The New Semester.

As summer drew to a close, I could not wait to get back into the shop. I was especially excited to see my new classmates, and if there would be any girls in there with me this time around.

I dusted off my helmet, pulled my tool bag out of the closet, fished my boots out from under my bed, pulled a long sleeve shirt from the closet and picked up my jacket off the closet floor. Each one of these little actions made the grin on my face grow wider.

I tossed all of these items into the trunk of my car, next to my welding text and workbook, hopped in the car and dashed off for school.

Frustration

I cruised through the next few assignments in record time and was way ahead of the class for awhile, the only people who were ahead of me were the students who already had welding skills.

And then.... we had to weld a 30 degree V-weld with the 6010 electrode. This had me bashing my head against the table everyday... for a good 2 months. I listened to Teach's tips and tried my best and still could not get it right. I even asked my classmates what they had done.. and still could not get it right even once.

I began to hate welding. By the time I had finished the assignment, with a measly B (all of my other grades had been high A's), I was the last person still on the assignment, and the semester was over! I was suddenly re-evaluating my desire to learn to weld.

Now it's summer vacation and I can not wait until school starts back up and I can get back in and start again, and learn a new application! I am really excited for TIG which won't be until the following summer, but I am going to get someone to show me ahead of time.

It's 100 degrees outside and I wish I was welding.

Sick.

The next week I was terribly sick. I was dragging myself to my classes and stiffling coughing fits.

I showed up early to the welding shop, leaving all of my gear in the trunk of my car. Teach looked at me and said "You're sick." I nodded and he told me to go home. He said that breathing in the dirt and fumes wasn't going to help me get better, and that since I was ahead of everyone, missing a class wouldn't be detrimental.

I went home, crawled into bed and dreamt of burning metal.

My welding class was only one day a week. But later in the week, the advanced students had a class that ran at the same time. We were told that we were welcome to come in on that day and catch up. I was feeling guilty about missing class that week, so I went in to do a few assignments and get ahead again. I was still pretty sick, but feeling much, much better than I had felt when Teach told me to go home.

I saw a lot of faces that I had never seen before. A lot of people looked at me questioningly.

One guy greeted me with a happy hello, and as I was pulling my hat out of my tool bag he asked if I had a do-rag. I pulled out a bandana quickly and said "I sure do!" I pinned my bangs back, a la Rosie, and tied the bandana around my hair, then slipped on my ballcap backwards. Two minutes from girly-girl to tomboy.

Teach grabbed a ratty piece of scrap and told me to weld it to my pad for a handle. This was my first time welding two pieces of metal together. I had a hard time keeping the spark going, but I made it about three quarters of the way across my new handle then took it to him. "You aren't grading me on this are you?" I asked. It looked terrible and I held it behind my back until he told me no.

He then showed me how to use the chop saw, which was brand new, and I cut the ends off of my pad, to look for deposits inside. I had a blast using the saw. Teach leans in and goes "Are the sparks bothering you?" I shook my head. Hell, it looked like christmas, with all those yellow sparks flying around. I loved it!

He noted that there were very few deposits in my pad, and told me to take it out to the wirewheel, clean it up and soften the edges. I loved grinding that thing down. I was starting to think that I didn't want to be a welder after all, I wanted to be a cutter and a grinder.

There is only one wirewheel in the shop, and occasionally I would look back and see someone waiting for me to finish. So I would step aside and let them have a turn. Some looked angry or annoyed at me. I stood back, waited for them to finish then went back at it. I had a lot to do, this was my first time using a wirewheel so I wasn't by any means adept, and the pad was damn rough and really dirty! But eventually I got sick of the evil eyes and decided to go home.

One of the evil eyes was from Camaro, the guy who had given me my tour of the shop last semester when I came in to talk with Teach. He had been so nice then and now he looked so annoyed that I was there. I didn't get it.

I packed up my tools, said goodnight to Teach and headed home.

Success!

Got back to class and immediately went to work on my pad. Did a few practice beads on some scrap, then jumped right in to the second layer, at 85 amps. When finished, I took it in to be graded and Teach said it was exceptional! Went back out to finish my third layer, turned up the amperage to 90 and did my practice beads on the scrap. I immediately noticed how much hotter it was, and it even felt harder to control, but I went ahead with the pad, and when I was done,I took it in to Teach. He said it was even better than the last and graded me a 96% for the last layer. Some of the guys were standing around, they seemed surprised and took a look over my shoulder.

One of the other guys needed a spot to work, so Teach told me to go take a break. I stood around for a bit. Some of my classmates brought over their work to be graded, and I watched Teach send back quite a few of them to do it over. One of which was my buddy Malibu. He looked at me, frowned and went over to his booth.

I went outside to make a phone call and when I came in, I saw that everyone was working. I was the only one who was done.

There was certainly a new spring in my step that evening. I checked in on Malibu a few times to see what problems he was having. I also watched Nomad, one of the other beginning students that I had spoken with briefly on other days.

We all seemed to frequently come across the same problems. Splatter, sticking the electrode or losing the flame. I tried not to be too cocky about being done, knowing that I would encounter plenty of problems as time went on. Isn't the first assignment always the easiest anyway?

Malibu picked at me as we walked out to our cars. Calling me "Miss 96 percent". I knew he was being friendly, but I picked back at him, with my head held much higher than it had been the week before.

Week four. The first assignment.

Teach told us to go out and practice for a half hour and then come back to the lecture room and we would talk. I grabbed my equipment and went out to find that all of the work stations were taken. A few of the guys saw me looking for a place to work, and quickly turned back to their work, avoiding eye contact with me. I looked about for Malibu, but couldn't find him, so I went and sat outside until the lecture.

I seethed. I couldn't understand why almost all of the guys were giving me the cold shoulder. I grew up around men, and always got along with males better than females. I had proven that I didn't mind getting dirty, burning holes in my clothes, carrying heavy loads... I wasn't asking for any special treatment, just the same courtesy that they were affording each other.

When I went back in for the lecture, Malibu was there "Hey! Are you just getting here?" I frowned, shook my head but didn't elaborate, not wanting to whine.

For lecture, he talked to us about common problems, gave us tips, and then we got to talk about any problems that we were having. Then we got our first assignment!

Our first assignment? What?! I wasn't ready for that! Our assignment was to weld a pad on quarter inch steel. We had to do 3 layers with 7018 electrode. Each layer was to have a different type of motion.

Malibu and I grabbed our tools and went to the shop, snagging a work booth quickly.

"You know, you are the only one here who will talk to me," I said to him.

"Aww are they scared of you?" he asked with a smile.

"I don't know, I guess so. But as a result, you are my perma-buddy now. You are going to get so sick of me."

He laughed.

We grabbed some electrodes and got to work. Not too much later, while Malibu was welding, the guy at the booth next to us, lifted his helmet, looked at me and asked how I was liking it. I told him it was fun, but I kept sticking the electrode. He told me to strike it like a match, and not pull up. He looked just a few years younger than me, which was surprising, because so far, everyone that had spoken to me was noticably older. He took off his glove, shook my hand and introduced himself. We will call him Lightning. He said if I had any questions to let him know.

I had a bit of a spring in my step after that, happy that not EVERYONE was shying away from me.

I did a few practice beads on scrap metal before getting to work on the first layer of my pad. Not too much later, Lightning left the booth and Malibu took his place. Soon, after each pass, we were leaning around the canvas divider and comparing our work.

Lightning came by at one point and watched over my shoulder, telling me tips as I went.

When I finished my first layer, I sat back, looked at it and thought it looked pretty good, so I took it to teach for a grade. He looked at it, looked up at me, and smiled. Then wrote on my grade sheet that I got an A.

My first welds.

The third day of class had me practically bouncing in my chair in excitement. I was telling my study buddies in other classes about how I was going to get to weld that night. If you had tried to bottle my excitement, the cap wouldn't have been able to fit ontop.

After another safety video and a video on Oxyacetylene welding, (during which I was constantly thinking Oh no, I am gonna blow myself up.) we got to go out and work on our first welds. Half of the class already had some experience arc welding with a stick electrode. Those of us who had no experience were partnered up with people who had some experience.

I was partnered up Malibu, one of the guys from the previous week who had been talking to me about where to buy the textbooks. After he introduced himself, we grabbed our tools, threw on our safety glasses and headed into the shop. He told me that it had been quite a number of years since he had welded, and hoped he remembered what he was doing. One of the advanced students showed us how to turn on the equipment and adjust the voltage, and where the electrodes were kept, then we got to work.

I watched over his shoulder as he welded, then we switched out so I could have a chance. I stuck the electrode against the metal, and pulled up too far, and the flame went out. So I tried again, and didn't pull up enough and stuck the electrode to the metal. This continued a lot throughout the evening. I did get a couple of beads completed, but they looked terrible, and I got mad at myself everytime I screwed up. Malibu was very supportive and kept telling me to try again and not get frustrated. He made a few errors too, but was overall much better than me.

I had to kick the perfectionist in me to the side and remind myself that he had done this before and I had not.

Teach came by to ask us what we thought and how we were doing and all I could say was, "Well it looked a lot easier in the video." He gave us some tips and while Malibu as working he asked if I wanted to work in the industry, or if I was just here for personal reasons.

As I was not currently working, I told him that I was open to working as a welder if I found that I liked it, and did well with it. So he told me that women welders get union jobs very easily, if they turn out quality work. I was surprised, but he said it's because they need the minority, as an equal opportunity employer. This immediately sparked (haha, get it?) in me a desire to get to work.

We showed him our welds, he gave us some tips to try out and headed on to the next group of students.

We cleaned up, put our tools away and headed out a bit later. Not only was I leaving ecstatic about having gotten to weld, but I was also happy that I made a friend in Malibu, and hence, was starting to feel less like an outcast.

The Second Day

The second day of class I made my way to the back of the lecture area, ready to escape any unnecessary attention. I quickly realized how different the view was, from where I had sat last week, right up front. I was able to observe my classmates, and quickly saw that most of them were avoiding eye contact with me. Part of me was surprised, but a bigger part of me was not.

We watched a safety video, and a video on stick Arc Welding. I watched and thought Oh that looks easy.

A few guys actually did talk to me. When Teach was discussing places to buy our text books, I piped up that Amazon.com had them much cheaper, they turned and asked questions like "How much?" or "For both the text and the workbook?" I noticed that the ones that did speak up were much older than I was. The younger ones kept their eyes forward.

Teach concluded by stating that the following class we would actually get to weld, because it was easier to explain things once we had already given it a try.

I COULD NOT WAIT!

The Rules (of the blog).

I am posting this blog anonymously to protect the integrity of my school and my classmates. I am not one to name names, and I am sure that as this project progresses there will be opportunities for names to come up. I am sure there will be good guys and bad guys. No one wants to be the bad guy, so I would rather just not drop names. Maybe this will get back to my fellow classmates. Maybe someone will read this that knows the real me. If those things happen, I don't want people to read it and know who I am talking about. (Although who knows, they may anyway.)

I have chosen to name the characters in my memoirs after cars. Not only is there a wealth of car models to choose from, but I feel that they can easily portray a personality. What do you think of when someone mentions a Lamborghini Murcielago? A Toyota Camry? A VW Rabbit? (I thank my dear friend D. for her help in coming up with this concept.)

Wendy the Welder is much like Rosie the Riveter. Not an actual person, but a figure symbolizing many women. Rosie and Wendy represent the women who worked in factories during World War II. They have become icons of our culture, prominent figures in the history of the United States. I am proud to call myself "a Wendy" and "a Rosie".

The picture on my profile is of "a Wendy" at the Kaiser Shipyards in Richmond, California during World War II. I pay homage to her, and her sisters, in using this picture to represent myself. I hope that one day I can amount to all that they have. I do also plan to look for some artwork to take the place of this picture, until then, I salute the Wendy's that have helped shape my country's history.

Smalltown, USA is everywhere. Your town, my town. It doesn't matter. Imagine it to be wherever you like. Every state, province, country has one.

Please feel free to contact me via comment here, my Facebook page or email. I would love to hear from everyone. I am new to this field and those of you with experience are an inspiration to me.

The First Day

I stepped into the shop lecture room, and heads turned to stare at me. I took a seat in the front row, and dug around in my backpack for a pen and my notebook. I tried to look intent on what I was doing as people filed in, but I couldn't help but notice that most of the guys already knew each other. Not only was I the only female, I also didn't know a soul.

Teach came out and told us that class was going to be short that night. He didn't want to go over anything important until he knew who was going to add the class and who would drop. He gave us our list of materials we would need to get (gloves, an arc helmet, vice grips, slag hammer, etc.), and told us that we needed to wear 100% cotton, long sleeves, boots and safety glasses at all times, no matter what.

One of the advanced students looked down at my feet under the table, from where he sat on the counter across from me. I was wearing low-top Converse All Stars. "You have boots?" he asked. Um, hello, I was a teenager in the 90's, all we wore were boots. "Yes I do." He looked at me skeptically.

Teach gave us a rundown of the program, telling us how long it had been around and a general overview of the things we would learn.

He told us that welding jobs in the county were scarce, but if we were willing to work outside of the county, we were sure to get a job. Thank god, I do NOT want to stay here. They were currently working with one of the plants locally to put together an internship program for us, to help us get job skills and hopefully a job. The advanced student who asked about my boots looked at me and said "And they will take women too, they don't descriminate." Well good.

Afterwards, Teach came around and asked everyone their names so he could mark us off the role sheet. "And you must be," his eyes scanned the roster, "Wendy," he marked me off. He seemed to vaguely remember me. "Ever done any welding before?"

"None."

"Didn't take it in high school?"

"We didn't have it in high school."

"Where did you go to school?" I told him that I wasn't from around here, and we got into a discussion about the school budget and how shop classes were closing right and left in high schools. Not wanting to date myself, I didn't mention that I was in high school twelve years ago!

I went home anxious for the following week. I was ready to learn, ready for my new skills, and ready to kick butt.

Registration

There I was, on the first day of registration. My paperwork in hand, standing in line, biting my fingernails. When it was my turn at the counter, I watched nervously as the registrar typed in my requests. Finally he looked up at me and said "Alright, you're in." The weight lifted off my shoulders and he handed me my class schedule.

Two weeks before class started I stopped in at the bookstore to purchase my supplies. My welding book only available used. The cover was weathered and the pages were smeared with black finger prints. I smiled, hugged it to my chest and whispered to myself "pre-loved".

Schooling.

After I received my email that I had qualified for the Federal Pell Grant, I called up the school and signed up for orientation and my placement test.

At the orientation, we went around the room and introduced ourself and said what our major was. I hadn't (and still haven't) chosen a major. But I knew for a fact that I wanted to take all of the welding classes and upon completion of them get my certification. So when it was my turn, I introduced myself and said that my major was welding. The counselor heading the orientation looked pleasantly surprised. Her eyes got big and she went onto say "That's great, we definitely need more women welders." Woo! Girl Power! Everyone else was majoring in business, nursing, radiologic technology... very normal things. I felt different, and I liked it.

Once I completed the placement test and the school was confident that I knew english and math, I was given an appointment to meet with a counselor and choose classes and an educational plan.
We went over my different options for english, math, the basics. Then I told her that I wanted to take welding. She wasn't phased by this. But I pointed out that in the school catalog it didn't say that the upcoming arc welding class was for beginners. And should I also be taking the TIG and MIG class that was being offered? She wasn't sure, so we headed over to the shop to talk to the teacher.

The Teacher (from here out referred to as "Teach") greeted me with a handshake and a warm smile. My counselor said "We wanted to talk to you, because she is interested in taking your classes, but we are a little intimidated by the idea being that it's usually all guys in the class." WHAT? Who was she kidding? I recovered politely and elbowed her gently "You may be intimidated, but I'm not." Teach told us that he loved having women in the class because they tried hard and unlike the guys, didn't walk in thinking they knew everything. My counselor then asked if I could get a tour. Teach said sure.

One of the students gave me a tour. He showed me to the cabinet with the safety glasses then introduced himself with a handshake and showed me into the shop. He pointed out the arc welding stations, the grinders, plasma cutters.... with each thing he showed me, I felt the excitement rising in me. I was oblivious to the other people in the shop until a guy came in from the side door and asked my tour guide "What's going on?"

"She's going to be taking the class with us in the spring," said my tour guide.

Two guys at the arc welding booths turned to look at me, and their eyes grew.

The guy who had asked what was up smiled. "Ok, you can sit by me."

I laughed and said "Alright."

That was the end of the tour so when we stepped back into the lecture room, I thanked my tour guide, and only then noticed how attractive he was, and blushed at my thought. I put the safety glasses back into the cabinet, said I would see him in the spring, then went to say goodbye to Teach before heading back to the administration office.

Teach asked what my interest was in welding. Art? Cars? I told him it was mostly car related but I would be interested in some art too. He said he was looking forward to having me, and I told him also that I would see him in the spring.

In the administration office we filled out my class request sheet. Teach recommended that since I was a beginner, I should stick with just the arc welding class to start. So we picked out some other classes and she told me that I should show up and register on the first day possible because the welding classes filled fast and usually had a waiting list.

I headed home with a smile on my face, and more excitement in my heart than I had felt in a long time.

Relocating.

I looked into welding training many times through the community college. My guy friends always said I didn't need a class, but I am a perfectionist, and if I am gonna do something, I want to do it right, and I want the finished product to be exceptional.

But with work and life, I never had time to take the classes, so my goal of being the go-to welder, faded into the background. Meanwhile, we grew up, and the streetracing/car building crew, drifted apart. We had full time jobs, moved into our own places, some married and had kids, money was in shorter supply so the lifestyle became a hobby, and eventually some gave up the hobby.

Fast forward a number of years. It's 2009, I am single and unemployed following a series of bad decisions. The economy is in shambles. I am broke, and I finally kick my ego to the curb and move home to Smalltown, USA to live with Mom and Dad.

I'm hunting for a job, but the economy here is just as bad and much smaller. The nearest urban area is 50 miles away. I wouldn't mind the commute, but there are few jobs and all of the ones that are available have mobs of applicants. A few months are spent sitting on my butt, reading, playing video games, watching everything I can on Netflix, living on Facebook playing every flash game they offer.

I'm outside one weekend, talking to the lady who lives across the road. Nice lady, I can easily say that she is my only friend in Smalltown. She is about 10 years my senior, her kids 10 years my junior. She is telling me how she just completed her associates degree at the local community college. A lightbulb turns on in my mind.

I never went to college after high school... ok I started a semester, but didn't have the discipline to finish it. I am not doing anything now, so curiously, I hop on the school's website and browse the catalog.

Immediately, I see that there is a welding program. Mere seconds later, I am filling out the online registration.

How it all started.

Even as a little girl, I had dirt under my fingernails and grease smeared across my face. I grew up in the garage, at the shop, out in the yards with my Dad. Dad worked in tire retread and his hobby was cars, so I saw a lot of cars, a lot of trucks and a lot of men in my childhood.

Weekends were spent at the race track or at car shows. Dad raced a 1972 Nova before I was born, and I think everytime we went to the track he wished it was him out there. It wasn't long before I wished it was me.

My first car was a Chevy Nova. I drove it everywhere, and I loved it like it was my child. But, it was my first car, and I was just learning how to take care of it and how everything worked. My parents always reminded me to check the oil and I always forgot. When the engine blew, Dad made ME replace it. (Of course he helped) And while I had always been around when he worked on cars, seeing the daylight through the hole in the block where the rod had flown through, and the whole process of the replacement, the sense of accomplishment when the car was up and running again, made me love that car even more and made me want to spend the rest of my life around cars.

My first boyfriend worked at an auto dismantler. I loved getting there early to pick him up from work, and picking through things, seeing if I could find a loose, broken emblem. The broken ones, the owner would let me have. I had a collection at home on my bookshelf full of them.

Weekends we went Street Racing. If my boyfriend got a challenge that wasn't worth his time, I got to accept it. Pretty soon I had my own reputation in the crowd.

But with all the cars that were built amongst my family and our streetracing friends, we always had to send out to get things welded. We had ASE certified technicians, electricians and everything else we would ever need... except for welders.

So I decided that would be my contribution.