Not that I'm counting . . . but there are 12 more school days until summer. I think the kids are as ready as I am to have this time off. School is rough, although for a lot of kids there's not a lot other than school. This occurs to me occasionally as I'm racing from my classroom to the parking lot and I notice the same kid sitting at a picnic table on school grounds, day after day. I think I was that kid some thirty-forty years ago. I used to hang out near the art room at my junior high, hoping Mrs. Wright would show up and let me in to draw--or really just to keep company with her. She was this beautiful hippy artist teacher (it was the early 70's) who lived in Redwood Estates, drove a green Volvo station wagon with dog claw scratches on the passenger side. She showed us a a pen and ink drawing of her two dogs she'd drawn from a photo and we were in awe of her skills.
Well, she turned me on to art, but more than anything, she took time to listen to my teen-age angst (and I mean a lot of time--a lot of angst), made me feel valuable, both as an artist and a person. She meant a lot--no, she means a lot to me. How can I, now an art teacher myself, not think of her often?
So--Marilyn Wright--wherever you may be (hopefully it is in a magnificent, creative space): I get it! And I hope there might be a student out there who respects me/remembers me the same one day.
3 comments:
You were lucky to have Marilyn Wright...and your students are lucky to have you.
I second that emotion. :)
Hey, I thought you wrote another entry...where is it?!
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