Work

In High School I took several art classes. The last one I took, my senior year, probably left the biggest impression on me. Not because of what the teacher gave me, but because of what I gave myself. My teacher’s name was Mrs. Lerose, from now on Mrs. L as we used to call her, or at least what we called her behind her back and when we were feeling brave (she didn’t like that name). Like Sammy I made a decision knowing it probably wasn’t the best decision to make for me. While Sammy made the decision for the trio of girls I made it for the principle of the matter, and partially to spite the woman.

Mrs. L wasn’t the nicest teacher around. She routinely yelled at us for doing certain things wrong on our art projects, or at least what she deemed wrong. We tended to like what we did, or what other classmates did. She didn’t like to see lines on some of my drawings, a style I currently use. I could go on forever with other examples of her “tyranny” but it would all be enforcing two main points: she was very narrow minded and a control freak.

I certainly wasn’t the only object of her “affection”. There were plenty of other students and styles she picked on. One of these sticks to my mind the closest. Drawings can be put together by simply distinguishing light from dark, highlights from lowlights. Most drawings are done on white or light paper and the artist marking up the darker areas of a figure. An interesting flip to this form of art is by using black paper and filling in the highlights. It’s harder to see and harder to do but it’s an amazing way to learn how to see and it looks beautiful if done right. Mrs. L hated the style. Her reason for hating it, like most of her reasons for hating ideas other students brought up, was it was too hard. She didn’t encourage us to do hard things. She wanted the final pieces; she didn’t care about our journey to education. One student, David, wanted to try that style. He had a picture of a woman wearing jeans that was in black and white. Mrs. Larose told him the usual things: it’s too hard, you don’t know how to do that, you’re going to waste good paper. So David went out and bought his own black paper. That weekend he did an incredible drawing. I remember seeing it and being blown away, I also remember seeing my classmates blown away. Mrs. L, however, wasn’t so impressed. The drawing was incredible, and I think that’s what made her really angry. She yelled at him and told him he couldn’t put it in the art show and how dare he go against her. David left the class shortly after that. It wasn’t long after that when my act of rebellion took place.

She showed the class a magazine of some mugs that she thought would make an incredible piece. I saw the picture and fell in love with it, I volunteered. She shot me down. She told me I wouldn’t be able to do it, that it was too hard for me. She wanted another girl to do it, one who was more talented than I was. The girl, luckily for me didn’t want to. I took the picture before the end of the class, I’m still not sure if Mrs. L even realized. A week later the class brought their latest pieces to school, I brought my mugs. Mrs. L saw them and loved it. She asked the class who did the mugs, she said they were awesome. I told her I did and she looked at me and said you didn’t do these. I assured I did and showed her the original paper. She was angry, I could tell. She gave me a look and yelled at me for going against her, but she couldn’t take back her statement about the piece