A Failing Grade in Art !

Cartoon from Plesh Creative Group Design Library 

I started drawing and painting in grade school. At the age of fourteen, I started attending summer classes at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. I knew then that my life would be in the art field. And yet, as a senior in high school, the only failing grade I ever got for a semester was in - you guessed it - ART!

The curriculum and teachings at the Art Institute sometimes conflicted with the teaching style of my high school art teacher, Mrs. L.  I was more inclined to lean towards the philosophy of the Institute and frequently challenged her approach.  This brought up the predicament of my behaving more as if I were her equal rather than her student.  As a result, Mrs. L and I had a somewhat rocky relationship. I was probably cockier than I should have been when it came to art and Mrs. L gave no ground in her domain. I think we actually liked each other but there was, nevertheless, a continual sparring between us.

It came to a head when I was called out of one of my classes and was told to report to the art department. When I arrived, I found an art class in session and Mrs. L awaiting me with a bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush. You see, I had this habit of flicking my paintbrush to clear it from water (and paint), which left some residue on the floor. Sure enough, there were dried water and color specks on the floor where I always sat in the last row. Mrs. L informed me that I caused the mess and therefore had to get on my hands and knees and clean it up. Obviously embarrassed and looking around the room I saw the girl I had a huge crush on at that time.  Believing Mrs. L. knew of my feelings I now realized her motive for having me clean the floor during that particular class session.

I decided not to comply. She insisted I scrub the area or get a failing grade for the semester. I said “I’ll take the F” and left the room, dignity in hand, pride intact.

That was a long time ago. In today’s society there may have been lawsuits,  suspensions and/or  arrests made. Maybe the whole class would have held a protest march! Whatever may be the thing to do in one of these situations now, at the time it was simply a battle of will; a little jousting between student and teacher who actually liked each other.  Mrs. L stuck to her guns, and I received my one and only F.

But every story should have a happy ending. Several weeks after our encounter, Mrs. L informed me that I had been awarded a Western Pennsylvania Scholastic Gold Key for Art, the only recipient in our school district. Several weeks after that I traveled (by bus) to Pittsburgh for the awards ceremony with - you guessed it again - the girl I had the crush on who unwittingly gave me the motivation to stand my ground. 

The moral of the story?  Don’t flick your paintbrush and if you do, clean up your mess. 

( I’m still working on that ).