January 6. 2000
I was once again called on to do a throwing demonstration today at my Dad's school. Although I usually complain about these demonstrations, when all is said and done, I really do enjoy them.
It was a while since I had set foot in a high school, and even though it wasn't the school I attended, it was still really weird. I had forgotton (thankfully) most of the stupid shit that goes on in high school...in any high school. How hard it is to grow in that environment. The stupid people, the stupid teachers, the uninspiring classes, the cliques. I really need to stop dwelling on this, and let bygones be bygones, but I'm struck by how massively unfair high school is to anyone who decides to be different than the masses. I don't mean only different in appearence, but different in the way they think and handle their life. I saw it many times just today, some kid getting ridiculed for whatever reason, and I wish I could go up to the them and say, "I know how it feels. It does get better. Trust me."
The demonstrations themselves went very smoothly. My Dad teaches mostly 7th and 8th grade, with one senior high sculpture class. He says he likes teaching that age level, that they're not as jaded and bored as senior high kids, but their artistic skills are more developed than elementary students. I say I have to agree. I was expecting the usual sullenness and unimpressed attitude that is typical of 12 and 13 year olds, but they were surprising open and interested in what I was doing and how I was explaining the process. Which was certainly helpful to me. Nothing like trying to talk to someone who isn't interested and won't take you seriously. Doing the demonstration for the senior high students was slightly awkward for me. I felt I shouldn't be teaching them, because in some cases they were only a year or so younger than I am. They actually seemed less intrigued than the junior high kids, which surprised me, because I would have thought it to be the other way around.
After the senior high class, I attempted to teach a couple kids individually, including this really nice girl Jackie, who I liked a lot. It was frustrating for me to try to teach them in just one period, because I wanted to do so much and had very little time. I don't think I'm particularly skilled at teaching, and trying to teach someone something intuitive like throwing is hard.
It's funny, my artwork is all over my Dad's room. Stuff I made years ago, and stuff I rejected before it was finished, which he uses for examples for his students or for keeping stuff in. There's also stuff he made all over the room, too. I saw this little statue my Dad had made a while ago, and I was so intrigued by it that I asked if I could have it. I think it had a lot of character and personality, and for some strange reason, reminded me of my father. You can see it above.
music: Fiona Apple, When the
food: Healthy Choice Chicken Corn Noodle Soup
read: something, I don't remember...
sight: a hurtin hand
it won't be long til you'll be lying limp in your own hands
-Fiona Apple, Limp
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