It was fall and I was just starting the fifth grade at Washington School. My teacher’s name was Miss Davidson and I thought she was exceptional. She had been a teacher for a good long time and was older than the other grade school teachers I had in earlier grades. That would have made her at least 40 years old. You know, really ancient.
I remember an Art project that we were assigned to do that fall. The instructions were to pick up Autumn leaves and lay them out in a shape that would resemble a person. We were then supposed to trace around the leaves leaving the outline of your person on the paper. I had no problem gathering my leaves and arranging them in an interesting shape.
Our next step after drawing around the leaves was to take our new boxes of crayons out and arrange them in colors in a blending fashion. This was the first year that I was allowed to buy the big 128-crayon box of Crayola crayons. I’ll never forget the wonderful fragrance of the box of crayons when they were first opened.
I arranged my crayons according to Miss Davidson’s instructions. That’s when I got stuck.
I couldn’t figure out what she meant by shading the colors into each other. I was stuck and didn’t want to tell Miss Davidson that I was not able to comprehend how to complete this project. I spent the next many minutes looking around the classroom to see what the other students were doing. Nancy and Bari were my good friends and they seemed to be moving right along. I found myself imitating their technique and I vividly remember feeling that I had no artistic talent whatsoever. My project turned out OK but I was sad that instead of feeling pleased, I felt disappointed in my offering.
As the day went on, we had our reading time and Miss Davidson began reading Black Beauty to us. I was transported to the setting of this beautiful story. I appreciated the diversion from my feelings of inadequacy in my art project. The story reminded me of our responsibility to honor animals and to treat them with kindness. I found it incomprehensible to think that people would mistreat a beautiful and intelligent horse. I was glad that the story had a happy ending and that Black Beauty returned to the people who loved him.
Later in the fall, I visited Miss Davidson in her second-floor apartment on Spring Street. I was there to sell Girl Scout cookies and she invited me in for a brief conversation. Her home was quaint and decorated with a variety of antiques complemented by her original artwork. I remember feeling like I was in the presence of a woman who had talent and was willing to pass it on.
5th grade was one of my favorites. Miss Davidson piqued my interest in Art. I grew in my interest in creating artwork. I can’t say that I eliminated all of my feelings of inadequacy however Miss Davidson made a positive contribution. When I remember happy grade school memories, I think of Miss Davidson.
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