Dear Students

Will You Remember Me?

Eh, chances are you won’t.

I’m talking to you, my dear students. I’m talking to those of you who come in so excited for art to start every week. I’m talking to those of you who dread art day every week. I’m talking to those of you who quietly work away on your tasks. I’m talking to those of you who loudly ask for help, noisily ask questions and disruptively talk to your neighbors. I’m talking to those of you who never leave your seats. I’m talking to those of you who can’t seem to stay seated. I’m talking to those of you who have natural talent. I’m talking to those of you who have worked hard for the talent you have. I’m talking to those of you who will never have a lick of artistic talent. I’m talking to all of you, my dear students.

Will you remember me?

I don’t remember my elementary art teachers. Not really. I remember their names, and I remember what some of them looked like. I don’t think I remember all of them. I remember my first art teacher who, according to a classmate, had a witch’s nose. That’s all I remember about her. I vaguely recall the art room, and what was hanging on the wall. I don’t remember what we made, and I don’t remember if I liked her or not.  I think I liked her. I can’t be sure though, because of the witch’s nose. I sort of remember my second (I think) art teacher, but only because something about her appearance also stood out to me. She was the largest woman I had ever seen. I’m not proud of that. I remember not liking her. I don’t know why. I think she was loud. I don’t know. I don’t remember what we made, and I don’t remember what her art room looked like. I don’t recall my other elementary art teacher(s?). I remember the time my friend sat in paint and had to change her pants. I remember the first time I drew a portrait, coincidentally it was a portrait of the paint pants friend. Maybe she sat in the paint during the portrait drawing art class. I don’t know. Sadly, I have more memories of my elementary music teacher and my elementary PE teacher. I don’t know why.

So I ask you again, students, will you remember me? Will you remember the projects that we made together? Will you remember that I taught you how to draw noses? Will you remember that painting trick I showed you? Maybe you’ll remember what I look like, or maybe you’ll remember what I wore. Maybe you’ll remember all those times I had to raise my voice, or all those times I had to ring my bell. Maybe you won’t remember me at all.

My dear students, it is possible, years from now, you’ll be looking back through your sixth grade yearbook and wonder, who was that? Why did she sign my yearbook? Did I even like that teacher?

My dear students, even if you don’t remember, I will remember. I’ll remember that time you made me a yarn bracelet. I’ll remember that time you brought in work you did outside of class just to show me. I’ll remember that time you thanked me for being your teacher. I’ll remember that once upon a time, for a brief moment in your life, I was your favorite something. Or maybe I wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter, because I’ll remember you at a time in your life of which you will have so few memories. I will remember you at your best, your sweetest, your most innocent. I will remember you at your most curious, your most artistic and your most adventurous.

So you go on and forget. That’s fine, because I won’t. I will always remember you as the outgoing fourth grader, the naturally talented sixth grader or the excitable first grader. I will remember a version of you that you will soon forget.

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Dear Students, Funny, Ha-Ha, In the Art Room

[Knock, knock]

Oh hey, fifth graders. Why yes, please come in and interrupt the chaos that is 2nd grade art. It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’ve got anything going on in here, just trying to keep kids from painting each other and cooling the fires that erupt when ohmygod, he splashed water on my painting!!! So, what can I do for you? Glitter? You came here looking for glitter? Well, you may not know this, but I don’t normally carry the stuff, but you happen to be in luck because someone gifted me a box of miscellaneous craft supplies at the beginning of the school year, and there just so happens to be some glitter in there, so sure, you can have it. What’s it for? A class project? Neat, and when do you need it? Oh. You need it right now. Well then, no problem. Let me just turn my back on this group of angelic second graders so I can dig through my Closet of Crap and get that for you. Now where is it…? I know that box is in here somewhere. Funny story, I don’t usually use craft supplies in my room, but… oh! Here it is, under my stash of party supplies. Now I know there’s glitter in here somewhere… maybe under the package of straws… or behind the bag of Popsicle sticks… ooh! Here it is. No, wait, those are just mismatched googly eyes… how about… no, those are seed beads. Um… maybe… oh geez, how did these pompoms get loose? Here we go! Glitter! What? I’m sorry, you’re going to have to speak up. I can’t hear you over the sound of twenty-eight seven year old kids whooping and cheering as they splatter paint the walls and carpet. Excuse me? Oh, yeah, well no, I don’t think carpet in an art room make much sense either… what’s that? That’s not what you said? Ohhh. Yeah, no, now I see. You’re right, this isn’t glitter at all but sequins. Good catch. Well, can’t you just use them instead? Sequins are almost like glitter. No? Well, maybe you can try the Kindergarten classrooms then, they’re practically art rooms down there, and I’m sure they have glitter. Oh yeah, that’s fine, you can take the sequins with you just in case. Just one thing though, when you return them, can you make sure you do it during my adaptive art class? It would be great if you could pop in at the exact moment one of my students is trying to close his head in the flat file drawers, another is attempting to cut ALL THE PAPER, and a third is crying because she doesn’t want to do art today, m’kay?* Thanks, because that would be ever so convenient. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be getting back to these second graders. I’m not sure, but I think I just saw a paint tray go out the window.

*I love my adaptive art students, and even on their worst days, I enjoy working with them. My second graders? Not so much.

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Dear Students

Hey. HEY KID!

Hey.

Hey!

HEY, KID!

Can you not hear me saying hello to you? Can you not see me waving to you?

Don’t you know who I am!?!

I was your art teacher last year in third grade…

and the year before, in second grade…

and the year before that, in first grade…

So what’s the deal? You’re in fourth grade now, you have a different art teacher, and all of a sudden you can’t say hello to me in the hallways anymore? What, do you have amnesia? Are you too cool to say hi?

Did the last three years not mean anything to you!?!

I get it. That’s cool. Whatever. No big deal. I’ll see you in my room again in a couple of years, and then we’ll see who’s waving at whom, Jack. Then we’ll see.

What’s that? … No, that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure? … Well, I guess you would know. Fine, we’ll see who’s waving at whom, John.

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A Day In the Life, Dear Students

It’s Game Time!

C’mon, 1st Grade boys and girls!
Gather round!
It’s your favorite time again!

Time… to…

GROSS OUT YOUR ART TEACHER!

Want to play along?
You know you do…

Grab a card and join the fun!*

Looking for a challenge?

Join me this year in trying to fill one card per class! 

1st Grade art class has never been this fun before!

(If you do want to play and you share your card on your blog, please make sure you link back to this post. No blog? Share your photo on the ATHG Facebook page!)

Edited to add: (Let’s be fair, one square per incident!)
 
*To “grab a card”, simply click on the image to view it, and then right click on the image and save it to your computer. You can then edit it in any photo editing program to add your own tokens.

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Dear Students

"What’s a rubber?"

“What’s a rubber?” the innocent (or so I thought) first grade girl inquired.

“What?” I asked back, while my inner panic alarms began to sound.

“A rubber. What’s a rubber? Aaron* wants one.”

My keen teacher hearing is now on full alert as I scan the art room, trying to locate Aaron. Ah, there he is…

Aaron is repeatedly questioning his classmates,“Does anyone have a rubber? I need a rubber.”

I relax, look back at the girl, and reply, “it’s an eraser. He’s looking for an eraser. That’s what they call them in Australia.”

“Oh!”


I can see it now. This poor little girl is going to be sitting at her dinner table, and her parents are going to ask what she learned in school today. Of course, she’s excitedly going to tell them that she learned about rubbers in art class. I swear, these first graders will be the death of me this year.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent Australian kid who doesn’t know any better.

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