Category: Basics

Why do you try to understand art? Do you try to understand the song of a bird?

Pablo Picasso

Along the way, I learned that I am an amazing art teacher—by my standards.

Multiple students and parents of students have told me for almost three decades how much their children enjoy art and look at the world in a different way because of my classes. And that is my standard.

Perhaps, my students will remember some artists or art terminology or acquire a favorite or think about creating art. I hope they do. But the goal is for my students to enjoy art—and for that enjoyment to be as accessible as their favorite books and games.

So, let’s cerebrate World Art Day on April 15th this year by enjoying some art, even if it is only a clever graphic design on your cereal box.

Once upon a time, I believed in happily ever after—not only in favorite movies and books—but also in my real life. Along the way, I learned that eternity is my only shot at happily ever after.

Others tried to tell me earlier, but I was too idealistic.

One afternoon after class, a favorite professor took me and two other students into his office. He pointed to a wall hanging. My memory of that image is blurry, but his words are still clear.

The road never gets easier. There are only fewer people traveling with you.

Dr. Smith meant our careers, but I learned his words applied to more.

As newlyweds, my husband and I met with our pastor to say goodbye before we moved. After small talk, he said,

There’s only one thing I want to say. Each challenge is preparation for the next challenge. You never arrive in this life.

Bad news? Not really. Along the way, I learned that realism is needed to prepare and persevere.           

My most discouraging hikes were the ones where I was deceived about the distance, the difficulty, or both. Now I read trail descriptions more carefully.

December 7th is National Letter Writing Day. Unless a Christmas card counts, it seems a burden to add to the holidays. I prefer World Letter Writing Day on the reasonable date of September 1st.

While both bless, written words have advantages over spoken ones.

Letters linger. I almost cried—okay, I did cry—when a current, long-distant friend’s note reminisced about meeting me in fourth grade, and her prayers for me over the years. I don’t think she would have said those words out loud. I reread Dawn’s nourishing words several times the first day.

Even better, letters linger for decades.

Maybe I don’t need to know that during her college years my mother regularly had sore throats or needed a new pair of black pumps or sang in a trio, but it gives me insight into her 1950s concerns. I definitely like knowing that my serious, quiet aunt was quite the flirt when she dated my uncle. I need the loving—and sometimes admiring—notes of small sons who are now grown and more jaded about their mother.