I started doing ceramics in fourth grade. I can still remember the studio — Terra Incognito, in Oak Park, Illinois. Every surface in the studio was covered in a thin layer of clay dust. The old musty skylights let in a natural light that was conducive to a kind of groggy creativity — the same kind of subterranean sense of imagination our minds tap into to conjure bizarre images right when we're about to fall asleep. I often left the studio more tired than when I came in. I can remember all of the sounds, too: the quiet radio in the background singing old pop songs; the fans above us chirping every couple minutes (we often put our pieces right under the fan to dry them faster — stupid idea, a great way to create cracks in your pottery); the wheels humming and whirring as we worked; the chit chat of the students. 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. Every Saturday morning. My lifeblood and my therapy, and my only real source of comfort in middle school. The nightmare years, pretty universally, I think.
This semester, I finally got involved at the Craft Center. I emailed Robin Nordmoe, who teaches the ceramics classes there, informed her I had years of experience in pottery before Kenyon, and asked if I could be let into the advanced class. She agreed, put me on the list for this semester, and gave me the key code to the studio. I would rather not disclose how much time I spent there. I'd like to at least try to maintain the illusion that I spend most of my time doing schoolwork.
too much this semester, just as it was in middle school nearly 10 years ago (scary to think!), pottery came swooping in to save my mental health. But there was a tinge of regret, because with every moment I spent working, there was a paper I could have been writing, a test I could have been studying for, or sleep I could’ve been trying harder to get. I stopped feeling bad two days ago.
A decade of experience in pottery paid off where I never expected. As an aspiring archaeologist myself, I feel like this bodes well. Beyond the uncontrollable thrill of "doing" archaeology for the first time — I identified a previously unidentified artifact using expertise that I had! — it showed me that maybe taking time for myself and doing things I enjoy isn't, in fact, the opposite of productivity and learning. Even when I'm having fun and taking a breather, I'm learning and experiencing, and in that sense, there's no such thing as being unproductive. I might even venture so far as to say that pursuing mental health and some peace and quiet every few nights is productive in its own right, even if it weren't the key to cracking some fascinating archaeological mystery. In college, you'll find that your interests and passions play into one another in new and exciting ways, and building bridges between them can be a magical experience.