Snorkels and the Fine Art of Inventory

Ready for anything!

I can’t recollect one art education class ever mentioning that at the end of every school year, you had to count all your supplies down to the last crayon, pencil and paintbrush.   They probably didn’t want to scare us out of art education entirely.   It was bad enough that our department resided in the basement of a building prone to flash flooding.  In heavy rains, we were instructed to run up the stairs, or carry snorkel gear.  Learning to avoid disaster instilled in me a keen sense of survival which has served me well during inventory season.   The following are some interesting, albeit, random observations about life and art as a result of the annual inventory ritual.   
  

1.        On Color:  If all the colors dressed as contestants in a beauty pageant, blue would win “Miss Popularity.” Anything in blue – paper, markers, paints, etc.  gets depleted first.   Always order extra blue.

2.       On Unusual Skills:  It takes years of practice, and bravado to refill glue bottles from a gallon jug of Elmer’s without spilling.  – I’m actually still working on this one;  I’ve got the bravado, but still working on accuracy.

3.       On things we take for granted:  Art as we know it will end if newspaper companies convert to publishing on line.

4.        On supplies:  An art room can’t have too many Styrofoam egg cartons.  They make convenient disposable palettes.

5.       On great unsolved mysteries:  The amount of paint shirts hanging on our storage room hooks nearly doubles every year.  I ruthlessly weed out intruders in May or they’d take over an entire wall.

6.       On dinner during inventory season:  If you have speed dial on your phone, the number one position should read “Pizza Hut” because that’s what your family will eat until inventory is completed.

Due to some unusual state funding deadlines, my inventory and order had to be completed early.  For the first time in 14 years, I’m really enjoying a more leisurely pace as the last week of school unwinds and eating home-cooked food.  

Goodbye Chalkboards, Hello Whiteboards



R.I.P. Chalkboard



If I to spot a highway patrolman aiming a radar gun my way, I automatically tap the breaks even though I’m not speeding.  Sometimes authority elicits a Pavlovian response from me.  So, when Mr. Miller and Mr. Ritenour from Maintenance strode into my room last week wearing serious faces, I worried.  Their expressions prompted a quick self-check which brought to mind two potential problems:    A couple of weeks ago, the fire department warned us that our art cart’s location near the kiln posed a fire hazard.  And two, my students recently removed Christmas paintings from the school windows using razor blades.   A discreet glance in the direction of the cart sadly confirmed its unresolved proximity to the kiln room.  As far as the windows, one might have been damaged in the process of scraping off paint.  On one hand I pictured getting officially cited and fined by the fire department; while on the other, a ruined window loomed in the hallway.  (I don’t even want to think about what that costs).  Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided to wait and see which of the problems I needed to answer by inquiring, “What can I do for you?”  in as cheerful a voice as I could manage.

You could have pushed me over with a feather when they both broke into wide smiles and asked if I’d still like to switch out our chalkboards for whiteboards.  Thanks to a local university who donated rather than discard them, we inherited whiteboards which otherwise were out of our reach this year.   Needless to say, when they left, I immediately remedied the art cart situation and re-examined the windows.  “No worries,” as the Aussies would say, cart and windows now pass scrutiny.   Our ability to quickly and easily remove marks vastly improved overnight with the use of whiteboards – we just love them.  I am wondering about my ability to accurately decipher facial expressions, though.   I need to bone up on my Paul Ekman.

Purple Dreams and Sumatra Coffee

Too much caffeine

If anyone says people don’t dream in color, I surmise that they don't drink coffee.  After a nice little cuppa the other night, I  dreamt that some well-meaning soul had given our art room a makeover in purple.    Even the ceiling tiles had been repainted a grayish -violet.  Our demonstration island as well as all desk and counter tops now glowed with  purple laminate.   I reached out to touch the  transformed  surface in disbelief and realized that our back counter and cabinetry had been entirely replaced with pale lavender  hallway  lockers.  Quickly checking my watch,   I calculated that I had exactly one minute to figure out where all my supplies had been  moved before students spilled through the doorway.  I could feel my heart pounding and a swell of panic rising as the hands on the clock approached 9:38.  I woke up with a start as the bell rung.  From here on out, I'll stick to decaf coffee after 7:00 p.m.