When I was in college, the Art Education club tried to host a "Dinner with an Art Teacher" once or twice a year. We would invite several nearby art teachers and all have dinner and then discuss a topic related to our field. For one memorable meeting, we chose to discuss art teachers as artists.
It seemed that a commonality among art teachers was the apparent lessening of personal art making, even a complete cessation for some. One guest speaker told us that she had gone for ten years without making any art--she told us she just couldn't find the time, energy, or inspiration to work on her own ideas. After so much time had passed, she became interested in items she had found at a yard sale and began to photograph them. It snowballed from there, and she became an active artist once again. This led to a very lively discussion. Why was art making left by the wayside? How did they begin creating again and how did this affect their experiences in the classroom?
Now that I am nearing the end of my second year of teaching, I can look back on that evening and really understand what those individuals spoke of. The first year of teaching is hectic. You are learning the ropes, trying to find your place with your peers and students and keep a handle on all the minutia of a classroom. You are preparing for the final exam which will determine whether or not you get a permanent license. It takes a great amount of energy with which to deal.
And I was still a little burnt out from my senior year of college--which was a mad rush from start to finish. (I had injured my shoulder in a car wreck and ended up having to put off my senior showing and my advanced ceramics course until the next semester when I also had to student teach.) Honestly, I'm not surprised at my lack of art making that first year. But it persisted well into the next year.
Young children are always impressed with the things you create, even if it is only a quick demo sketch on the whiteboard. They have a lot of "feel-good" reactions; it's always nice to hear how cool they think your hasty tree or bird is. But in the back of my mind has always been the thought, "I can do better than this, so why aren't I?" That's the million dollar question. Why wasn't I? I had more time now. I was surely no longer burnt out. I still had ideas--I even doodled fairly often. Plus, my kids would benefit from a teacher actively creating art. I had also been looking at Masters programs; the degree I want requires the submission of a portfolio of art created after college. And I didn't have any.
One day I was evaluating artwork from my first graders. Their artwork almost never quite looks like the thing they are trying to portray, and it becomes wonderfully free-form in some cases. As I was looking at a painting, I thought, "Wow. That looks like a huge, grouchy chicken!" (It was a tree, apparently.) The image that formed in my head was so vivid that I couldn't help but draw it. All I had on hand were post-it notes. So, onto the post-it note it went. I even shaded it nicely, slapped down my initials and put a date on it. On a whim, I stuck it to the filing cabinet next to my desk. A few weeks later, I created another. Now, I have made quite a few. They've taken on a life of their own: the Post-it Note Series. They live on the filing cabinet, and the kids love to look at them.
That was my first real step back into art making.
Then workshops started (remember them?). Ms. Sullivan, one of our music teachers, was working with fourth graders on a concert program, and her group really wanted tee-shirts. She asked me if I could help come up with something, and amazingly, I had a finished sketch in less than an hour. I colored it in Photoshop and handed it off. I was almost surprised at how much fun that sort of thing was. (The shirts look great; their group was called "The Treble Makers", ha ha!) Today I handed off a couple of wedding decorations a fellow teacher asked for help with.
It's funny, but now I suddenly feel like an actual artist again. Kind of ridiculous, I know; I didn't actually stop being an artist. But I've gotten back that drive to create. I've been excited at the prospect, and that's something I think has been more than a bit lacking. As soon as those decorations were done, I started working on a new project. I've made good headway on the preliminary sketches, and it's fantastic. It feels like a little part of you is missing when you don't create more than doodles on your notes during a meeting or whilst talking on the phone. I've missed this creative drive, and I hope that I never lose it for so long again.
It seemed that a commonality among art teachers was the apparent lessening of personal art making, even a complete cessation for some. One guest speaker told us that she had gone for ten years without making any art--she told us she just couldn't find the time, energy, or inspiration to work on her own ideas. After so much time had passed, she became interested in items she had found at a yard sale and began to photograph them. It snowballed from there, and she became an active artist once again. This led to a very lively discussion. Why was art making left by the wayside? How did they begin creating again and how did this affect their experiences in the classroom?
Now that I am nearing the end of my second year of teaching, I can look back on that evening and really understand what those individuals spoke of. The first year of teaching is hectic. You are learning the ropes, trying to find your place with your peers and students and keep a handle on all the minutia of a classroom. You are preparing for the final exam which will determine whether or not you get a permanent license. It takes a great amount of energy with which to deal.
And I was still a little burnt out from my senior year of college--which was a mad rush from start to finish. (I had injured my shoulder in a car wreck and ended up having to put off my senior showing and my advanced ceramics course until the next semester when I also had to student teach.) Honestly, I'm not surprised at my lack of art making that first year. But it persisted well into the next year.
Young children are always impressed with the things you create, even if it is only a quick demo sketch on the whiteboard. They have a lot of "feel-good" reactions; it's always nice to hear how cool they think your hasty tree or bird is. But in the back of my mind has always been the thought, "I can do better than this, so why aren't I?" That's the million dollar question. Why wasn't I? I had more time now. I was surely no longer burnt out. I still had ideas--I even doodled fairly often. Plus, my kids would benefit from a teacher actively creating art. I had also been looking at Masters programs; the degree I want requires the submission of a portfolio of art created after college. And I didn't have any.
One day I was evaluating artwork from my first graders. Their artwork almost never quite looks like the thing they are trying to portray, and it becomes wonderfully free-form in some cases. As I was looking at a painting, I thought, "Wow. That looks like a huge, grouchy chicken!" (It was a tree, apparently.) The image that formed in my head was so vivid that I couldn't help but draw it. All I had on hand were post-it notes. So, onto the post-it note it went. I even shaded it nicely, slapped down my initials and put a date on it. On a whim, I stuck it to the filing cabinet next to my desk. A few weeks later, I created another. Now, I have made quite a few. They've taken on a life of their own: the Post-it Note Series. They live on the filing cabinet, and the kids love to look at them.
That was my first real step back into art making.
Then workshops started (remember them?). Ms. Sullivan, one of our music teachers, was working with fourth graders on a concert program, and her group really wanted tee-shirts. She asked me if I could help come up with something, and amazingly, I had a finished sketch in less than an hour. I colored it in Photoshop and handed it off. I was almost surprised at how much fun that sort of thing was. (The shirts look great; their group was called "The Treble Makers", ha ha!) Today I handed off a couple of wedding decorations a fellow teacher asked for help with.
It's funny, but now I suddenly feel like an actual artist again. Kind of ridiculous, I know; I didn't actually stop being an artist. But I've gotten back that drive to create. I've been excited at the prospect, and that's something I think has been more than a bit lacking. As soon as those decorations were done, I started working on a new project. I've made good headway on the preliminary sketches, and it's fantastic. It feels like a little part of you is missing when you don't create more than doodles on your notes during a meeting or whilst talking on the phone. I've missed this creative drive, and I hope that I never lose it for so long again.
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| The third color choice I gave Ms. Sullivan, but not actually what they chose. (I seem to have misplaced the JPEG of that one! Oops.) |
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| Done with paint pens. Surprisingly fun! |
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