I made it out of clay

So I am taking a pottery class two days a week. Yesterday was my first day and I arrived promptly at 6:50. The room had a damp stench and many ladies were already hard at work at their individual pieces. This seemed like a very self-guided class and so I sat down and waited for instructions.
There was not time machine that I knowlingly stepped into but the next hour and a half is a testament to human evolution from the cro-magnoman onward until modern times. I say this because once the block of clay was gracefully dumped in front of me I was no longer a 24 year old English teacher, I was indeed a cave dweller with no means of communication (with the rest of the class or the teacher) and I relied heavily on body language and facial expressions to follow along with the instructions.I mimicked and she mimed and we got down to business. In about 30 minutes I made the ugliest coffee cup in the history of the world. My next subject was a plate and to my surprise- it turned out to not be terrible. I HAD EVOLVED. The next 20 minutes were even more significant in creating a superior being because I was allowed to use man kind's secret weapon- tools! Oh glory.

It seems however that as I was illustrating Charles Darwin's point about adaptation quite literally and progressing human kind at the speed of light I was digressing chronologically. By the end of the class I acted like nothing more than a rambunctious 4 year old wielding a sharp object, looking for my next....KILn! hah, play on words. I began to act out, not out of spite, and surely not out of boredom or frustration but I did feel rather confined creatively. The teacher would come over, redo all of the hard work and effort I had put into a piece for the last 20 minutes in a single spin of the heavy thingy and then tell me (with her hands, eyes, body- basically everything but her mouth) what to do next. I had no time to practice the skill she had taught and I couldn't even learn from my mistakes because she corrected everything into a flawless artifact. If these soon to be pots were found by archeologists years from now my chiseled emblem would be associated with pottery perfection and not the shoddy unskilled results that were actuall taking place.

By the end of the class I was using my tools to cut her corrections into odd shapes and I succeeded in getting her to put both of her hands on her cheeks in a "Home Alone" like gasp when she saw me destroy (or maybe transform...) a plate into my version of a maple leaf.
I cannot wait to go back next week.