Today in Art Class

Every Friday I get to go in and help with Carly's art class - it is so fun! Well, it's usually so fun. Some days are more challenging than others, and today was by far the most challenging and so sad.

There is a boy in her class who has some undiagnosed behavioral stuff going on. I'm not an expert at anything nor do I pretend to be, but what I know based on my weekly times with this little guy is that he's a GOOD kid but his brain and his body won't always let him act on his good-kid-ness. If a friend loses a pencil, he's the first one out of his chair to go find it. One particular little girl always feels a little crabby during art class (it's at 12:30 on Friday!) and one day she told him he was in her bubble, and he moved without hesitation. He always shares what he has, even though most of it is torn or broken or mangled. Like I said, good boy. Such a good boy.

So it breaks my heart that his parents aren't willing and/or able to do anything to help him control his behaviors and attention. It makes me so sad that his teachers seem like they're always mad at him, though I get their frustration. After an hour with him (I usually hang out right next to him to try and keep him from distracting the other kids too much and sometimes help him to take a deep breath and try again when he gets too frustrated), I can be a little tense, too.

So anyway, back to today.

First let's back up a little and remember that I grew up Protestant. A big visual difference between that faith tradition and the Catholic tradition is the crucifix. I grew up being used to seeing a blank cross, and having that image of Jesus on the cross all over the place is still a little shocking. I can imagine it's not like that for people who grew up with that imagery, and it would be perfectly normal for Catholic people to expect their kindergarteners to make something to observe the Stations of the Cross during Lent. Something like drawing Jesus and then pasting him on a brown paper cross. To me it was a little too graphic and sort of horrible. (Carly did a beautiful job, by the way, even if it was a tad too, um...realistic...for my Protestantness).

So with all of THAT, you can imagine how well I took it when my little guy was laughing about coloring Jesus purple and throwing crayons at his friends' work. I mean, okay, I get that they're five and I'm not expecting anyone to go all The Silence Of Saint Thomas about it, but come on! A little reverence, people! Anyway, I had to walk my friend down to the office and he didn't really get it that he was in trouble. I almost cried when the sweet secretary told me where they 'usually' have him sit. And then afterward when the teacher pulled me, the art teacher and this poor kid into the art room to talk about it, everyone was standing around looking down at him...I got down on his level and tried to talk to him, but at that moment a car pulled by the window and the bell rang and he was a million miles away.