The walnut double doors opened with a friendly squeal. The sweet smell of pencil shavings mixed with paint chemicals greeted me as I bounded into the art room, a magical place of creativity and creation. I breathed in a sigh of relief- I was safe.

The front board was a mosaic of paintings tacked to the board awaiting critique. I pulled up a stool in the back of the room behind the protective wall of three or so friends. And the critique began. Students stood up and down with their artworks creating a sort of synchronized dance. I remained silent in the back, speaking up only to support the views of my friends. Finally, the last piece was up for critique. The red and black spray painted face of a stenciled lady grimaced down at me, her shiny black eye glaring into my own.

I acted before I could think. Read More »