Children covered in glitter and glue is a sight to witness. Scattered around the room are broken crayons, uncapped markers, and torn paper scraps. This image at the end of the day at a preschool means that it has been a good day. When the day had just begun the sound of feet pattering and bouncing down the hallway was perceptible. The teachers knew that when all the children entered the room and saw the table aligned with crafts every student’s eyes would light up with excitement.
During my childhood, I spent a vast amount of time drawing and reading. I would spend my entire Saturdays reading books about knights in shining armor, elves, fairies and mystical magical worlds. Spawned from these hours of reading came a very active imagination. To take the images I saw in my head and make them a reality, I would use common tools such as paper and pencil. This spawned an inevitable future. By drawing stories that had already been written I started to then make my own stories and characters.
Drawing became part of my identity. Both in my family and at school I was identified as an “artsy kid.” Middle school was the start of a series of ups and downs, a way of coping with difficulties for me was art, creating images I saw and felt. My first ever art class in high school was lackluster. We
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Coming to terms with learning how to follow a crowd and stand out at the same time took a lot of trial and error, especially throughout my work. Yet, because of the introductory courses I took, I knew how to showcase my skills in a uniform aspect while still having my art stand out. Because of the useful lesson I learned from not only my art classes, but the extracurricular activities I participated in I was able to reach a virtuous point for me to not be apprehended and have the ability to move