A Presbyterian boy goes to confession

I have become painfully aware of a tension that exists in the teaching profession. I like what I teach my students. I like it a great deal, in fact. The problem is, they don't always seem to recognize the relevance of the subject matter we discuss. This can really be frustrating. What frustrates me about it is not the agony of getting them to enjoy my class. What is frustrating is that even though I want them (at times to the point of anger) to get it and like it, I know that my attitude as a student was as bad as any I encounter as a teacher. I just don't know how to respond to this. I would not be doing my job if I just accepted bad attitudes. How, though, to push them without judging them? I guess a good place to begin is to spend some time reflecting upon the way I once was. I am particularly drawn to a class I took in college, Pastel Studio, and the professor Catherine Prescott. As a student at a liberal arts school, I was required to take a wide variety of classes not directly related to my major. One requirement that I put off until the very end was a 1 credit art course. As far as I was concerned, I would rather have been required to take a 1 credit study in the endurance of Novocaine free oral surgery. I was always a poor art student. I was bad at drawing, painting, sculpting, cutting, pasting, and handwriting. On top of that, I had no interest in partaking of the arts as I understood them at the time. Needless to say my effort, as well as my attendance, were a bit sub-par. I had no interest in the class, and had no respect for Professor Prescott nor her medium. Then one day, she did something remarkable. She asked me to go into the hallway with her. She told me that I was failing a 1 credit p/f class due to my poor attendance. She told me she would give me a second chance if I had perfect attendance for the rest of the time and turned in all of my assignments. If this were a Hollywood film, her love and grace would have changed my heart right then and there, and I would have reconsidered my attitude about art and about life. This is not a Hollywood film though. Instead of viewing this as forgiveness, I viewed it as a loophole. I did my duty, passed the class, and walked away from the art world. I had much growing up to do after college. As my chosen profession of teaching history collided with my personal growth, I found myself increasingly interested in my old nemesis art. As I came to see art as essentially connected with the rest of life, I began to remember many things she taught me. Despite my ignorance, Professor Prescott had shaped my view of art and of life. Last summer I made my second trip to Paris with my students. I was particularly excited to take some of them to the Louvre to look at the art ofthe Romantic period . In class, we looked at a work from that period called The Raft of the Medusa by Theodore Gericault. As I stood in front of this painting with my students, I remembered pastel studio and Catherine Prescott. Her willingness to let me pass her class was nice. What was more important was her love of art and her confidence that if taught well, it could change peoples' lives. As my students excitedly discussed this marvelous painting (16'x23' by the way)with me this summer, I realized that they are her artistic grandchildren. To Professor Catherine Prescott I say I am sorry for my selfishness, and thank you for your willingness to move past that. May I emulate that continually in my own career. I am including three links. The first is to Catherine Prescott's personal website (she is now retired from teaching and is a realist painter). The second is to a painting she did called Girl With A Mink Pelt that was displayed recently in the Smithsonian in D.C. The third is to the Raft of the Medusa by Gericault.