Of Silence and Grain

My mom says she was reminded about the way my dad and I seem to think about working with wood when she heard this quotation on NPR’s All Things Considered:

from Tanya James' novel, Loot:

"Abas doesn't mind the silence. In fact, he prefers the sole company of carving, the sanctity of it, the way the wood almost displays a wit of its own, how it makes and unmakes its own rules, that a cut cannot be undone, that the grain may change depending on the cut, that you might expect a line to go one way only for it to swerve, that total control will never be yours.”

As a high school English teacher, all I do is talk and discuss and argue and talk some more so the idea of simply dropping 8 hours on my driveway woodworking is a refreshing change. In those times, there is nothing but the joy of silence as well as not being in charge of anyone. I’m not monitoring someone’s life; I’m just trying to not cut off my own fingers. There is just a pleasant quiet I rarely get.

But in addition to that peace, I’m struck by Abas’ idea that you may understand the general shape, grain direction, and identity of wood, but in the end we have no real control. Accepting that lack of control applies equally as well to teenagers. We can only get a general sense of who they are and help guide them to who they want to be but ultimately, we just have to accept who they are on the inside.