Odd Wooden Column
“Simply put, it’s something I made in school. But to me it comes bundled with a whole host of emotions and reflections on my personality, for better or worse.
The main thing that tickles me about this odd wooden column is it wasn’t supposed to be that. At all.
In woodwork class we were tasked with making an object with the lathe. The “super fast” and “super dangerous-looking” huge mechanical lathe, I might add. I’ll never forget nervously holding on to a chisel and slowly guiding it towards a rapidly spinning piece of wood, visions of losing limbs imprinted on my eyelids.
What was I trying to make? Well, in a move very indicative of my life at school, by shrinking back from my peers and living within my own head I had vastly overestimated what was possible.
I had a habit of rather ignoring the task set in class, instead doing something that interested me more, usually overreaching and failing in the process. I had morphed “use the lathe to carve a candle holder” within my brain to “I’m going to make a sphere”.
A…sphere.
I was reading the Red Dwarf book “Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers” at the time, and felt the burning desire to make a planet with a sign poking out saying “Slow Down”. If you look closely you can still see the remnants of a broken stick poking out of the top.
Turns out making a perfectly smooth sphere using a lathe and chisel was somewhat beyond the ability of a 14- year-old not very inclined to follow instructions. Looking back I’m quite astonished we were allowed unsupervised use of this machine…
On first attempt the chisel was wrenched from my hand by the lathe and went clattering about the room. On my second and third attempts I simply held on for dear life, and the end result is the weirdly flanged thing you can see.
The fact I still possess this object at all is pretty remarkable. My Dad was in the RAF which meant frequent moves from house to house. I attended five schools in total and never found any way of coping with a whole new bunch of people each time.
All in all I had a miserable time at school, and don’t hold on to much from those grey years. Yet something about this wooden wotsit keeps me clinging on to it.
When I look at it now I think about how something meaningful can be crafted if you at least try. I think that everything has to start from something. My ignorance of what was possible led to the creation of something tangible. When I look to my utmost proudest achievements now I can trace them back to pushing myself to try.
My desire to express myself through writing meant that, long after I left university, I reached out to a student-based website that published unpaid work to help you build a portfolio. It was time-consuming, but emboldened me enough to be cheeky and approach Ginger Wildheart’s manager for an interview. And I got it!
This experience later got me paid work writing for online blogs, which ultimately led to publication in a print magazine: something that makes me dizzy with pride whenever I think about it.
My odd wooden column reminds me that unhappy schooling helped shape the person I am now, the person who has achieved the things I take pride in. It reminds me that first tries are invariably scrappy, but are better than not trying at all. It reminds me that overreaching can bring more enduring results than playing safe.
This item has never sat in a box. Even with frequent house moves it has never gotten packed away and forgotten. I always keep it within view as a reminder of all these things: if you hold on tightly and press ahead, the shape that needs to be carved will bloom forth within your hands.”
Michael Record
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