Husband and I decided to have an afternoon date this weekend. With babysitter firmly in place, we rushed off to a three hour clay and pottery workshop held in our local community’s organic garden. You should be impressed.
I had visions of myself creating a beautiful piece for our garden. The afternoon was going to be therapeutic. I was going to soak up the whole clay experience, inhale the aromas of the organic garden and walk out of there feeling exhilarated.
I. think. too. much.
Everything went wrong for my creation from the word go. I glanced over at Husband who was in his element, chuckling away to himself ( a little bit too loudly for my liking) as he worked. This is what he created:
“I love it,” exclaimed the earthy teacher. “Is it a dead man?” I was worried for a moment that Husband was going to say it was a model of me crumpled on the kitchen floor. If you look carefully though, you will see that, when held upright, it is a man who will be escaping over our garden fence. Maybe he is trying to escape from husband’s chuckling… who knows? A number of other potters stopped to ask him why he was creating a dead man. This made Husband chuckle with pride even more. Here are some pictures of Husband’s other creations: Ostrich head and legs and some beautiful tiles for the garden. I do know that ostrich started out as a lizard, but don’t tell him that I told you.
Pictures below will describe to you my own experience of inadequacy. I won’t bore you with how everything fell apart, many times, as I tried to progress. I was definitely reminded about the student experience in our own classrooms and how humiliating failure can feel. And yes, I hated the feeling. I had to work really hard to think about what I tell my own children and students when they have similar feelings and then pull myself back into the moment. Here is the picture I used as inspiration for what I wanted to make:
And this is how it turned out:
Feel free to laugh, because when I showed Husband the two pictures last night, we had a good laugh too. I made a pregnant jug with boobies.
I can extract at least five life lessons from this post, but I won’t because I am sure you can find them yourself. In a few weeks time we are supposed to return to paint and glaze our creations. I think husband will be going alone. I’ll be home with a good glass of red wine and my blog.