One afternoon, when the class were painting Tudor houses, apparently he hadn’t eaten enough at lunch. Why did I think this? I hear you ask. Well let me tell you…
I turned around to his request to have more paint, only to find that the apparent reason why he needed more paint was because he happened to be eating it. With blackened corners of his wry smile, he looked at me over the top of his glasses expectantly waiting for me to pour more black paint into his paint pot. I asked him why he needed more paint and he simply replied “I’ve run out.” I replied with “if you carry on eating the paint, you will never paint again.” He didn’t eat anymore paint that afternoon.
Later on though, when he had waited sensibly enough to be able to paint his boxes white (I say sensibly enough, he was the last child to paint his boxes and I wanted the paint using up so my TA could clean up the paint brushes once and for all.) his right hand turned white. Half way through painting his boxes, the artist within him had become more abstract as he had begun to paint himself.
Needless to say he hasn’t painted very much for a very long time whilst I’ve been his teacher, in fact, he could be the reason why my class hardly ever paint…unless he is absent from school that day. We mainly stick to oil pastels and sketching pencils when he’s in the art lesson, although I’m sure he’s probably eating them too.