A Gentleman's C-

A rare example of my artwork.  Rare because most of it has been long since tossed.

 

Sometimes Junior High takes you down some bad roads.  Places you'll know you'll never go again.

Yes, Junior High is a place where many's personalities are set.  Will you be a good person?  A bad person?  Study or party? Athlete or scholar? Bully or nerd?

This is not about that.

This is about THE TOUR.  I don't know if schools do this anymore, but I sure had to go through it.  THE TOUR was a whirlwind exposition, where you spent several weeks in one class and then were put into another.  And these were not academic classes, strictly speaking. No, they were designed to introduce you to activities you may eventually want to take up, ones that could lead to satisfying hobbies, even careers.

THE TOUR I most remember involved three classes - Art, Shop & Home Economics.

I shined at none of these.  

In Shop, everything I tried to make turned into a messy glob.  The shop teacher would look at my mess and say, "Well, let's just call it an ashtray."  I told him no one in my family smoked.  "Candy dish, then."  We had a lot of candy dishes that year, none of which stood the test of time.  I also built a bookshelf that I had to put in my closet - it had to be supported by the back and side walls, or it would collapse.

In Home Economics, I sewed together a stuffed alligator.  It dribbled stuffing from its hindquarters, no matter what I did to stem its outward flow.  It looked ghastly, and I kept it for years as a reminder that even ugly things had a kind of beauty.

But the one that broke my heart was Art.  In my fantasy world, I dreamed that maybe someday I could be an artist - draw pictures of anthropomorphic fruit or draw for comic books.

That illusion was quickly shattered.

The first major project was a plaster of paris pig.  I want you to know that I did the assignment.  I turned something in.  But I got an F.  The same grade as if I hadn't done it all.

Discouraged and humiliated, I was determined not to give up.  The next assignment was to produce a cartoon panel.  Wow!  Now, this was up my alley!

I worked as hard as I've ever worked on anything in my life.  I combined two comic strips popular at the time, Eek & Meek, two mice, and Frank & Ernest, two down on their luck men.

I pictured one of the mice throwing a brick at the Frank & Ernest characters, which actually traced back to an earlier comic strip called Krazy Kat.

I didn't draw these examples - they are original Art, but you get what I'm going for.

I can't remember the captions, but I thought the whole thing was clever, and I drew my little heart out.

I turned it in, brimming with pride.

She gave ma a C-.

I was stunned! I asked, "Why do you give me a C-? I worked really hard!"

She looked at me.  "I know you did.  And that's why I gave you a C-."

Teachers can have much influence, both good and bad.  I never did much Art after that.  Never took another class.  Didn't really draw much even for me anymore. 

If I worked hard and made it my life's mission, could I have developed the skills to be an artist?  Hard to say.  I'm guessing...not.  It may be just the way my mind is wired.

After a brief break, while COVID raged, I've returned to my first love - community theatre.  I'm playing Thurston Howell in Gilligan's Island: The Musical.  In it, I'm challenging my theatre motto - I can act with the best of them, I can sing with the rest of them, and I can dance if everyone closes their eyes and pretends.

I have two dance numbers with Mrs. Howell, and I am doing a credible job.  I'm not outstanding, but it fits the character and the circumstances.

There was another dance number that involved a lot of group choreography, where I would need to do steps and movements simultaneously as everyone else.  For me, that was a real challenge.  I don't know my right from my left, my reactions were slow, and I cannot count in my head.

If it was what the Director wanted, I was determined to do everything I could to do my best.

But the reality was that I was not going to come up to snuff in the time that we had.

The Director rightfully understood this, and I was switched to be on the sidelines to observe the dance rather than perform it.

It hurt.  It stung.  But it was the right call.

Oh, I would have given it my all.  I would watch the videos and practice, practice, practice.

And I'm sure I would have improved.

And I'm also sure that by the time of the performance, the best grade I would get was a Gentleman's C-.  And that wasn't going to cut it.  Not for this show.  It's a great number, and I don't need to be a distraction in it.

Interestingly, as I was dancing more, rather than hurt my feet and knees, it actually made things better.  It was exactly the right kind of exercise I needed!

So, who knows?  Maybe I'll take up dancing as a hobby.  Find a ballroom class or something. Get one of those dancing exercise tapes.  And since it's not on stage, who cares how good I am, as long as I'm getting exercise and having fun?

Speaking of which, maybe it's time to end my exile from drawing.  As  I get more time in retirement, it might be kinda fun.  Yeah, you won't be seeing my stuff in the Louvre, but it might be fun nonetheless.

When you're doing it for yourself, a Gentleman's C- is a lovely grade.

Who knows?  Maybe with effort and practice, I can pull it up to a C+!