My Treasure, My Bowl

During the summer of 1970, the summer before my senior year of high school, I discovered an article in Mademoiselle Magazine. It was all about women’s liberation. Feminism! I had never heard of this movement and I was enthralled. I told anyone I could get a hold of about it. I told my father, which okay--he found very annoying. I told my mother and--kudos to her--she took me to a consciousness raising workshop at a nearby church. Then, I told my grandmother. Grandma, I said—We have to do something! Grandpa is exploiting you! She smiled at me and said, that’s nice, Jamie.

No matter. Next step for me would be to go to the Norwalk High School Vice Principal and demand he let me into the boys-only shop class. I steeled myself for the confrontation. Mr. Dudding was very strict and very intimating. Everyone at the school was afraid of him. But not me. I told Mr. Dunning that I was now a feminist and I knew my rights! I demand to be let into the boys shop class!

I fully expected him to scold me, perhaps laugh. But, Mr. Dudding said yes!

And that’s how I became the first girl to enter a shop class at Norwalk High School.

I loved woodworking. I loved the smell of the saw dust in the morning. The hypnotic whir of the lathe as it spun around and around. And, I loved how the fine grains of wood covered my face and the fragrance of oak stayed with me.

Were the boys in the class nice to me--the first girl to infiltrate the private domain of their shop class?

Actually, yes. They were.

(Okay, aside from the time they locked me in the supply closet.)

The class of 1971 was the last class to graduate from the original high school, and so the powers-that-be collected all the old flip top desks and donated them to the woodworking department. And that’s how I made my wooden bowl--with five desk tops, sanded and glued together, then shaped using a lathe.

Over fifty years later, I treasure my wooden bowl and everything it stands for.

Creative Friends--ask for what you want. You might not get exactly what you expect. In fact, you might get something even better.

Love,

Jamie