Shop class stories!
I remember being in 7th grade, my friend swiped his finger near the table saw blade and he feigned that he had sliced his finger off. Grasping it with his other hand, and jumping up and down in pain. The teacher turned white as a ghost, then my friend stuck his hand in the air and raised his finger up and said: “Joking!”
The teacher was NOT happy. The shop class didn’t have a wood shed, but it had a lumber room, and he got taken to it. Let’s just say my classmate got bounced off the walls a few times as he heard a lecture about making jokes about injury. The good old days!
The teacher quit a year or two later, and later on I learned that he was considered a highly sought talented artisan woodworker. Youth is wasted on the young they say. Back then, I thought shop class was the “blow off” class. I regret I didn’t know enough to learn more from such a talented guy who had to put up with a bunch of squirrelly 13 year olds he’d rather run through the table saw himself.
Apologies Mr. Dunham.