Gripes

Crafts are for summer camp. I teach art.

Dear sweet, innocent, substitute teacher,

I don’t even think you realized what you said today when you said it. There we were, discussing the fact that you’re new to the county, you were asking me questions about schools in the area, I was giving you tips on where to apply, all while the Kindergarten students you were assisting with were toiling away on their creations. The conversation was going alright, albeit a little distracting and inappropriately timed, but pleasant nonetheless.

And then you said it. Right there, in the middle of my art class, “I never understood how to teach crafty things to little kids. All that glue and stuff. How do you manage it?”

I’m sorry, how do I what? How do I teach crafty things to kids? Crafty?

Oh honey, I don’t think so. I don’t teach kids crafts, I teach them art. There’s a huge difference. Crafts involve gluing pompoms to Popsicle sticks and sprinkling it with glitter. Art, what I teach, what I went to school for six years to become highly qualified to teach, is about teaching kids how to create, how to hone their painting and drawing skills, how to look at the things around them, solve problems through experimentation and investigation. How to look at, and evaluate, a huge challenge and break it down into smaller, more manageable and doable steps. I teach students how to succeed in a situation they may not be familiar, nor comfortable with.

On my list of pet peeves, the misconstrued perception individuals outside of art education have about art education ranks high on that list. As art educators, we deal with this ignorance on a daily basis.

Take for example a colleague of mine who was engaged in a conversation with a second grade teacher. The second grade teacher couldn’t understand why my colleague had a problem with the class missing art when “all they ever do anyways are color sheets.” As you can imagine, my colleague was deeply offended and put-out, not to mention a bit angry.

We shouldn’t have to defend what we do to others, but we often find ourselves in a position in which we do, as my colleague did when she explained that the students receive color sheets after clean-up, at the end of class, as a treat.

I would never question what another teacher does academically in his or her classroom, nor make light of it. I would never question his or her education, although most elementary teachers I encounter nowadays are less educated than I am, but I would never presume that this means they’re less capable of teaching in their subject area than I am. I assume that every teacher I meet has received adequate training and education in their field of choice.

Unlike the occasional classroom teachers who are shocked when they learn that art teachers, art teachers need to have a degree to teach. And not only that, but some of us even have Master’s degrees.

The colleague I previously mentioned has, on more than one occasion, had to explain to other educators that yes, art teachers have to be certified by the state in order to teach, just like regular classroom teachers.

I don’t know where the idea that art teachers only do crafts with students came from, but it’s insulting. Most of the time I am quite capable of letting these ignorant beliefs roll off my back, and I move along with my day, fully aware of what my job entails, what my qualifications are, and with the full knowledge that what I do, what I teach, matters to students and their educations. Most of the time.

But sometimes, sometimes, the ignorance is so in-my-face that it indeed ruffles my feathers, works me up, gets me going. And in that situation I say, dear substitute teacher, don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I spent six years in college to become highly trained in the science of teaching kids how to not only open glue bottles, but also how to gently squeeze the bottle in order to get the glue out.

So go back to your clean, safe classroom and leave the messy stuff to us crafters, er, I mean, art teachers.

Sincerely,

Ms. Art Teacher

(Small disclaimer: Please don’t think I believe all non-art teachers feel the same way as the few teachers I talked about above. I know many regular classroom teachers who understand and support what it is I do in my classroom.)

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A Day In the Life, Dear Students

Please Don’t Grope the Art Teacher

As I’ve written before, elementary students are very hands-on, touchy-feely. I think I’ve been groped more as an elementary art teacher than I ever was during my high school and college years combined. Seriously. Take for example, the first grader who insists on grabbing my, *ahem*, derriere every time he hugs me, or the third grader who embraces me with a face plant into my, um, bosom. Or the kindergartner who needs my attention, eagerly approaches me with hands raised high and proceeds to pat me repeatedly on my, er, lady bumps. Or any of the students who feel the need to caress my legs, my hair, my arm, my foot… Or the ones who accidentally come into contact with any of my aforementioned body parts. In fact, I’ve gotten so used to kids innocently touching me in inappropriate places that it barely even phases me when random adults do it in public. Innocently or not. And don’t even get me started on the lessons perverts could learn from elementary students and their sneaky upskirt maneuvers. You know, I recall being informed in college about all the sh*t you could get into for inappropriately, both intentionally and unintentionally, touching students, but where was the lesson about the many ways in which students will violate your personal space, on a daily basis?

But I think I have an advantage over the students right now. More specifically, a big belly advantage. Now, whenever Huggy McGrabberson comes up to hug me, his face bounces off my belly and knocks him back long before those grubby hands reach my posterior. And yes, I laugh. Every. Single. Time. This almost 30-week baby bump has become quite the defense tool. Students are learning pretty quickly not to stand too close to Ms. Art Teacher. I think I’ve inadvertently taken out two first graders and a kindergartner just by quickly turning around, being unaware that they were standing so close to me, and serving them up a face-full of baby belly. In fact, just today I belly-whacked a sixth grader upside the back of the head while trying to get past his table. I think the lesson he learned far outweighed the embarrassment he displayed. When he sees me coming next time, I guarantee he’ll scootch his chair in like I requested.

Of course, this growing belly also has its disadvantages. My kindergartners have taken to rubbing it when they pass me at the door on their way into the art room. So have a few of my sixth graders. But hey, better my belly than my buttocks, right?

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In the Art Room

Remember Me?

Yeah, I know, I’ve been MIA for awhile, but it’s that time of year when there is sooo much stuff going on, I can barely remember my own name. And the last thing I want to do when I get home from work is sit down and try to compose anything that could even remotely pass as intelligent. You know, because that requires thinking, and my brain seems to enter sleep mode quite frequently lately. So, until I actually have the time and can muster up enough brain cells to write something of more substance, here’s a little update for you…

On SOLs
Our county is in the middle of SOLs right now, and for those of you (like I was) who are unfamiliar with how this acronym applies in a school setting (because, if like me, your mind immediately went to the not-appropriate-for-school meaning of SOL, then you’ll need an explanation.), SOL stands for Standards of Learning. And SOLs are the state tests, although why they didn’t decide to call them SLTs is a mystery to me, except I suppose if you add a certain vowel into that acronym, you’d get another not-appropriate-for-school word, but I digress.

I have a love/hate relationship with the SOLs. For one, I love the fact that students have been well trained since Kindergarten to keep their mouths shut anywhere and everywhere in the building during SOLs. This makes art class very quiet and productive. On the other hand, I don’t like how one of my schools completely rearranges the lunch and specials schedules to accommodate SOL testing. And doesn’t tell you about it until, at most, a week beforehand. And it changes every week. Did I mention I won’t be returning to that school next year? Yeah… no, I won’t. I’m also hating how cracked out classes are when they show up to specials after testing all day. It’s like someone dumped a pound of sugar down their throats and shipped them off just as the high hit. Some days I wonder if I shouldn’t just bag the whole trying to teach them something routine and take them outside and let them run it off.

On Next Year’s Plans
I’ve decided not to return to my current Wednesday school next year, for a variety of reasons (see above), but mostly because it takes me an average of 45 minutes to get there and with a new baby arriving in August, I don’t really see myself wanting to spend that much time driving to work once a week. I will, however, be returning to my M,F and Tu, Th schools. I had considered pursuing a full time gig at one school next year, but decided I didn’t want to start at a new school, mid-October, with a new baby at home. Best to stick with what is familiar for another year.

I’ve already filled my vacant day, and was amazed by how quickly it happened. Especially since I didn’t even apply to any openings. Principals pursued me. Let me repeat that… Principals pursued me. Like that would have ever happened in New York? Not only did they contact me first, one principal even took the liberty to contact one of my current principals to arrange to have my last class of the day covered so I could meet with her for an interview! Just. Like. That. And despite the fact that I arrived to the interview 15 minutes late (seriously folks, who schedules an interview at the same time your school of 1,200+ is dismissing students?), and despite the fact that I was very obviously pregnant, I was offered the job not 3 minutes after I left the parking lot.Like that would have ever happened in New York?

On Being Knocked Up in a School Setting
I’m on the cusp of being 7 months pregnant, and yet I still have classes that are figuring out for the first time that I’m pregnant. It seems 3rd-5th graders are considerably less observant than the K-2nd and 6th graders. Which is interesting. It’s also interesting to hear the responses of my students when they find out and how much those responses differ depending on the students’, dare I say it?, race. But that’s a post for another day.

The conversations in some of my art classes have changed as my belly continues to grow. My third graders seem to be the most inquisitive. Wait. Scratch that. My third graders are the most polite inquisitors. Followed by some of my 5th and 6th grade classes, which tend to be more bold (again, depending on race, which I will argue is not racist on my part if it’s actual observed behavior). My Kinders like to rub my belly on the way into class and ask me silly questions like, “You still have a baby in there?” and “When are they going to cut it out?” That last one makes me shiver.

On Being Knocked Up and Unmarried in a School Setting
And this is yet another post for another day.

Hope everyone is surviving the end-of-the-year chaos. I know I’ve been lax in my blog reading, as well as checking my email, but things have been crazy busy ’round here. I have quite a few posts floating around in my head that 1) are sure to be conversation starters and 2) I intend to get around to writing at some point.

In the meantime, remember to wear your patience and your sunscreen every day. You’re probably going to need both to get through these upcoming weeks.

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A Day In the Life

"I Love Art"

Doesn’t it just make your day when you overhear students say those three little words to each other? It sure puts a smile on my face.

Hope all is well in the art teacher blogging world. I apologize for my absence. I hope to be back here soon.

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