Tender hearted child,
you remind me that
a pure heart
is a beautiful thing to behold.
My daughter is an artist. A budding artist who has been learning the craft for the past three years at an arts magnet school. An audition along with a lottery determines who attends the middle school. To attend the arts high school, each student must audition. They must rely on their talent, not luck to win a coveted spot.
Tonight I sat in the gym and waited with close to one hundred parents for my child to finish her audition. She has been preparing for months, and last night carefully put together her portfolio, secured a copy of her latest report card from the guidance office, dressed for success, and walked into the gym with a calm confidence that amazed me.
On our way home she told me about the interview with the teachers, the critique of a painting, and her sketch of a giant still life. She couldn't believe how confident and relaxed she had felt throughout the whole process. "I didn't feel like an outsider this time," she said. "It's different when you know what to expect."
She went on to tell me how lost the young girl next to her seemed. The girl has not attended the same arts magnet school and was so nervous that her interview took twice as long as the others. When she returned, she had only a short time to complete her sketch.
Later when each person began writing their critique, the girl confessed she had never critiqued a painting in her life. My daughter wanted to give her a quick tutorial, but was not allowed to discuss the process with the others in the room.
My daughter was hoping fervently that the girl is accepted into the school. She told me how it broke her heart to see the girl look so lost and nervous.
I'm glad that she did not become so competitive that she lost sight of other's feelings. I told my daughter that all of her tender feelings for that child were received by the girl, and her kind and positive attitude would be repaid down the line.
After all, what goes around does indeed come around...
No comments:
Post a Comment