Well, as a nod to my late summer promise to follow a path of creativity, I
signed up for a t-shirt quilting class.
Tonight was week two of a four week journey.
I already know how to quilt, but without a time commitment, I won’t make this project or any other one that requires significant time. So, here I am, determined to learn something new along the way and follow a project through. So far, so good.
We the students are already in our zones. Creatures of habit, we move to the same spot we sat last week.
There’s a lot of laughing though. I like that. Here, and in my own classroom.
We gather around our instructor, Amanda. She is a mother of three–ages 1,3,5. I think she likes our weekly class too. We are her reprieve.
She’s patient. She’s encouraging. She laughs. A good teacher.
She watches us for moments of understanding, for moments of communal blank stares. We give her some of both.
At one point, we gather around her on the floor while she shows us how to mark lines, where to fold or cut or pin. I know I’m aging because I realize we are all able to get up and down with no problem. This will be necessary when we pin quilts next week.
This thought would not have occurred to me a few years ago.
I decide to try mitered border corners instead of the straight ones I’m used to.
It’ll be good for me.
Our class is small, but all of us seem happy to be there, working away at our own pace. No perfectionists have surfaced. What a blessing.
I like my soft, worn shirts. The border and backing and binding I chose are bright and joyful: reds, oranges, yellows. Batik, plaid, floral. A little of everything good.
My last row is not straight. I’ll be ripping it out before next Tuesday. It’s ok.
We laugh at ourselves. We leave happy.
I look forward to next week.
I hope for my students to feel the way I do: excited, confident, creative, joyful.