sunder-the-gold:bamboozled-rainbow-superhell:kwermaid09:im-a-dragon-cawcaw: bogleech: lynati: movem

sunder-the-gold:

bamboozled-rainbow-superhell:

kwermaid09:

im-a-dragon-cawcaw:

bogleech:

lynati:

movemequotes:

Once a little boy went to school.
One morning
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make flowers.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And it was red, with a green stem.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher’s.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make something with clay.”
“Good!” thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make a dish.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher’s.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.

The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn’t say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“What are we going to make?”
“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.
“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.
“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.
“And any color?” asked the little boy.
“Any color,” said the teacher.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

…

I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it

I feel like I understand but I don’t understand. I know what this is trying to say but I can’t explain it.

It means that the teacher basically destroyed this kids creativity

The little boy went first day of school

He got some crayons and started to draw

He put colors all over the paper

For colors was what he saw

And the teacher said.. What you doin’ young man

I’m paintin’ flowers he said

She said,

It’s not the time for art young man

And anyway flowers are green and red

There’s a time for everything young man

And a way it should be done

You’ve got to show concern for everyone else

For you’re not the only one

And she said

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There’s no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen

But the little boy said

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Well the teacher said

You’re sassy

There’s ways that things should be

And you’ll paint flowers the way they are

So repeat after me

And she said

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There’s no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen

But the little boy said

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

The teacher put him in a corner

She said

It’s for your own good

And you won’t come out ‘til you get it right

And all responding like you should

Well finally he got lonely

Frightened thoughts filled his head

And he went up to the teacher

And this is what he said, and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There’s no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen

Time went by like it always does

And they moved to another town

And the little boy went to another school

And this is what he found

The teacher there was smilin’

She said

Painting should be fun

And there are so many colors in a flower

So let’s use every one

But that little boy painted flowers

In neat rows of green and red

And when the teacher asked him why

This is what he said

And he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There’s no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen.

“Flowers are Red”, by Harry Chapin

I’ve frequently wanted to link to this post when I came across posts about artistic freedom and how authoritarianism crushes artistic expression.

This time, I’ve tagged this post so that, if I ever run across those other posts again, or anything like them, I can share the connection.