Date: Sun, 6 Jan 2008 11:32:07 -0800
From: rey242@inbox.com
Subject: The Paintbrush- Introduction

If you are underage to read this, don't.  Also, don't read this if it is
illegal in your area. Otherwise enjoy the story...


The moment I walked into the large art room, where I would spend my
remanding senior year of high school, I knew I would dread the Advanced Art
class that I had signed up for in a quick rush to fill in my schedule.

Never before had I picked up a paintbrush (other than painting for fun in
the third grade) or painted/drawn in a professional manner. I knew that I
would suck horribly at any attempt of drawing anything. My classmates did
not reassure me of my place in the class. Already my class was showing off
art that they had drawn last year in their previous class. My confidence in
succeeding in the class was dwindling to nothing. How could I compete with
the rest of the class?

What did I get myself into?

I continued walking down the long room, looking for a seat at any of the
large art tables that filled the room. At a random whim, I sat down at the
nearest table I could sit at. Only one person sat at the table, and he was
busy working on an intricate pencil drawing. I slumped down and sighed as I
watched him draw.

________________________


The move from my old hometown was not working out as I expected. Over the
past month, my family pulled up stakes and moved from Bell Ridge,
California to the small suburban town of Allenwood, Texas. As expected, my
father felt that a new job (third new job over the past two years) and a
new town would shake things up in his life. This reaffirmed my suspicions
that my dad was experiencing a mid-life crisis (though the hair plugs and
corvette also helped out).

To say the least, I was not happy about the move when my dad first
announced it to my whole family. The things turned around for me and I
looked forward to moving on to something new and exciting. That feeling
ended when I enrolled into Wilson High school and walked into my first
class...

________________________

"Mr. Rodriguez, please look up." I looked up to find a burly, bearded man
standing in front of the class addressing me in a raw tone. I then looked
around to find the rest of the class staring at me.

"Sorry sir," I said with a shy voice, realizing I had ignored the
teacher. The man nodded and went back to writing on the board. It didn't
take much to realize that this man was my art teacher.

The rest of the class looked back towards the front as I looked back to my
neighbor to see his reaction towards my inattention. He smiled at me real
smugly and went back to paying attention to the teacher. I rolled my eyes
and looked back to the man in front of the class.

"For those who are new to the art department, my name is Mr. Herbert and I
would like to welcome to Advanced 2D and 3D Art Portfolio class. As you can
tell from the name, you will be submitting a portfolio at the end of the
year to the district art committee for your final grade. Grade wise,
nothing else will matter. Only that final grade you receive from that
committee. Now I will pass out the rubric that will highlight what is
required in this class as well as in the portfolio," Mr. Herbert passed out
papers all the while talking to students he had from last year's
Intermediate Art Class.

I could not believe what I heard from Mr. Herbert. An art portfolio? I knew
this class was a mistake...

"Hey dude, stop day dreaming," my neighbor said as he tapped me on the
shoulder, "You might get in trouble again."

I looked towards my neighbor and he grinned at me.

"I wasn't day dreaming, I was thinking. And your right about me getting in
trouble," I said.

"Mr. Herbert usually is great about anything but he hates it when someone
is not paying attention," he said as he pointed towards a busy Mr. Hebert,
"By the way, my name is Juan Martinez."

"Thanks for the advice, and I'm Will Rodriguez." I said as stuck my hand
out. Juan took and shook my hand firmly. For some strange reason, I felt
almost electrified by the handshake. It felt interesting and weird all at
the same time. Then just as it began, it was over. As Juan turned back
around to his artwork on his side of the table, I felt that art class
wouldn't be so bad after all.

_______________________________
Should I continue?  Send your question
or comments to rey242@inbox.com.