Hello Obvious

I stumbled upon this article today in the NYTimes about how walking in nature helps raise ADD children's scores.

I taught once in a school building that was built in the '50s (that is just my guess, based on barely remembered color schemes, and postwar architecture) when the prevailing wisdom dictated that windows were bad (a tragedy, because is school was situated in the golden, rolling, oak studded foothills of Northern California). The rooms were like big boxes, with only a door. I felt something was wrong when I stepped in, but it wasn't until I was chatting with my boss about the room feeling claustrophobic when she pointed out to me that there were no windows.

That was the year I let the kids paint themselves black...

(ed note-- I did some digging on the internet and found a picture of the exterior of the school-with-no-windows. This is the actual building. The foyer is totally glassed, but the classes don't have any windows.)

Mr MacGregor's Gardening Legacy

Its Day Three of summer camp and I have the little monkeys pretty well-trained. So well-trained that I can take them out in public and trust that they won't commit any misdemeanors (at least while I am looking at them). One of the promises in the Camp Catalog was that "the children will visit the Community Gardens." We duly hiked the three blocks, in the 90 degree heat. It was a lovely walk through the park, even with 10 five and six year olds. Since actual City employees wrote the blurb, I assumed we'd be welcome there, since its another City installation.



When we finally arrived (they have very short legs), I reviewed the rules (hands off the plants, stay on the paths), we broke into groups (I had a helper) and we started exploring. There were two large gardens with individual plots, and the place was bursting with plants. The children were excited to be there, looking around, but not touching. They whipped out their sketchbooks and immediately started drawing. They had lots of questions about everything, but mostly they were intent on their task. I was very proud of them.


The Willy Nilly Child Death Garden Posse Hard at Work

A gentleman who was watering his plants approached me. He seemed visibly upset. He spoke at length about the "hearts and souls" people put into the garden. He told me to remind the children to "stay on the path" and "stay away from the plants." I did my professional best to allay his fears. He walked off and I thought he was gone. A few minutes later he returned, this time he was waving his cell phone at me. "This is the Community Garden Coordinator, and she want to talk to you!" he announced. I wasn't sure what my reactions should be to this magnificent and powerful demigogue. The voice on the other end accused me of letting the children run "willy-nilly." After I heard that I stopped listening. When her rampage stopped I politely said "thank you" and passed the phone back. He wasn't done. He raised a finger and pointed to a little boy quietly drawing on a side path. "That is not the MAIN PATH!" he cried, "that is a SIDE PATH!" I asked the perplexed child to move, and he did.

The man finally stomped away.

We weren't even threatening his lettuces.

Beware, Graphic Content

Georgia's Suggestive Flowers

My latest project for the little munchkins (aged 11-13) caused me a little anxiety. I let them draw names of artists out of a hat and their assignment was to research their artist and create an informational pamphlet. I had fun picking them out. I had to come up with 45 names! Naturally, I chose my favorites first, and then as many of the canon that I could recall off the top of my head. I tried to think of artists who would be mostly appropriate for my students, ones with enough information on them, and ones who were interesting. The art world, like any world, is messy and not always rated G. I was pretty confident that with a little digging, most of the artists produced something that was appropriate for school. I even gave my students a lecture about what to do if they found something disturbing. Oh how I love Junior High.

Diane Arbus's Freaky Twins

A few artists I knew were going to be borderline inappropriate, like Diane Arbus. I was relieved when most of the students got started with very few problems. One boy flagged me down almost immediately. I started to imagine meetings with principals and parents. I was quite relieved to see that he only had a page of Georgia O'Keeffe thumbnails. I asked him what the problem was. He told me he simply couldn't continue and he refused to elaborate. I pressed him, and finally, he whispered to me that he didn't want to look at people's privates. I told him it was just flowers, but he remained unconvinced. I let him do a different artist.


El Greco, rending the very fabric of the spacetime continuum

Another male student found El Greco to be too disturbing. He wasn't able to tell me what the issue was, but he looked genuinely upset, so I told him he could research Charles Schulz instead.

Teaching Moment

Of course, I remembered too late, that there are special safe search engines that are especially maintained for web-searches such as this. I am reminded, in spite of how the research has shown that studying the arts improves reading and math skills, it is constantly on the budgetary chopping block. It simply isn't safe. I am seriously doubting the wisdom of trying to teach the arts in a state-sponsored environment. Maybe I am overreacting. Now that I think of it, teaching isn't safe. Gah! What have I gotten myself into?

Notes From the Hamlet

I was picking up the clan's mail yesterday at the Social Club (yes, the sign over the door seems to indicate to the rest of the world that the building is indeed the Post Office, but in a rural town with no home delivery, it is the hub of the community) and I ran into my piano teacher. This woman is one of the adults who shepherded me through those awkward adolescent years with deep patience and understanding (besides playing for her, I remember talking non-stop). I went to her house every Thursday afternoon with my sister. We both had a half hour lesson and while I was waiting, I got to read her collection of The New Yorker and look at all the cool things on her shelves that she had picked up on her world travels.

We had a nice chat and she told me about an article she wrote about Egon Petri, the piano teacher who taught her teacher.

Hard Core Mail Art Swap

Reclining Nude, originally uploaded by camille94019.

Hey everybody sign up for my swap! Its going to be super-cool! We are going to make "art!" I wrote some clear guidelines to give courage to the insecure. Don't worry, I am a professional. Its free to join the S-B. Come on! Lets play!

If you are new, don't worry, I'll approve ya! (maybe...)

Reading Manga created by 11 year olds.

Reading Manga created by 11 year olds., originally uploaded by Ms. Art Teacher Lady.

If anyone ever wonders what I do for a living... look no further.

These are my very own students (as of last week). Aren't they brilliant!?

My Head

expresseve portrait heads, originally uploaded by camille94019.

Its the one on the left. One of my classmates took this picture and when she found me distraughtly wandering around the veranda, she offered to send this to me. Its almost better, now I have a nice image and a sob story.

Interestingly, the one on the right remained on the table. The woman sitting next to me, herself an art teacher, made it. I immediately suspected her of inadvertently taking mine. Who ever has it, I hope they are enjoying it.

Who Stole My Head?

I was at an arts education workshop today that was held at a wooded park. One of our assignments was to go out into the woods and pick up some "natural things" and to find words to describe our feelings as we were out in "nature."

I talk to plants

No one needed to ask me twice. It took me about a half-second to find a stately eucalyptus and strike up a conversation. While it was a bit one-sided, the euk was warm and somewhat shy, but she pointed out that I was among a lot of young poison oak and mashing some mushrooms. I poked around her trunk and found a lot of last fall's leaves and buttons, turned up a young bay tree and discovered that the poison oak is blooming right now (the most exquisite, tiny, five-pointed white flowers-- I wonder what bug it depends on to fertilize it?).

Some Twigs and a Pound of Clay

After we returned with our leafy booty, we were instructed to make a clay head and "decorate" it. It was fascinating to see what the others collected. Some people only gathered flowers, and others just had a few leaves, still others found things I didn't even notice-- pods, bundles of pollen puffs, fuzz and twigs. I was pleased with my green woman, she had big boobs, full lips and an elaborate headdress. Then we got to draw them.

Gone Gone Gone

The class displayed the heads on a table for the remainder of the conference. I felt as proud as a little kid with her art on the fridge. When I was done schmoozing at the end, I swung by the table to pick her up. I was planning on taking her home, setting her on the sill and tossing her after a few days when she wilted. I was dismayed to find her gone from the table before I got there. I checked the garbage cans. I interrogated witnesses. No one had seen anything. Even the drawing with my name on it was gone.

Theft: the Sincerest Form of Flattery

I can now confidently write on my CV that my work is in "unknown private collections." There was one head left on the table, so its possible that someone accidentally took the wrong one home. I find that hard to believe, since they were all completely unique and labeled. I have lost plenty of kid's art over the years, and now I know how it feels, and I am more perplexed than devastated.