Art Attack

When I was in the 4th grade, I was doodling on the corner of a piece of notebook paper after I'd finished my spelling test.

I drew a bird with a big cartoon eye and what seemed to me a sarcastic expression on his face. I was enjoying the little doodle.

My teacher walked past my desk, stopped, backed up a few steps until she was standing next to me and said, "You know, you're a wonderful singer. You have a beautiful voice. And you're so good at reading and imagining. Maybe you should focus on what you're good at instead of trying to draw."

And she moved on.

I sat there feeling... well, a lot of things. None of them were happy things.

I never drew a picture again.
Because I knew that I wasn't good at art.

All the rest of the way through school I looked with envy on the art work of others, knowing that I couldn't do that and never even bothering to try. I knew mine wouldn't measure up. I never signed up for an art class. I wanted to be an artist, but I'd known I wasn't one since I was 10. It would have been embarrassing to take an art class with all those talented kids when I wasn't one of them.

Since you can fast forward when you write, let's skip a whole lot of time and catch back up with me when I was in my late 50s.

Remember all those work comp injuries between 2009 and 2011?
Haha, I have feelings about all that, too.
DO NOT EVER WORK FOR ANY KINDERCARE COMPANY.
Morally bankrupt fucksticks.

I spent a LOT of time in medical facilities. Waiting rooms. UGHHHHHH.

Could not focus on reading a book in that environment.
What's wrong with the environment?
From a post about 9 years ago:

Unsupervised children run around screaming and messing with the water cooler (last time I saw some stupid asshole sit and watch while his coughing and snotting kid got a drink of water, then replaced his cup back into the bottom of the dispenser for the next person.) I told the receptionist about it, but I don't know if she did anything, I was called back to the exam room at about the same time.

They have television screens mounted on the walls with constantly running advertisements about the doctors who work there, the need for everyone to get the (23%!!!) effective flu shot, schedule this exam or that, come to the "Wellness Seminar" etc.

Nickelodeon for Old Folks.

The place is total sensory overload for me, it's noisy and drafty, and the chance of picking up some ailment or disease I didn't have when I walked in seems imminent. I can't put on my headset to block some of the noise because I won't hear them when they call me. It's anything but relaxing and soothing.

Then, I get called back. Usually somewhere close to on time.


Oh yeah, where was I... I wasn't a phone person. Never have been one to get out the phone and scroll through stuff while waiting somewhere. I don't do it when I go out with friends or family, either. Oh, I have the usual screen-centric existence in the evenings, but I don't do it while out and about.

Had zero interest in movie magazines or which celebrity was boinking which other celebrity.

One of my friends suggested I try Zentangle.
She showed me some of the designs she'd made and guaranteed that ANYONE could do it. I don't know if that's right, but I was able to draw some interesting patterns and create things that were pleasing to me.

Then, something happened in my brain.

I started looking forward to being able to sit down and draw my little doodles. I got better at it. I started to branch out and make some small cartoons and recognizable flowers and little critters. I started hoarding pens and really nice papers. Started taking supplies with me everywhere I went just in case there was going to be time to draw.

I started drawing coloring pages after discovering Johanna Basford's coloring books.

Then I started making copies of what I'd drawn for the kids.

They were always so excited to know that I'd done those coloring pages myself. I got a bunch of kids started drawing their own stuff, too.

Then, (fast forward again) the pandemic hit. I was home alone for 12 hours a day. A local children's art teacher began making take home painting kits and doing a weekly online paint along tutorial. She made it look easy, so I signed up to take a kit home.

It was fun, but really rudimentary. One afternoon I was scrolling through FB and a long distance friend posted a series of step by step photos of a pair of quirky ostriches she'd painted from a tutorial.

I watched the YouTube video. I realized that *I* could probably do that.

I was right. I did it. It turned out great. I kept looking at it and could not believe I'd made that. I was incredibly proud of that little picture.

And I've been following tutorials ever since. I signed up for an artist's Patreon page so I could access all her tutorials. She's an excellent instructor, although she moves along too fast for me. :)

So I watch the full tutorial. Then I get out all my supplies and paint while I watch the tutorial. The pause button is quite helpful. Rewinding is great, too.

I haven't tried doing paintings from my own brain, but I don't think it  matters.
I enjoy the creative process so much.

So do I have to paint my own originals?
No.
What following tutorials did was awaken possibilities and make me feel good about doing art, something that was taken away from me as a child.

So if you've ever thought you weren't an artist or didn't think you could paint, here's a link to the ostriches, which was the first painting I did from a tutorial.



Tryyyy itttt.... you know you want to!!

 

Oh yeah... here's my rendition...

Website Woes

In the days before my second child came along, I was a spider killer.
See one? Squish it!

But Lyssa changed all that.
She's a person with a kind heart. She cares about animals and insects and plants.. every living creature.

On multiple occasions I've seen her cross a parking lot to fish a worm out of a puddle and relocate it, for example.

Because she made me look at things differently, I no longer felt good about killing a creature that was merely looking for dinner.

I am (usually) not a spider meal, they seem to prefer smaller critters.

We had a spider web behind the dishwasher a few years ago. Every morning when I looked at it, there were several ant carcasses under the web.
Guess that was the spider's way of paying the rent. Ha.

You know why aardvarks don't get sick, right?
They're full of little ant bodies. That's today's clean joke.

I relocate spiders now.
I want them to build their websites somewhere else.

If I see one and I'm not dressed for the day yet or it's the middle of the night, I upend a clear glass yogurt jar over the trespasser and leave it until I either put some clothes on or get up for the day.

Not about to step out on my front porch in a big t shirt and nothin' else.
No one needs to see that. It's probably illegal in some states and if it isn't, it should be.

When I'm ready to help the spider move to a new home, I slide an index card carefully under the jar and pick up my eight legged freak friend and dump it off the front porch into the vegetation.

And I've taken my spider show on the road, so to speak.
We don't kill things where I work, either. I've spent a good deal of time explaining to various groups of children in the last 19 years that spiders are not 'poisonous' and that only a very few of them are venomous. I explain the difference, too. Sneaking in a science lesson is always a good idea.

So the Monday was the first time we've seen a spider in our space at the school.
The spider's appearance coincided with our visit from the state daycare license guy, who was sitting on a bench way off in the corner, observing the program and writing.

When I heard one of the kids freak out, "SPIDER!!!" I grabbed a cup from the snack box and while on the way across the room, said, "Don't kill it! It's just looking for lunch!"

I went to the scene of the crime and put the upside down cup over the trespasser, fielding questions from the group about why and what was I going to do with it and, "This one time I saw the BIGGEST SPIDER!"

One of them asked, "But what if it bites you?"
"I am not spider food, " I told her. "The only reason this spider would bite me is if I hurt it. Maybe squash it with my hand or do some other mean thing that I would never do. Spiders eat a LOT of bugs. They're not interested in us, bugs taste better to them."

So I left the cup over the spider and finished the check in process, which involves writing down each child's name and the time they show up on two different pieces of paper, putting a check mark next to their name on a third form and giving each one a fluorescent green amusement park style bracelet and reminding them to go wash, "Yes, even if you're not having a snack. We wash after school every day, remember?"

After all that was finished and the kids were officially snacking, I got a piece of cardboard, slid it under the cup and picked the intruder up.

My youngest little guy was jumping up and down next to me, he wanted to see the spider. I gently shook the cup so the spider was sure to be at the bottom and not frighten him and moved the cardboard slightly aside for him to look.

That element of surprise is the reason I use a clear jar at home, by the way. But glass containers in day care aren't such a great idea.

He peeked into the cup, was suitably impressed. He asked if he could watch me let it go. I told him, "Yes, come stand by this window and you can see him scamper off to build a website somewhere else."

There was a mad rush, 10 of the 14 kids in the group ran to the window to watch me go out and dump the critter. So I took the cardboard off the cup and tilted the cup toward the window so they could all get a good look at it and let it go in the shrubs along the side.

The licensing guy had commentary about it, too. He loved that I let the kids see the spider, that we didn't kill it and that I just left it on the floor under the cup until I'd finished the necessary paperwork.

So then I got up yesterday morning about 5 to pee. I saw a pretty large spider on the floor in the kitchen. So I got the jar from the top of the dishwasher and carefully sneaked up on the spider. If you go stomping toward them and make the floor shake, they run. As they should.

After putting the jar over him (it?) I used the bathroom, washed my hands, grabbed a long sweatshirt so I wouldn't freeze to death on the front porch and went back to slide that piece of cardboard under the jar. I found that my knees were not awake yet, though.

I think I'm a guy... I wake up stiff in the morning.

I went in and woke Eric up and told him my spider story. He'd been stirring anyway, he's notoriously an early riser (weirdo) and doesn't mind being awakened to save my life. Haha, remember the possum(s)?

He came into the kitchen while I was unlocking the front door so he could dump Mr Arachnid over the side of the porch. He picked up the jar after sliding the cardboard under, peered owlishly at it and said, "Are you sure this is even a spider?"

Neither one of us were wearing glasses. I was all set to be embarrassed, but I grabbed my reading glasses and it was a spider.

It was just already dead, which probably explains Pixel and the 2 AM zoomies we heard. She likes to play with spiders and usually they don't survive her games.

It's that time of year. Found a beautiful wolf spider in our cafeteria this afternoon while I was alone, setting up program. He wasn't happy about being trapped in the cup, I could hear his legs brushing around the inside. I took him out to the same general location as the one I dumped the other day.

I've taught the same lesson to sooo many groups of kids.
It's always something like, "Hey, what if you were sitting in a restaurant waiting for your favorite dinner and some big giant came along and stepped on you and squashed you? I don't think it's fair to do that to someone just looking for lunch."

The kids do understand it. They teach it to other kids, I've seen it happen.

I wonder how many of them have continued to catch and release critters?
Hope it's a large percentage.

Fringe People

One of the things that makes me good at what I do is that I have not forgotten what it felt like to be a kid.

I remember being overwhelmed quite often, the noise level, the activity level, the newness of things. A new school year was always stressful, more so due to the number of moves we made. I had K and 1 in Colorado, 2nd grade in Vale, Oregon. 3rd and 4th grades were LaGrande, Oregon, 5th grade John Day, Oregon. I lived there until I left home the last half of my junior year in high school and went back to the town I'd originally started school in to finish high school.

I felt nervous and upset and confused during each of those moves. That's when I began my lifelong habit of hanging back. Watching what's going on from a distance. Deciding after a period of observation, sometimes days or weeks at what level I'd participate.

It would have been so much easier if someone had noticed how hard it was for me, but being one kid out of dozens in a classroom setting or out of hundreds in a school setting doesn't get you a lot of individualized attention.

Another fault of our school system, really.

Children rarely receive the support they need, not knowing how to ask for it. Adults rarely see the child struggling, either, having many others to deal with. Unless the kid acts out or in some way draws large amounts of attention to themselves, they just sort of muddle through.

Oh sure, that's one way to develop some coping skills.

I don't think it's 100% bad to put kids into situations and allow them to learn to navigate, either. But I also feel that it's up to the adults around them to see when they're having difficulties and assist them through that if possible. To be a support person when necessary.

The older I get, and the longer I do this job, the smaller and more helpless the K age kids seem to be. They're not different, of course. What's different is my perspective and the years of experience I bring to my work.

Let's take Sarah as an example.

Sarah is a young 5, she was four years old until July of this year when she turned 5. Everything in school is completely new for her. Standing in line and learning where to find the bathroom (and being afraid of the LOUD sound of the toilets and not flushing) and how to operate the push button on the sinks. Knowing where to put her lunch box and where to hang her jacket and a million other little things that will be second nature to her next school year.

She copes all day long, and then comes to me after school.

When the kids pour in after school, our room is noisy. They're shouting greetings to one another, siblings are greeting each other after being apart all day. It's a time to decide what activities they're going to participate in, ask me what's for snack, stop by to get a shoe tied, ask if they can go to the bathroom. It's about 10 minutes of chaos, really. I have to make calls to locate any missing kids. There's a 15 minute window to make sure each one is safe. After that 15 minutes, if the school doesn't know where they are, I don't know where they are or the parent doesn't know, I am required to notify the police and a search begins. And no, I haven't had to do that yet.

:::frantically knocking on wood here:::

So I can't devote more than  a few seconds of attention to any one child until everyone has been accounted for. I think most of my families are figuring out they need  to call me, it's been a little easier this week.

But it's chaos. It's busy and fast-paced and frantic and loud and scary for a small person, even though I want it to be a good place for everyone.

Sarah's grandmother picked her up from my program on Monday afternoon. She told me that she came to get Sarah early because she really didn't like being there after school. "She doesn't like being at school at all," she told me. "She would much rather be at home where it's quiet and where she can read a book or take a nap without being disturbed. She just wants to go home after school, but that's not possible, her dad and mom both work. I just happened to be available today to come get her."

And because I don't have it arranged the way I want, until this week there weren't places to go and be on the fringes and observe. I am sorry to say that I didn't notice how timid Sarah was, she found things to do and played with another little girl most days and didn't require much from me.

Again... if the kid doesn't act out, sometimes the adult doesn't notice there's an issue.

So I fixed a chill zone near my little area of the room.
A table with two chairs and a little sign. "Quiet Area".

I made a general announcement to all the kids during one of our informal chats.
"Sometimes when you have had a busy day at school and you'd like to relax with a book or a coloring project or just sit, this is the place for that. You can sit here as long as you'd like to and you can play with any of the toys or use any of the art supplies you want to use. The same rules apply here, that you have to put away the things you've gotten out and that you clean up your own mess."

So now Sarah can come in, drop her backpack in a basket and come sit on the fringes and observe until she feels like joining in.

No one else has shown an interest in being a fringe person with me, but that's okay.

It's a safe spot for Sarah, and another lesson for me. I am good at what I do, but I don't notice everything and there is always a way for me to improve the program.

Inspiration

I haven't been spending a lot of time drawing lately.

Not sure why, as it always brings me a little happiness when I take the time.

Saturday night, I was watching TV with Eric.In the corner of the living room is a little hutch where his computer sits. Also in that corner, a hanging lamp. It hangs over the computer chair and I sit there and draw while we watch whatever's on. Lately we've been watching some interesting stuff on the Weather Channel and The Voice. I'm not a big fan of that show, but I don't hate it. So I can manage to sit through it, especially since he fast forwards through quite a lot. Sometimes the song butchery is just too much, ya know?

So I drew.

I'm always surprised that I can make something that's recognizable, as I thought for about 45 years that I could not draw. My third grade teacher, upon observing an attempt I'd made to draw a bird suggested that, "You're so good at reading and you have such a beautiful singing voice... maybe you should work on those things!"

So I did. I read all the time growing up, and I didn't draw. I was always envious of the girls who took art classes at school, wishing I could draw so I could take the classes, too. It never occurred to me that I could learn to do anything resembling art.

Then I discovered Zentangle and Zentangle-inspired art.
I couldn't stop drawing the little squiggles and doodles and loops and flowery things. I started branching out. Added some expensive colored pencils to my pile of supplies. Found some textured paper that brought me happiness. Found pens that wrote smooth lines (yummy gel ink) and kept doodling.

I discovered Johanna Basford's coloring books, although I don't color the pictures very often. Instead, I use the books for inspiration. The picture here was inspired by one from Enchanted Forest.

I started with the stump and the mushroom, then closed the book and started adding my own stuff. When I looked back at the picture, some of what I'd seen stuck with me, some was my own. I suppose since I started with a blank piece of paper it really is my art, although I wouldn't have drawn it without seeing the art in the book.

Anyway, I like drawing now, something I never thought I'd say. And I'm (mostly) happy with the things that flow from my pen.

What inspires you?

Work in progress

I know, I am lazy. My phone doesn't take great photos. But I don't want to go dig up the camera and find the card reader and hook it up to the computer. This is a birthday card for a young friend who's visiting a foreign country and won't be home for her birthday this year. I have to finish it tonight and mail it tomorrow, I want it to arrive in time for her birthday. A month away.

So this is my post for tonight. Bunch of stuff on my mind but I don't want to write about it, I want to finish the card!

Hope your Tuesday is at least as exciting as mine promises to be...work, dental cleaning, call to my attorney, a nap, work. I know. You really want to be me, don't you?