Why couldn’t I do this correctly, why couldn’t I draw as well as the others? I turned to look at the student next to me, and admired the utmost care they put into the design. “Isabel!” the teacher exclaimed, “You’re never going to finish if you keep watching others.” I had hastily turned back to my desk.
Years passed and I still continued to practice, each time being criticized for not being able to draw as well. Several times, I contemplated stopping, but each time someone would look past my shoulder and complemented my sketch, that alone encouraged me.
One day, in art class, the teacher had assigned an abstract sketch. I had been worried, for my skill set seemed to be tied to that of buildings with dozens of windows that reflected the setting sun and a person who gazed at what was below. I had been stuck on what to draw as sap sticks to a tree, I tried for something simple, a flower, and had re-drawn and re-sketched different ones, and finally settled for a long stemmed rose.
When the assignment was due I had hesitantly turned it in, and waited for the humiliation, the teacher looked at my work, and stared at the vivid red colors and small black lines that differentiated the petals. “Isabel”, he had softly said. I was afraid to look up, to look up only to be shot down, I slowly built up the courage and eventually tilted my head upwards. The instructor, with a brilliant smile on his face, turned back towards the drawing and pointed out the smallest of details and praised me for putting so much time and effort into something so small.
“Isabel,” he said, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something, not your friends, not your family, not even yourself. Keep practicing, you’ll get better.”
I had looked at him, stunned, and smiled while heading back to my desk. I turn to a new page and started again. I am never one to dwell on things being said, but to only keep trying.
