Adventures in Home Depot

[NOTE: This was originally included in an old blog, published last October.]

Now, if you know anything about me, you know that I'm NOT a shop teacher. But I was asked if I wanted to teach theatre this year and I jumped at the opportunity--not knowing that the stagecraft class came with it! Stagecraft class is supposed to build sets and do all the technical theatre stuff for our plays but seeing as we don't have a shop class at Basha, my class functions as shop. So the girl who can't add is in charge of 30 kids who are looking to build shit.
Tonight I went to Home Depot to buy supplies for my students' first project that actually requires building. Now, we don't have any tools or supplies in our shop (because that would make things way too easy), so I'm having the kids make miniature sets. No nails--just glue! I was so nearvous about presenting this project to my class that I sat for 15 minutes staring at my book trying to think of some way to put off building for another week. But in light of the following comments, I knew it was time to take a risk: Last week I had a student come up to me and say "Miss Kuehn, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but this is a crap assignment" (he saw through my postponement of any actual project) and on Friday one of my best students said "Miss K, I can't do another freakin sketch. When are we building something?" So build we qill! Aha--but miniature building! Much less intimidating.
Alright, I'm in Home Depot. I have my principal's district American Express. I'm fighting the urge to go on a shopping spree at Coach, promptly get my ass fired tomorrow, thus forcing me to go back to selling rock. I'm also trying not to be distracted by all the construction types that are staring at my ass as I walk by. I want to wear a t-shirt that says: "Yes, I am a female. I do have tits. And an ass! But no matter what, you will not tap this ass." Too much? Alright, no t-shirt. I'm wandering through the aisles, trying not to look lost, scanning the shelves for Balsa wood. The book said I need Balsa wood. Where the hell is Balsa wood? I give in. I ask an employee for help. But he needs an explanation--what am I doing? I start laughing. "I teach a stagecraft class. I need my kids to build miniature flats." Oh shit, I lost him at stagecraft. I laugh harder, start to sweat (do they have air conditioning in Home Depot?), and explain: "I know I don't look like it, but I teach a shop class. I need to buy Balsa wood. I'm having them build 6 by 3 inch frames. Can you help me?" I now have the attention of every male in a 3 aisle radius. Literally, men are poking their heads into the aisle. They don't have Balsa wood. Dammit! Now what? I try not to let my panic show on my face. What if I just bring my students donuts? Will that hold them for another class of non-building? But then we find an alternative and I'm at ease. ...Until he leaves me. Now I have to figure out how much I need of said alternative product. Shit. I can't add. I'm the only woman standing in Home Depot doing the simplest math problem on my cell phone, scribling in my teacher's planning book. I start to sweat again. Air conditioning, man! Why??! Then some spring chicken college-type comes by, "Can I help you ma'am?" What gave me away? The piss puddle or the sweat marks? I now have to explain what the hell I'm doing again. I begin to question his English-speaking ability, it takes him so long to get that I teach this class. Finally, he looks at my scribbles and tells me a much simpler way to do the math. I'm so embarrassed, that I'm wiping sweat off of my upper lip. It's like 4th grade math all over again. I can't take it! Why didn't I bring my gym towel with me?
I get the supplies, but then realize that I need a saw, wood glue, other measuring stuff, sand paper, and a tool belt cause I need to keep the saw and box cutters near me or I'll have a maimed student in my class. I'm wondering through the aisles, trying to balance 20 eight-foot long pieces of wood in my cart. I get most of what I needed, but can't find the remaining necessary items. Alright, I need more help from the nice Home Depot men. I spot a fatherly-looking figure and nearly shout "Sir!", just then about half of the thin pieces of wood slide through the slots in my cart. He rushes over to help. He tosses his clipboard in my cart and starts shoving things back in my cart, situating the saw in front of the holes so that it won't happen again. Then he straightens up and starts looking for something. I'm trying to help, but don't know what he's looking for. The clipboard! He lost his clipboard in my cart! I hand him the clipboard and immediately like him. He's a little flighty like me! I explain to Paul, my new friend, what I'm doing--he gets it right away. He's quite obviously my Home Depot kindred spirit. He talks me out of the wood glue--it's toxic and seeing as it's too much paperwork to have a kid die, we decide on the regular glue. He finds me the sand paper. He wanders the store with me looking for a suitable toolbelt--one that will keep all sharp objects next to my body but not be too bulky because I'm not really into the Bob Villa look. In the process we require the help of not one, not two or three, but four other Home Depot service team members. I feel so relaxed with Paul at my side--I don't have to worry about not knowing where everything is, he doesn't know either! I finally get all of my materials and make it to the check out. Whew! Now all I have to do is teach this stuff to my high schoolers! Maybe Paul is lookin for a second job...