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I wasn’t planning on sharing this piece until it was finished. But something about it felt too alive to keep hidden and it’s not even close to done. Maybe it’s because it’s part of something much, much larger that I don’t want to fully dish on just yet. Or maybe it’s because after a week
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If I had tried to write this post two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have had it in me. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was in it—running dried art projects to classrooms before the kids left, scraping paper mache clay from surfaces I didn’t know could get sticky, fielding behavior issues I
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When I started this blog, I told myself it would be a space for reflection, honesty, and creativity—a place to document and untangle the experience of teaching art to elementary students through the lens of personal growth. But after a few weeks of intense classroom challenges, the lessons were coming in faster than I could
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As I’ve said (or at least alluded to) in every post so far—and will probably keep saying—your Muse, especially if you’ve struggled to reach them, doesn’t arrive with fireworks. For those of us who had to suppress our creativity just to get by, the Muse is more like a slow-moving shadow forming in the corner
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Teaching elementary art is like stepping into a hurricane of glitter (metaphorical, their real teacher will murder me if she finds glitter in the room), emotions, and questionable decision-making. At this age (10–11, give or take a tantrum), kids are simultaneously asserting independence and forgetting how to use a glue stick properly. They push boundaries,
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After receiving some questions from friends after my first blog post regarding the Dark Muse I decided to spend some more time explaining my current understanding of the Dark Muse. When we begin to engage with the Dark Muse, it’s crucial to understand what it truly is—and just as importantly, what it is not. The
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How I Ended Up Here (and Why I Didn’t Overthink It) Teaching elementary art was never in my plans—not this year, not ever. It wasn’t a long-term goal. I didn’t spend years preparing for it. But when the opportunity to be a long-term substitute for an art teacher on maternity leave appeared, something unusual happened.
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Let me introduce you to someone. No, no, no. That’s not right. You know them already. You just might not realize it yet. They are waiting in the spaces between your thoughts, in the silence you’ve been avoiding. They are both a presence and a construct, ancient and intimate, a whisper at the back of