ART FROM THE HEART
ART FROM THE HEART
"Art has the role in education of helping children become like themselves instead of more like everyone else." ~ Sydney Gurewitz Clemens
I taught drawing for three years in an after-school program at several schools. Each of my classes had students ranging from 1st through 6th grade. There was a great diversity of ages, ethnicities, abilities, and economics, but they all had one thing in common: they loved to draw, and I loved to teach them. I especially loved watching them find their “groove” - that spark of originality straight from the heart that made their art, authentically their art - not my art or that of their peers.
Every lesson I taught was different, covered a variety of styles of drawing, and included tips on techniques in colors, shading, and the like. However, my predominant “rule” was for each student to make their drawing theirs. This was their opportunity to express their individual creativity, and they thrived with that freedom.
So, as you can imagine, when I overheard a parent the other day castigating their child for coloring a picture with a purple sky and blue grass because, “Every dummy knows the sky is blue and grass is green,” it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut. Today’s poem is a bit about that.
KALEIDOSCOPE EYES
What do you do
when you see the world
in a dewdrop and animals
sailing among cumulus clouds
and you’re so filled with
the wonder of a diamond-
studded sky you could burst
for the need to share the
fire burning in your heart
from all this magic and beauty
with someone but you’re just
a kid and you have
stick-in-the-mud
pragmatist parents who
see the dew as nothing but
water, the clouds as nothing
but a weather phenomenon,
and stars as nothing but stars?
What do you do
when you clutch your
Crayolas (64 colors with a
sharpener right on the box)
to recreate the magic of
rainbow reflections imagined
as lavender grass, with popsicle
flowers, and jelly bean rocks,
but your parents think
there’s something not
quite right with you because
grass is supposed to be green,
flowers don’t grow on sticks,
and rocks are just rocks?
What do you do?
You stop sharing your wonder
and wonder if they’re right
even though you can’t stop
thinking and seeing the way
you do
and you don’t tell them anymore,
or anyone else,
because maybe they’re right
and there is something wrong
with you and you try to be
”normal” for years keeping
the kaleidoscope world that
you live in a secret, until
Lucy’s in the sky with diamonds
and cellophane flowers and
marmalade skies sell millions
of records and everyone loves
that rocking-horse people eat
marshmallow pies and you
become freed from the chains
of those who tried to squelch
your creations and you let yourself
set sail in the sky like the
girl with kaleidoscope eyes.