Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Fair warning: you are going to get messy. We do have aprons you can borrow,” he pointed to where they hung on hooks against the far wall, “but they can only stop so much. I would strongly warn you against wearing anything you’ll hate to see ruined. If you can bring a change of clothes with you, great! Class is technically scheduled until eleven-fifty, but we’ll be done with the wheel by twenty after, so you have time to clean your stations and change if you so desire. Good? Good! Let’s begin.
“Each station should have a bag of clay and a bucket, yes? Let’s get the clay out of the way and see what we’re working with.” His own station was only a few spots down, and he went to overturn his bucket. A small pile of tools fell out, and Jeremy pulled his own out as Adrian went over the purpose of each.
From there it was a quick introduction to the wheel itself, from the pedal to the removable bat. He sent them to the sink to get water for their buckets before having them gather around the table. There were a few circular plywood trays scattered across the surface, as well as a lone bag of clay, so Adrian tugged what he needed closer.
“Let’s talk about clay,” he said, and launched into an easy explanation of what type of clay they’d be using, what size chunks he wanted them to start with, and how to wedge it so it was ready for the wheel. He worked as he talked, kneading his own clay into something manageable, and showed it off when he was done. “Easy, right? Let’s center it. With me,” he said, and got comfortable at his station.
He made it all look easy and got so distracted answering basic questions and giving his credentials that he ended up with a small pot. He hummed as he considered it before taking wire to it and freeing it from his wheel.
“Okay, let’s get to it,” he said. “I’ll come around and help out, so flag me if you need anything before I reach you.”
Jeremy wasn’t sure what he’d expected this clay to feel like, but the reality gave him pause. It was the dryer side of sticky, and prying off a chunk to work with was a little harder than he expected. Jean looked equally displeased by the texture of it, if his slight scowl was any indicator, but he wordlessly followed Jeremy to the table. There was a distinct lack of any energy or interest in prepping his clay until the girl across from them said, “Oh, like kneading bread!”
“Close enough,” Adrian said, scraping residue from his bat.
Jean considered that in silence for a moment before getting back to work with a little more focus, and Jeremy tried not to smile at him. The more Jeremy worked his clay, the better it felt under his hands, or maybe he was just getting used to it.
The real fun began when the class had to practice centering. Elias forgot to remove his tools first and sent them flying when he hit the pedal too hard, and more than one startled yip around the room said their classmates’ clay was trying to make a similar escape. Adrian made a slow circle, studying each student in turn and offering advice. Jeremy tried listening to all of it in case it proved useful. The first time was a success for all of five seconds; when Jeremy tried a second mound just to test it, he cupped his clay so hard he squashed it. He glanced over to see how Jean was doing.
“What do you think?”
Jean showed off his filthy hands, but he checked how far away Adrian was before muttering, “This is repulsive.”
“A little,” Jeremy agreed, tapping his sticky fingers together. “I’m going to make a dog bowl for Barkbark.”
Jean stared at him in disbelief and immediately lost control of his clay. He cracked his knee into the wheel in his hurry to catch it, and he scowled at Jeremy’s helpless laughter. Adrian caught up to them then, briefly killing their conversation. He checked their posture and their grip, showed Jean how to brace his elbows against his legs so his arms were better locked, and gave them a stamp of approval before moving on.
“Everyone’s looking good,” he said. “Let’s move on and practice pulling. Nothing fancy, okay? Not yet, anyway. We’ll save that for midterms.”
Jeremy had severely overestimated what could get done in a class this long. The entire period was a series of failures. Sometimes the clay cooperated, and Jeremy could manage a lopsided little cup; others it wanted to wilt and cave in on itself for reasons he couldn’t always guess. Jeremy was just as likely to send his sponge flying at the two-hour mark as he was in the first two minutes, and Adrian hadn’t lied that the aprons could only protect him so much. He had splatters all the way up his forearms and a half-dozen more on the knees of his jeans.