I never want to know ahead of time which kids are “those” kids. When I walk into a classroom, ready to teach a unit on art, I don’t want to know which kid is the one who falls off his chair to entertain his neighbors, which kid is a super-talented artist, or which kid is the mouse. It’s not that I want to walk blindly into a classroom, or that I have some airy-headed view that all kids are artists, and have equal “gifts.” I just know that it doesn’t matter how “talented” they are, it’s what is in their head and hands when they make art that is important. After teaching art as an itinerant “Artist in Residence” (which makes it sound like I lived at the school, but in fact simply means I am a working artist and am not required by the State to have teaching credentials) in a K-5 public school for several years, I noticed something interesting. I would walk into a classroom of 30 kids, not knowing them AT ALL . In the process of teaching a project I would see a student focus really hard, and come up with amazing and brilliant ideas, or use color in a way I would never have thought about. Later, the classroom teacher would come to me and say “You know, I really didn’t expect that kind of thing from that child.” And I would think, “I am so glad I didn’t know that before.” Oh don’t get me wrong, sometimes I walk into a classroom and instantly know which kid just cannot sit in their chair for more than three seconds, or which one is the super-motivated, future class president. And often that bright, motivated kid is very, very successful at working with the medium I am teaching. And sometimes the kid who is falling off the chair every time I look at them is a huge challenge to teach. But I seriously don’t want to hear from the teacher ahead of time which kids are “those” kids. Even if they normally display a prodigious talent for drawing horses or kittens or trains. Especially that. I could do a whole blog on the kids who have been told their whole life that they are terribly gifted at drawing, and how, by about third grade, they are so clenched about how they draw that they HAVE to draw the same thing over and over again, EXACTLY the same way. Not that I’m dissing natural talent, or a child who loves to draw. It’s just that every kid has a challenge of some kind. For some, it’s holding scissors correctly. For some, it’s learning that there is MUCH more to the world of art than drawing dogs realistically. So to the kid who says “I can’t draw” I say “Hallelujah! Neither can I. So let me show you how do do art.” Which brings me to my fifth grade tile project. Personally, I love my rock-star status as Art Teacher. I would not be a classroom teacher for all the money you could throw at me. The kids who come to me to work with clay do not have to be motivated. They come fully loaded and ready to go. We start by talking about the project. We go over what they need to know about the theme of the tiles, how to design in a four-inch square, and the basics of the clay process. I ask for a show of hands—who has worked with ceramic clay? A hand or two goes up. They’ve painted bisqueware at a local business. Not the same thing. How many love to get their hands into mud puddles? They look at me as if I’m daft. These are mostly farm kids. They know mud puddles. They don’t put their hands in them. “Imagine if you were drawing your design in the mud with a stick,” I tell them. Hmmm…well that sounds a little crazy, but they can kind of go there. I keep forgetting that these kids, even though they are almost all 12, have never made a pinch pot, or done a coil pot, or built a slab tray or even used air-dry clay. Most of them have never, ever been taught in the course of a regular school year to get their hands into real clay. In about a week, after they’ve worked on researching their individual subject, I “approve” their design. This year our theme is State Symbols, so they find birds, flowers, trees, bugs, and even firearms. That last one was quite the coup, since students are technically not allowed to draw weapons, but he found a way. Resourceful young man. It was also quite a challenge, being a muzzle-loader long gun, which does not fit well into a four-inch square. He got a wonderful dose of problem solving, thinking on his feet, working and adapting to the circumstances, patience and focus. Actually, ALL of the students got some mega-doses of all those skills and more. The student who wanted to do the Texas Bluebonnet drew a lovely pencil rendition of that complex flower. She got her wet square of clay to work on, and a slab of clay to cut out and build the relief of her design. When she cut the design out of the paper, it looked mostly like a lumpy bunch of…well, lumps. Problem solving, thinking on her feet, adapting to circumstances. I asked her, “How are you going to solve this?” She looked back at me. I said, “Pick up the clay, play with it. See what it will do.” She did, I turned my back to talk to another student, and next thing I know, she had an amazing relief of a Texas Bluebonnet she accomplished by cutting individual pieces out of her little flat patty of clay, and sticking them onto her wet tile. Her neighbor says, “Wow! That is so cool! How did you do that?” And we’re off.
Teaching Children
The Making of an Author: Evelyn Chen
Most of the writers we publish in Stone Soup are published only once. This is not a bad thing. Even some very famous authors, like Margaret Mitchell (Gone with the Wind) and Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird), are known for the one great book they wrote. But over the years the pages of Stone Soup have also featured the work of young writers who sent us one great story after another. Some were published twice, some three times, some even more. The current record [in 2016] – seven times – is held by William Gwaltney, whose stories appeared in Stone Soup between 2006 and 2009. The Girl Next Door is the featured story from our March/April 2016 issue. It is the fourth story by Evelyn Chen to appear in Stone Soup. We can’t help but wonder if frequent contributors like Evelyn, who is clearly passionate about writing and very good at it, will go on to write professionally when she grows up. We love every one of Evelyn’s stories and hope our readers do too. If you look closely, you will start to recognize her literary voice. “Julius’s Gift” [January/February 2014], “No Regrets” [March/April 2015], The Voice of the Seal [May/June 2015], and The Girl Next Door [March/April 2016] are all well-written, entertaining stories, with complex, relateable characters. In addition, each story has a powerful message to convey. Clearly, Evelyn has strong feelings about injustices in the world. She realizes her stories can address those injustices and maybe even change some minds. The narrator of The Girl Next Door is a girl named Hazel. When Hazel’s mom arranges for her to teach piano to the girl next door, who happens to be blind, Hazel’s prejudices come out. Via is a sweet girl who learns quickly. She likes Hazel and would like to be her friend, but Hazel doesn’t give her a chance. She is certain that Via is “different.” The implication is that she thinks Via is inferior. In subtle ways, Evelyn shows the reader that Hazel is wrong. Via is polite and friendly. Hazel, on the other hand, comes off as immature, pouting when she finds out she has to teach a blind girl, plopping down on the couch and glaring at the ceiling. She makes sarcastic comments like “Whatever” when her mom tries to reason with her and “Oh great” when her mom reminds her it’s time to go next door. The reader sympathizes with Via and realizes early on that blind people are no different from sighted people. As we read along, we want Hazel to recognize this fact too. Finally, after a confrontation during which Via tells Hazel how she feels, Hazel wakes up and begins to change. An injustice has been righted. Two of Evelyn’s three other published stories also tackle injustices, from sexism in Ancient Rome (“Julius’s Gift”), when boys learn to read but not girls, to the environmental problem of seals getting trapped in fishermen’s nets in The Voice of the Seal. “No Regrets” has a message of a different kind. Rhonda is fiercely competitive, and she’s rude to the other girls on the track team. Bailey dislikes her, even though Bailey’s mom tries to help her understand that Rhonda’s behavior has a lot to do with her family’s problems. Rhonda’s brother is gravely ill and needs an operation her family can’t afford. Rhonda doesn’t just want to win the Oregon State Championship Race, along with the prize money. She needs to win. In the surprise ending, Bailey learns two big lessons: 1) there are more important things in life than winning, and 2) sometimes when people aren’t nice it’s because they are struggling and need our compassion. Evelyn Chen will turn 14 in a couple of months, so, sadly, we may not see more of her stories in Stone Soup. But we hope she keeps writing. Maybe one day we’ll be picking up a copy of her new novel at our local bookstore. Is there something you feel passionate about? Maybe you’ve been the victim of bullying, or you’ve watched someone else get bullied, and you wish you could stop it. Maybe you’re caught up in the presidential campaign, and you agree or disagree with some of the candidates’ positions. Perhaps you’re an animal lover who feels strongly about how animals are treated when they are kept in zoos or raised for their meat. Wouldn’t it be great if you could persuade others to see the world the way you do? Like Evelyn, you could make a difference in your readers’ hearts and minds with a well-written story. Think of a group of characters. Give them personality traits that make them believable, but show us their weaknesses too. Some of their thinking is off. What will it take for them to change? This could be the beginning of your next great story.
More art for more kids
Grand Junction, Colorado is one of those western towns that can’t really decide if it wants to be progressive or good ol’ boy. Maybe the longtime residents just ignore us newbies (anyone who has been here less than 30 years is pretty much a newbie) and go on just doing what they do. Ranching, mining, farming, hunting, fishing, going to church and loving the occasional air show. But downtown Grand Junction tells a story of people who have kept culture and art alive for over 100 years, over 200 miles from any city of any size, and from those cities, another several hundred miles to the NEXT city of any size. Distances are in days out here. I grew up in a town the size of Grand Junction, but in California, where cities aren’t separated by long stretches of desert and towns are blips along a very lonely highway. In California, it’s easy to find a place where art and music are never even questioned as to whether they should be within reach of any average person. This town, like most towns in the West, was a wagon-stop, a train watering stop, a gathering place around rivers and between mountains. Our downtown shows its history in old brick and stone buildings, in the railroad yard and silos. The difference is that in 1962, when small cities all over the country were looking at all kinds of ways to stave off the death of their older downtown, Grand Junction made exactly the right choice in funding a walking business park on Main Street. Public art, along with shade trees and benches were central to the plan. Business people and residents saw that keeping a cultural identity and supporting local art was fundamental to maintaining pride and character in the community. That community pride and identity is one reason we landed here. We take anyone who comes to visit us downtown to see the wonderful buildings, unique restaurants and stores, and the public art on every street, every 15 or 20 feet. Nobody we’ve taken downtown has ever said “You have WAY too much art here!” It’s a point of pride. Make no mistake, this is still a western town, with ranches and pasture weaving into the fabric of close-in neighborhoods, and petroleum extraction and coal mining very much a part of everyday life. In 1980 Exxon came to town. Up in the mountains east of here, was oil shale, and Exxon wanted it. The scale of their plans were truly mind-boggling. A new airport, a whole shopping mall and five brand-new schools, and that was just the beginning. Thousands of jobs, millions of dollars, a boom that would end Middle East oil dependency! People poured into Grand Junction, built homes and excitedly planned for shiny new schools for their children. But almost as soon as it began, it was over. Exxon pulled out, said “oops, we made a little mistake here…hehehe…we can’t afford to extract the oil from the shale. Our bad!” And just like that, the town emptied. Tax revenue tanked, and the schools scrambled to stay open. Little wonder they trimmed back to skeletal funding, and art education was one of the first programs to disappear. NOW we get to what I do every week. It didn’t take long for several members of this community who knew that art education is fundamental to a child’s growth to find a way to put it back into the elementary schools. Classroom teachers taught art as a part of their curriculum, but there were artists and college teachers and community members who wanted children to learn about important artists, who they were and how they shaped the world. Art Heritage was born. It started in one school, with a poster or two and a written biography of each artist. Slides were added, and a hands-on project. Music on tape
