Recycled Robots

Every fall and spring my dining room becomes an art room for elementary homeschool students. Last semester I had 22 students between the ages of 5 and 12.

This year I wanted to challenge my 4th-6th graders with a multi-stage project that would be exciting for all students, and use materials (like plaster casting) they wouldn't normally use at home.

I found the Recycled Robots project in the May 2014 edition of Arts and Activities magazine.  I knew this would be a great project that we could do over the course of two weeks.  

At the beginning of the semester I asked the students to begin collecting cracker boxes and paper towel rolls, and things they thought might make our robots interesting. The criteria for the assignment was that it had to show thoughtful craftsmanship and their robots had to stand on their own.

On the first week they built the bodies by taping the boxes together and making sure they were balanced when standing in an upright position. Then they used plaster casting (hint: find a medical supply store, walk-in or online, and buy plaster bandage rolls used for casting. These were half the price of the same product found in art supply stores.) We found cutting the long strips into 2-4 inch pieces made them easier to handle and gave the kids more control over placement and finishing. This process took the entire 90-minute class period for both classes. One student was finished in an hour. The rest of the students stayed after class for another 15-30 minutes to finish up. 

One thing I didn't think about when I was planning the class was storage. I had a combined total of  9 students in these classes, and each robot was at least a foot tall and just as wide (if not more). The work table in my studio was very full for several weeks! It was a lesson learned for me... next time I'll be a little more strategic about storage space.

The second week we used sliver acrylic (left over from another project) to paint the robots. Once the paint dried the artists were able to take other recycled items such as bottle lids, floppy disks, wire, rope and leftover art supplies from my studio to give their robots character. 

I was really proud of the efforts my students showed during the whole process. Initially everyone was very excited about the project. They all jumped in with gusto, but as the construction carried on, a few began to get discouraged. Getting your hands to create what your mind is thinking is a challenge, but it was a great lesson in learning to persevere; to not quit when the going gets tough. I did my best to encourage those whose excitement got buried under the weight of whatever was holding them back, and in the end they all had amazing pieces that they proudly displayed in the spring art show. 

There was a lesson in it for me as well. There are many things I put my hand to, in the studio or in my home, that come easy to me. This is a gift and I am thankful, but when I encounter things I cannot do (or that seem too hard to figure out) instead of choosing perseverance, I often choose to quit.  What a shame giving up is! Perseverance, in life and art, holds a gift that cannot be purchased any other way. The outcome might not be what we envisioned... but it might just be better.

xo

Summer Gifts

It took a few weeks, but the relief of summer has finally settled in my bones.

There is still plenty to do, but the pressure is off. My teacher hat has been set aside, and though I am already planning and preparing for next school year, it's in an state of calm that I work.

It feels good to wake up in the morning having forgot what day it is, and to spend a little more time walking/talking with friends, or planning meals, or having impromptu coffee dates. Summer is delicious and the gift of time feels luxurious. I love the margins... spacious, golden, sweet.

I spent the afternoon at my friend's farm a few weeks ago. There is always something happening at the farm (and I'm anxious to practice with my new camera lens.) The day I went some of the chicks were hatching. I'd never seen a chick hatch out the egg, all squished and matted, only to puff up into little balls of yellow and brown within 30 minutes of the egg. Amazing.

My garden is growing well. This year I added a little herb box to the other raised beds. Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, Sage and Lavender. I bought so many herbs that I had a few left over to plant on my deck as well. I hope to be pulling fresh herb from the garden all year long. For now, they are little plantlings... green and new.

Grace and I volunteered at VBS last week. I had the privilege to work on the snack team, and Grace was a special buddy to a little girl named Charlotte. Charlotte is darling, and over the last year she and Grace have become great friends.

I haven't yet had time to really work in the studio, but I did get it cleaned up after a busy semester of art classes. Once I had it tidied I sat in my comfy chair and crocheted a little baby blanket. I used the pattern posted over at Little Monkeys Crochet. This is the second one I've made. The pattern is really easy and the blankets comes out so nice. I'm not sure yet who the blanket is for, but when the mood strikes to make a baby blanket one just proceeds with abandon... especially in the summer.

xo

The Melting of Winter

"See! The winter is past;

    the rains are over and gone.

12 

Flowers appear on the earth;

    the season of singing has come,

the cooing of doves

    is heard in our land.

13 

The fig tree forms its early fruit;

    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

Arise, come, my darling;

    my beautiful one, come with me.”

~Song of Solomon 1:11-13

Spring has sprung all around, but my heart still holds winter. It's been hard to shake the ice from the cobwebs of my thinking. 

Not that there has been great crises, or catastrophic events that hold me hostage. But often neglected little things sneak in and stir up grief: A friend moving far away; Children who expand their wings in prep for flight;  Unexpected news that seems unfair. And then, there's that thorn in the flesh-- that one thing that doesn't always sit noticed at the front (which makes you think you've licked it.) Just when you aren't paying attention, you find you're back for a refresher course-- a humbling reminder that you are not your own. 

In the midst of these things, I cling to what comes so natural to me: distraction. Busy-ness, Facebook, Netflix. Self. Barren places that carry no seeds for life. 

So spring came late to my heart. 

Over the years, in order to avoid pain (big or small, I deal with it all the same,) distractions looked different, and perhaps I assumed they were more significant: too much exercise, over-focus on food, self-medicating, tight scheduling. But all distractions do the same thing: they keep our focus off of the One who gently calls: come to me. 

He calls, and though I know the freedom of His garden, the distractions render me lazy. I no longer remember with clarity the joy set before me. I've settled for much, much less.

What's more? Only He sees the depths of my heart, where beauty doesn't reign, still he calls, "my beautiful one, come." Which humbles me all the more. 

Stubborn pride, deliberate disfunction, and unlovely places in the heart… and he calls out beautiful. Why wouldn't I run when He offers freedom in the garden of His truth? I need only the willingness to get up and go; to do what is not natural to me and set aside distractions. Let Him into the pain, He will do the rest. Only God can plant the seeds that give life (and healing) to the soul. Here on earth and in heaven. 

The winter of my heart has just begun to melt and it started with a call: "Come, my beautiful one, come with me."