Today’s art class was going to be calm and organized, so that I can leave school at dismissal and get to my much needed massage appointment on time.

However, “art class,” “calm,” and “organized” shouldn’t ever be in the same sentence. In my fifth year of teaching, I’m still learning that.

The only way to describe today’s class is “in my face.”

As I walk around the room, hands are popping up – in my face.

Papers are jumping off desks for approval and advice – in my face.

A bloody tooth on a palm covered in chalk dust appears – uncomfortably close to my face.

My face is trying to stay calm, even though deep inside – I might not actually be.

The student who just thrust an obtusely drawn candle flame in my face sounds worried. “Miss Wideman, I… accidentally made it wide.”

That’s repairable, with some oil pastel blending, and I move on.

The next group is sniffing the hairspray I used to fix the chalk on their artwork.

“Ahhh, roses!”

“Wow, that’s niccccce.”

“Hmm. I like that!”

“Ewww! It smells BAD!”

At the last comment, the first three pause in their appreciative inhalations and look confused.

The negative student is a boy – with sisters – who probably use hairspray. Therefore, it has to smell bad. He can’t call it anything else!

Now everyone solemnly agrees with him that it smells like mosquito spray, and all suggestions of roses are no longer being verbalized.

As they continue furtively sniffing their papers, I move on to explain to another student what the purpose of hairspray really is. He couldn’t figure out why such a great art product would be called “hairspray.”

It is at this point that the tooth nearly collided with my nose.

“Can I get a paper towel? I just pulled out my tooth.”

(Yes. In art class. With chalk pastels on your fingers. Of course, that seems like a logical thing to do… all in a day’s work, you know.)

“Sure, please go ahead!” (I hope he didn’t hear the emphasis on please that I was mentally feeling!)

The conversation moves to what chalk pastels are made of.

“Literally, coloured dust! They’re just dust!”

I automatically replied, “so are we.”

I should have known better. I mean, we are made of dust, but what was I thinking to remind a class of nine-year-olds about that fact?!

“Wait. WHAT?!”

“Ohhh, yeah! Remember? God was explaining about how to make Adam!” (her partner looks very confused as though she doesn’t remember the conversation.) “Like, it was in the Bible He was explaining it.” “Oh, yes. Now I know what you’re talking about.” With that, art resumed, at least for that group…

On the other side of the room, they progress to discussing mummification, following these bridges:

“We’re made of dust, but we actually also GO BACK to dust,” a student importantly announces. “So if you dig up a grave, you would literally just find dust.”

“Except my grandma! She’ll still have her two metal knees.” (Currently, grandma is recovering from knee replacements but she is very alive and well)

“But everything else will be dust!”

“What? NO! They dug Pharaoh up, and he was still… all nice! Well, like, not nice probably, but… not dust!”

“Oh, him. Well that’s because they made him into a MUMMY.”

“Still dust,” came a quiet comment from a head that was diligently bent over his art project.

The previously requested paper towel is now stuffed into the mouth which is recently minus one tooth.

Another child hops across the room, snapping his fingers, going to select his next oil pastel.

Little people and coloured chalk dust are everywhere.

Art class is happening in fourth grade – in top gear!

***

Update: The desks are cleaned, pastels have been returned to boxes, and the children are dismissed. Minus one tooth and a paper towel that has now been thrown in the garbage. I will make it to my appointment on time, breathless and needing the relaxation of a massage more than I did prior to art class.

Now I shall exhale, recover, and look forward to next Wednesday afternoon, when I get to repeat the circus!