Drawing the Line with My Darling

            When I saw Michael pouring over the ‘Continuing Education’ booklet that arrived in January of ought nine, my yearning-for-learning juices started to flow.  I’m happy to say I still possess a voracious craving for knowledge … it’s a thirst yet to be quenched.  This hunger for information has led me to many a night school class over the years.  Although the yen to attend classes has never left me, a long drive in winter months, alone at the wheel, has stopped me in my tutored tracks.  Wiping out a ‘Welcome to Caledon’ sign a few years back didn’t help.  It only made me feel meeker about motoring, especially in snow, sleet, hail, freezing rain, thunder storms, regular rain or when the sun is extra squinty bright.  You get the picture?

            When my darling husband took out a pen and circled an item in the education roster I could barely contain my excitement.  When finally I got my anxious hands on the bulletin I tore through looking for something … anything on the same day and around the same time as his chosen … oh, yawn, oh, boring … ‘Financial Planning for Retirement’. 

EUREKA!  Drawing and Dry Pastels was scheduled in the morning of Michael’s afternoon class.  So, the plan was set, he would hang out in Guelph in the morning, we’d meet for lunch and I’d get to hang while he nodded off during his afternoon class.  I pictured my Guelph afternoons spent sipping lattés and reading a novel while assimilating what was learned in the morning.     

            Next we went off to the art store for dry pastels and my bag was packed in readiness for a new adventure.  My escapades into extra-curricular classes has taken me far and wide in my creative mind.  Here’s most of my learning list – Tai Chi, speed reading, shorthand (my only tedious class taken to improve my job position – as I didn’t stick with it, my hand remains long especially when not in touch with the keyboard of my computer).  Then there was oil painting with my mother.  For the most part I like to attend classes alone. 

Continuing on, I’ve taken a World Religions Course, American Sign Language, creative writing and running a small business.  Commerce is a fairly right-brained place to place one’s attention … or is it left?  (Note to myself.  Look for a course on how the brain works.)  At any rate, a decision was made to start my own business after attending a slew of sewing sessions.  I hung out my shingle as workshop leader in quilty items such as bears, bunnies, wall-hangings, quick quilts, vests, dolls and other assorted items.  Said items spent years packed in boxes until Value Village was the lucky recipient of stuffed items that filled our small cottage to overflowing. 

Meanwhile back at the learning list … there was a cooking class with Bonnie Stern when I lived in Leaside and just across the street I learned how to smock.  Let’s not forget pu-pu-public sp-sp-sp-speak-ing at Durham College when we lived in Port Perry.  During the public speaking course I gave a five minute talk on procrastination that I never actually gave.  Remind me to tell you about that some time.  Finally, let us not forget Memoir Writing workshops in Erin and at Five Oaks in Paris. 

            As mentioned, I normally take these classes alone but Michael and I did sign up for water colours in Guelph a few years back.  You may have realized from my list that I like to be creative with my hands.  Well, the water colours kind of got away on me.  I’m not certain if it was the sorry excuse for a teacher who got in my way or just me who could not conquer the craft.  The teacher would continually grab my brush out of my hand to correct where he thought I’d gone wrong.  He would splash about on my very expensive water colour paper and wreck my latest attempt.  The most annoying part came when he would then proceed along the line to Michael; pat him on the back and say, “I can see by your work that you have done this before”.

When I came to accept this teacher was not the right match for me I went off to purchase an instruction book on water colours.  I followed the directions as best I could and was working on a landscape when the very much alive but deadly teacher came along and questioned, “Why are you using yellow in the sky?  The sky is not yellow”.

I really wanted to respond with, “Because the book I was forced to buy, since I’m not learning a darned thing from you, has instructions for using yellow in the sky”. 

Of course, I’m too polite to say such a thing so; again my brush was absconded while I was forced to watch my lovely sunny sky turn to grey, both literally and metaphorically.  Then, on he’d go to Michael. 

“Oh, now, this is what a sky should look like.” 

We would laugh when we got to the car, Michael and I.  The ride home would be filled with teasing the ‘teacher’s pet’ accompanied by my unbecoming snorts and spurts.    

As luck would have it, I had to quit water colour classes before completion when I was elected onto the Bahá'í Council of Ontario and instantly spun in another direction with plenty to do on my plate.

            Michael continued on.  Well, wouldn’t you if your head was swelling with pride from the splendid work you were putting on paper?  Each night the teacher would put brush to his own pricey piece of paper while the class looked on to learn what they could by watching a work in progress.  On the last night of class he sent his final demo painting home with Michael as a gift for me.  It was a sunset landscape.  Can you guess the colour of the sky?  That’s right; it was a yellow that did not make me feel at all mellow.  I burned that painting along with my own attempts.  If this teacher, whose name I’ve forgotten anyway, ever becomes famous I’ve burned my bridge to the bank.

            Now, back to January of aught nine!  The day before classes were to begin I retrieved a phone message informing Michael … “Due to lack of interest, your class in Financial Planning for Retirement has been cancelled”.  I’ll admit it brought a sinister smile to my face that was immediately wiped away with the realization I’d lost my chauffeur.     

            It was back to the course booklet for Michael who finally decided to join me, to my delight I might add, in the drawing class.  After completing our first session the teacher displayed all of our drawings which were studies in shadowing and direction of the light source.  When Michael’s drawing was held up the whole class, with the exception of the artist’s wife, let out a loud and long … W-W-W-O-O--O-O-W-W-W-W … accompanied by an exuberant round of applause.  A classmate, turning to Michael said, “I can see you’re going to be the teacher’s pet”.

            It still makes me laugh to think of a possible repeat performance in art class with my lovely husband however, I know from the start this teacher is different.  A student wanted her to demonstrate a technique adding to the student’s effort. 

“Oh no, I must respect what you’ve accomplished”.  Happily, I can only blame my crumby work on my own pitiful hand.    

She’s also a lot of fun, this new teacher.  When asked for her best advice about using the very messy, chalk pastels responded, “Don’t scratch your nose”. 

 So, you ask, what have I learned from all of this?  Lots, if you consider my long list of courses but nothing when it comes to drawing the line with my darling husband partaking in the same class. 

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