Thank you for this prompt. I've been considering it ever since. I have an experience that stands out. When I was a Sophomore in high school, I took a drama class. We had to work in groups, creating a scene that we would act out on the stage as our final. I had one of the first lines, as well as the last line of the scene. That last line would signal the backstage crew to lower the curtains. I was so nervous that I said my first line, followed by my second line, and the curtain descended without my classmates being able to recite their lines. We received a courtesy D on the final. My friends were not happy with me. For oh so many years I would cringe at the thought of being center stage in any setting. All those years when people were enjoying their "new" video cameras, I ran the other direction. In recent years, since writing my book, I have finally set myself free. I can now be center stage, at a book reading, or most any social gathering, not needing the limelight, but not running from it either.
Oh, and I loved loved loved home ec. My age group was just before the women's movement, so I found no fault with learning to sew. Actually, I had begun my love affair with the sewing machine even before that 6th grade class. And the love continues to this day.
Thanks for sharing your story … I feel every dropping inch of that curtain. Isn’t it nice to grow past those moments and be able to see them for what they were … just moments on the long chain of life. ;-)
Dearest Joyce, this is exactly what we explore in my The ReWrite Journey Course - the childhood events that impacted us and resulted in our creating limiting beliefs about ourselves, abilities, possibilities, etc. Rewriting them to uncover their gifts is how we unravel the limiting belief -- or, as you say, reclaiming the pieces.
Funny you should bring up sewing and HomeEc Class -- I remember asking to take wood-working instead. That was boy's work - No girls allowed -- then again, no boys were allowed in HomeEc class either. And we wonder where sexism begins?
I remember thinking why can't I and even though I fought to take it, my parents didn't support me -- it wasn't ladylike. So, I succumbed to societal norms while I silently railed against the inequity of it all.
When it came to sewing, I remember red jean fabric that I was making a suit from - jacket and bermuda shorts. Everything was going swimmingly until I realized I'd cut out two right panels for the front of the jacket - and didn't have enough fabric to cut out the left panel. I decided to get creative and use blue jean fabric for the left side. Though I passed the assignment (just barely) I never did wear that suit.
The gift -- it was the beginning of my feminist march. - not one that measured my worth by being equal to men, but rather, one that recognized my worth is non-negotiable, just as yours is, and theirs and theirs. I have since built things out of wood, sewn my daughters' halloween costumes (sewing is not one of my passions) :) and of course, cooked. A lot -- including running a small cooking school with a girlfriend and in my late 30s, hosting a cooking show on our then local cable TV station.
I did none of those things because I saw them as 'women or men's' work -- I did them, and continue to do them because they are my passions and, they give breath to my creativity.
Thanks for the beautiful prompt and story -- I've taken a long hiatus from online posting and so enjoy your posts when I do pop in!
BTW -- we're selling our house and moving to Gabriola Island this fall -- hmmmm...... do I hear a gathering in our future?
Louise … always lovely to hear from you and your ReWrite course sounds fascinating. Best wishes on your move … and I’d love to “gather.” And, I’d say that jean jacket “error” sounds like early creativity blossoming.
The memory I offer is of a different kind, though it also stems from my high school home ec class.
I was never part of the clique that consisted of girls from the wealthy part of town. I suspect that even if I had lived near them, they would still have ostracized me. I’m okay with that now, and (believe it or not) I was okay with it then.
I did not yet know how to sew when I took that required class. My mother, raising three kids on her own after the death of my father, took me to a fabric store and let me pick out my own pattern and my own fabric. Then she said, “You’ll need some equipment.” She bought me scissors, tailor’s chalk, and a few other things, most notably a set of pins.
In class, two girls shared each of the long tables. I shared my table with Kristi, a girl from that wealthy clique. I was going great guns, pinning patten pieces, when I realized Kristi was having trouble. She didn’t actually swear, but I’ll bet she wanted to. I glanced at her a few times, not knowing what her problem was.
Finally, I heard her say, “No wonder my mother gave me her old pins. They’re all bent!”
I offered her some of mine. I made a friend that day, though it didn’t come with clique membership. But I had something better: A mother who cared about me.
I feel sorry for the unloved dress. At this point in life, I look back and love everything I have ever created--the bad poetry, poorly fitting clothes, the repeat pattern that doesn't quite match up, the recipe that didn't turn out, the cringeworthy diaries from junior high. I believe in unconditional love for everything that I create.
Thanks, Anita, and yours would be different but also compelling story about the seeds of your beginning. "Surrounded by friends" what an interesting thought to contemplete. ;-)
What a great prompt! I'll have to give this one some thought, and also circle back around to read the 2025 material you include here. Teaching yoga this morning, so only a bit of time to catch up. Love this.
Thank you for this prompt. I've been considering it ever since. I have an experience that stands out. When I was a Sophomore in high school, I took a drama class. We had to work in groups, creating a scene that we would act out on the stage as our final. I had one of the first lines, as well as the last line of the scene. That last line would signal the backstage crew to lower the curtains. I was so nervous that I said my first line, followed by my second line, and the curtain descended without my classmates being able to recite their lines. We received a courtesy D on the final. My friends were not happy with me. For oh so many years I would cringe at the thought of being center stage in any setting. All those years when people were enjoying their "new" video cameras, I ran the other direction. In recent years, since writing my book, I have finally set myself free. I can now be center stage, at a book reading, or most any social gathering, not needing the limelight, but not running from it either.
Oh, and I loved loved loved home ec. My age group was just before the women's movement, so I found no fault with learning to sew. Actually, I had begun my love affair with the sewing machine even before that 6th grade class. And the love continues to this day.
Thank you, Joyce, for encouraging these memories.
Thanks for sharing your story … I feel every dropping inch of that curtain. Isn’t it nice to grow past those moments and be able to see them for what they were … just moments on the long chain of life. ;-)
Dearest Joyce, this is exactly what we explore in my The ReWrite Journey Course - the childhood events that impacted us and resulted in our creating limiting beliefs about ourselves, abilities, possibilities, etc. Rewriting them to uncover their gifts is how we unravel the limiting belief -- or, as you say, reclaiming the pieces.
Funny you should bring up sewing and HomeEc Class -- I remember asking to take wood-working instead. That was boy's work - No girls allowed -- then again, no boys were allowed in HomeEc class either. And we wonder where sexism begins?
I remember thinking why can't I and even though I fought to take it, my parents didn't support me -- it wasn't ladylike. So, I succumbed to societal norms while I silently railed against the inequity of it all.
When it came to sewing, I remember red jean fabric that I was making a suit from - jacket and bermuda shorts. Everything was going swimmingly until I realized I'd cut out two right panels for the front of the jacket - and didn't have enough fabric to cut out the left panel. I decided to get creative and use blue jean fabric for the left side. Though I passed the assignment (just barely) I never did wear that suit.
The gift -- it was the beginning of my feminist march. - not one that measured my worth by being equal to men, but rather, one that recognized my worth is non-negotiable, just as yours is, and theirs and theirs. I have since built things out of wood, sewn my daughters' halloween costumes (sewing is not one of my passions) :) and of course, cooked. A lot -- including running a small cooking school with a girlfriend and in my late 30s, hosting a cooking show on our then local cable TV station.
I did none of those things because I saw them as 'women or men's' work -- I did them, and continue to do them because they are my passions and, they give breath to my creativity.
Thanks for the beautiful prompt and story -- I've taken a long hiatus from online posting and so enjoy your posts when I do pop in!
BTW -- we're selling our house and moving to Gabriola Island this fall -- hmmmm...... do I hear a gathering in our future?
Louise … always lovely to hear from you and your ReWrite course sounds fascinating. Best wishes on your move … and I’d love to “gather.” And, I’d say that jean jacket “error” sounds like early creativity blossoming.
The memory I offer is of a different kind, though it also stems from my high school home ec class.
I was never part of the clique that consisted of girls from the wealthy part of town. I suspect that even if I had lived near them, they would still have ostracized me. I’m okay with that now, and (believe it or not) I was okay with it then.
I did not yet know how to sew when I took that required class. My mother, raising three kids on her own after the death of my father, took me to a fabric store and let me pick out my own pattern and my own fabric. Then she said, “You’ll need some equipment.” She bought me scissors, tailor’s chalk, and a few other things, most notably a set of pins.
In class, two girls shared each of the long tables. I shared my table with Kristi, a girl from that wealthy clique. I was going great guns, pinning patten pieces, when I realized Kristi was having trouble. She didn’t actually swear, but I’ll bet she wanted to. I glanced at her a few times, not knowing what her problem was.
Finally, I heard her say, “No wonder my mother gave me her old pins. They’re all bent!”
I offered her some of mine. I made a friend that day, though it didn’t come with clique membership. But I had something better: A mother who cared about me.
Robin … I love how your mom weaves through your version of this story. Thanks for sharing.
I feel sorry for the unloved dress. At this point in life, I look back and love everything I have ever created--the bad poetry, poorly fitting clothes, the repeat pattern that doesn't quite match up, the recipe that didn't turn out, the cringeworthy diaries from junior high. I believe in unconditional love for everything that I create.
Good point, Lynn. I generally feel that way but haven’t yet included that dress. I’m going to work on that.
Digital storytelling sounds interesting
Reading this too me back to high school and how I sucked at sewing just couldn't get the hang of it
A compelling story, Joyce. I'm moved. to appreciate 'that' girl, but also drawn to investigate your Nov. 5 collection.
My junior high school experience was substantially different, mainly because I was surrounded with childhood friends whom I will always treasure.
Thanks, Anita, and yours would be different but also compelling story about the seeds of your beginning. "Surrounded by friends" what an interesting thought to contemplete. ;-)
Oh those awkward tween days. So well described, Joyce. Digital storytelling? Do tell-- sounds fascinating. Love the prompt!
Definitely awkward and interesting to see threads forming. Would love to see what you come up with.
What a great prompt! I'll have to give this one some thought, and also circle back around to read the 2025 material you include here. Teaching yoga this morning, so only a bit of time to catch up. Love this.
Thanks and would love to see what you come up with.