Basically, a short history about why I never became an illustrator of turtles - of wild animals - or of anything else
At Birchland Park School, Mrs. Donahue taught art and Mrs. Corliss taught music. The art classes were okay because I drew turtles all the time, and Mrs. Donahue kind of liked them. But music class with Mrs. Corliss wasn't so good. This was in sixth grade, just after I lost my hearing, and poor Mrs. Corliss had to put up with having a deaf kid in her class. It wasn't her fault the counselors thought it would be good if I continued in the 'regular' program at school. I had to sing along with everyone--I mean, in a chorus and all. Mike Flynn sat next to me, and he'd run his index finger from word to word along each line, and I'd try to follow his finger with my singing. It was pretty bad. Either I'd be ahead of everyone of behind everyone, and poor Mr. Corliss always had a pained look on her face. She'd finally stop everyone and say something like "Joseph, you're behind us all," and I'd say "but I'm deaf, what do you expect?" and the class would get really quiet as everyone waiting for Mrs. Corliss' response. Finally she'd say, well, we'll try it again. She was really nice and I sort of felt sorry for her.
After a while, though, the counselors gave up and sent me from Mrs. Corliss to Mrs. Donahue. Mrs. Donahue was actually happy to see me, but she was less happy to see me drawing more turtles. I didn't care, though. It was better than following Mike Aynn's finger. But one day Mrs. Donahue got red in the face and said "NO MORE TURTLES!" I stopped drawing at that point: that was my revenge against Mrs. Donahue. I went to the library. That was for me the end and the beginning.
Basically, a short history about why I never became an illustrator of turtles - of wild animals - or of anything else
At Birchland Park School, Mrs. Donahue taught art and Mrs. Corliss taught music. The art classes were okay because I drew turtles all the time, and Mrs. Donahue kind of liked them. But music class with Mrs. Corliss wasn't so good. This was in sixth grade, just after I lost my hearing, and poor Mrs. Corliss had to put up with having a deaf kid in her class. It wasn't her fault the counselors thought it would be good if I continued in the 'regular' program at school. I had to sing along with everyone--I mean, in a chorus and all. Mike Flynn sat next to me, and he'd run his index finger from word to word along each line, and I'd try to follow his finger with my singing. It was pretty bad. Either I'd be ahead of everyone of behind everyone, and poor Mr. Corliss always had a pained look on her face. She'd finally stop everyone and say something like "Joseph, you're behind us all," and I'd say "but I'm deaf, what do you expect?" and the class would get really quiet as everyone waiting for Mrs. Corliss' response. Finally she'd say, well, we'll try it again. She was really nice and I sort of felt sorry for her.
After a while, though, the counselors gave up and sent me from Mrs. Corliss to Mrs. Donahue. Mrs. Donahue was actually happy to see me, but she was less happy to see me drawing more turtles. I didn't care, though. It was better than following Mike Aynn's finger. But one day Mrs. Donahue got red in the face and said "NO MORE TURTLES!" I stopped drawing at that point: that was my revenge against Mrs. Donahue. I went to the library. That was for me the end and the beginning.