My dad was big on doing home remodeling projects. As a family, we turned the duplex we owned into a single family house when I was in elementary school, knocking down walls and redecorating everything.
My senior year of high school, my dad had me help him tear out part of our porch to create a storage closet off the dining room. Since there was already a door leading out to the space (that used to be the front door of that unit) I guess he figured it might as well lead to something useful, plus it would cut down on the amount of times we would have to answer the door to solicitors by a third.
As a teenager who is part of a government experiment, getting to take a sledgehammer to wooden uprights is downright cathartic, but then I got to help frame out the room, building everything from the studs up. And then, since there was already a roof on the porch, I got to actually use the trigonometry I had learned the year before to figure out what angle my dad needed to miter the wood at to make the roof section fit.
I'm quite certain my dad didn't need me to do the math, he achieved a near perfect score on his SAT, he is brilliant, but I was excited to get to do the math, I even remember it as being my idea to use my trig knowledge to figure it out, and I was excited that he trusted my calculations and didn't (at least in front of me) insist on doing them himself to make sure he wasn't wasting a cut (because you always measure twice, and cut once).
I don't even recall crying once during the whole remodel, which was quite remarkable.
And the roof piece fit perfectly, for the record.