Art With Kids

Oh frabjous day, callee, callay! I got to make art with kids all day yesterday! It was intense--six classes of about 20 each from K through 5th graders, with about a five minute break if that between classes. So the thing I soon found out was that at the end of the period I couldn't let them out of the room until they cleaned up their mess. I always encourage messy art making. And I believe in offering them all the supplies they need to let their genius shine.They should have everything at their fingertips. They pretty much did.

The lesson plan I was given by their art teacher was for them to make butterflies as gifts to their teachers for teacher appreciation day. They first sketched out a butterfly on white paper, then colored it in with markers, then cut it out. Next they found with my help a piece of colored paper to use as a backer for their butterfly, then traced the insect using about an inch margin all around so that the colored piece was highlighted by the "backer." A lovely project--deceptively simple.

On the board, I projected folk art butterflies from the internet, and they were inspired. I told them that each of them is a genius. I cooed and cawed over their art, which was, frankly, remarkable. Some of the boys made robot butterflies, a couple made human skeleton butterflies, some made butterflies that looked like dragon flies. "That doesn't look like a butterfly," someone would say. And I would say, "Who cares? It doesn't have to look like a butterfly. Just use your wild imagination!"

There were a couple of especially touching moments. One came from two boys who were obviously the outcasts of the class, who sat together. I so loved their art work, recognizing its originality, that they both lit up and wrote me love notes at the end of class. The second story was sad. A little boy, a first grader, gouged one of the tables with his scissors. I reprimanded him and asked him to sit down in a separate space. Then I began to talk with him. The other kids had told me he'd been getting into trouble all day. His lip began to quiver. "I take med...med...medicine. I didn't take it this morning." Big crocodile tears. His mother, he told me, was in a hurry. I couldn't help hugging him and telling him that it must be hard not to have any impulse control. He stayed by my side ever after that. So many stories. So much pain and longing. I pray for them every day.