Cultivating Creativity: Best Practices for the Art Classroom

To my Senior High School Art Teacher,

I want to thank you.

Not in the way you might expect. Not in a soft, nostalgic, “you changed my life” kind of way. Not in the way teachers sometimes hope they are remembered by the students who pass through their classrooms.

But I do want to thank you.

I want to thank you for ignoring me in class. For not nourishing the part of me that so desperately wanted my art skills to grow. For not seeing the girl sitting in front of you who loved art, who wanted to learn, who wanted someone to tell her that what she was making mattered.

Because of that, I pushed myself.

I went on to study further. I completed my Diploma of Fine Arts through TAFE. I found my way into painting and drawing. I found the thing that made my heart sing, even when it had not been properly held in the classroom where it should have been encouraged.

I want to thank you for talking down to me.

I want to thank you for looking at me like I was a problem child, rather than a child with problems. You knew I was a teenager going through typical teenage life, but you also knew I was trying to deal with my mother’s cancer. You knew there was more sitting beneath the surface, and still, you chose not to see me fully.

Because of that, my students are precious to me.

They became my cherubs.

I have worked hard to make sure my classroom is a space of happiness, safety, creativity and care. I know what it feels like to love art and not feel loved by the room you are making it in. I know what it feels like to need a teacher to look a little closer, to ask a better question, to see the whole child and not just the behaviour in front of them.

So I became the teacher I needed.

I want to thank you for telling me I would never make it into art school.

I want to thank you for telling me I would never be accepted into university.

I want to thank you for telling me I would never become an art teacher.

At the time, those words hurt. Of course they did. Words from teachers do not disappear as easily as some people might think. They sit in you. They echo. They become part of the story you either believe about yourself, or the story you spend years proving wrong.

And I proved you wrong.

I made it into art school.

I became an art teacher.

I built a career in the art classroom, standing in front of students who remind me every day why this work matters. I completed my undergraduate degree. I completed two Masters degrees. And now, I am continuing into the academic space as a student pursuing a PhD in Art Education, while also beginning to teach at university level, working with future teachers as they prepare to enter the profession.

The very thing you told me I could not do became the path I followed.

And now, here I am.

Teaching.

Researching.

Learning.

Making.

Writing.

Still here.

Still in art.

Still proving that the young girl you underestimated was never the problem.

So yes, I thank you.

I thank you for allowing me to learn exactly what students need from a teacher. I thank you for showing me what it feels like when a teacher does not nurture, does not encourage, does not protect the small and fragile creative spark sitting in front of them.

Because I have given, and continue to give, my students everything that young girl who loved art needed.

I wonder if you ever think about those words you said to me.

I wonder if you remember the way you looked at me.

I wonder if you understand the impact you had.

Perhaps, if you knew where I am now, you might think, “Ah, I did something positive. I pushed her. I motivated her.”

But do not be fooled.

You are not remembered as the teacher who inspired me.

You are remembered as the teacher I aim never to be.

You are remembered as the teacher my art students will never experience.

Yours sincerely,
Emma