Despite that fact that I descend from not one, but three teachers (my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother) I never consciously considered pursuing the career of my maternal lineage. And yet, for over three years now, I have done just that.
Perhaps my failure to correctly ascertain my future as a teacher is due to the fact that ‘teaching’ to my young mind meant one of two things: lecturing in front of a blackboard, or chasing a three-year-old around a preschool playground. Needless to say, neither appealed to me at age 7, nor does it appeal to me now at age 27.
Rather, the subject of my teaching embodies what I love: art. That in and of itself, is nothing new since I’ve been drawing since my fingers could grip a crayon. What I find revelatory though is how much I enjoy sharing that process with others.
Between displaying my most articulate three-year-old artist scribbles on the refrigerator to hanging my senior thesis show at Drake University, I grew, not only as an artist, but (albeit unknowingly) also as a teacher.
As an illustrator, I enjoy the solitude of my studio with only paint, paper, and a cup of coffee for company. But these days I find equal, if not greater enjoyment in sharing my craft, my passion, and my knowledge with others.
I think my grandmother, and great grandmother would have agreed.
