Evading the Principal's Office with a Good Rain

He lifted his hand to his chin, where his mouth had fallen open, and shook his head in disbelief. He didn't close his eyes for the final dramatic touch, but he didn't need to. I was already afraid. The only thing that could save me now was a good rain. As of this writing, I'm still waiting.

For weeks I'd been noticing the large cement wall of the basketball court. One side faces in to form a cozy covered court area leaving the outer side exposed to the playground. It is one of the first things you see when coming down the hill towards the gym. It has about 2 meters of rocks between it and a smaller, mid sized wall. The rocks and the low wall make it an inviting place for kids to have a snack and play a few games with friends. It's also part of the rounds I make during my recreation supervision duty. I noticed the wall for two reasons.

First because a huge empty wall is just the kind of thing I notice. I imagine murals and graffiti and hours of painting fun. I see themed scenes and random designs, large splashes of color and inviting patches of texture.

Second because the wall is attractive to kids, too. I'd been watching them try to scratch designs onto the surface with the little pebbles scattered about. A huge box of colored chalk in the 'reserve' had caught my eye. The artist in me wanted to nurture the artist in them. So I sought permission to bring out some colored chalk and let the kids draw. "Sure," the director said amicably enough. "And a good rain will just wash it away, right?"

That was last week. Today was my first opportunity to try it out. I didn't have much more of a plan than putting the chalk in a bucket and handing it out. Collect it at the end. I did have enough sense to remind them they were at school and to encourage "jolie chose."

I'd forgotten how much they like to write their names and tag each other. While I'd been imagining flowers, animals, houses and people, they were all busy making the dreaded 'S.' A few did manage to sneak in some pretty cool cartoon guys and complex design patterns but they were mostly lost amidst the writings and scribblings of 30 or  40 kids.

The dreaded S. Why do kids
everywhere think it is so cool?

I invited a few girls from my class to begin and another teacher on duty quickly told them to stop.  I went to let her know I had gotten permission from the director. She acquiesced but didn't really seem to believe me. The students' reactions also bordered on panic. A few came to "tell" on their peers or let me know they'd asked them to stop, but no one was listening. In fact, it did begin to seem like we were doing something wrong. Kids swarmed by the dozens to get some chalk, many with mischievous grins on their faces. A small delight in breaking the rules. When the guy who shares my post came around the corner to check out the commotion, saw the wall and did the whole head shaking, hand to chin thing, I started to get worried.

Though both the director and I had thought it seemed like a good idea at first, I had to admit the wall was pretty much a mess. It wasn't clean or neat or remarkable in any way. Kids had chalk all over themselves, on their white shirts and their hands. They were grinding the dust into everything they could find. A completely unstructured wreck.

I began to think of how I could have made it better. I could have said only pictures, or given a theme "circles and squares," perhaps, the theme of our upcoming school art show. I could have limited the number of artists or chosen only 2nd grade girls, who are particularly good at doodling. They would have made something beautiful. I began to wish for rain. Only rain could save me from having to take responsibility for the monstrosity.

Just after the recreation I went to meet a group of students I am working with on a theater piece. Inside their classroom I saw snowmen decorating the walls. The backgrounds alternated between pastel blue and pastel green.  White snow dots were falling from the sky. They were neat and clean and sterile. Every one looked just like its neighbor. It struck me then that this was what the school seemed to be about. Being neat and clean and not too different from your neighbors.

I hadn't set out to make a statement with the chalk. Sure, I could have organized a more cohesive piece, or even a piece of artwork, but I hadn't set out to do that either. I just wanted to open up some expressive opportunities for those creative types. The ones not found on the basketball court or the soccer field.

I've since spent a lot of time pondering the other adults' reactions, wondering if everything needs to be structured and beautiful or if there are times when kids can just be kids. I know there are. I know I believe in free play and boredom and imagination.  I believe in learning by exploring and discovering and doing. And I don't think the end result is necessarily the most important part of creating art. So why do I feel so guilty? The other  question I can't seem to answer, will I do it again on Thursday?

I guess it all depends on whether I get called in to the principal's office and how soon it rains.

What I imagined vs what it felt like