The Problem With Teaching Classes

I hope you’ll forgive me, but sometimes, I just need to blow off steam!!!

The other day some students from a nearby college called to say they’d like to stop by and discuss taking classes from us. Those who know us, know that we teach classes not to make money, but to get to know great people and rediscover the joys of stained glass. This was not such a meeting.

They showed up, very nice and agreeable and we took them to the studio where we had a very large project spread out and began discussing their desire to take a class, or rather the wife’s desire to take a class. She began to talk to Jeanne about taking classes and the husband, a young guy, in his twenties started talking to me. “Where do you get your glass from?” he wanted to know. I replied that we bought it from a wholesaler in another state and it came shipped to us by motor freight. “Does it come on a pallet, in a crate?” he further asked. I answered him but got a knot in my stomach, this was a weird question, quite out of the ordinary and not what the casual stained glass student would ask. He soon warned me, “You may not want to teach us about stained glass, because we plan to start a business making stained glass and we’ll be your competition.”

At that, I almost laughed out loud, because the idea of thinking you can go into the stained glass business is great in theory, but until you know the steps and the degree of difficulty that making stained glass pieces consist of, you just have no idea what you’re talking about! I attempted to give him some good advice, that he start small and begin by selling to friends so that he knows what he’s getting himself into before making a big splash in the stained glass business.

Then he told me how little he was interested in stained glass, how it was just a hobby his wife was interested in, how he had just started two other businesses and how he wondered if we could use an abrasive water jet machine to cut glass. I answered frankly that, yes we could, but that wasn’t the bottleneck in stained glass building, that foiling and, especially, soldering was. Then he began to theorize about how a machine could be built to do it for you and once again, I was struck by the lack of qualifications he had to be thinking this way. He had already admitted that he’d never soldered except some electronics work and he’d never welded. He really struck me as a gas-bag who had little real world experience, under qualified to do such a project, but at that arrogant stage where he thought he could do anything!

I did advise him that I could put him in touch with different people we know who are in the business and could give him pointers on how to get started, but he was never interested in hearing how other people are succeeding (or not succeeding) in the business. He was only interested in what he’d learned in school and his own arrogance about his ability to run a business. It bugged me, that as I told him stories of those we know in business and how things have worked for them, that he seemed to have the idea in the back of his head that, “this guy is a jerk, who just doesn’t know anything.” It was obvious that he had no respect for us, or our abilities or our years of experience.

My brother-in-law, Mike, advised me some years ago that I shouldn’t teach classes because it would only be training my competition. I disregarded that advice, not because I though it was without merit, but because I view the world in a different way. That- there is room enough for all to do what they want. There can be many stained glass artists employed in their profession and it doesn’t diminish us if we help another get a foothold. But where he’s right, is when some smart-assed punk, with no money, no experience and no artistic talent comes into my studio and thinks he can do a better job at the business which I’ve worked and failed and succeeded at for 35 years, that’s where having open doors of hospitality and openness may be a mistake!

Contrast that visit with the one we had the next week from a guy who wants to do stained glass as a hobby. He wanted to get all the tools he could easily afford, all the advice we could offer and whatever guidance we were willing to impart. He had read a book or two and had been studying glass work on the internet. He knew many of the terms that glass workers used and he seemed well grounded in embarking on the hobby. He wanted to try to do his first window on his own, with no instruction, just to test his own ability, but he was happy to get our video so he had the basics down before beginning. He had done his homework, was teachable in many areas and yet knew what he wanted. What a difference!

The only problem with teaching classes is that every student isn’t the golden contact we want to meet, some really drive us nuts and it’s often a balance between the best students whom we love and those few oddballs whom we’d rather bar the doors to keep them out.

Don't Be Like Milo

Back in 1985, I had an experience which really was a set back for me. It was at a time when a lot of pressure was building. I wasn't sure which direction I wanted my stained glass art to go. We had experienced a house fire and I needed to concentrate on rebuilding. I had sold the video rental part of our business, which was also the part that brought in income on a consistent basis. But I still loved stained glass, it was just that the shine was starting to wear off, it wasn't as fun anymore.

Someone once told me that anything you do to earn your living will eventually become a job. And I guess that was happening to me, my art was becoming my job and I spent more time trying to make money, than trying to make good art.

But it was still fun, there was always a renewal of excitement when we began to teach a new series of classes because the students would bring their enthusiasm with them and Jeanne and I would be reminded all over again about what a great and fantastic art form stained glass construction was.

Then Milo came and took classes. He walked into the studio in his "Missouri Tuxedo." That's a pair of bib overalls. He wore no additional shirt over his quite large frame and he was barefoot. He looked a little like Santa Claus on vacation with his white flowing beard and round tummy. He began to ask us about stained glass and he caught the excitement of the vision of being able to create his own work of art. So we invited him to join with us during our next class and he came. We were happy to have him, but we cautioned that you have to wear shoes in a stained glass shop and that a shirt was also a good idea.

Milo showed up at the appointed hour, full of enthusiasm. He brought his wife along, just to watch. That was a common occurrence in Missouri, a way to get good value from your dollar and give your spouse a chance to get out of the house. Milo chose a very nice round pattern of a scene with ducks in it for his first project. He enjoyed the process of selecting the glass and really understood the concept of cutting out his pattern pieces and tracing them out on glass. Then he began to cut his glass.

Now, we had already taught him how to cut glass before he laid a cutter on glass which he had purchased and he had done okay, but as he began to cut his pieces out, he varied from the instructions we had given him. I told Milo, he should push the cutter away from himself so he could see where the wheel on the cutter was going, but Milo felt is was easier to pull it towards himself. Then, I had taught Milo to tap under the glass to get the score to run so that he could tap directly under the score and get a nice, clean break. Milo figured it was easier to turn the glass upside down and lay it on the table and tap it from that side. Consequently, his tapping was often not directly under the place scored and his glass often broke in the wrong place.

Mistakes happen when learning a new skill, but Milo wouldn't listen. As hard as we tried, Milo was going to do it his own way. I said push, he pulled, I said tap from the bottom, he tapped from the top. When he broke a large piece of glass which would be the sky in the window, I offered to give him a new piece of glass. But of course, Milo refused, instead he just jovially said, "No, that will just be another lead line." And so his project went, one badly broken and shaped piece after another, with "new lead lines" springing up whenever a mistake was made.

Milo was having so much fun, he decided to take his project home and foil and solder it there. At that point, I figured it couldn't hurt, he didn't listen to a word of advice anyone gave in class.

I was wrong.

A day or two passed and Milo returned with his completed project. He had foiled and soldered it at home. Of course, he hadn’t had a stained glass type solder iron, so he soldered his window with a soldering gun. He asked if I could help him with some of his lead lines and I agreed, but when I looked at the panel, I was appalled.

In the course of soldering a stained glass window together, the builder will solder one side completely and then turn the window over and solder the other side. Occasionally, you might miss a place or two, but for the most part, most folks do a pretty good job of covering their window and making it a solid piece.

Not so with Milo's window. There were holes all over it where not only hadn't it been soldered on the front, it hadn't been soldered on the back as well. I was dumbfounded. I really didn't know where to start. Usually when I'm asked to help with a solder job, it's just to help smooth the occasional rough spot and teach the student how to improve their technique. No solder joint on his project was right or good or complete. I had to start on one side and re-solder everything. When I finished, I left the backside for Milo to redo and showed him how the right tool was important for the job. For once, he listened and bought his own iron.

A few days later, Milo drove up and climbed out of his truck. He parked right in front of the store so he could get his finished project from the passenger side and bring it into the store. He had worked on the soldering at home and if anything, it was worse than when he had left days before. I offered to help him with his technique, but he didn’t need help, Milo was happy with his project as it was. In fact, he was there to buy more supplies and another pattern so he could build another window.

Over the next few weeks, Milo built four or five stained glass panels. They were certainly originals, but try as I might, I couldn't get him to vary his techniques. He was fine with his poor construction. What really go to me was that Milo carried his windows in his pickup wherever he went, not caring that they got cracked sitting there on the seat as they bounced up and down over rural back roads. He happily went from town to town, proudly showing everyone who would listen that he had built these "stain glasses" himself and that that David Gomm over in Pierce City was his teacher. My reputation suffered and I was mortified, as Milo went about enjoying his love for glass crafting, my love for it dwindled and soon was gone.

Milo had done me in. My love for the art was at an ebb anyhow, but to have this big lug go about telling everyone that I was his teacher was just more than I could bear. I just snapped and gave lamp bases away to students. I took all my glass and supplies home to a small workspace, gave away extra grinders and tools. I didn't want to look at another piece of glass!

And I didn't for about a year. Then slowly, my interest began to return. It started as Jeanne taught a local youth group about stained glass. Then we got a commission for the city park and as we began to build and design, life became good again and my love for stained glass returned.

But nowadays, when I have a student who won't follow directions, I tell them the story of Milo. Their eyes grow wide with disbelief that there could be someone who wouldn't listen at all to instruction. And they try to at least give it a chance when I ask them to push not pull and tap from the bottom, not the top.