Camp, week 2

The second camp session there were 4 campers.

This was a mistake.  With the space I have, and the attention they require, 3 most the most I can handle.  Possibly the most they can handle, as well.  There was more squabbling this time - for space, for machines, for attention.  Just for the fun of it?

But we still got a lot done.

The girl who started doll making last time finished a total of 15 dolls. She's going to sell them at the local farmer's market during Labor Day weekend, with all proceeds going to Planned Parenthood.  (It is West Philly, after all).  The second girl made a tote bag/birthday gift and helped with clothing for the dolls, and her little sister (the quilter), made accessories and a very large bag to carry them.

The fourth girl, who only did the second week, wanted to make a dress.  She showed up with 2 different fabrics, one for a dress for her little sister and one for herself.  Since we didn't have patterns to fit, we just took her tank top and drafted a pattern from that.

The pink gingham is for her sister (they're 3 years apart but nearly the same size because my student is a gymnast), and the zebra stripe was her own.  Because the zebra dress was more fitted, we added a zipper and did a front and back facing to make the neck and armholes neater.  The smaller dress was just pull-over and had hemmed neck and armholes, mostly so she would get frustrated and agree to learn about facings.  (It worked).

I think we all learned a lot.  They learned about sewing and the best ways to drive me crazy.  I learned a lot about patience and how loudly I can bellow without scaring the neighbors and yet still be able to freeze 4 girls in their tracks.

Not sure if I'll be doing this again next year - we've been talking about moving, and it might put us out of range, but it's still a possibility.

I learned enough to know that I'd do it again, just a bit differently next time.

Camp Projects

Another camp session will start on Monday (I'm not ready, I'm not ready) and I wanted to share some projects from the first week.

Two of my campers are sisters, 9 and 11.  The 9 year old wanted to make a quilt.  She'd made a few small patchwork pieces in the after school class, but she wanted something big enough to sleep under.  I said sure, thinking, "She's 9, she'll realize how much work it is and find something else to do."

Nope, not this kid.  It may be a little wonky-shaped, and some of her fabric choices weren't the best -- but at 9, I would have mixed fabrics with abandon, too -- but it's a quilt, it's big enough to sleep under, and she did it in a week.  I'm really proud of her!

Some of the squares got decorated with patterns from my embroidery machine, which was in use as a reward for good work.  Others have pockets, or drawings, or drawstrings from a pair of PJ pants so she can practice braiding.

We yarn-tied it, because machine quilting may be a little much yet, and with 2 (soon to be 3) other campers, there really wasn't enough space to properly lay it out to stitch.  After being shown, she did most of the yarn work herself, except when the layers were really thick and she was having trouble pulling the needle.  Then I showed her how to pin the binding, and she stitched it herself.

Her older sister, who for a year has fought the idea of hand sewing, decided she wanted to make these hand-sewn felt dolls she'd found in a book.  Because she learns best by repetition, she's now made 8 of them, and she intends to sell them at the farmer's market in a few weeks.  The third student didn't have a specific project in mind, and decided to join in on the entrepreneurial project by making clothes for the dolls.

And because they're kids, in addition to the sewing and inevitable eating, there was some goofing around.  It's not sewing until someone falls into the box of stuffing and can't get out.

Happy campers

After four semesters of once-a-week after school sewing class, I decided this summer to take on a week-long sewing camp at my house.  Actually, two sessions, separated by a week so that teacher has a chance to recover.

It's been interesting.  In a mostly good way.

I don't have kids.  I've never particularly wanted them, and this week has reinforced why that was the right choice for me.  It's also made me realize that kids -- particularly smart, creative ones -- are pretty cool, so long as you can give them back at the end of the day.

There are 3 campers this session, 4 next time.  They're all from my after school class, my favorites, the ones who worked hard and actually wanted to be there.  Which doesn't make them any less than what they are, which is 9-to-11 year old girls, stewing in their own pre-adolescent hormones and with more energy than they (or I) know what to do with.

My cats took one look at them and moved upstairs for the duration.  Katie is the only one who comes downstairs, and she generally likes to supervise from the middle of the dining room table, where all the action is.

Tonight she's paying the price.  She's been out cold like this on the bookcase for over an hour, with no sign that she's moving anytime soon.

Actually, I feel pretty much the same way.

Last day of school

Potential new housemate

Tuesday was the last day of school, and also my last after-school sewing class of the semester.  I didn't really expect many students to show up since it was the last day, and also their fifth grade teacher was retiring and I'd heard something about a farewell party.

The director asked me to come in whether or not I had a class to look over some old sewing machines they'd found in a closet and were thinking of selling.  (These were the machines I'd tried using with my class initially, but they're older and idiosyncratic and cranky and just not what ten-year-olds want from a sewing machine).

When I got up to the third floor classroom where the machines were set up, it turned out that six of my twelve students were there too.  (Flattered that they chose me over their other teacher, but really, none of us were prepared for anything, so they ate water ice and watched a movie on one girl's phone while I futzed with the sewing machines).  They came over occasionally to see what I was doing, or to comment that the machine pictured above looked like an old car -- which it does, all it needs is fins and a little more chrome.

How to watch a movie.  

The turquoise and white Revere machine may be coming home with me.  My bargain with myself is that I have to Craigslist the two unremarkable table machines that live in my dining room, and which never get any use except as tables anyway.  The Revere weighs a ton but sews like a dream, and hey, it looks like a vintage car, so if I'm not sewing, I can just look at it, right?

The girls all left a little early -- they had a graduation party to attend -- but I enjoyed them while they lasted.  I'll be seeing four of them in August, when they're coming to my house for a week-long sewing camp (I must be mad).  Until then, my life will be blessedly child-free.

As far as the photo to the right, there were plenty of chairs in the room, they just decided not to use them.  There were two more girls sitting on the floor under the edge of the table, one of whom was holding the phone for the rest.

It's going to be very quiet without them on Tuesday afternoons, but I think I'll get used to it.

Awww

Well, I survived the weekend.  Barely.

Sometimes you just have to realize you're not Superwoman.

To say that I was exhausted after 2 long days of being personable, on my feet, in the sun (and dealing with the inevitable sunburn because I never remember sunscreen), would be an understatement.

And then I strained my back.  Not badly, just enough that when I went to work on Monday, I knew I should have stayed home, and flat.  So I contacted my afterschool sewing program, made sure my assistant could cover for the day, and stayed home and flat on Tuesday.

That evening, I got a text from Kia.  She'd left a package for me in the box on my porch.  When I went to get it, this was inside -- a little something from the kids, who apparently missed the teacher who spends all her time saying, "No, you can't do that."  "Get off the table."  "Stop climbing on the window seat."  "Don't lean out the window."  "Those are sharp, don't poke her."  "Don't wave the scissors around."  "Didn't you hear me the first time?"

They missed that.  Awww.

I've Still got Class

6 girls, 16 weeks, 18 pieces

At the mid-point of every semester, I decide I'm not going to teach the next time around.

Three times now I've made this decision, and three times now I've changed my mind.  They're little monsters, but they're starting to be my little monsters.

When the fall semester started, I panicked.  Sixteen weeks seemed like an eternity, and then I got an idea -- I would "suggest" to them that they do a service project, making stuffed toys to donate to our local Red Cross House.  I wasn't sure how the idea would fly, charity without a choice, but the other idea, a half dozen 10-12 year old girls all wanting to make different things, would drive me over the edge.  Not only that, it would make supply-gathering much more difficult.

Surprisingly, they were all for it.  Every so often there'd be grumbling about keeping a piece, but they were always shamed out of it by one of the other girls.  Eventually, with the holidays approaching, I instituted the "make three, keep one" rule.  Whenever a piece was finished, I bagged it and took it home so there would be no problems.

The Tuesday before Christmas was the final class, and, like the Grinch, I brought everything back.  We set it up in the main room for the parents to see when they came to pick the girls up, and at the end, only two pieces ended up going home, and those had been made deliberately as Christmas presents.

Class starts again on January 10th.  I know I've got at least 4 of the same girls again, and probably all 6.  I asked for suggestions as to what they would like to make this semester, and two of them asked if they could learn to quilt.  Part of me wilted at the suggestion, but then I thought of the 3 large bags of scraps in the class cupboard, and agreed.  My supply order this time was enough batting to make 8 crib-size quilts, a little more polyfill for a few remaining stuffed animals (I know they're not totally over that) and a few random supplies that were running low.

It's been lovely having a break, but I'm actually almost ready to go back and face my little monsters again.

I have class

This summer's embroidery class

A class, anyway.

For the past two summers I've taught an embroidery class at a kids history camp.  They have a weaving segment but they wanted another colonial-era craft and that's how I got in.

Last fall, the arts league in my neighborhood (which is apparently the it place to send your kids after school) decided to add a sewing class on Tuesday afternoons.  Actually, they decided to add evening classes as well, but since I was the only applicant with daytime availability, guess who got the kids?

Yep, the one who's not totally comfortable with them.

Though they're actually a pretty good bunch.  I'm having more difficulty adjusting to the adults in charge and the other teachers, all of whom are So. Very. Serious.  Agreed, teaching is serious work but does it have to feel like a trip to the dentist?

The kids are all from the local public school, which isn't just any Philly public school - it's partly supported by the University of Pennsylvania, which means that there's dire competition to get the kids in, and lines of parents camping on the sidewalk when they open kindergarten registration.  The year they went to a lottery system in the middle of day 2 of the camp-out almost led to rioting.  Well bred rioting, but still . . .

So these kids are being well educated.  They're for the most part comfortable financially (this place ain't cheap).  They're smart.  And they're being squashed into little, tiny boxes that leave no room for being a kid.

I've got a group of 8 girls, from 3rd to 6th grade.  I started them off on embroidery, rather than sewing, because (a) I was more familiar teaching it, and (b) I thought it was a good way to get them used to the idea of sewing, threading needles, taking time, etc.  I prefaced the lesson by saying, "Look, I'm self-taught.  I'll teach you the way I know how to do it, but if you know another way, or find one that works better for you, then do it.  So long as you get the end result you want, there's no right or wrong."

You'd have thought I stripped naked and danced on the table.  "There's always a right way."  "If you do it wrong, you're done."  "Things can only work one way."  "Can you come teach our math class?"

Math may have only one right answer, kids, but art is its own thing.  Considering that all they take at this place is art-related classes, it kind of disturbs me that no one has ever mentioned this before.

In addition to believing firmly in "rules," they also firmly believe that the world is a very nice place, that bullying has been eliminated and that life will always run smoothly.  I almost feel like I'm performing a public service by teaching this class and exposing them to a different viewpoint.

I remember this age.  I was in third grade when I lost my dad, and by sixth, I had completely lost whatever self-esteem I might have been born with, believing that I was shy and unattractive.  However, and this is a big one, I never doubted that I was smarter than most of the kids who tormented me, and I needed the safe haven of coming home to books and making things, both of which were a place where my mind could go and rest from the stress of school.

I hope for their sakes that bullying is a thing of the past, but I doubt it.  Kids are going to be kids, no matter what.  I'd just like to get them to realize, before I'm done, that they need to have something that's theirs, that they know they're good at, that gives them a calm mental place to retreat to when they need it.

Just in case I can't manage it all in one semester, I just signed on to teach the spring class as well.

Strange Days

The Powel House in Old City 

As has been pretty clearly documented here, I'm doing many different things to try to keep myself out of a traditional 9-5 office job.

Today was definitely something different.  A close friend has another friend who is involved with the historic sites in Old City Philadelphia.  She texted me a few weeks ago to ask if I'd be available to teach an embroidery class.  I said yes, without asking for more details.  (Hey, a job's a job, and embroidery beats lawyers.)

I soon found out that I'd be teaching a group of kids who were attending a history camp at the house.  Most of them had been coming for several years, and they wanted another period-appropriate craft besides the weaving class they already had.

Now, I may make things for kids, but I don't have kids.  I don't have that much contact with kids.  I'm not really comfortable with them, especially in groups.

Eliza Powel's ballroom / drawing room, set
up for the class.  

But I said yes anyway.

Then I found out that in addition to teaching the class, they wanted me to do a 10 minute presentation to the combined group (about 15 kids and 4 adults) beforehand.  "Just a little something about embroidery generally and in the period," they said helpfully.

As Dr. Seuss would say, I puzzled and puzzed til my puzzler was sore.  What to say?  I certainly have the information, and I thought it was a nice angle for the girls that no matter what they personally feel about going to school, their counterparts who would have lived in Philadelphia at the time they were studying probably wouldn't have been allowed to attend school.  So embroidery and other "feminine" skills were really all that a lot of girls had to occupy their time, unless they had progressive parents with money.

They told me there were boys, too, so I made a point of looking up all the trades involving sewing that would have existed in Philadelphia at the time -- tailor, sailmaker, bookbinder, shoemaker.  Not to mention the fact that soldiers and sailors, away from home for long periods, couldn't run home to mama if they lost a button.  Sewing was just a practical skill that nearly everyone had.

Corner of the ballroom 

But for all my research and thinking about it, I never got around to making an outline of what I wanted to say until yesterday afternoon at the office.  I drafted something, but I spent more effort making the outline function work properly in Word than I did on the contents.  Then I put it in my bag and forgot it until this morning, when I forgot to review it again, shoved it into my other bag and took it with me, and slipped it under some of the other materials on the table in case I needed to refer to it.

Thankfully I didn't have to -- I winged the entire 10 minutes somehow -- but when I went to put my outline away later, it turned out that it was actually my 2 page to-do list for what I need to get done before my next craft show.  So a fat lot of good that would have done me anyway.

I told Mario when I got home today that I wasn't sure what surprised me most -- that I'd managed a group of 8 kids (6 girls, 2 boys) for 2 hours with no problems and no overwhelming urge to bite, or that I had spoken to a large-ish group of people without having the urge to projectile vomit in a historic house.  

Children and public speaking have always been things I'm massively uncomfortable with.  I had to do an oral report in English class in junior year, and while I did it, I also threw up afterward.  Mario suggested that what I feared in school wasn't public speaking but the judgment of the other students, which makes perfect sense.  Now.

 But isn't it strange when you realize you've just accomplished something you thought you were afraid to do, without thinking about it until afterward?

Class continues Thursday, and I'm looking forward to it.  The kids were fun, they caught on quickly and the two boys -- both around 10 years old -- did really well.  One did hands-down the best work of the group, and the other worked the hardest.

Make Do and Mend

Today I pitched a workshop idea to a local organization whose goal is to encourage making through doing.

I called it "Make Do and Mend," and what I proposed was to teach a 2 hour workshop showing people how easy it is to care for their own wardrobes, and to stop throwing away or donating perfectly good clothes because no one ever taught them how to sew on a button or tack up the hems in their pants.  This seems to cover about 80% of the population.

The class could also potentially cover zipper replacement (jeans would be difficult without more know-how on garment construction, but standard skirt/pants zips wouldn't be too hard), some refashioning tips such as shortening sleeves, reshaping skirts, etc.

The application asked what my experience was to teach the course, and I said that I make almost all my own clothes, I run a business using recycled fabrics and I've taught an abridged version of this at every office I've worked, though usually they would rather buy me coffee and have me sew on their buttons.

Waiting to see if they take me up on it.

Teaching by the Seat of my Pants

Remember a while back I talked about the embroidery class that wasn't?  Well, now apparently it is.

Two autumn semesters passed without a flicker of interest.  The first winter semester was announced, and the silence was deafening.  I posted a call on Facebook over the weekend because they said they were offering a 10% discount to see if they could muster up some people before giving up on the idea.

Until today.  I got a call at 4:30 p.m. to tell me that my first class was tonight.  In 2 hours, during which I still had to finish my work, get home, get changed, get supplies together (they didn't know if the students needed starter kits or were equipped, so better safe than sorry), find a couple of books with pictures for inspiration and to get the conversation started, a few finished projects and go over the notes that I had prepped back in the summer.

Of course my notes mentioned the handouts that I'd never gotten around to making, since the class kept getting canceled.  I got there tonight at 6:15 p.m., to find out that I had one whole student (the second one hadn't paid or shown up), and that they were making a special case for her since the class had been purchased as a gift by her daughter, a frequent student at the arts league.

I was hoping for a total beginner, but she's done some stitching before, and what she's really looking for are ornamental stitches that she can incorporate into her quilting projects.  Since I wasn't quite ready for that, tonight we did refresher basic stitches, talked a lot, compared our thoughts on sewing machines and wondered what was wrong with the mostly non-crafty rest of the world.

I'd say about 90% of the class was a total bluff on my part, but I think she only caught on to about 45%.  I'll be more prepared next week, and I told her to bring along a sample of her work to get an idea of what she really wants to do.

This could be interesting, frustrating, or both.  But either way, I went, I taught, I survived and I came home and drank wine.  It wasn't so bad after all.