Source: Raised to Action
My Real Memoir
I’ve always been a little, you know, different. School had resumed and it was Art Time. We were supposed to color what we saw out the classroom window. The view wasn’t particularly spectacular. There was a big old tree of the genus Big Old Tree. And there was a honeysuckle-covered fence, the ground next to which was littered with “used” flowers, drained of their tiny nectar rewards.
Everything else was sky. Which every kid knew meant coloring a band of Sky Blue along the top of the page. But, wait, I thought, that doesn’t make sense. So I went to the window and looked out. And you know what? The sky didn’t stop at the top! I followed it all the way down in order to scientifically verify my findings. Sure enough, it went all the way to the ground!
I yanked two kids out of their seats and dragged them over to the window. “Look! The sky goes all the way down!” They looked at me, and then gently explained:
“No, it doesn’t, dumbhead.”
“Yes, it does! Remember, Mrs. Peavey said it’s made out of the same stuff we breath!”
“It can’t be,” they replied, “it’s the wrong Crayola color.”
Actually, the air down here didn’t seem to be any Crayola color. “Well, it gets all see-throughy,” I reasoned, “when it gets to us.”
“So then it’s not Sky Blue, is it, dumbhead?”
They had a point. And yet… “But look!” I pointed out the window again. “It goes all the way down!”
That was only half as radical as the day I drew a house on fire. I knew that fire was supposed to be Red. But I was tired of drawing it that way. So I drew Green fire…and Red water coming out of firehoses. Then I laughed.
Mrs. Peavey took me to the school Counselor, who called my mom to see if everything was OK at home. “Yes,” Mom explained, “he’s just a little, you know, different.” The Counselor agreed.
So Mrs. Peavey put my picture up with all the others in time for Open House. But I think she got a little tired of explaining to the parents, “Oh, that kid? Yes, everything’s OK at his home, he’s just a little, you know,
Different.”
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Mitch Teemley 
Pingback: Red Cars, Magical Forests, and Mom | Mitch Teemley
I’ve gotten those calls on my son. Once the class was told to draw a halloween picture because you know, it was near halloween. So he did, complete with waterfall, scarecrow, blood and big birds, oh, and a knife or two. With blood. I went in to the school, they showed me the picture. It really wasn’t all that bad. I asked them did they not say draw halloween? Yes. Well halloween is scary, this is scary, so what’s the problem. Logic is lost on some.
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Teachers have a hard time with any kid that’s a little bit different, especially first year teachers. My grandson went to the young teacher and “tattled on himself.” He confessed he had “stabbed” a girl with a piece of paper. My daughter was called, the counselor was brought in, the teacher was asked, “Did you see him do it?” (No.) and “Was the girl upset?” (Not really.) When they got home, my daughter just told him no more tattling on himself.
And yet I do see some truly upsetting things happening in today’s classrooms – but they’re part of the curriculum.
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I’m glad that those days are long behind my son, but I do hope that my nieces and nephews are watching what’s going on with their kids.
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😂😂😂
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We all love it that you were a little, you know, different!
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;>)
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Green fire and red water! Now that’s some imagination. Great anecdote.
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Thanks, Drew.
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I’ll bet you refused to color within the lines, too!
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Lines? What lines?
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It is amazing that you were different and expressed that. But yeah, it throws others when something is done which is out of the box.
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It’s difficult to be “different”, I guess.
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Nothing wrong with being different, I wish everyone saw it that way.
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Haha, this sounds like a spectacular title for a children’s book, “The Sky Goes All the Way Down!” hmmm. From one different to another, it is nice to have a kindred spirit.
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It is indeed, Kamina!
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Yes, elementary school art teachers can be a little, um, strange when a kid is a little, um, different.
Long ago, I started a lesson on watercolor with a pencil sketch, intending to paint within lines I had drawn. The teacher objected to “mixed media” (pronounced in the same tone one might use to pronounce “dog vomit”) and refused to elaborate. Mixing media was intrinsically yucky.
While I eventually noticed some sensible reasons to avoid mixing media in that particular way, I am still amused whenever I see an artist proudly displaying a mixed media work. It may or may not be good, but it would surely freak out Ms Lemonsucker.
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“Remembered” rather than “actual” name, I gather. ;>)
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Sounds like a fun picture to me. Glad she went ahead and hung it up. Different can be a great thing sometimes. Refreshing and amusing change mixed into a line of sameness. I am glad you were different and were not afraid of being yourself and that your parents encouraged it as well. Also, you definitely had one up on those other kids with the sky realization. Just a bit ahead of your time maybe? lol Reminds me of my oldest. The more he got into art, the more he noticed things like that too and the more he insisted on trying to share it even when other kids didn’t get it.
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