“I don’t have a nanny.”
“I have a nanny.”
(I used to be a nanny. Does that count?)
“This is the best drawing I’ve ever done.”
“Me too.”
(victory cheer!)
“Do you live in a townhouse?”
“No! We live in a regular house. I would never live in a townhouse.”
(Um, I live in a townhouse.)
“Ms. ATHG, you look Egyptian.”
(Uh, Okay…)
“Ms. ATHG, you look Chinese.”
(The f*ck?)
“Ms. ATHG, you look younger than my parents.”
(You’re my new favorite.)
It was clay day, and we had just finished making leaf dishes. The classroom was cleaned up, and the students were quiet. There were fifteen minutes left in class. After schooling the first graders on the workings of the kiln and the different states of water, having really grabbed their attention when I mentioned that steam can cause their dishes to EXPLODE!, there were eight minutes left in class. I pulled out my trusty time-killer, the book Dogs Rule! by Daniel Kirk. The students were settled on the carpet, criss-crossed applesauce, their eyes eager with anticipation, will I be the one she calls on to pick a dog story?
We read three dog stories. After reading the final story, one that entertained us with a dog’s perspective on riding in cars, I asked, “I bet dogs have a really good life, don’t you think?”
“Yeaaaahhh…” they sedately answered, still entranced from the rhythmic readings.
“But you know what, I imagine cats have a better life. Could you imagine being a cat, just sleeping all day and eating?”
“Yeaaaahhh…” they replied again.
I dreamily continued, “You could lie in bed all day, have someone else feed you, and not have to go to school…”
Suddenly, the mood in the room shifted. In an accusatory tone they asked, “You don’t like school?”
“Oh no,” I protested, “I love school, but sometimes it would be nice to take a cat day.”
“Why?” They demanded, their eyes squinting with suspicion.
Fearing that my next words would deeply affect the way they viewed me, art class, and the state of the world, I stumbled with my response, “Well, um, because, you know, sometimes I get tired, and I could, um, just use a break…” They stared at me, unblinking, waiting to learn why a teacher, a teacher, wouldn’t want to be in school.
“Why don’t you just get a sub so you can stay home?” a girl up front asked.
“Oh, well… because… wow, look at that, it’s time to line up.” I hurriedly herded the students into line, thankful to end the conversation, but still surprised that first graders can be so shocked by the mere suggestion of skipping school and spending the day in bed. Just wait until you’re my age, I thought to myself, then you’ll wish we could take cat days.
For one, I just don’t have the time. For two, I’m not blessed with a beautiful, spacious studio space. Or any studio space for that matter. Remember the studios in college? *Sigh* Now the only time I make art is when I’m making samples for my lessons. Pretty sure that paper lizard I made the other day isn’t going to end up in a gallery any time soon.
I don’t think a weekend goes by when I’m not at a store picking something up for my classroom. I don’t think a week goes by when I’m not scrounging through my personal supplies, or recycling bin, for materials to use in my classroom. Regular classroom teachers spend a good amount of their own money on their students and their classrooms. I guarantee art teachers spend a lot more. I spend so much of my own money that I have a separate category for it when I track my expenses every month. I don’t get reimbursed for it. That $250 educator’s tax credit I get to claim? Maybe that will cover a quarter of what I spend every year.
Especially painting. And printmaking. And don’t even get me started on chalk pastels. It has nothing to do with the mess. Okay, maybe it has a little to do with the mess, but I could teach ceramics all day long. Or sculpture. I’ve never had much interest in painting, not that I can’t do it, it just doesn’t do anything for me. I actually enjoy printmaking, but not the stuff we do in elementary school. Give me acid baths and etching any day. If I could equip my students with glue guns, packaging tape and box cutters, we’d be building cardboard structures every day. But Styrofoam prints and dry brush techniques? Ugh, no thanks. Yeah, I still teach it, but I’d prefer not to.
There. I said it, now can you please stop asking me that? It’s not fun. Most of the time it is not fun. Sometimes it is fun. Mostly it is not fun. What with all the grading and the push for assessments and the CLT meetings and the professional development and the classes with 30+ students and the IEPs and the 504s and the parent emails and the SOLs and the PLCs and the lack of planning time and the extra duties and the SMARTR goals and the shrinking budgets and the teacher evaluations and the staff meetings and the need to be visible and the preparation for art shows and art displays and the behavior plans and the PBIS rewards and the pressure to make art fun. What? You didn’t think art teachers had to deal with this shit too? We do.
Once upon a time, about ten years ago, I taught high school art for about 1.25 years. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that. I don’t know if high school art teachers have to worry about SMARTR goals, or CLT meetings, or giving up their planning time to help out in the real classrooms during math, but I do know that at least I wouldn’t have to teach someone how to use scissors, or glue sticks or crayons anymore. I wouldn’t have to tie shoes or wipe noses or remind students to wash their hands after using the bathroom. I wouldn’t have to answer the question, “how much longer is art?” seventeen times in an hour. I’m not naive enough to think that all of my students in high school would actually want to be in art class, but at least there would be some who did right? At least there would be some who thought for themselves and didn’t actually copy my sample line for line, right? I don’t know. Are you a high school art teacher? Do you get to collaborate with students and actually have intelligent discussions with them? Do you get to watch students’ creativity develop and grow into unique points of view? Is it as glorious as we elementary art teachers imagine it to be? On second thought, don’t answer that.
The relationships I build with my students gets me out of bed every morning when that alarm goes off at 5:00 AM. I’m not in it for the fun of it. I’m not in it for the fame and fortune (because we all know that’s never going to happen). I don’t show up every day because I enjoy being micromanaged by the administration. I show up for the students who hug me on the way out of class. I show up for the students who tell me they love art class. I show up for the students who express excitement and pride when they’ve “drawn the best picture they’ve ever drawn!” And yeah, I show up for the students who can’t sit still in their seats, can’t refrain from blurting out, and who would rather be anywhere else but art class. I show up because sometimes teaching art is fun. I show up for the students. And that is the only reason I need.
Orange is a popular color again. It only happens once a year, so until that first snowflake hits the ground, live it up, orange. This is you time to shine!
One of my classrooms is in a resource room this year. It’s located in a hallway that acts as a pass through from one pod to another, and it rarely gets used. At the beginning of the year, teachers and students were having a hard time finding my room, “is this the art room?” “I don’t know, is it?” “Is she the new art teacher?” “I dunno.” After watching the ninetwentieth person hover outside of my door, unsure, I decided to make a sign. I used what I had on hand, what I had on the table by the door, in fact, and there you have it. The most beautiful art room door sign you will ever see. And it’s the only thing on my door. I feel like it’s something you might see on a high school math door. I thought about making something nicer, but I just haven’t had the time yet. Plus, I kind of like it now.
We have these, and I think they are the absolute worse. I prefer to snag a roll of towels from the custodians for my classroom, but I still have to use these in the faculty bathroom. Speaking of the faculty bathroom. It took me about three weeks before I realized I had been using the men’s room. In my defense, the sign next to the door just said faculty. It’s not my fault the “men” sign was above the door jam. I only realized my error when I went into the faculty bathroom across the way and noticed the air freshener, container of potpourri, feminine products and pretty smelling soap. In hindsight, I kind of preferred the no-fuss of the men’s room.
“A newspaper is what, in a funny show on TV, a dad takes into the bathroom to read while he uses the toilet.” I was so shocked any of them had even heard of newspapers, I just told her she was correct, that’s exactly what a newspaper is for.
On a personal note, I’m saddened that my daughter will never experience the joy of carefully removing the funny papers from the Sunday paper and spreading them out on the living room floor.
1st Grader: “What if you really want to work on your art but you have a loose tooth and it keeps wriggling?”
Ms. ATHG: “Is it distracting?”
1st Grader: “No. Can I get a drink of water?”
(a parody of Bob Seger’s “Turn The Page”.” You can see it here.)
Down a long and lonesome hallway
east of Staff Room R*
You can listen to the children
moanin’ out from someone’s room
You can think about the students
or the class you had the day before
But your thoughts will soon be wandering
the way they always do
When you’re teaching sixty minutes
and there’s way too much to do
And you don’t feel much like painting
you just wish the class was through
Here I am
In the front again
There I am
Out on the stage
Here I go
Teaching art again
There I go
Turn the lesson page
When you walk into an art classroom
strung out from first grade
And you feel the eyes upon you
as you’re shakin’ off the clay
You pretend it doesn’t bother you
but you just want to go home and bathe
Sometimes you can’t hear ’em talk
mostly though you can
All the same old cliches
Starry Night by Vincent Van
You always seem outnumbered
you need to make a stand
Here I am
In the front again
There I am
Out on the stage
Here I go
Teaching art again
There I go
Turn the lesson page
Up there in the spotlight
you’re teaching every day
Every ounce of energy
you feel it sucked away
As the sweat pours out your body
like the many words you say
Later in the evening
as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes of the Kindergartners
ringin’ in your head
You pound the day’s last whiskey shot**
remembering what they said
Here I am
In the front again
There I am
Out on the stage
Here I go
Teaching art again
There I go
Turn the lesson page
Here I am
In the front again
There I am
Out on the stage
Here I go
Teaching art again
There I go
Turn the lesson page
* This room doesn’t actually exist, to my knowledge. Who knows, maybe it does. I don’t have time to visit staff rooms.
** I know everyone’s beverage of choice after a long hard day is wine. I’m a whiskey girl. Get over it.
Art Teachers Hate Glitter 