Snapshot: Morning Announcements in the RHS Woodshop

Students sit on metal stools around square workbenches with vices on the ends. Extension cords hang from crossbeams on retractable yellow wheels. Signs on walls warn “Be Careful: Safety is Everybody’s Job” and “Eye Protection Must Be Worn in This Area.”

Mr. David Cerio, in jeans and a red polo, addresses the class at the bell. “I’ll be taking each one of you back into my office for a very formal grade check.”

Students look to an office behind a pane of glass where a guitar with signatures leans against a desk.

“I’ve printed the tests you’re missing, so you’ll be able to make those up,” Mr. Cerio says. “We’ve already done the state required safety tests, so those are taken care –” 

Good morning, Renton High School. Let’s stand for the pledge… Seniors, please bring your baby pictures for the yearbook to Mrs. Johnson’s room… And that’s it for your morning announcements. Have a fantastic Friday!

“How many of you know about the Lumberjox?” Mr. Cerio continues, pointing at a nearby whiteboard. “I’ve been plugging the hell out of it, so you should. We’ve got the logo for our T-shirts designed by one of our female members.”

On the whiteboard, a guy and a girl in brown, blue and red marker stand on either side of lettering that looks like wood blocks: LUMBERJOX. The guy has an axe over his shoulder; the girl clutches a saw in front of her.

A man with a ballcap walks in. “Whaddya need, Jim?”

“I need a drill!” Jim Pullis, the head custodian, says.

“Hani will get it for you,” Mr. Cerio says. “Hani is our Tool Crib Manager.”

“Thanks, David,” Jim says.

Mr. Cerio continues with the class. “For the Holidays the Lumberjox are going to donate a few rocking horses in the name of Renton High School.”

Blueprints for the rocking horses line the wall: hindquarters, front legs, neck, head, body. Smaller parts: left ear, right ear, rocker, nostril, eye, pommel, collar. Instructions are in the corner: “Top and underside of neck, shown by shaded areas, are the only places on the center body where edges are rounded.”

“On to grade checks!” Mr. Cerio says. “Those of you who have your thumb boxes… sand those. Those of you working on jewelry boxes and gumball machines, do that. Julio, I like your new panties. Those are sweet.”

A boy on a stool tugs on a black belt studded with gold beads.

“And why is this dude sitting by himself?” Mr. Cerio asks, placing his hands on another boy’s shoulders. “What’s our rule about sitting by yourself?” 

A girl raises her hand. A white plastic watch slides down her arm. “We don’t do it,” she says.

“So show him some love,” Mr. Cerio says, backing toward his office. “And if your cell phones have internet, go online and see what assignments you’re missing so you can be ready when I call you in.”

A few students get out their finger boxes and sand them. A few get out phones. One student introduces himself as Kai, the president of Lumberjox. “Have you seen the freshman Homecoming float?” he asks.

I say I haven’t. He leads me out the door and into a side garage.

A huge red and white wagon occupies most of the space. Kai points and talks: the wheels are four feet in diameter with seven lugbolts on each, the body has welded bars for pivoting, and the whole thing used twenty three sheets of plywood.

The girl with the white watch walks in and sits on top of the float, swinging her legs. Did I know Mr. C. used his Lincoln Navigator to pull the float to the stadium? That Mr. Cerio’s brother helped make it?

No, I say.

“I’ve been searching all four years for something like this,” Kai says after a moment of silence. “I love the Lumberjox. I love the cutting, the building, the tools.”

“Yeah, we get to do a lot of real work,” the girl with the watch adds. “We get choices. Like, we got to choose if we wanted to make a thumb box, a jewelry box, or a gumball machine.”

“What else have you made?” I ask.

“Not a birdhouse,” Kai says. “Mr. C. hates birdhouses. If he sees a birdhouse, he jumps on it and destroys it. I literally had to run away with a birdhouse someone brought in.” 

White Watch: I felt bad for the kid.

Kai: It was a Green Team student who thought it belonged to Mr. C. because it was made of wood.

White Watch: So they were going to recycle it anyway.

Kai: And then Mr. C. jumped on it until it broke.

Note: This column is a cross-section, a slice of life, a glimpse into the ordinary and sometimes surprising moments at the real Renton High School. It is not comprehensive. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of students.