Discovering Christine

"So, what do you want to be when you grow up, Christine?"

I was in the third grade when I became aware that I would be growing up...into something or somebody.  I was a handful for my third grade teacher, Mrs. Beard.  She was an older lady and probably gave me my first experience with real kindness. I was not a good pupil but I don't remember her ever being unkind to me. But I do remember her losing her patience with me. 

My grades were not good. My attitude was not good. I often lost my temper and would welcome a fight on any given day. I do remember one such day when I'm sure I had stepped on Mrs. Beard's last nerve. I wouldn't keep quite. I was constantly disturbing the class.  But instead of scolding me or sending me out in the hall, she did an amazing thing. 

She called me to the back of the class and sat me down at a desk next to hers.  She pulled out some paper, a pencil and a brand new pack of crayons. She opened my history book to a chapter on 'how the west of won.'  Our history books had wonderful illustrations in them and this chapter was particularly colorful.  My assignment was to sit at the desk and draw and color the first illustration in the chapter. All I could think about at the time was 'wow! a brand new box of crayons...just for me!'

I know now why that worked probably more than she realized at the time. As an art teacher now, once you are engaged in a drawing exercise, a wonderful thing happens....you can't talk, or don't want to talk, I should say.   Talking is a left brain function and drawing/creating is a right brain function. When your brain is engaged in creative expression, you are basically transported to never, never land, where there is no sense of time.

I spent the better part of that day drawing this scene out of the book.  At the end of the day, I turned it in.  Instead of sticking it in her drawer and dismissing me, she took the drawing from me. She grabbed two tacks and walked to the front of the class and posted the drawing above the blackboard where the alphabet is usually displayed. She didn't say a word. Class was dismissed and I went home feeling pretty good about my accomplishments that day.  I didn't do much in the way of learning I thought but I sure felt good about what I had done and what I had been allowed to do in class.

The next day, she repeated the order. I guess she enjoyed a day of silence and figured if it worked once, it could work again.  And she was right.  She repeated this routine every day for the next several days.  And at the end of each day, she repeated her routine of tacking the drawing up above the blackboard.

As my drawing assignments ended when the chapter ended,  Mrs. Beard did another amazing thing. She had the class open their history books to the chapter on 'how the west was won.'  She then moved to the front of the class and while standing under the many drawings I had completed the last few days, she began to use the drawings as a teaching aid.  She told the story and as she went from one historic incident to the other, she pointed to the drawings.

At the end, she thanked me in front of the class for having given them this remarkable artistic account about a time in our history when the west was wild and the country was new....just like me!

So, Christine, what do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be just like my teacher, Mrs. Beard.