A Deceivingly Good Revelation

Today, at work, I had the best realization: I don't care. 

I need to preface this with saying that, of course, I care for the children I work with. I love them and I wish them the best. The moments I spend with them are precious and I know that I will miss them once I do actually leave. 

However, these children, as well as the ones about to enter the classroom, deserve to have a teacher that cares. One who has a passion for teaching, and the excitement for the milestones they meet. These kids deserve to have a teacher who celebrates their accomplishments on a whole new level. These students deserve to have a teacher who gives a shit....

And as of late, that teacher is no longer me.

Toxic

Today, it became very apparent that there is someone toxic in my life. I've been dealing with them for quite some time now, but I've always been able to shrug off their hurtful words. 

Today was different. Today, this person crossed a line. 

And they will no longer be a part of my life because of it. 

The Middle

I was bewildered. The lines he created with splatters of paint depicted movement in the pieces of art that were new to my eyes. His people resembled stick-figures. But these stick figures could tell a story in the way they curved on the canvas. It's true that Chihuly isn't known for his paintings, but they captivated me.

It wasn't just the way he conveyed movement through deceivingly simplistic lines, it was the use of color. I could have stared at this artwork display for hours. Each backlit painting was about my height, maybe taller, and wide enough to where my fingers would barely touch the edge on either side. These specific paintings are the reason I have a newfound appreciation for abstract art. I always scoffed and make a comment about how "the children I teach could duplicate those" under my breath. But this time, when my aunt was the one who whispered those words, I couldn't find it in me to agree. This time, I understood that there was more to these than splattered paint.

Some of you may be a bit confused at this point. There's a simple explanation: I started my story in the middle. We're always taught to start from the beginning. Beginning, middle, end. This is a no-brainer to most of us because that's how life normally works. But over the break, I read a book* that starts from the middle. It completely changed the way I thought about writing, and I figured I would try something new.

Now that you've seen the middle, let's go back to the beginning. When taking a tour of the University of Puget Sound, I looked up to see a gorgeous glasswork display in one of the buildings. I remember listening to the tour guide spew facts about the famous glass artist who was born and raised in Tacoma. After getting to see that spectacle quite frequently, Dale Chihuly quickly became my favorite glass artist. 

Knowing this, my aunt decided that when I was back in Washington, the bridge that leads to Tacoma's Museum of Glass was a must-see, for his designs are sprinkled across it. 

THIS was the Chihuly I knew and loved. The bright and colorful glass, the whimsical shapes and twists. I could have walked this bridge, turned around, and headed home ignorantly happy. It wasn't until we entered the museum did we realize that there was a special exhibit named "Chihuly Drawings." This showcase features Chihuly's concept art for many of his glasswork. It was amazing to get to witness the beginning steps of completed artwork I had previously seen. 

As you walked deeper into the exhibit, each room seemed to be peeling back layers of his artistry, making it's way to the core, where he first started, and where I fell in love with his art all over again. 

*The book that challenged the way I think about writing is titled We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, written by Karen Joy Fowler.