>>> Item number 34133 from WRITERS LOG9407D --- (158 records) ---- <<< Date: Mon, 25 Jul 1994 18:35:02 JST Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: Mike Barker Subject: SUB: Blackboard Jungle I'm not sure whether this needs more filling out or not. Opinions? tink Blackboard Jungle Copyright 1994 Mike Barker I ran down the list of names, trying to learn the faces that went with them. "Anderson" "Here" A gangly teenager, glasses, red hair. "Colby" "Here" Blond, designer jeans. "Davison" There was a long moment of silence. "Davison, are you here?" An oily shock of hair at a back seat slowly lifted. "Nowhere." Several of the kids giggled. I tapped my pencil against the class list. "Are you Davison?" "I guess you might say that." "Well, are you someone else then?" The lips peeled back in a smile, then settled again. "Sometimes." "All right. Today you'll be Davison, though. And if I'm missing someone, you and them will get reported to the principal." He grinned again. "We're old friends. You want me to go see him now? Save you some time." I chuckled at that. "No, thanks. We'll wait for a reason. Okay? Gatsby?" "Here" And we went on with it. I made a mental note to find out some more about Davison. I was pretty sure just mentioning his name in the teacher's lounge would get me more information than I needed. "Davison? You've got him? You mean Jim Davison, right? Black dirty hair, doesn't seem to focus on you, lots of weird talk?" Sandy had been working at the school for five years, and knew just about everyone in it. She also liked to talk about them. "That sounds like him. What do you know about him?" "He's not all there. I mean, the counselor claims he scores well on standardized tests and stuff, but.. even the other kids don't like him." "So? Lots of kids.." "He won't work with you, just spouts junk if you push him. He seems to like failure. Right now he's only about a year behind his age, but he'll keep dropping behind. I've seen kids like him before, and I know. You can't do anything for him, so don't try." "Any interests?" "Nothing in public. He's a real loner, won't do a thing in classes. Look, you've got lots of kids that are going to respond, don't lose track of what's important. Just leave him alone, mark him down as flunking, and go on." I didn't like the sound of this. If everyone was sure the kid would fail, he didn't have much chance. I tried hard. We had cooperative lessons - Davison ended up as the odd man out. Even the habitual hardcore kids didn't want him in their groups. Said he'd just waste time, do nothing, and make them fail. The turning point came one day when I was standing over him, trying to get him to do something. He just sat there, staring at his notebook. One of the other kids leaned over and shoved it off the desktop. "Answer the lady, dummy." The notebook hit the floor and spilled pages. I squatted down and started to pick them up. It took a minute before I realized what I was looking at. Absolutely incredibly detailed drawings. The subject matter wasn't the best - cars and naked girls - but they seemed three-dimensional and glowed, even in the gray pencil tones he used. What.. I picked up one, a buxom blond. Her eyes peered sideways from her head, coyly turned away. The hand tugging at her ear sported long fingernails, a school ring, and a bracelet. The anatomy certainly looked right, even if I doubted that anyone in high school really was that poised. "I didn't know you drew." Then I looked at Davison. He was red faced. Several in the class were laughing. "These are excellent. If you have time, I'd like to look at your portfolio." "Hey, Davison, maybe she'll buy some. You selling them now?" I stood up and handed him the notebook, with the pages still sticking out around the edges. I looked around, but wasn't sure who'd said something. "I suspect he'll be selling his art for a long time. And you'll be telling your friends that you went to school with a famous artist." "Man only knows how to draw porno and cars. How's he going to be famous with that?" The hardcore leader had a point. But... "Can you help me out? You watched the film yesterday. Remember the cathedral? I need a picture of that on the chalkboard." He cocked his head and closed his eyes. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. Then he opened his eyes again and unfolded from the desk. "Yeah, I think I remember it." I handed him the chalk and stood back. He quickly sketched the main outline, with the spires shooting up off the board. Then he settled in to fill in the details. I turned from him to the class. "All right, that's a cathedral. Now, some of you may know that these are considered some of the world's best architecture. Why? Built out of stone by people with almost no education." Once he'd started, he seemed totally engrossed in the drawing. I worked my lecture around him, pointing to the painted glass windows, the vaulted ceiling, and other parts of the basilica. I asked him to put a priest in the pulpit, and parishioners. He just paused a moment, then went at it. During the break, I looked at my chalkboard. Somehow, using just yellow chalk on the dull background, he'd made a cathedral appear - in about fifteen minutes. I went down and dragged the art teacher in. "Who did that? If you can leave it there, I'll at least get a picture of it." He stood there, fists on his hips, looking at it. Then he backed up, almost stumbling on a desk, and looked again. Then he got very close to the board, obviously looking at details. "Well, who did it?" "Davison." He turned to me, jaw muscles tight. "No way. I've seen his stuff - cartoon figures worse than a five-year-old draws." "Huh?" "Every time he's been in the art class, he's drawn stick figures like I'd get from a five-year-old. That's when he's willing to do something." "But.. he did do this. And he's got a notebook full of drawings that are gorgeous." He looked at me, then at the board. "We're talking about Jim Davison, right?" The art teacher tried to give Jim a test, giving him several reproductions and telling him to copy them. Jim produced stick drawings. Then I told him to draw the subject his way. He rolled his eyes and finally settled down. With a combination of pastels, he made glowing restatements that made you think you could reach into them and touch things. Then he did a pen and ink sketch that felt oriental - so few lines that he hardly touched the paper, but when you looked at it, the essence of the picture was there. We finally got Jim to draw, just by telling him to do what he wanted. He still hung out at the same bench in the lunchroom, ready to draw whatever the other students wanted. But during classes, he had changed. In almost every class, he illustrated the lesson as they went along. The chalkboards changed each day, and the art teacher carefully tried to keep a pictorial record. When Jim graduated, he was offered several art scholarships. He finally agreed to go with one, a place in Taos, New Mexico that said he didn't have to read or copy anyone else's style. Now the chalkboards are always dull.... --------------------------------------