TUESDAY THOUGHTS: SEEING SHAUNTE

An urge to get out of the house reminded me of a Friday afternoon in 2008.

Yes. I am a Homebody. 

No. Let me rephrase that. 

I am the reigning Queen of the Land of Homebodies, and President of the Homebodies Union.

My best friend says I don't chill, I hibernate.  

Even when I am away from home, I can quickly turn a hotel room into a sanctuary, and it takes something especially appealing to get me to go anywhere other than the concert venue. 

On a trip with "Vision" to Philadelphia, Carolene and Darlene phoned my hotel room, and reminded me that there was a Lord & Taylor department store across the street. “Glo, there’s a shoe sale going on”.

Yes. A shoe sale will convert mild-mannered "Homebody Girl" into "Sole Woman". I was re-dressed and ready to go, in a matter of seconds, but, I digress…

back to that Friday afternoon.

The motivation for me to go out was strong. 

"Go to the gallery" was repeating in my head for some reason. 

There was no anticipation of snagging a great new pair shoes this time, and no legitimate or pressing reason to go, but I followed what was leading me. 

God knows, gas prices have drop-kicked the joy out of joyriding, and not too many people are just getting in the car these days without a definite plan and destination. 

I got dressed, though, and headed out into God’s sunshine and heat (It was HOT outside!)—-while remembering that it was His car and His gas, and He remembers when gas was $1.00 per gallon (and we were still complaining), and he's always provided for me. 
(Based on what I see in my own city, not too many of us have stopped driving and dusted off that bicycle, so it must not be that bad.)

“The gallery” is "Attitude Exact", where a lot of my drawings and paintings on paper have lived for several years. 

When I was a teacher, the owner, Barry Lester, would professionally frame the work of my little Art students, and he wouldn't take a dime. 

I wanted them to feel like their art was worthy of much more than a spot on the refrigerator, and his gracious gesture really helped. I wanted my students to believe that their work was valid, and could hang in a gallery just like the work of the masters we discussed in class.

I didn't know why I was headed to 8th Street, but I did have some frames and posters in the trunk of my car, and decided they might be best utilized at the gallery. 

I thought I could also enjoy any new pieces that Barry may have acquired, and maybe even get inspiration to create something new, myself.

When I got there, I had the frames dangling like over-sized bracelets on one arm, the posters in the other, and I guess I looked like I really needed help. (Sometimes you just ought to make two trips. I could hear my elders’ words ringing in my head, "Lazy people work hard"). 

After I managed to close the trunk, a young man, who was coming out of the gallery said, "Ma'am, let me help. I'll get the door for you". 

I smiled and said thank you. I was grateful that I didn't have to figure out a way to get through the doorway, or drop everything. 

Just as the young man reached for the frames, he said, "Hey! You know me!"
I stared into his handsome face, and my mind traveled back. 

I remembered traces of his face. I’d seen it, at some point, practically every day. I remembered a cute, very quiet little boy sitting at an easel. I recall that he never wanted to leave my classroom when Art class was over. He was well-mannered, and had an equally well-mannered twin sister. He was a little boy, among others, who I didn't mind taking on field trips, because I knew I wouldn't have to form a search party when it was time to return to the school, or take up drinking when I got home. He was a studious little boy who made the greatest little pictures, which I always mounted and displayed, because I was so impressed by them. His pictures represented a reason to come back to work the next day. 

He was a delightful little boy, whose name I called year after year, at assemblies, where I'd award certificates for outstanding achievement in Art. 

I looked into his face and said, "Yes! I do know you—only your face wasn’t up there!”

One of the nicest things in my life, is to look into the face of a man or woman I've encountered in a store, at a school, church, or concert, etc.,  and still be able to see the face of a little child who used to sit in my classroom.

 
"Miss Williams I've been looking for you for years!", he said. "What are you doing here? Do you know Barry?" 

I told him about my work on paper, that the gallery had freed from their grave under my bed, and asked him if he had some work inside, too. To my delight, he told me he'd just had a show. A SHOW! 

I determined that I would not miss the next one.

I walked inside, and my eyes filled with tears as I looked around. It clearly had been a fantastic show, and I was so sorry I’d missed the opening.

Everywhere I turned, I found myself in the midst of the most beautiful, visually stunning paintings and collages- all masterfully framed; some hanging, some standing, but all magnificent- and all signed by one Shaunte Gates. 

 I was so proud of him, and so pleased by what I saw. When he told me that I'd somehow encouraged him to pursue his love of Art, it was a moment that I'm sure many teachers live for. 

It was an affirmative answer to the questions that many teachers ask themselves every day:
1. Are they even paying attention?
2. Am I getting through to them?
3. Do they even care about what I'm saying?
4. Will any of them apply any of this today, or in the future?
5. Will any of them come to love this subject the way that I do?

6. Am I talking to myself?

My eyes couldn't keep still. The scale and scope of what I saw so exceeded my own skill, but isn't that the way it's supposed to be? 

Aren't teachers secretly hoping that their students will surpass them in every way, and pass on the love for, and enthusiasm about the subject matter to others?

His canvases were awesome; he'd mastered his materials, and had become quite an impressive communicator. 

I had prayed that Friday morning for a miracle. I was a little bolder in my prayer than usual, and asked the Lord for something specific. 

After Shaunte, Barry and I laughed, reminisced, cried, hugged, took pictures, and exchanged contact information, I left the gallery, got into my car and began to pray:

 "Lord, I know what I asked you for this morning, but what you gave me was worth so much more, and I'm really grateful".

No one can put a price on what happened for me that Friday afternoon. 

You never know the impact you're having in the life of a child. 

To have them grow up, run into you, and recall things you have long forgotten (but don't mind hearing again), is priceless. 

To encounter them as adults-- and they are actually glad to see you, and don't run the other way like Hyacinth Bucket's paperboy--is a blessing. 

For them to grow up and become a light in the world, is a reason to celebrate. 

I used to tell the children that their art was valid just because they created it. If, or when others appreciate it, it's a great gift, but even if others don't understand, like, or want, or applaud it, never fear or stop expressing themselves in positive ways.

Seeing Shaunte and his stunning art, and hearing him recall his years in my class, was so healing, inspiring, and redeeming. Hearing him say that he was 29 at the time, was a little shocking. It reminded me just how young I was when P.R.Harris E.C.’s principal, Tyrone Hopkins made a public announcement that I would be the new Art teacher in the coming semester. 

Frankly, I didn't think I was equipped, or worthy of the job, but I managed to stick around for about 16 years. 

Seeing Shaunte was worth every single day that I’d left school tired and discouraged, crawled into bed with my clothes on, and wondered if choosing to be a teacher was a result of some mental issue I didn't know I had.

God blessed me to see my former student that day. It was one of those divine appointments, because my plan had been to wash Venetian blinds.

I pray that God make Shaunte's name great, and his art greatly appreciated, sought after, and purchased-- while he lives.

Oh yeah- my original prayer was answered, too-- SUDDENLY, and above and beyond my request. God isn't playing games, but sometimes I wonder if He's just testing us to see if we'll praise Him anyhow. 

There's little Shaunte pictured on the far right, in the sharp suit and tie. As usual, he was among the awardees. 

Hang in there, teachers. Don’t be discouraged. Your work is not in vain. Some days it may not seem like it, but someone IS listening. Someone IS paying attention.

#artmatters