There will be times when I will be sharing with you from the depths of my soul because of my personal experiences. This is one of them. Today's post comes from a story found in the book A Thomas Jefferson Education: Teaching a Generation of Leaders for the 21st Centurey by Oliver DeMille Chapter 2 and how it relates to my childhood education.
A young boy was so excited to be starting school! He ran past his mother into his classroom and eagerly waved goodbye to her. As his teacher pointed out his new desk, he couldn't stop smiling and thinking how he loved to learn new things. The teacher started an art lesson and handed out crayons and paper. She said they would be drawing. His creative mind had hundreds of ideas race past it ... landscapes, his family, his pets, inventions... He started to draw. But his teacher stopped him and said they would be drawing flowers. Oh, how marvelous! He thought of white daisies, yellow daffodils, red roses, pink carnations, purple violets and lilacs, gardens full of all the colors of the rainbow. So he started to draw. Again, the teacher interrupted him and said they would be drawing a specific kind of flower. On the chalkboard, she drew with colored chalk, a green stem with two leaves and four identical pink petals. Eager to please his teacher, the boy dutifully copied her drawing. After a few attempts, his looked identical to hers. She praised him for his good work.
He became a model student learning to listen, obey instructions, and get the correct answers on tests. His parents and teacher were so proud of him. As his continued in his schooling, he was enrolled in the gifted and talented program. One day, his next teacher handed out crayons and paper so they could draw a picture. He waited until she gave instructions. After a few minutes of him sitting there, she noticed he wasn't drawing and asked, "Don't you like to draw?" He said he loved to draw but was waiting for her to assign something. She replied by saying, "Draw whatever you like." The boy sat for a long time wondering what he should draw. Finally, with a burst of creative inspiration, he picked up two crayons to draw ... a green stem with with two leaves and four identical pink petals. The End ... or is it?
In my kindergarten year, my teacher was amazed at the art talent I displayed even at such a young age. She would encourage me to paint even when other children were doing other things. She would bring in other teachers to show off my work. With pride in her voice, she spoke to my parents and encouraged them to sign a form allowing one of my paintings to be sent in to a local art contest. I remember earning a first place ribbon but not after judges spoke with my mother to verify that no adult including herself did help me with the art piece. She verified that it was my own and that I received no adult help. I was ecstatic with my winning ribbon - 1st place!
Two years later of compulsory education: While in 2nd grade, my former kindergarten teacher asked me to return to her classroom so I could paint a picture for her students. I remember how difficult this task seemed and how crude my painting appeared. I remember looking into my former teacher's face and seeing a look of pain. I remember her speaking with other teachers also in the room and saying how only two years had passed and how far I had digressed in my artistic ability. And that is the first of many realizations in my compulsory education, my public schooling, that I realized that SOMETHING WAS TRULY MISSING!
In my next post, we will learn about the Animal School. I LOVE it! I know you will too!
The term "art" is overused and abused, as is the word "love"; it is a generic catchall from visual art to con art. Something was missing, in both the story of the boy, and your own experience; there was no understanding of what "art" is, consequently, no art could happen. In the story of the boy, the teacher taught her students how to draw a symbol, like the letters of the alphabet. She knew that success in this assignment meant being able to communicate "flower", not a personal interpretation but an excepted symbol. So, in essence, she was correct in her expectation of the outcome. The teacher, however, was not teaching art but simple semiotics, she just didn't know that.
ReplyDeleteIn your experience, teacher is also unschooled in art making, and you learned to judge your work aesthetically before you ever had a chance to understand what "artistic ability" meant. You describe your painting as "crude" but don't tell us what your judgement was based on - what did you measure your artwork against? And at such a young age, why were you under such pressure?
Art and aesthetics are not the same thing but that is the way we, in the US, are taught to see them. As an art teacher, I tell my students that I can not teach you to be an artist, I can teach you to be a technician - a really good one, but art is you, communicating from within, to an audience that will only be able to relate through their own life's experiences, to what you are prompting through the visual images you create. Art isn't good or bad, that's the philosophy of aesthetics, defining what is beautiful or not beautiful, ever changing, inconstant, and, with some exceptions, a poor measuring device.
What's missing? Education.
I can do basic arithmetic but that doesn't mean I am qualified to teach calculus. That doesn't stop our school system from placing unqualified people in classrooms to teach subjects they really don't know, only to punish our kids with poor evaluations for not learning the subjects. In high school, all but one of my art teachers were athletic coaches who just filled a seat; I didn't accept that and took responsibility for my own art education. I know that not all kids are ready for that, but it is one of the things that I also stress to my students - take an active role in your education, take the initiative to fill in the holes.