Love Your Pottery

You smile to yourself, admiring your work. It is amazing what you can make if you put your mind to it. Your vase is short and wide, with many curves and thick walls. It’s a masterpiece, You think to yourself, wiping your cakey hands on a wet washcloth. 

You slide out of your chair, carefully lifting your vase to bring it to the firing table at the back of the room. As you turn, a group of students pass by you, taking their vases to the table as well. You stop to let them pass, trying to be polite. 

Two of them slow, taking in your vase. 

“Uh, that’s really thick,” one of them says. You hear a hint of laughter in their voice, but it’s hard to tell. 

“Yeah, that’s way too much clay. It’ll melt into a puddle in the kiln,” the other says. 

You look at their vases, noting the differences. Theirs are tall, slim, curveless, thin rimmed. The exact opposite of yours. 

You force a smile. “Oh, thanks for the advice guys,” you say, sitting back down. 

The students continue towards the firing table, whispering as they go. 

You block them out, chewing on your lip as you plop a smaller chunk of clay onto your pottery wheel. This time, you work the clay, tall, slim and straight, trying to copy the form of the other students’ pieces. 

You turn the wheel off, and see a similar shape slow to a stop. You’re about to get up when the teacher flicks the light on and off, signaling for everyone’s attention. 

“Okay class, I know some of you are finishing your vases, but I have a twist to throw in.” 

The class groans collectively, including you, confirming that many students had, in fact, just finished their projects. 

“I want you all to add handles to your vases,” the teacher continues. “They must be sturdy enough for the vase to be carried by.” 

You frown toward your piece. It is too thin, and if you made sturdy handles, they would fall off and most likely tear the vase itself apart. You set it aside with your first attempt, grabbing yet another chunk of clay. 

With small satisfaction, you see out of the corner of your eye the students that had critiqued your first vase. They’ve rushed back to the firing table, grabbing their pieces to try and modify and to add handles. 

You focus back on your work, folding your hands around your clay. You give it a bit more curve, and a bit less height then the last vase. 

When you glance at the clock, it reads half past eleven. Lunch is soon, you think to yourself, flicking the power button for what you hope is the last time. 

The body of the vase is a good shape, and sturdy enough to hold up some good sized handles. You break off another chunk of clay from your stock. 

You make your handles thick, a bit bigger than that of a mug, and attach them to the vase. 

“This had better be the last one,” you mutter to yourself as you stand to finally put your project on the firing table. You lift the vase by the bottom, careful to make sure the handles stay connected to the body. You weave around the multitude of workstations as you make your way to the back of the room. 

You’ve just passed the last desk, no more than a few feet away from the table by the kiln, when a few students push by, vigorously trying to get to the table first. 

You realize what happens a moment too late. Your vase slips from your hands, falling to the floor with a hollow thud. 

You groan as you crouch to pick up the deflated lump of clay, your throat tightening. 

Why is it so hard to do the project today? Any other day you would be able to do it perfectly. It’s a simple vase with a handle! 

You trudge back to your workstation, the wad of clay heavy in your hands. 

“It’s okay,” you say, reassuring yourself. “Just do the same thing you did before.” 

After removing the handles and setting them aside, You mould the messed up vase back into a ball and start again. Keeping your frustration at bay, you try to mimic the same shape, and make similar curves. 

Finally, as you pull your hands away from the wheel, you see a decent vase standing as it stops spinning. 

It’s not your favourite design, you think to yourself, glancing at your first design again. 

You shrug, lifting your vase off the wheel. It’s as good as it’s going to get. You check that no one is coming towards you, not wanting to have to redo your piece any more. 

Once you are sure it won’t get knocked out of your hands, you make your way to the back table once more.

You notice that there are a lot of pieces on the table, and looking around the classroom, you see that most of the students are just sitting and talking. 

No, all of them are done. You are the last one to be working. 

You don’t see the teacher approaching until she’s beside you. She’s holding a vase in her hands. At second glance, you realize it’s your vase. Your first attempt, that you had discarded. 

Now that you look at it again, the rim is the perfect thickness, not thick enough to melt in the heat of the kiln. You look across the room, glaring at the two students that had said otherwise. They are snickering and pointing at you, but you just give them a dirty look and turn to the teacher. 

“What are you doing with that?” You ask, gesturing to the pottery in her hands. 

“Well, I’ve watched you start your project over and over again, and took a closer look at your first try.” she smiles, placing it on the firing table. “This vase is amazing. It’s probably your best work.” 

You blush at the praise. “Thank you.” 

She takes your latest piece from your hands, looking it over. “If I’m being honest, I think your first piece is better. And it would probably get you more points.” She says the last part with a wink. 

You nod as she passes your project back to you. “Okay, “ you say with a smile. “Thanks for the tip.” 

She heads back to her desk, and you carefully take the handles off your new vase, and reattach them to the old one. Then, you toss the newest one into the scrap clay bin by the firing table on your way back to clean your workstation.

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Writer comment: I wrote this story to try and portray the message of loving your body, no matter what other people say, or if others' bodies are "more desirable", using symbolism. I am a young writer, so my writing probably isn't the best, but I hope that you enjoyed reading my short story. :)