Studio Saturday--And Sunday

We spent a great many hours at the studio this weekend. Saturday we had to teach a one-time class and Dave had to teach his usual class just after. Then we had another three hours of monitor time. Sunday we got to the studio late but stayed several hours, both of us throwing.

Let me complain a minute about teaching:

A few weeks ago I taught a birthday party of eleven-year-old girls (and two mothers) how to throw. That was a relative blast--easy and fun--compared to the four middle-aged women and one teenaged girl who showed up for a lesson yesterday. Yesterday's lesson was exhausting and not much fun at all.  What's the difference? Partly it was my expectations of the students. (I should've known better than to expect middle-aged women--of which I am one--to be focused and interested in the process. They were giddier and less focused than the eleven year olds.) Partly it was the students themselves. The eleven year olds played and had fun, were willing to try different things, weren't saddled with the idea that they were going to throw perfect bowls on day one. The middle-aged women came in having played with a throwing app on their iPad and thought perhaps that actual throwing was going to be as easy as virtual throwing. (That alone should convince you that virtual anything is never going to be as satisfying as actual anything, I guess.) They seemed to think that it was going to be easy and when it wasn't they started in with some negative self-talk and excuses. Not a lot, just a little, enough to give them an out when they realized they were turning out dinky little beginner pieces and not masterpieces. I'm not one for negative self-talk. (Excuses are fine--most potters blame the clay, some blame the wheel or the bat or the weather or the kiln--and they're neverending.) I mean, I tend to be a pretty negative person in general, but even I know that negative self-talk is deadly when it comes to learning a new skill. But so what? I doubt I'll see those women again actually; probably because throwing pots on the iPad is so much easier, cleaner, and faster.

Oh, that's just me being cynical.

The majority of the time I like teaching one-time classes. I can sustain my enthusiasm and energy level through a three-hour class and I like watching beginners do things. The other teachers teach on-going classes or eight-week continuing ed classes and I know I could not make it through either of those. (I do often help out in the ongoing classes since Dave teaches the Saturday class and all the students know me and feel comfortable asking me questions. But the teacher who teaches the 8-week class is very threatened by me, so much so that I heard her tell students that I was going to be subbing for her next week and they could skip that night if they wanted to. I mean, who says that kind of shit? Didn't help that last week, when I showed up to do some work during her class time, two of her students immediately glommed on to me and started asking me questions. They've been in the class six weeks and there I was showing them how to effectively throw cylinders. Not good.)

Anyway, one of the reasons I would have trouble with on-going classes is because I have trouble with people who need the same kind of help week in and week out. There's only so many times I can show someone the same piece of information before I get exasperated. I mean, I'll put up with it if the person is nice but naturally a bit scattered, but if I get the barest hint that someone is not paying attention when I'm answering a question they've asked, I'm out of there even if it's the first time they've asked the question.

It's funny, but when I was teaching English, I enjoyed teaching on-going classes and the one-time classes made me crazy.

And What Else?

This song--not the video, which is crap--but the song itself. No?

 

That's Gotye with Kimbra. Here's Kibra, solo. This is how you make a video:



Garden

The little corn seeds are in the ground, twenty-six square feet of corn (one plant per square foot). It started out as twelve square feet, then it became sixteen, now it's twenty-six. Beans will go in among the corn. Three tomatoes went in this weekend as well: A Cherokee purple, a Mexican Midget (not very PC, I know), and a Stupice. There's also a new jalapeno plant and some Thai basil.  I popped in a few sunflowers (Russian giants) behind the corn, too.

And in other environmental news: The Miller moths are out in force suddenly. (Apparently "Miller moth" is the name given to any abundant moth.) They're fat suckers this year, too. The cats had fun chasing them around the garden this evening.

I need to get some pictures up in here, don't I?