IMANI

2

It's been a week since Greg asked for the piece and She decided to give him today. The piece had been personal. It was a painting she started when she lost her parents, but she finally completed last year. It was amateur but it was filled with so much sorrow. It took her 12 years to finish the painting.

She had been drawing on the canvas when her she got the news that her parents passed away. She remembers vividly how the pencil dropped from her hand to the canvas and how the canvas was stained with tears.

Miss Aj had shown her how to sketch, so she was making a little sketch of her parents and her at a beach holding hands. It was a drawing at first but she turned it to a painting when she learnt how to paint. Each time she saw it, she could only make a stroke a day before she ended up crying.

Each stroke carried an emotion. There were brush strokes from when she cried, strokes from when she was angry and  brush strokes for when she was sad.

"Here's the painting Greg, make sure it goes to someone who appreciates it," She said taking one last look at it.

"You know me Imani"

She sighed.

"I should get going now, some of us have actual jobs",

"Hey!, this is a very important job."

"Sure it is Greg", she said tapping his shoulder.

She was an art class teacher in a private school but she only taught on Tuesdays and Fridays. She loved teaching kids how to paint, but the kids at her school made it difficult for her. They were all rich spoilt kids, who were too opinionated. She made money from her painting but most times she felt too idle, so she became a teacher.

"Hey class"

A few students murmured hey back at her.

"So today we would be learning about strokes"

"Fast strokes or slow strokes", one of the students said. The whole class erupted into laughter. It baffled her how Jss1 students knew about these things.

"You can paint fast or slow if you want", Imani said feigning ignorance. The last thing she wanted was to be fired.

"Hey Mena, how do you like it?, Fast or slow?", The same boy from earlier spoke, his eyes steady on a tiny girl in class, daring her to reply him.

"Can you leave me alone?", The tiny girl replied, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Enough!", Imani yelled. The tiny girl reminded her of herself when she was in high school. Shy and avoiding contact with people.

She got out her canvas and ordered the class to get them out. A few did as they were told while others ignored her and continued speaking.
She wanted to yell at them, but she wasn't going to force them to learn art.

She wanted to bring a cane to school everyday to flog them but things had changed, it wasn't like when she had been in school. If you dare flog any student now, their parents might sue you. But would it be wrong to beat JSS 1 students?, she thought to herself.

"So Stroke in fine art, is the movement of a pen, pencil or brush. It is also a mark made by
such movement.," she said facing the class.

Ten year old Imani would have peed her pants facing a large group of people. Emma brought her out of her comfort zone.

"Each stroke you make on the paper would help you tell the story you want the audience or viewers to see." She said.
A few students were trying to jot down what she said, while the others rolled papers in ball shapes and flicked it at each other.