A PLAN GONE ASTRAY - Segment 5 (Scroll down for earlier segments)


      My next stop in this grand experiment of school was woodshop.  My counselor came up with an ingenious plan that would have me working with my hands.  The last time I had worked with my hands was as a toddler, when I had taken a hammer and attempted to sculpt a marble sink into my likeness.  My parents weren’t impressed.  They said I wouldn’t be allowed around a hammer until sometime after adulthood.  That could be a problem in woodshop.    

     On the first day of class, my teacher, Mr. Greathouse, asked each of us what project we would like to complete for the quarter.  “Do you have an old sink,” I asked. 

     “We’re not sculpting in this class,” I was quickly informed.”

     After observing my woodshop skills, he accused my counselor of endangering the class.  Then he began looking for an old sink. 

     For a shop teacher, he was extremely nervous around power tools.  He said that was because they were in my hands. 

     Every time I thought I was making improvement, he would make some comment, like…”Mr. Maberry, please don’t use that grinder for sharpening screwdrivers.”  And “Why is that mouse in the vice grip?”  This may be why he spent so much time in his office. 

     Out of concern for the safety of other students, and the school building, in general, he decided to limit me to sandpaper.  It didn’t require a plug-in.  He suggested I purchase an unfinished desk and hone my sanding skills.    By the end of the quarter, I had mastered sanding.  I had sanded off enough dust to make a small end table. 

     “I should have saved all my dust,” I told him one day.    

     “Why?” he asked.

     “I could mix it with a little water and sculpt a nice set of bookends for the sanders’ dust-sculpting competition.”

     He just shook his head and walked away slowly, mumbling something about retirement.

     My teachers were finally realizing their plans for my future had gone astray.  They were failing miserably.  Had they left me in a cherry tree, I would have blossomed by now.  I could have told them that years earlier but, like most parents, you’ve got to let them try their experiments. 

    

     I figured I had learned everything I needed to know in life from Gramps.  I had frequented coffee shops, golf courses, ballgames, and walk-in clinics.  After spending years under Gramps’ tutelage, I had mapped out my future.  I knew where I was going.  I knew what I wanted to do in my big new world.  But no one had thought to ask me.  

 

 

To be continued...check back soon