An essay poem written by Karen Copper, a parent participating in Mark Kistler's children's Summer drawing in 3-D workshop at Milwaukee Public Television's production facilities.
The darkened TV studio is quiet now.
Just hours ago, it was filled with happy children
Perched on the edges of their chairs
(Sometimes standing on top of their seats),
Pencils & minds frantically working to keep up
With a master teacher
Held in the spotlight of an overhead projector.
They laughed, they shouted, they absorbed-
HE orchestrated.
First, he welcomed them and led them in.
Then, he talked and he drew.
He sang and he drew
("Shade, Shade, Shade...I love to Shade!").
He screamed when he drew
("I can't draw scared hair without screaming, can you?").
He listened, he teased, he cajoled.
"We don't need erasers here! Give me the pencil..."
There went the eraser over his shoulder!
Handing the pencil back:
"That's better, isn't it?"
He threw erasers out all day long.
He knew his audience.
He drew drool.
He drew his brother being eaten by fish.
He drew dinosaurs and castles and flags.
"Look how neat this works!
Bonus points for added ideas!
Check that one off -we did it!"
He told stories, he asked questions, he listened.
He sang some more. They groaned.
"Who thinks they can go for a whole week without TV?
Who can draw 9 kajillion hours every night?"
Hands waving, heads nodding.
He told them they were
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
He kept the pace up as he adjusted to their needs.
"Hands Up! Hands Up! Who wants to answer?
Who wants to say how smart they are?
Who wants to help this person?"
He told them they were
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
Amazing, Wonderful, Talented!
He shared his art with the students;
Told parents in the back of the room to join in.
"Tomorrow is bring a Friend for Free Day!"
Then: "If your Friend couldn't come today,
Have them come tomorrow!"
Touching one of his videos:
"Remember, you can copy these
for your classrooms or your friends!"
("Share, Share, Share," I could imagine him singing.)
He loves what he's doing.
The week raced by.
The kids drew & drew & drew some more.
Artwork piled up under their chairs,
Filled the studio,
Spilled into the hallways.
"What time is it?
Almost time to go -
Enough time for just one more!
Quick! Let's do it!"
Look. Learn. Draw.
"All finished.
Remember, the theme for tomorrow it THE SEA.
Seats in! Who'll collect the pencils?"
After leading them out, he greets the next group.
"Hi! Glad you're here today!
What do you have to show me?"
Most people are blessed only a few times in their lives
To feel the influence of such a teacher-
A teacher who loves his craft so much that
He enfolds you in a bubble of enthusiasm
And just keeps bouncing it along,
Higher and higher.
A teacher who can change the course of your life.
He blew in for a week,
And now he's gone.
The studio is dark, the boards are empty.
The classroom is silent...
But the echo will be felt
For a long, long time.
The darkened TV studio is quiet now.