“Is this a circle?” I solemnly inquired.
“No, that’s a triangle.” My instructor strictly responded.
I tried once more.
“Is this a circle?” I inquired once more, the innocence seeping out of all the pores present in my body.
“No. That’s a square.” My instructor gritted her teeth while she said that.
I wanted to make her proud and get even the barest hints of appreciation so tried again. It didn’t seem right so I tried once more. Around my 5th try I thought that it looked perfect so I took it to my instructor and meekly asked, “Is this a circle?”
“Why don’t you understand?” She said as she tore the paper in two which showed a dotted circle. “To draw a circle one must make sure it has no points or edges.” She snatched the pencil from my nimble grip and grabbed a piece of paper to draw an oval. “Is that not simple enough to invade your mind?” She screamed as she forced the paper into my face.
I took a few steps back, glaring downwards towards the floor as I silently responded, “Yes, Ma’am.”
She proceeded to eye roll at me and started scribbling down something in my file. Probably writing about how stupid I was. How ignorant I was to her commands and how she needed a pay raise to suffice for my stupidity.
As these thoughts plagued my mind, the smack from before started burning up and the pain slowly surfaced and my cheek turned red and tears formulated in my eyes.
It was just a passing thought.
But I thought for a second.
Had I not drawn the perfect shapes before? Why was it that she scolded me only? Why couldn’t she appreciate me for what I did, for what I could draw? Why was it that I was only scolded until I complied with her demands and drew what she asked? Wasn’t art about expressing myself and letting myself lose? So why was it that until I drew the circle she so wanted she couldn’t appreciate the square and triangle as my stepping stones to the circle. Why couldn’t she appreciate my progress as I grew towards the circle as my final goal?
I looked upwards and met the eyes of my instructor who glared back.
“What are you staring at?” She hissed at me.
Gathering all my confidence I stuttered out, “W-W-Why am I not allowed drawing what I want?”
She instantly got a blank expression on her face.
I continued, “W-W-Why are you trying to curb my creativity… m-m-my imagination?”
She remained tight-lipped.
I finally let loose and screamed, “WHY WON’T YOU APPRECIATE ME! ANSWER ME!”
“Children shouldn’t speak up with their elders. Mind your language!” She shouted right in my face. “You are my son and you will do as you told.” The truth was hard to digest. “Is that understood?” She searched for any hesitance to resist her demands.
“Is that understood?” She howled at me.
She frowned at me.
“I mean… yes Ma’am.” I corrected myself.
“Ahan.” And her voice trailed off.