Let me tell you, the only time I ever felt truly relaxed and in sync during my teenage years was in woodshop class. Yes, you read that correctly: woodshop class. It was the place where those labeled as “burnouts” or “stoners,” destined for a life of mediocrity, were supposed to learn basic skills with power tools. Apparently, this was meant to prepare us for a career as manual laborers.
But honestly, I never understood the stigma attached to woodshop as a last-resort option for the hopeless. For me, it was a sanctuary of pure joy amidst a mundane sea of equations, historical trivia, and all those pesky verb conjugations. Armed with a piece of wood, a saw, and some nifty power tools, I felt liberated. All my insecurities vanished. There I was, a simple box materialized from a random piece of lumber, a bird feeder, or even a shelf for my cherished glass figurines. Creating something with my own hands? It was absolutely exhilarating.
Fast forward 35 years, and here I am, a newly single mom, moving my kids from a spacious family home into a cozy rental that desperately needed some shelves and pegboards. My initial reaction? Not dread, but excitement! Thank you, woodshop class.
In our previous house, the closets were practically empty—no hanging bars, no shelves, nothing! After checking out overpriced closet companies, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I measured the space, ordered materials, and with the help of a 26-year-old friend who had some brawn, I built those closets myself. I tackled the kitchen renovation solo, channeling all that woodshop wisdom. Who knew that one class could empower me to transform my living space?
Power tools should be embraced, not feared, and it’s a real shame that woodshop classes have dwindled. Every child in America should learn how to hang a shelf, drill a hole in drywall, and take on basic repairs. And let’s be honest, everyone should have a drill, a saw, and a basic toolkit at home! I recently stumbled upon an Indiegogo campaign for the “Coolbox”—a futuristic toolbox complete with Bluetooth speakers and a whiteboard—and I could hardly contain my excitement!
During the five years we lived in that home, even as my marriage was falling apart, those shelves I built stood strong. Each time I pulled a shirt or a cereal bowl from them, I felt a surge of pride: “I made those!” If I could build shelves here, surely I could rebuild my life from scratch elsewhere.
Just the other day, I picked up a piece of wood for an art project (I’m crafting mixed media flowers on plywood—who knows what drives us to create?) and accidentally had it cut to the wrong size. But thanks to my trusty saw, measuring tape, and pencil, it was no big deal. I approached it just like those projects back in woodshop—measuring, drawing a line, and then rolling up my sleeves to cut.
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In summary, woodshop class taught me more than how to use tools; it instilled a sense of empowerment and creativity that has stayed with me throughout my life. Whether building shelves or tackling life’s challenges, I learned that I could create something meaningful from seemingly nothing.