Twenty Years in the Making:
How Teaching by Day Led to Printing by Night
They say it takes 10,000 hours to master something. I’m pretty sure I put in 20,000—mostly because I kept making the same mistakes over and over again. But hey, that’s how you learn, right?
The Balancing Act: Teacher by Day, Ink Slinger by Night
After my fateful $5 garage sale find, my weekdays were all about lesson plans, parent-teacher conferences, and wrangling middle schoolers. But when the final bell rang, my evenings turned into a crash course in screen printing. The garage became my classroom, and the “students” were stacks of blank T-shirts just waiting to be rescued from my latest experiment.
Killeen—my wife, my voice of reason, and the first member of my unofficial quality control department—watched as I transformed our garage into a makeshift print shop. She’d shake her head at the mess, but she always cheered me on (and occasionally rescued a shirt or two from the “reject” pile).
Early Projects & Epic Fails
It started small: a shirt for a family reunion, a onesie for a friend’s new baby, a set of team shirts for a local rec league. I’d like to say they were instant hits, but let’s be honest—some of those early designs looked like they’d been attacked by a rogue marker and a bottle of ketchup.
But with every botched print, I got a little better. I learned how to line up a design (mostly), how to mix ink without turning it into a weird shade of brown, and how to avoid gluing my fingers together with emulsion. There were plenty of late nights, plenty of ruined shirts, and more than a few “what was I thinking?” moments.
The Slow Grind to Skill
Over the years, my garage classroom got a little more organized (emphasis on “a little”). I upgraded equipment, discovered the magic of proper squeegee technique, and even managed to print a multi-color design that didn’t look like a toddler’s finger painting. Each small win kept me going.
I started taking on more requests from friends, family, and eventually friends-of-friends. Word started to spread: “Hey, Anthony, can you make me a shirt for that?” Suddenly, I was the go-to guy for custom tees—at least in my corner of St. Louis. My garage became the unofficial headquarters for every family reunion, rec league, and quirky birthday party in a ten-mile radius.
But then—plot twist! Life threw us a curveball: we packed up and moved to Omaha, Nebraska, Killeen’s hometown. Cue the big question: Would I have to start all over? I’ll be honest, the thought of rebuilding my little “shirt empire” from scratch was daunting.
Here’s the thing, though—skills (and stubbornness) are portable. The years I spent perfecting my craft in St. Louis didn’t disappear just because I crossed state lines. Sure, I had to hustle to build up a new local customer base in Omaha, but I wasn’t starting from zero. Thanks to the magic of the internet (and a few loyal customers who insisted on shipping shirts across state lines), my faithful few stuck with me. Orders kept trickling in, even as I learned the ropes of a new city.
The move turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It pushed me to get creative, get connected, and double down on what made my work stand out in the first place: quality, relationships, and a willingness to say “yes” to just about any wild T-shirt idea.
Lessons Learned (The Hard Way)
Teaching taught me patience, but screen printing taught me humility. Every new technique came with its own challenges, and every mistake was another lesson in what not to do. But that’s the thing about learning: you’ve got to be willing to get your hands dirty (sometimes literally) and keep showing up, even when the results aren’t Instagram-worthy.
The Turning Point
Somewhere along the way, a hobby started to look a lot like a calling. The joy of seeing someone light up when they put on a shirt I’d made—well, that was addictive. And the more I learned, the more I wanted to share that feeling with others.
But that’s a story for the next chapter. Because after twenty years of trial, error, and way too many ink stains, I finally decided it was time to take the leap.
Stay tuned for Part 3: Taking the Leap—where I trade the classroom for the print shop and turned a passion project into a real business.
