Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

e help with the craft assignment? Could she at least draw the sheep?Now, I’m no Michelangelo. But how hard could it be for an adult to outline a sheep? Plus, I could earn brownie points to trade with D to get her to clean her room.I said: Fine.I sketched the animal and called on the girls to admire my handiwork. They examined the picture closely.“Is it a dog?” D asked.Seven-year-old N shook her head. “It’s a cow.”I sighed and went back to the drawing board. This time the animal resembled neither dog nor cow. We, therefore, mutually agreed it must be a sheep.D filled in the outline with bits of fluff. Then she planted the finishing touch: a single googly eye (the sheep was easier to draw in profile) right above the animal’s snout. I can still picture that one outsized eye gazing reproachfully back at me.<h2 id="a4e7">An Orange Cow…</h2>Two years later, N’s teacher asked her to draw the outline of yet another hapless creature and fill it in with a pulse of her choice.This time, I outlined a cow and N painstakingly glued in hulled lentils, grain by grain. She was delighted with the resulting bright orange color of the animal. She went to bed, sec

Options

ure in her belief that she would score an “Excellent” remark on this assignment.I left the lentils masterpiece near an open window in the girls’ room so the glue could dry and bond overnight.<h2 id="214f">Toothsome…</h2>Early the next morning, the household was shocked into wakefulness by loud wailing. I rushed into the girls’ room. N was standing at the window, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She held up her craft assignment.The paper was torn and scrunched up. Most of the lentils were missing, although some broken bits clung tenaciously to the sheet. I looked closely at the fragments and saw tiny toothmarks on them.“What happened to my assignment?” N asked, between sobs.“The mice ate your homework,” I explained.Our housing complex in Thane, India, stood on the edge of town, and we frequently had problems with mice.<h2 id="868b">Re-booting My Craft-y Career…</h2>Sometime soon afterward, we moved to America. One of the things that I greatly appreciated about the girls’ school in Cleveland was that they did not offer craft as a subject. And, that, I assumed, was the end of my craft-y career.But then (several years later) along came the grandkids…</article></body>

The Kids Made Me Crafty

It ain’t my fault.

“Art has the role in education of helping children become like themselves instead of more like everyone else.” — Sydney Gurewitz Clemens.

I confess I didn’t grow up Craft-y.

“Crafty” like Machiavelli? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask that my friends and family that question.

But “Craft-y” as in rigging wall hangings from plastic spoons or turtles from paper plates? No, that wasn’t me. And then along came my daughters —

A Googly-eyed Sheep…

When D and N were in school in India, it fell to my lot as a parent to help with craft assignments. It didn’t matter that I was far from brilliant at craft. Our objective was to complete the project.

D was in grade 5, when her craft teacher asked the class to draw the outline of a sheep, and fill it in with cotton wool.

D had tests in math and geography the next day. So… could Mom please help with the craft assignment? Could she at least draw the sheep?

Now, I’m no Michelangelo. But how hard could it be for an adult to outline a sheep? Plus, I could earn brownie points to trade with D to get her to clean her room.

I said: Fine.

I sketched the animal and called on the girls to admire my handiwork. They examined the picture closely.

“Is it a dog?” D asked.

Seven-year-old N shook her head. “It’s a cow.”

I sighed and went back to the drawing board. This time the animal resembled neither dog nor cow. We, therefore, mutually agreed it must be a sheep.

D filled in the outline with bits of fluff. Then she planted the finishing touch: a single googly eye (the sheep was easier to draw in profile) right above the animal’s snout. I can still picture that one outsized eye gazing reproachfully back at me.

An Orange Cow…

Two years later, N’s teacher asked her to draw the outline of yet another hapless creature and fill it in with a pulse of her choice.

This time, I outlined a cow and N painstakingly glued in hulled lentils, grain by grain. She was delighted with the resulting bright orange color of the animal. She went to bed, secure in her belief that she would score an “Excellent” remark on this assignment.

I left the lentils masterpiece near an open window in the girls’ room so the glue could dry and bond overnight.

Toothsome…

Early the next morning, the household was shocked into wakefulness by loud wailing. I rushed into the girls’ room. N was standing at the window, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She held up her craft assignment.

The paper was torn and scrunched up. Most of the lentils were missing, although some broken bits clung tenaciously to the sheet. I looked closely at the fragments and saw tiny toothmarks on them.

“What happened to my assignment?” N asked, between sobs.

“The mice ate your homework,” I explained.

Our housing complex in Thane, India, stood on the edge of town, and we frequently had problems with mice.

Re-booting My Craft-y Career…

Sometime soon afterward, we moved to America. One of the things that I greatly appreciated about the girls’ school in Cleveland was that they did not offer craft as a subject. And, that, I assumed, was the end of my craft-y career.

But then (several years later) along came the grandkids…