Art Imitates Life Imitates Art

"Today is the big day, guys and girls," Mr. Lindell said as everyone took their seats around the art classroom.  "We will begin working today with clay for our pottery study.  Now, everyone come up here and grab one of these oversized t shirts I got from the uniform factory in town, so it will protect your clothes from splattering, and then grab one of the little turn tables we will be using as potter's wheels."

 

Jordan got into the line with the other two boys and fourteen girls that were in the class.  He was hoping for a nice color shirt, but of course, he was still the newest kid in school and was shy and polite to a fault, so all he had to pick from by the time got there at the end of the line was an orange shirt or a black shirt.  He got the orange one because black reminded him of the suit that he'd had to wear to his grandmother's funeral just a year ago.  He still missed her terribly.  He turned and picked up one of the spinning wood things that looked just like the lazy-susan his mother had for the middle of the dining room table, and then he went back to his seat at one of the tables near the back of the room.

 

"Now class, we won't be able to make the sculptures we want in just one class period, so what we will do is work with the clay as much as we can during class, and then wrap it up in several plastic trash bags to keep it as wet as we can until the next day," Mr. Lindell told them all as we went from table to table handing each student a ball of clay and a small bucket that they were to put water in so that they could keep their work moist as they worked. 

 

Jordan started working just like the other kids, lumping the clay on the spinning table and rubbing it with his wet hands.  He got a bit distracted by how much fun it was to change the shape of the blob as it spun in front of him and hadn't really made any progress to a final design by the time Mr. Lindell made it back to his table to check on his work.  "Can't seem to make up your mind what you want to start with, Jordy?" the man asked as he stepped up beside Jordan's chair.  "Jordan, are your arms sunburned?"

"No, sir, Mr. Lindell," the eighth grader replied quickly. 

 

"Stop working the clay for a moment and let me look at them," Mr. Lindell ordered.  "Your arms, not the clay," he corrected when the boy started to hand him the lump from the potter's wheel.  "Are they itching at all?"

 

"Well, I hadn't noticed it before, but they are starting to yes, sir," Jordan admitted and went to scratch himself a bit.

 

"Stop that, don't scratch it," Mr. Lindell snapped.  "Get up and step away from your workstation, Jordan.  Come with me, quickly."  He called out to the rest of the room, "Class, continue working on your projects and I will be back to check on you in just a moment."  He placed a hand on Jordan's shoulder and guided him to the door at the back of the room that led to the sink and bathroom that was shared with the science classroom on the other side of the small building.  "Step over here, Jordan, and wash your hands and arms quickly and thoroughly.  Oh my, I'm already seeing spots showing up, better let me help you.  Goodness gracious, it's spreading up your arms awfully fast.  Here, let me take your shirt off and you lean over the sink while I scrub."  Mr. Lindell accidentally grabbed both of Jordan's tee shirts he had on in his hurry.  Before Jordan could blink, he was naked from the waist up.  "Oh dear, I meant to just grab the over shirt.  I'm sorry, Jordan, but never mind that now.  Let's just get you cleaned up."

 

Jordan stretched forward with his bright red, itchy arms in the sink as his teacher stood behind him and reached around and over him to lather him with soap.  He felt like he was being hugged by his teacher and it felt really good.  No one had hugged him since his grandmother's funeral.  Despite his itchy arms, he really liked this feeling… right up until the door from the science room opened and Mrs. Wallace looked at him.

 

"What on earth is going on here?" she demanded.

 

"Mrs. Wallace, perfect timing," Mr. Lindell gasped.  "Do you have a first aid kit in your room, by chance?  I have a student with a severe allergic reaction to the clay for pottery."

"Oh, my word, Terence, that boy is red all over," the woman gasped.   "I'll have a kit, but it's just for burns and such.  I think we had better get him to the nurse's office immediately.  He looks as if he has a fever."

 

"Jordan, are you feeling all right?  Jordo?" Mr. Lindell called out to him, but the man was still standing right up behind Jordan with his arms wrapped around him.  Jordan was in a bit of a daze.

 

"Terence, I think the boy is going into shock.  You get back to your class, and I will get him to the school nurse.  I have a free period right now.  You're just lucky I hadn't already left the building.  Is that his shirt?  Let me take it with us," she ordered and grabbed the topless boy whose arms were still wet and soapy and lead him through the science room and out the door headed to the main building and the nurse's office.

 

Once in the nurse's office, Jordan was given a dose of liquid allergy medicine to swallow, and his parents were called.  By the time Mom got to the school, Jordan was already asleep.  He woke up at home in his bed in his pajama bottoms, but not the pajama shirt.  His arms were covered in some sort of bright pink goo.  The itching was worse though.  Jordan got up and went to the bathroom to wash off whatever the pink stuff was.  When he stepped out of the bathroom, his mother was waiting with a belt in hand.  "Isn’t it bad enough I have had to spend good money on that medicine for your pitiful rash?  Did you not think you should have asked before washing it off your…."

 

His father interrupted her as he blurted out, "My goodness son, your rash is worse now than it was.  Go get in the car.  We don't have a choice; I'm taking you to the emergency room."

 

When Jordan got to the ER, he was given allergy medicine again, and once again, moments later he was asleep.  The next time he woke up, he was back in his room in different pajama bottoms, still with no shirt.  There was a really cool looking handmade card beside his bed.  Also beside his bed was his father.

 

"Well, you did survive after all," Dad said softly.  "Your mother will be very disappointed she won't be turning your room into a home office after all.  Oh, forget I said that.  She doesn’t really want to do that, I’m sure." 

 

"What happened to me, Dad?"  Jordan was shocked at how his voice sounded.

 

"Your allergy, again," Dad told him simply.  As it turned out, his father had learned that clay was one of the ingredients of calamine lotion.  When it had been applied it to Jordan's arms, the lotion had the opposite effect of the intention.  He had been put on allergy medicine for a week to be sure the allergen was cleared from his system.  Since then, they had just been waiting for him to wake up enough to be truly functional again.  That had taken another five days, but he was told the doctor hadn't seemed worried about him. 

 

When Jordan was allowed to go back to school, after missing almost two weeks, several students seemed shocked to see him when he walked into his first class.  "Oh my God, you're not dead.  We all heard you died.  You didn't die, did you?"  He assured the girls that at no point had he died, otherwise he wouldn't be there.  Some of the boys in the class just seemed to sneer at the fact that he had missed two weeks of school just for being itchy.  When he got to art class that afternoon, Mr. Lindell stopped him at the door.

"Oh, Jordan, if you would please, walk around the building and knock on the door of Mrs. Wallace's classroom.  You will be sitting in there until the rest of the class finishes the study on pottery."

 

"I can't take art anymore?" Jordan asked sadly.

 

"What?  You'll still be doing art, silly boy.  You will just be doing an independent study project while the rest of the class does the pottery.  Once I get the class started working, I will join you in Mrs. Wallace's classroom to discuss your options."

 

The boy found the door to the science room open when he got to it.  "Come in and sit down at one of the desks, Jordan," Mrs. Wallace called out to him.  "You can sit anywhere you like, dear, you don't have to go to the station where you sit for my class.  Now don't mind me, I will just be feeding the snake in the aquarium over here."

 

"You're going to open that?" the boy squeaked nervously, staring in nervous horror at the reptile enclosure.  He hated sitting near it for class, but he certainly didn't want to be close when the snake had a chance to get out.  He grabbed his books and rushed to the front row station at the opposite side of the room, which put him as far from the snake as possible.  It also put him very close to the door through which Mr. Lindell entered a moment later.  "AAAAHHH!" Jordan yelled a bit when the man laid a hand on his shoulder.  His attention had still been on the large, healthy rat snake that Mrs. Wallace was holding across the room.

 

"I take it you are not a fan of reptiles, Jordan?" Mr. Lindell laughed.

 

"No sir, sorry sir," the boy gasped and panted after his shock.  "I didn't mean to scream.  Please don't tell anyone."

 

"You're hardly the first student to ever scream at the sight of Beauty here," Mrs. Wallace called out.  "She is back in her habitat now, Jordan."

 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wallace," Jordan told her.  "I didn't mean to offend either you or the… sn… sna… Beauty."

 

"Well, I dare say, Tabitha, he is the first to apologize for hurting the snake's feelings," Mr. Lindell pointed out.  Jordan felt as if the adults in the room were teasing him just a bit.  Mr. Lindell must have realized that, as he quickly spoke again while rubbing Jordan's shoulder where his hand still rested.  "It shows that you are a very kind and caring young man, Jordan."

 

"Admirable qualities, indeed," Mrs. Wallace agreed.  "Who knows, perhaps by the end of your independent study for Mr. Lindell, you and Beauty will have come to an understanding."

 

"That's a fine idea, Mrs. Wallace," Mr. Lindell blurted suddenly.  "Jordan, I was going to suggest that while your classmates study pottery, you could further your studies of charcoal sketching which you showed remarkable talent for last six weeks.  I want you to work on a series of sketches of Beauty for your independent study."

 

"Does it have to be of her?" the boy asked desperately.  "Couldn't I do maybe… umm… how about the tank of crystals over here on this side of the room?"

 

"Well, you could hardly do justice to the colors of those crystals with charcoal, Jordan," Mr. Lindell told him.  "No, Beauty's a lovely subject for sketching, and it will give you the chance to overcome your fear of her at least a little bit.  Yes, this will be a fine idea.  I'll bring the supplies over as soon as I check on the other students."  With that, the man was gone back to his own classroom once again and Jordan found himself reaching up to brush his own hand over the spot where Mr. Lindell's hand had been touching him.

Jordan managed quite a few sketches of Beauty the snake while his classmates finished making their ashtrays and flower vases for their parents.  One sketch in particular caught Mr. Lindell quite by surprise and had him choking back laughter.  It depicted Beauty the snake swaying in front of a flute playing swami who bore a very striking resemblance to Mrs. Wallace.  As the woman was in the room at the time, the man dared not laugh out loud.  "With your permission, Jordan, I will take this one out of the portfolio and keep it at my home for safe keeping," Mr. Lindell grinned at the boy.  "We certainly wouldn't want this one viewed by less than appreciative eyes."  The man did laugh out loud at the next artwork from his student.  In that one, Beauty had been rendered enormous in size and rearing up, poised to strike at a monster which appeared to be made of clay.  In an upper corner of the picture, the boy had sketched a superhero complete with cape that looked remarkably like Terence Lindell himself, while a small shirtless boy hid behind the hero.  "Remarkable work, Jordan, remarkable indeed.  Am I to assume you and Beauty have come to more amicable terms thanks to this project?"

 

"Well, let's just say that maybe I don't quite agree with my mother that the only good snake is a dead one anymore," the young teen said shyly.  "That doesn't mean I'm ready to feed her or hold her or anything."

 

"I'm sure Beauty is overwhelmed by your admiration," Mrs. Wallace said as she walked up.  "Now, Terence, if you don't mind, I will take that picture that you removed from the portfolio.  Jordan, I would like for you to sign it for me please.  I will be framing it and displaying it over the tank where Beauty lives in my home in the summers."

 

"Really, Mrs. Wallace?" the boy squeaked.

 

"Quite so, Jordan," the old woman confirmed.  "I have only known one other such gifted artist in my years of teaching, and I still have a signed painting of his in my home as well."

 

"You still have that?" Mr. Lindell gasped.

 

"Of course, I do, Terence," she confirmed.  "It isn't every day that a mere science teacher gets portrayed in the garments of Queen Elizabeth the First while sitting on a throne decorated with the periodic table of elements."

 

"You did that?" Jordan asked his art teacher.  When the man nodded with a blush, the teen grinned and uttered, "KEWL!"

 

"My sentiments exactly, Jordan," the old woman smiled.  "Now, if your remaining class members have completed their studies of ashtrays and flower vases, Terence, I suggest you reintegrate young Jordan to your own classroom.  That said, Jordan, should you have wish to stop by at lunch time to spend more time with Beauty, I will be happy to arrange that."

 

The rest of the year went by quite well.  When the students began working with oil paints and canvas in art class, Jordan was encouraged to do a full color work up of the charcoal drawing of Beauty defending the student from the clay monster.  As the paintings would be viewed by parents and guests at the school's open house at the end of the year, it was suggested that he focus the painting on the snake and monster and perhaps not include the small shirtless boy who watched the battle from behind the superhero, however.  By the time the painting was finished, though, Jordan had gone back to the science room a number of times at lunch and had finally gotten brave enough to handle the rat snake, so the boy from the original drawing was included after all, only closer to the snake and fully dressed, petting its tail as it fought the clay monster.

 

"I had no idea Jordan had talent," his mother said rather flatly as she looked at the painting in the classroom.  "I would much rather he excel at something with a future, of course.  I mean, after all, what good is art but a distraction and waste of otherwise productive time?"  After that, Mr. Lindell made sure that Jordan was nearby to overhear the many other parents who praised the painting.  There were quite a few after all.  The young teen practically glowed from the positive attention, until he had to go home with his parents that is.