Shop

I just read an article about things all kids did in the 80's that would never fly today.

This list included walking to school, playing dodgeball, passing out Valentines and tetherball.  Yes, yes, yes and yes.   One of the bullets that jumped out at me though was "gender specific classes"; ie: shop or home-economics.  

In eight grade I had a major crush on this kid named Jared.  I'm talking ohmygodI'msoinlovewithyou sized crush.  He and I held hands once on a field trip in fifth grade and I had yet to shake my feelings for him some three years later.  Now, having never been hip or cool, and having literally ZERO ability to flirt with boys or understand how that was supposed to work, my 13 year old brain concluded that the only and obviously best way to impress Jared was to sign up for a class I knew he'd be in and dazzle him with my wit, charm and mad-skillz.  Which is how, second semester of eighth grade, I ended up as the only girl in shop class.

I also joined the wrestling team to impress this boy - but that is a different story for a different day. For the record, it did not work.   Shocking, I know.

Our shop teacher was a man named Mr. Beebe.  He had a toupee and had been teaching shop for easily 100 years.  He was very kind to me - I think because he was surprised to have a girl in the class.  Unsurprisingly, Jared never chose me as his shop partner.  I built my bird houses with someone else and pined in silence.  I don't remember building much that semester.  I remember walking around looking for wood, and occasionally using the table saw.  Mostly I remember sitting at the metal tables before the bell rang waiting for Mr. Beebe to emerge from his dimly lit (always closed door) office to start our daily projects.

I am really glad I took that class.  Not because I am a master of all things mechanic or wood-sy.  I am not.  And not because I ended up woo-ing the boy that brought me to the class.  I did not.  And not because I walked out of there with a birdhouse to end all birdhouses.  I did not.

I am glad I took that class because no matter how inept I felt for that half-year, I am not afraid of tools.  I may not know how to use them, or may use them wrong or inefficiently, but I am not afraid.  I will never call a man to come fix something until after I've tried to fix it myself.  I will never not try to put something together on my own first before asking for help.   I am strong and I am capable.  And while I may still be a total dweeb when it comes to dealing with boys, at least I know I can hold my own against them in a middle school shop class.  So that counts for something.