Thursday, May 10, 2012
two of his prints on my living room walls. I thought I would try my hand at incorporating the feel of the organic and decorative detailing into a painted piece for this sofa table. So I am working on my sketch at the front of the classroom. The students are busy chatting and drawing, for the most part. Every so often, I get up and look over the shoulder of the budding artists, some with much more talent than I. Every so often there is a child crying out for attention, slapping his ruler against the table, testing it, the table, and my tolerance for this annoying and potentially destructive behavior. Today, I was able to quell the ruler slacker with eye contact and a Vulcanian raised eyebrow. Other days, I am not so lucky. And then I hear it. Cra-a-ack! And again. Crac-a-ck! The slow cracking of pencils. Lined up on the back counter are a few boxed of miscellaneous markers, crayons, and colored pencils. Four boys stand together, but instead of searching out a favorite shade of cerulean, charcoal, or lime green, they are looking for the longest and most elegant of the pencils still remaining at this point in the school year and two at a time, breaking them in half. They are not looking to see if they have my attention. They are completely enthralled by the sound of their dominance over a box of hapless pencils. What is so broken with these particular boys that this behavior is so absorbing. The rest of the class realizes I am on the move now. When I reach them and peer over their shoulders I realize they have broken not 4-6 pencils, but maybe 50! They are sent back to their tables. My somewhat carefree mood goes slightly dark. "What possesses you?" I look at them as a group. "Such destructive behavior!" In a class, where they can chat with their tablemates, express themselves, move around the room, and have endless sources of inspiration, mindless destruction of a box of hapless pencils seemed the preferred activity.
at 4:51 AM