A Journey into Woodworking Classes in London, Ontario
You know, I’ve been asked a lot lately why I decided to start taking woodworking classes. It’s not exactly something I just stumbled into, you know? The truth is, I was just struggling to find a hobby that didn’t involve staring at a screen. I mean, after long days at work followed by evenings spent scrolling through my phone, I wanted something that would let me work with my hands and maybe even make something a bit more permanent.
So there I was, one cold afternoon, scrolling through local community center listings and—bam!—I found a woodworking class in London, Ontario. I thought, “Why not?” It seemed like a good idea, right? But let me tell you, I had no idea what I was getting into.
Making the Leap
I showed up on my first day with this weird mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I mean, it’s one thing to think you can cut wood and make something cool, and it’s another to actually be standing there with an entire workshop full of exists-to-be-broken tools. The smell of fresh sawdust hung in the air like a reminder that I was about to make a mess.
I remember trying to introduce myself and my instructor, Kevin—a jovial guy, straight out of some woodworking magazine—looked right at me and said, “So, what’s your experience level?” I wish I could’ve said something fancy, like, “Oh, I made a lovely bookshelf once.” But all I managed to squeak out was, “Uh, I did some DIY stuff at home?” Not my greatest moment.
The First Project: A Simple Shelf—Right?
Our first project was supposed to be a simple shelf. The kind you see pop up all over Pinterest. Kevin handed out these pieces of pine, and I could smell that sweet, clean scent of freshly cut wood. Honestly, I felt like I’d arrived in the land of opportunity. I was ready to chop and screw my way into woodworking fame.
But, oh man, things went south really quickly. I remember standing in front of the miter saw, sweating a bit because I was so nervous. I’d seen videos of people using these tools like pros, but I felt like a toddler learning to walk—unsteady and about two seconds from taking a tumble.
So there I was, trying to make a 45-degree angle cut, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the dimensions. Turns out, the saw doesn’t magically make the right angle if you don’t measure twice and cut once. Who was I trying to kid? I ended up cutting one piece too short. At that moment, my inner voice said, “Just give up.” But I stubbornly carried on, happy little pine splinters scattering around me like confetti at a parade.
The Hiccups and the Humble Pie
As the days wore on, I was still fumbling through everything with a sense of zeal and a hefty portion of humility. I remember getting into a real mess when it came to using wood glue. You know how they say “just a little dab will do ya?” Someone should’ve slapped that on a sign for me. I was liberally squeezing glue with such fervor that I ended up gluing my fingers together. It’s not as easy to get out of that sticky situation as you’d think. I laughed, but I was also trying not to freak out.
And then the sanding—I mean, wow. Is it just me, or does it take forever? The roar of the sander and the fine dust—it was almost like a meditation of sorts, but also, my arms were sore by the end. I finally stood back to admire my work and, let me tell you, my proud little shelf was nothing short of a masterpiece in my eyes… with a few quirky imperfections I lovingly dubbed "character."
The Moment That Made it Worth It
Here’s the kicker, though. The first time I hung that shelf on my living room wall—it felt like I’d built a spaceship. I hung it with the utmost care, leveling it like my life depended on it. I stepped back and grinned like a fool. The laughter bubbled out of me when that shelf actually held my books! Sure, it wobbled a little, and if I leaned in too close, I could see the imperfections, but it was mine. I made it. And man, did it feel good!
You see, woodworking isn’t just about cutting wood and sanding edges—it’s a lesson in patience and humility. I learned a lot about the tools, the types of wood—like the lovely oak and that old, rustic cherry I adored. And yes, I may have made more trips to the hardware store than I’d like to admit for the right screws or new sandpaper.
A Little Advice
If you’re on the fence about jumping into something new—like woodworking or honestly anything—just go for it. For me, it’s been a way to unwind and be creative, but it’s also been a crash course in failing gracefully. Believe me, there’s something strangely therapeutic about turning a messy pile of wood into something you can actually feel proud of—mistakes and all.
Just know, you’ll mess up. You’ll cut things the wrong length, and that’s okay. What’s important is that you laugh about it later, because life’s too short to take everything so seriously. So, grab that wood, put on those safety goggles, and take the plunge. You won’t regret it.
