|K-4 Yellow Day|
I send 2 students in fourth grade out, one to his teacher for being disrespectful, and one to the office for breaking art supplies and stealing. I wonder if I will ever make a difference. I look at the few students who are working quietly and well, and I complement them.
Lord, a broken heart and a contrite spirit you will not despise. Please help me continue this week.
|texture rubbing fish with 3rd grade|
The patina of my hopes for a creative art class atmosphere becomes dull as I put away bits of texture that have almost disintegrated after so many students have done the texture rubbing assignment. I hold shards of marble tiles the students have destroyed instead of doing texture rubbings.
Later, I send two surly seventh graders to the first grade to copy biographies of Van Gogh. They think it's fun and games, and I hope they learn something while they are copying with the little ones. They returned unchanged. What to do?
Many are spoiled rich kids whose parents coddle them, especially the boys, and then when the parents can take their child no longer, many beat their kids or yell at them. Many parents travel in Europe and may be gone for a month. The nannies and chauffeurs care for the kids.
They respect the teachers who yell at them. How can a nice, kind, soft-spoken artist from Seattle make it here? It just doesn't seem like it will work. I go home to my apartment, and this time I do throw my book about Morocco. Fes, Marrakech, Rabat, Casablanca all sound so exotic, but the day to day living is just plain hard. If I can just have a moment here and there of beauty, it would be better.
I comment to a colleague that one Moroccan year is seven people years in America. Visiting Morocco is a blast; living and working in Morocco is much more difficult.
I'll try to find Beauty tomorrow.
|My roommate's shell collection on the windowsill.|