And so I make my way back to the main lobby. The text on the wall says extra equipment. Apparently the extra equipment has been removed.
There was only one way to go on the ground floor. It was this dark corridor with lots of bins.
At the end of the corridor was the woodworking class. The subject I call woodworking also included welding and stuff, but I call it woodworking, as that’s the most direct translation to what we called it, when I was a kid.
The classroom and other rooms related to it occupied all of the ground floor. I didn’t think anything special of it. After all, we had woodworking since grade three back in the primary school.
The moped gang seems to have been here, too.
Protect your ears, protect your face, don’t sit on machines, don’t lean on machines.
Don’t use this door, the sign says. I mean what were you allowed to do in here?
Although meant for rough work, this classroom shows just how primitive this school was.
That is one cute little oven.
The place looked more like a factory than a school.
Oh! Which substance should we sniff today?
In a somewhat central location was this small room with glass windows to all directions. If this wasn’t for the teacher, I don’t know what its purpose was.
This room was facing the front side of the building. The windows were covered only on that side.
The windows had been covered before they had been destroyed. This preventive measure hadn’t stopped people from finding a point of entry and thrashing things.
That sure was a lot of fuses. I’ve seen larger buildings with less.
This huge amount of bins still puzzles me. If they had been transported there for emptying the school, they had been there for a long time.
Newspapers from 2016. I had no chance of finding myself from these.
A lovely vintage drawer.
This one definitely is the teacher’s little cupboard.
If the last call from this phone was made to the social security institution of Finland, the call is probably still on the line.
The corridor with the bins to the other direction.
These were probably used by the pupils when working in the classroom.
But as there was nowhere else to go on the ground floor, it’s time to go upstairs.
Or is it?
Oh, how I miss those days of shop class, or as we called it back in the 1990s here in the USA. I remember being absolutely terrible at woodworking – just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.
But when it came to working with metal, that’s where my talent lies. There’s something about the precision and strength required in metalwork that just resonated with me.
And welding? It’s like second nature! I actually own a welder and use it regularly. It’s amazing how skills from those school days can turn into lifelong passions and talents.
Thank you once again for your comment, Thomas! The fact, that my stories seem to wake up your memories has become extremely important to me. In fact, every time I publish, I’m just waiting for your like, and after that the possible comment, that is to come. I’m always eager to see, what you will tell me next. Your contribution makes my stories feel like important!
But in the terms of woodworking we are different. I just loved working with lathes and chisels. When it came to welding, I was handless. I was extremely afraid of everything, that was powered with gas. Guess, I was afraid of making things explode, haha.