Summit High Fingers Crossed

Yesterday I drove out to Summit High.   It's an alternative high school.  The last stop for kids who have been kicked out of every other school, either by the admin. or on their own 'merit.'  I was kicked out too.  Junior year.  16 years old.  I waited til I got home to cry.  I wouldn't let the principal see me.  They told me if I skipped one more class, that was it.  I didn't think they meant it.
My dad came and picked me up.  He was a drop-out too.  He didn't yell at me.  He said, "It's OK Sarah, you can still go to college."  At home I listened to Beethoven, loud, and let out the tears from the principal's office. On the first day, I want to tell them this story.
I've gotta be able to hope.  Look up to something, even if it is unrealistic.  Hope to have an impact that will linger and help them when they are lost.  Like Mrs. Bean did for me.  She taught me to keep writing, no matter what.  Write the date on the top of the page, so I can remember, and write the truth.  I still do that. 17 years later.  She gave me a compass, and I surely needed one.  My path has been dark, and gnarled.

Here I go, fingers crossed.

Pioneer Craft House Echoes

Last Saturday's Mom Dad and Me class brought one family.
Two kids - a 6 year old girl and a 4 year old boy.
At first I was embarrassed that my class was so small.
Snow storm and all....people probably wanted to stay home.
I get discouraged and want to quit all the time.  But I believe that if I don't quit - no matter what - maybe one day I will look back and feel that I made a difference as a teacher.
If I quit.  I will never know.
The little boy was so delicate with his brush.  He asked me about every color, "Is this the right one?  How do I make that color?"
He'd point to a spot on his outer space image from the National Geographic, and I'd help him figure out the mixing of paint.
At the end I told him, "You did such a good job of finishing that painting.  I could tell you paid close attention to your colors.  You are a very good artist."
He pushed back into his chair, lowered his chin, and gave me his first smile of the afternoon.
I know he felt proud.
He will hang that painting in his room.

Not-So-Great Expectations

After school art has begun at the Sorenson Unity Center.
I find that I stumble most often over my own expectations.
It is hard to plan the intuitive process that is art-making.  I don't wanna get so tight that I don't allow the kids to explore the medium.  But I've now had 2 bottles of ink spill during class.  c'est la art?
I want to really teach these kids.  I want them to walk away from their experience with a different perspective, and able to see just a bit differently than before.  As a teacher, I can never know what their perception is.  I can only do my best and hope.
We are supposed to make signs to be placed into the community garden.  I want them to care a great deal.  I want them to be so engaged that they can't help but to explode with creative output.  This is not realistic, I realize, and it will be a slow, time-lapse process.  I can only hope that by June we can stand back and feel proud.  Maybe we will not see what we've learned til the end.

It's hard to wait.  It's hard to go in every day and feel like I failed, just a little.  That I could have been better.