I think of her every week. She was the home ec teacher I had in seventh grade. I am pretty sure she didn't like me, not that it matters much. It annoyed her that I already arrived in her class with three years of hemming and installing zippers behind me. It is not as if there wasn't plenty for me to learn. There was. But I think she preferred the blank slates. 

Mrs. Tellingator had black hair piled on top of her head, and a reserve that told me to keep my distance. Ask for help, but don't expect praise. She did not coddle creativity either. When I chose to put three different sizes of buttons on one skirt, as a nod to the increased width from top to bottom, she thought it was a waste of the nine other buttons on the prepackaged cards. My final project was a lined jacket with welt pockets, and I picked a print of children's drawings to go with a bold red and white stripe. She was not amused. There was no pleasure in giving me an A. 

Yet I think of her, not because she was soft, but because she was demanding. 

"Rip it out. The stitches are too big."

The skills that were somewhat artificial back in 1969 have served me well.  I did not really need a lined jacket for the parties I was, or rather wasn't, invited to. But being able to design a dragon costume with scales, or a Humpty Dumpty with a sixty inch girth, is incredibly satisfying. Understanding how to altar a skirt so that it can be ripped off in one scene, yet look royal in another takes me past the four pages of instructions in the envelope provided. 

It probably would not have helped if Mrs. Tellingator had tried to predict my future.

"You need to make your French seams smaller, not because this blouse will last long in your closet. You are after all a fickle twelve year old girl. But in fifty years you will want to make a Star of Bethlehem with quarter inch seams that lie as smooth as ironed silk. You will want to understand that clipping inside curves is not an exercise in futility, but the means for fabric to ease without puckering."

Some skills are for tasks we have not yet imagined.