I really wanted to take Shop class.
Working with power tools.
Smelling the aroma of freshly-sawn wood as you constructed your first-ever endtable.
Making pottery and jewellery.
A handi-girl's dream.
But in 1970 (yes that's really when I started high school) girls weren't allowed to take Shop class.
Because I asked.
Moving on . . .
I, and the rest of the girls, took Home Economics.
Home Ec., for short.
Or Home Wreck, as it was not-so-affectionately titled.
So we were 'Home-Wreckers'.
The place where we 'learned' to sew.
And generally find our way around running a home.
Once I got past not being able to take Shop, I really had fun.
I sewed a potholder.
And a little purple linen dress with the sleeves in backwards.
I baked cookies.
Made Chicken-a-la-King served in little toast cups.
And Gourmet Hot Dogs.
I learned the proper way to scour pots (and the sink).
Scrub a floor.
And generally make my house squeaky clean.
And scrub hard.
I did pass.
With unremarkable marks.
And, surprisingly, I actually used some of the things I learned.
And still do today.
There is a codicil:
Now my brother . . .
Yes, they allowed boys to take Home Ec.
For one glorious week sometime during the year.
And yes, I know it wasn't fair . . .
My brother remembers Home Wreck differently.
He remembers cooking.
Something he excels at today.
And hunting for mice with frying pans and spatulas.
Boys make everything more fun.