I love the smell of colored pencils and the feel of eraser dust underneath my elbow. Art class. My excuse to explore every different medium from paint, to pastels, to pencil, to plaster of paris. It was in a sterile gray room at Shelley High School that I learned I was a little different from the other kids. Our teacher, Miss Likes pulled out a color wheel one afternoon and gave us our assignment. We were to create a color wheel and then show different ways to mix contrasting colors. I attacked this assignment with gusto. I worked on the assignment for a week, painted and mixing, the pigment flying from my brush like pixie dust. I ran out of room, so I added paper to make it bigger. I was having a blast.
Well the day came that the assignment was due and I proudly marched my assignment up to the teachers desk. I stood in line with the other kids. Miss Likes was looking at the pictures flipping them over and delivering a neat little red checkmark to the back. If you got a checkmark you passed. As I stood there I began to notice my classmate’s work. Every single canvas was identical, each one of them had painted just what they were told. A color wheel, or a wheel of color-whatever you want to call it. Each painting had neat little square boxes off to the side to show the mixture of colors. I looked down at the paper in my hand. I had painted a landscape with a starry sky and in the center was a castle, the archway above the portcullis was the color wheel and the bricks of the castle were the mixture palates. Patrick who was standing in front of me said, “Your face is so red right now.” I hate blushing. I thought of not turning it in, but heck I didn’t want a bad grade, in art class no less. So I handed my assignment over. My teacher picked up the painting and stared at it for a very long time. The other kids were watching. Ug, really? Don’t you people have other things to do? Then my teacher turned the picture over, checked it and handed it back to me. “Very nice.” She said.
After that I think my teacher made it her private quest to stump me. Every project we did she would challenge me. So my projects got bigger, crazier, and always ended somewhere out in left field. I loved our little competition, I loved the challenge and I loved the art. I was as happy as a bug in a rug. Art was my favorite class, and as the hour ticked by I dreaded 2:09. 2:09 is the only time that I remember from high school because that was when art class was over. That was when I would shrug my backpack over my shoulder and trudge off to Algebra 2. Ugh.
Well, unfortunately in my high school there were only two classes in art. Art 1 and 2. It was on my last week of Art 2 that my teacher made the announcement that she had permission to start an Art 3 class. There was no room on the schedule for the class so it would take place during Art 2 and we would just receive different assignments. I don’t know if I had anything to do with the class starting, but I like to think so.
It was in Art 3 that Miss Likes stumped me. Calligraphy. I didn’t know why she was so smug. Not until I put ink and pen to paper. My hand dragged across the ink smearing the little “a” I was making. It looked like a comet. I tried lifting my hand, and doing it again. The letter came out all wobbly. Now it looked like jell-O.
I had always been slightly teased for being left handed, I never thought anything of it until someone would bring it up. I have to admit, I liked the attention. I felt special, and it was entertaining to me that my friends liked to watch me write. I think Miss liked to watch me write that Thursday afternoon. I went home so frustrated. I sat at my diner table trying to get the letters right. I couldn’t do it. So I turned the page. Nope. So I turned the page the other way. That made it worse. I hated Calligraphy, it was ridged and there were rules, literally. I felt trapped, how can you think outside the box when you have to stay in it? Then I got it. I turned the page upside down. My hand was away from the ink, the letters were smooth and even. I just needed to turn the box over!
The next day I went into class and sat down. I set up my station taking my time, drawing the attention of my teacher. I sat down, looked her in the eye and slowly turned my paper upside down. Winking at her I started writing.
