Here we go

Today was the BEST and also, the WORST.

Gavin and I talked about the most efficient way to divide up the day, and we decided to dedicate the first few hours to organizing and cleaning the bindery, and the second half to learning. The working half was awesome - we listened to some weird podcast, I got to know the place and the equipment, played around with paper. When my mom called in the middle of the day I told her "This is a dream come true! It's everything I wanted it to be!"

Except then we got started on something basic - a single signature hard backed book, and I alost cried. I thought I knew how to make books, honestly. My past classes had been thorough, and I've made some things I'm really happy with. But going from workshops with a dozen students to having all the attention focused on me... I had such performance anxiety, I could barely work scissors! Which are apparently called shears.

As stressful and shitty it felt, it made me think of every teacher in every class I've taught, and how they've had horror/boot-camp-esque stories: "We had to make gallons of pigeon glue! Ten vats each night!" or "You're bored with five accordian books? Imagine five HUNDRED accordion books!" and the occasional "Well this is fine, but it would never pass muster if you were doing this for real."

And with each botched attempt, or not-good-enough sample, I smiled a bit harder (with tiny tears, I must have looked totally insane), because I felt like I was watching my future story being written, right at this very instant. "Don't feel badly about those corners," I'd say. "I had to make twenty - TWENTY! before my teacher found one acceptable."

Growing pains, for sure.