First, let me give you just one little glimpse of why I love it here. I just walked up the stairs from my classroom and outside, around on a winding path that leads to the door to the teachers’ lounge. (It’s time for my morning tea.) The gym, where kids are having PE right now, is across the courtyard from where my classroom is. There is a giant magnolia tree in the courtyard and a nice grassy patch, and a sweet little bronze sculpture of a child reading on a bench under the tree. Flowing loudly from
I was working as a freelance graphic designer/artist/portrait painter/whatever I could get my hands on, and had been doing so for about two years. I believe that God gives us, a lot of times, what we don’t want, so that it’s really obvious when we find what we do want. So I was made really certain of the fact that I cannot be my own boss. I’m not motivated enough, or even if I am, I just can’t do the manager’s job as well as the artist’s job. It’s just too much to ask of a creative soul to tell her that she has to produce the work but then also get out there and hock it. It’s exhausting. I know that people do it, and I think those people are freaks of nature who consume way too much caffeine and probably don’t sleep as well as I do at night. That’s entirely unfair and insensitive of me, but I think you understand where I’m coming from.
SO. I had just returned from working all summer in the kitchen at Kanakuk Camp, the one out in Durango, Colorado. Good times. That’s actually when I was working on the Behold The Lamb of God artwork in my free time when I wasn’t cracking 400 eggs or hovering over the tilt skillet making scads of pancakes. (More on that later.)
So here I sit, six years later, planning lessons on Chinese Dragons and the psychedelic art of Peter Max and adhering paint stir sticks to puppets for the second graders’ upcoming show. Little blessings, they’re made of paper and glue.