The only time I felt truly at home and content as a teenager was in woodworking class. Yes, you heard that right: woodworking class, the place where the misfits and rebels—those deemed unlikely to succeed—gathered to learn hands-on skills with tools. This was so that they could at least find work as manual laborers when they grew up.
Yet, I never embraced the stigma attached to woodworking as a last resort for the hopeless. For me, it was the most genuine and fulfilling part of my otherwise theoretical days filled with formulas, historical timelines, cosmic wonders, and grammar rules. Given a piece of lumber, a saw, and a few power tools, all my worries, fears, and insecurities disappeared. It was just me and the wood: cut here, drill there, add some glue, and suddenly, a solid object emerged from thin air. A simple box. A birdhouse. A shelf for my collection of little treasures.
Fast forward 35 years, and I found myself newly separated, moving my children from our spacious family home into a cozy rental that desperately needed shelves in the kitchen, bedrooms, and coat racks. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by these tasks, I found myself secretly excited. Thank you, woodworking class!
In our previous home, the closets were practically empty spaces without hanging rods or shelves. I looked into fancy closet installations, but they were out of our budget. So, I took measurements, ordered raw materials, and with the help of a young neighbor, I constructed the closets myself. I tackled the kitchen renovation solo, showing that I could take on these challenges. All thanks to that one woodworking class I took in middle school.
Power tools shouldn’t be intimidating, and it’s disappointing that classes like woodworking are fading away in schools. Every child in America should learn how to hang a shelf, drill a hole, and perform basic repairs. Everyone should own at least a drill, a saw, and a basic toolkit. Recently, I came across an Indiegogo campaign for the “Coolbox”—a futuristic toolbox with Bluetooth speakers and a whiteboard—and I couldn’t help but feel excited!
During the five years I lived in that home I renovated, the shelves remained sturdy even as my marriage fell apart. Each time I reached for my clothes or cereal bowls, I felt a surge of pride: I built those! And if I could create shelves in that home, I could surely reshape my life from the ground up in a new place.
Just a few days ago, I bought wood for an art project—I’m making mixed media flowers on plywood as a therapeutic outlet. However, I accidentally had the lumber cut into 2’ x 4’ slabs instead of the needed 2’ x 3’. No worries. Armed with a saw, measuring tape, and pencil, I tackled the issue just like I did back in woodworking class. I measured and marked carefully, then rolled up my sleeves and started cutting away.
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In summary, the skills I picked up in woodworking class not only shaped my ability to build physical objects but also empowered me to take charge of my life. From creating shelves to tackling new challenges, I learned that every task is an opportunity for growth and pride.