What, No Art?
Bitterbrun, a character from Blumer’s first book tried to stay out of trouble, but “Trying” was always an excuse for the role he held in Gabendoor. Bitterbrun, who doesn’t want to reveal his real name found some of his inspiration from a story Blumer told abut trouble in the land of Kindergarten. Here is the story as Blumer told it.
“I loved and still love art. One of my first memories about art was Kindergarten. All I remember about the schedule is we had a routine and stuck to it. The middle part of the day was art time. We had done several projects so far in the year. We were just starting what became my favorite -- painting.
We didn’t have desks. We did most things on the floor. Story time was on the floor. Snack time was on the floor. Art was on the floor. We had tittle rectangular paint tins, a paper cup with about an inch of water and some thick paper. My painting was of an old tree by the shore of a lake. The tree had tipped in a storm and one of its large side branches kept it from going completely over. Rushes lined the shore. Clouds billowed in the sky.
That day we were just ending art time. I hated the next thing o n the schedule.”
“Okay children,” my art teacher said and clapped her hands together softly. “Let’s put away our art supplies and get ready for nap time.”
The other kids started swishing their brushes in the cup of water and snapped the lid shut on their paint tin. I kept painting.
“Come on children,” the teacher said. She claped he hands a little louder this time. “Mr. Blumer, that means you too. NAP time!
I kept painting. I looked up when two teacher shoes nearly touched my painting.
Teacher bent down with her hands on ther knees. She tilted her head just a bit. “I’m going to step out in the hall for a few minutes. When I get back, I DON’T want to see your art supplies.” She straightened up but kept her gaze. “Do you understand me?”
“I can do that,” I said and nodded about ten times.
She turned and walked out of the classroom. The outer classroom wall faced the back pf the school. A long row of metal heating things, about two feet high, ran along the ceiling high windows. Two or three windows were open about six inches. One was open a lot more.
I picked up my art supplies and picture, headed to the open window and headed for the wooded gully just past the parking lot. I scampered down the bank, found a nice Fallen log to sit by and spread out my art supplies.
I lost track of time but the sirens and commotion coming from up above captured my curiosity. I climbed the hill but tried to use the trees to keep out of sight. When I got to the parking lot, I peeked from behind a tree.
Wow. There were a couple police cars, lots of adults and even a fire truck and firemen. The principal and my teacher were talking to a policeman, I wondered what was going on and then I spotted her. She held a mans arm. He had is back to me but turned enough for me to see him. It was Dad.
I came out from the tree and walked towards my parents. My mom saw me. She let go of my dad and ran crying to me. It was the first of many times I remember being totally confused by a woman. Mom hugged me.
Through tears she said. “Micheel, Michael, we were so worried.” She pushed me away and ‘bonk’ hit me on the head. “You’re grounded!” ‘Bonk,’ She hit me then hugged me again. “We searched everywhere and...”
“You are grounded for a week,” my dad said, joining us. “Maybe a month. Maybe the rest of the year!”
It seemed everybody had something to say to me. None of it was anything I wanted to hear. I did get to finish that picture. I didn’t get to work on it at art time in class but had a lot of time grounded and ‘thinking about my actions.
