Ignorance Is Swiss!

3 ♦ So Close and So Far

3 ♦ So Close and So Far

"No, no, no. This is not what I wanted. At all."

My art teacher, Mr. Hills, moved his body side to side as he inspected my painting. As a preliminary project, he assigned us the broad project of creating an art piece that embodied the theme of "feelings in the dead of night." However, my abstract representation, including dark blues, reds, and yellows, seemed to have repulsed him more than I thought it would. The corners of his thin lips bent down, the yellowed light above making him look more oily than usual. He readjusted his thin glasses, giving the art another look.

"No, this is good, but it is not what I wanted," he corrected. He glanced up at me as if I had committed a serious crime in the art industry. "Did you read the instructions, Safia?"

"Yes. I know it was supposed to be figurative." I looked at the piece I was once proud of, thinking about the day I began. I spent hours upon hours trying to think of a way to recreate such a theme using clear objects and qualities of nature. But as I sat there planning, the only thing that could be drawn onto my paper was the complete opposite.

"I really was trying to make it so, I promise. I'm more of an abstract painter, and--"

"All you had to do was try, Safia. That is not an excuse. Everyone else could do it." I looked around and saw all of the realistic pictures around me. They just do whatever because they want credits for the class, I had thought. The unenthusiastic eyes of my peers veered towards me. A couple of sophomore girls next to me giggled, Mr. Hills's reaction to my art obviously amusing to the two of them. I blocked out their annoying voices, focusing on my grade instead of the distracting commentary behind me.

He circulated around my chair, making me feel watched and very uncomfortable. There were only two minutes left in the class, and he still had to check two more people's projects. I had to convince him fast.

"I did do the project, though. I did what you asked. I know it isn't exactly what you wanted, but please spare me a few points." The stutter in my words displayed my panic; I knew my unblinking eyes were staring at him with the lust for mercy. He swished his mouth around, arms folded.

"I don't know. I'll think about it later."

In a hurry, he checked the other two underclassmen before the bell rang. "Leave your projects on your tables!" he instructed, and the students left in a hurry without a second thought. I, on the other hand, sat in my seat as Mr. Hills placed each of the large canvases in the corner of the room. I walked up to him, looking at the time there was remaining to get to English. As time was running out before the weekend, when he would grade the projects, there was no other time I could persuade him to give me the points.

"Mr. Hills."

His head jerked towards my direction. His body jumped a little from the sight of me, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose once again. I apologized for my unexpected appearance, but he shook his head, more embarrassed than angry at me. As his cheeks turned a dark red color, he stood up straight and sighed.

"Safia, I told you I will consider it." He walked to the next table to collect the assignments. My feet paced over, following him with every step he took.

"Yes, I know. Thank you for even considering, but at least give me some credit. You said it was good, right?" He didn't answer. "And I really worked hard on it. I didn't just make it abstract because I wanted to, but because I couldn't figure out how to make it any other way."

And with that, the bell rang again, the beginning of the next class starting. Luckily, it was his free block at the time, but I had to go to English soon. I continued to look at the clock, waiting for his answer.