Still on hold!

Yeah, they didn't correct it, and I only need to turn in my re- certification stuff next week. But, whatever.....

Anyway, weeks go by here so quickly I feel like I have hardly enough time to communicate with anyone these days. Plus I was dealing with a cold I've had since Christmas. Finally, I think it's going away. But my theory about colds is that we always have one, and it just fades away sometimes.

This week I got to go to a workshop at the NGA. At night! I love it. It's such a cool feeling being in rooms full of artwork at night. We spent time in the newer part of the museum, in the modern art section. Looking at a bunch of stuff. I always like going there. The program last night was kind of basic but I got some good reproductions, a book, and some much needed coffee...

The only thing that I have been forever neglecting that I feel terribly guilty about is a painting I've been working on since about November. It should be done by now. And I have only one more layer to finish. But it's a daunting layer. Filled with tiny script. I got myself into it, and I just need to finish it. I think J agrees.....

At school I'm dealing with some returning kids from last year. It's such a heart breaker. I mean I actually enjoy my students. For the most part they have really interesting personalities, and I can usually find something I like about them. Which is great. No one is ALL bad! But one came back with carvings all on his harm, obviously self-inflicted. He doesn't even want me to see it, although he could wear a sweatshirt if he wanted. And today he told me that someone cut that arm off. When clearly it is not missing. It's the strange facade that these kids wear everyday. Obviously this kid realizes that I want him to do better, and that I want him to be safe. I've been through so much with this kid. In the last two years. He obviously craves attention, but doesn't know what kind of attention. And he has been disheartened from the time he was born. Born in Vietnam, grew up in the streets there for about 6-7 years, was brought to America with his father (raging alcoholic) , learns to drink (just like his father), lives on the streets of Annandale. That's really all he knows. And I'm not kidding! Never ever has attended school regularly, has been in and out of the system, can't read, can't do simple math. Has no hope. It's almost impossible to get him to do anything. Although for me, he will do something. And I guess that's why I keep on trying. He's an addict, he's depressed, he has no family.

So what do we do with these kids? Why are they not able to get the support they need from the first moment they step into a facility like this? There are so many more like him. The story differs a little, but basically it happens all over.

I am ranting, I realize this, I went from talking about my transcripts, to a museum, to this. I'll stop. I'll go eat lunch. Some nourishment should un -cloud my brain a little bit.

Everyday at least one students asks me why I smile all the time, and I usually tell it's because I like my job. I do like every frustrating moment of it. It's challenging, it's interesting, and it changes day to day. And I also like to think I'm offering my students a little bit more than art. A little compassion, understanding, and acceptance.