Tuesday evenings are odd for me because I’m coming off sewing class – a rather active experience for me mentally (and sometimes physically). I try to provide a semblance of professionalism as a representative of the College but today I was A. not prepared for the students who arrived early, and B. had unfortunately chosen an alternate venue that was at first very cluttered and then suffered from extremely inadequate lighting (both we were able to remedy). All of my students attended, including one who was starting to feel very sick. She worked as much as she could, and left early. I felt gladness in my heart to see everyone there.
Class is getting interesting because each student is embarking on their own project. At first I was teaching a clinic of basic skills. Now I am hopping around like a butterfly and finding delight in answering each question, assisting with each problem. One student wanted to learn to sew on a button correctly; wanted it so bad she cut a button off her own coat to practice!
Dean Martin plays over the stereo as I bring coffee and tea to the students. One of them, a friendly young girl with hair painted the color of a fresh bloom, sits on the floor taping together a pattern while the proprietor’s young child makes her necklaces out of red wrapped candy. My “slowest” student has – this was predictable – moved on to being a great deal more confident, showing gratifying progress. One student speaks to me in sign language while she talks (a habit; her job involves the deaf). Another woman worries her completed muslin was made incorrectly. It wasn’t, though – and I admire the precision she’s learned in her seam allowances. A friend from the college, not enrolled in my class, attends and sets up at a table to twist wire, putting together lovely jewelry and talking with these women she’s just met.
The only sad thing about Tuesday nights is as of this week I am missing one of two weekly sessions of my daughter’s swim lessons. Today I learn from Ralph that she swam across the pool by herself and dove off the diving board – and, even though it had been a year since her last lesson, she remembered her father promised her french fries after diving. So that’s what they did.
After they get home she takes her bath and falls asleep early. It was funny though, today. It’s almost as if I knew the day would be here and gone quickly; I took my time in talking to her and holding her close while I had her.