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So it turned out to have nothing to do with math trauma. I really did mess up in the cutting--apparently I used the wrong line on the specialty ruler. Clearly points to how scattered I was during the month of October with a bunch of travel and nights out, doing the block "catch-as-catch-can" in the rare occasions I was home.
Why does it make me somehow feel better to know I made a stupid mistake rather than experiencing a more deep-seeded geometry issue? Yep, still ended up tossing out the original pieces since there really would've been no salvaging them (not being a miniature scrap saver, anyway). Started again with two new fabrics since I had none left of the originals. And these pinwheels, although still tricky to get points together and keep everything aligned, are going beautifully.
But at least I know I wasn't being a blockhead. I was just being an idiot. I can live with that.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Well...Doh. Math Trauma Strikes Again.
I was just on another quilting retreat last weekend--this time with members of my guild. A few of us are taking the same class together at our LQS--a year-long, once-a-month class on Jodi Barrows' square-in-a-square technique. We were swapping stories about our successes and not-so-successes finishing each month's homework. I told them that I'd been doing great until I ran aground on pinwheels last month--the points in the center of the block were nowhere close to meeting. Assuming I'd made some major cutting error or something, I was afraid I was going to have to toss out the pinwheels and start again.
One woman said, "Well, maybe you should try turning the pieces around--sew different edges together instead."
My math-traumatized brain had never thought about the geometry of the block, and that perhaps just a simple turn of each piece would solve my problem. So last night I sat and ripped a bunch of seams out, and laid out the pieces on my cutting table with different edges coming together. Sure as tootin', it's looking a whole lot more workable now.
I still can't completely understand the geometry of it. Just like I can't figure out the math of my stack-n-slash quilts. You're supposed to stack like-sized pieces, make one cut, move the bottom piece of one side of the cut to the top, sew the pieces together, make a second cut, move the bottom of the same side to the top, and do it again--repeat as desired, each time moving the bottom piece to the top so you end up with randomly pieced blocks. But for some reason, by the third slash, and sometimes even the second, I'm getting repeat fabrics in the same block. I number pieces, keep close track of where they are, and it still happens. So by cut three or so, I'm going to the bottom piece and then grabbing the next one as well, or two, so I'm moving a stack of two, three, or four pieces from bottom to top to get them to randomize again. Why should such a simple concept be so hard?!
Not that the stack-n-slash really bothers me in the long run. I've now made two really fun quilts with a "layer cake" pack (40 10" squares) of batiks, and I have a set of flannel fat quarters I can't wait to tackle with the same technique. It's a great way to get a fun quilt fast. But the fact that it didn't strike me to turn those stupid pinwheel pieces in a slightly different direction bugs me. Why didn't I think of that?
I pinpoint my math trauma back to a difficult teacher in second grade, who liked to hold individual students up to collective ridicule. I didn't get my homework done one night because I didn't get the concept--the next day she told the class that because I didn't get my homework done, the whole class was going to lose out on a special activity she'd planned for the end of class. Who ever thought that was effective teaching methodology? A whole year of her in our Math Lab was a brutal experience for me. To this day, crunching numbers gives me a stomach ache, although I have to do it all the time. My husband always comments that he doesn't understand why I hate math so much--my very logical, very systematic brain should take to math like a fish to water. Enter Second Grade Teacher Trauma. I can do math when I decide I have to, but usually I avoid it like the plague. I was thrilled when my kids both turned out to be great at math because I could ask them my math-related-quilting questions. "Help me figure out how many pieces at X size I can get out of this X sized piece of fabric?" Since they're close to moving out of the house, though, I bought myself a Quilt-Calc and let electronics do the work for me.
So, it was a "doh" moment with the pinwheels. But now at least maybe next time points don't match I'll look for a simple solution rather than chastising myself for being a screw-up. That being said, I haven't actually sewn the pinwheel pieces back together yet. That's tonight's job. But I'm hopeful. And you know what? Quilting has taught me that yes, sometimes math can actually be fun.
One woman said, "Well, maybe you should try turning the pieces around--sew different edges together instead."
My math-traumatized brain had never thought about the geometry of the block, and that perhaps just a simple turn of each piece would solve my problem. So last night I sat and ripped a bunch of seams out, and laid out the pieces on my cutting table with different edges coming together. Sure as tootin', it's looking a whole lot more workable now.
I still can't completely understand the geometry of it. Just like I can't figure out the math of my stack-n-slash quilts. You're supposed to stack like-sized pieces, make one cut, move the bottom piece of one side of the cut to the top, sew the pieces together, make a second cut, move the bottom of the same side to the top, and do it again--repeat as desired, each time moving the bottom piece to the top so you end up with randomly pieced blocks. But for some reason, by the third slash, and sometimes even the second, I'm getting repeat fabrics in the same block. I number pieces, keep close track of where they are, and it still happens. So by cut three or so, I'm going to the bottom piece and then grabbing the next one as well, or two, so I'm moving a stack of two, three, or four pieces from bottom to top to get them to randomize again. Why should such a simple concept be so hard?!
Not that the stack-n-slash really bothers me in the long run. I've now made two really fun quilts with a "layer cake" pack (40 10" squares) of batiks, and I have a set of flannel fat quarters I can't wait to tackle with the same technique. It's a great way to get a fun quilt fast. But the fact that it didn't strike me to turn those stupid pinwheel pieces in a slightly different direction bugs me. Why didn't I think of that?
I pinpoint my math trauma back to a difficult teacher in second grade, who liked to hold individual students up to collective ridicule. I didn't get my homework done one night because I didn't get the concept--the next day she told the class that because I didn't get my homework done, the whole class was going to lose out on a special activity she'd planned for the end of class. Who ever thought that was effective teaching methodology? A whole year of her in our Math Lab was a brutal experience for me. To this day, crunching numbers gives me a stomach ache, although I have to do it all the time. My husband always comments that he doesn't understand why I hate math so much--my very logical, very systematic brain should take to math like a fish to water. Enter Second Grade Teacher Trauma. I can do math when I decide I have to, but usually I avoid it like the plague. I was thrilled when my kids both turned out to be great at math because I could ask them my math-related-quilting questions. "Help me figure out how many pieces at X size I can get out of this X sized piece of fabric?" Since they're close to moving out of the house, though, I bought myself a Quilt-Calc and let electronics do the work for me.
So, it was a "doh" moment with the pinwheels. But now at least maybe next time points don't match I'll look for a simple solution rather than chastising myself for being a screw-up. That being said, I haven't actually sewn the pinwheel pieces back together yet. That's tonight's job. But I'm hopeful. And you know what? Quilting has taught me that yes, sometimes math can actually be fun.
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