the cold winters. To teach us more about what this kind of existence meant, my teacher Mrs. Brown decided to bring cornmeal for us to munch on as we read one morning.
Naturally my fellow students spit and spat and ranted and raved at being forced to taste such a chalky and unfulfilling substance. Of course, being the ultimate people pleaser/brown-noser/teacher's pet, I was delighted to demonstrate my ability to fake fondness over anything. As such, I devoured my own serving of cornmeal as well as helped myself to the many leftovers around me. Before we had finished chapter six, yours truly had consumed no less than a pound of the dried corn granules.
Needless to say, my stomach struggled to process the equivalent of a bushel and a peck (with no hug around the neck) of cornbread muffins. Not a Thanksgiving goes by now that I don't thank Squanto for his mighty contribution to American civilization and my own digestive fortitude.