What Bread Making Taught Me About Occupational Therapy (Again)

Welcome back to the Koi Wellness blog, your trusted resource for child development and empowerment. I'm Aya Porté, your occupational therapist (OT), but for a moment, let’s go back in time a few years.

Back in 2018, I stepped away from work for a few months because I was feeling completely burned out—physically, emotionally, and creatively. During that time, I enrolled in a three-month French bread course at Le Cordon Bleu in Tokyo, where I learned how to bake baguettes, boules, and croissants.

I still have photos of the beautiful loaves I made back then… and I promise you, those pictures are far more glamorous than anything coming out of my oven today.

Fast-forward to 2025. I was at a farmers market, staring at $10–$20 loaves of sourdough, and thought, Wait… I took a whole course on this. I can definitely try making my own again.

So since September, I’ve been baking bread at home—stumbling, relearning, and often being humbled by dough that refuses to rise.

(You can see some of my much prettier bread from 2018 over on Instagram. Here, here, here, and here!)

The Part I Forgot

What I completely forgot about bread making is how deeply it’s tied to timing, pacing, sequencing, and patience.

Bread simply doesn’t care about your schedule.

There are steps you cannot rush.
Stages you must wait for.
Moments where your only job is to trust the process.

Even as an occupational therapist—someone who literally analyzes tasks for a living—I found myself skimming recipes thinking, Yep, I’ve got this, only to be reminded by a flat loaf that… no, I did not “got this.”

And that reminder is exactly why bread making connects so beautifully to occupational therapy.

Bread Making Through an OT Lens

When you bake bread, you’re naturally engaging in the same skills occupational therapists support across the lifespan:

• Executive functioning: planning steps, sequencing the process, organizing ingredients, and managing time

• Sensory processing: feeling dough texture, adjusting for moisture, noticing temperature, and recognizing when something “feels right”

• Fine motor skills: kneading, folding, shaping, and scoring

• Regulation and pacing: waiting, slowing down, adjusting expectations, and managing frustration

• Problem-solving: modifying hydration, adjusting proofing time, or changing your environment

• Learning through trial and error: observing outcomes, making adjustments, and trying again

For children, bread making is a rich, joyful, sensory-motor experience. It supports tactile exploration, hand strength, bilateral coordination, sequencing, and even social connection.

For adults—including parents and caregivers—it becomes something else entirely.

It becomes practice.

Practice in adapting.
In regulating.
In letting go of perfection.
In celebrating small wins.

The Parallel I Didn’t Expect

As I relearn bread making, I’m reminded that meaningful occupations shift throughout our lives.

Something that once came easily now asks me to slow down, breathe, and reconnect with curiosity instead of control.

Progress isn’t linear.

And sometimes, the most meaningful moments come from the messy, sticky, imperfect attempts.

Working with your own child often follows that same rhythm.

Sometimes you watch something once and it clicks.
Sometimes you follow every step and still end up with a “flat loaf” kind of day.
And many days, it’s simply trial and error—paired with patience, flexibility, and trying again.

Just like bread requires timing, attunement, and sensory awareness, parenting asks for those same skills:

• noticing what’s working (and what’s not)

• adjusting in real time

• regulating yourself while supporting someone else

• staying flexible when the plan changes

And just as a baker eventually reaches out—for a recipe, a class, or another baker—parents also benefit from guidance and support.

In both bread making and parenting, the process is messy, imperfect, and deeply human.

And asking for help is part of what makes the outcome meaningful.

A Small Reminder

These days, my bread doesn’t always look impressive.

But it’s teaching me something again—just in a different way.

To slow down.
To pay attention.
To trust the process.

And maybe that’s the point.

If you want to learn more about how I can support you and your child, you can schedule a callhere and connect with me onLinkedIn, ​Instagram​, and ​Facebook.