I do wonder about our school system sometimes. Perhaps some of the home educators and alternative models get more of it right. Surely it shouldn’t just be about passing exams or gaining kudos for the institutions. Take P.E. In my day it was geared towards identifying the kids who were good enough to be selected for teams. As the geeky uncoordinated one who was always picked last it knocked my self confidence for six. The other girls groaned if they had to have me in the extra position they created on the team for me. I just got in the way. It was only in my twenties that I realised that I reintroduced sports on my own terms. I swim, run, kayak, walk and cycle for the pure love of it these days. Who cares if I am slow, ungainly and my jogging style has been compared to a crab?
Louis had an teacher once whose sole aim seemed to be producing a bevy of kids who would go onto art school. If I met her now we would have words. For she managed to knock the stuffing out of my boy and make him believe that he was no good at art. Her lack of encouragement to foster creativity as an outlet of expression, as a joyous pursuit and as a tool to maintain wellbeing was astounding. Ever since my boy believes that he is not arty. I disagree.
This is some of his work that adorns my house and motorhome which I treasure. The printed jellyfish above got a particularly scathing reception from that teacher. Okay I’m going to be rude now. What a knobber!
‘You know who he is!’ said my son delightedly when he brought this home from junior school. Mr Shakespeare has lived on the door of the van for a very long time. He never fails to raise a smile.
This aboriginal inspired cushion lives in the centre of my sofa and is much loved.
This is in the bedroom. It’s so wonderfully atmospheric. Is this the work of a boy that is no good at art?
I’m going to help Louis make a silver ring for his girlfriend’s Christmas present. I’ve tried on a number of occasions to revive his inner creator. Perhaps this is the time he will wake up?