| I am an (ok) teacher! |
[Nov. 5th, 2009|10:05 am] |
I spent this week totally re-organizing and cleaning out my studio, so I'm sorry I don't have a proper comic for you guys (but I've started one). Instead, I thought I'd share some of the work being done by my 10-year-old comics students, and some of my thoughts on teaching comics to kids. (Also, if you'd like to see the first five handouts I made for the class, you can read them here)
Sometimes I think that my comic-book students would benefit more from someone who was a little more of a disciplinarian-- Who was really ON them to make comics with an eye towards form and legibility and coherency, and who didn't let them go off on crazy tangents where they began with a comic battle that then turned mildly physical (oh, the great pencil battle of aught eight, wherein I intervened in time to have the #2 scars to prove it). Perhaps I aught to better discourage nudity and violence in their comics (as if children aren't completely aware and cognizant of these elements of human nature).
My own experiences with art education (from the student side of the desk) often worked best when I was given a lot of free reign to stretch myself. The teachers with the lighter touches often inspired me to prove myself and bring their notice through harder work and wider exploration.
I also remember the dark ages of childhood, before I was studying art as (more or less) a full-time occupation, and would be forced to sit on my hands in class to keep from doodling (this rarely worked, but my teacher's wrath upon finding me drawing in class was swift and terrible). When I was allowed to draw, it was controlled, censored, disciplined and directed by my teacher. I will always remember how much it rankled with me.
My own prejudices and experiences in classrooms color my teaching methods so much that I worry, sometimes if, perhaps, I should not be in any sort of position of authority over these kids. I'm only in my second year of teaching this after-school elementary-age comic-making class-- I'm still feeling my way around.
During class, I wander from student to student, joining them briefly for a collaboration or a dramatic reading of their comics. I lend ideas to choruses of "what should I drawwww?" and I gently try to redirect attention when it strays too far. I bring comics that excite me to class to share, and show them tricks like photo-light-blue pencils and cool art pens and using the window as a lightbox. Then, when class has already been over for five minutes, I frantically glance at the clock and race around the room trying to clean up and get everyone's backpacks on the proper backs to be only mildly late for dismissal. And at the end of every two-month session, I scan their comics and put them in a mini-book for each of them.
Every class, I'm impressed with these kids and their ability to make incredible comics. When I'm really cranky and fed up with this whole business of comics-- how hard and time-consuming and self-promotive and naval-gazing and hand-paining it can be-- It can be hard for me to even look at a paneled page. It's so refreshing to spend a few hours being reminded of the natural, instinctive PLAY of comics that I can forget when I'm worrying about a book contract or stressing myself out about spreading myself too thin and busting my hand (and my youth) with "Being a comic artist," when I do this because I WANT to make comics.
So in a fit of feeling bad about my undisciplined, unfocused teaching methods, I scanned this session's comics for their book, and then felt much better. There are a few kids who've taken my class a number of times. They tell their friends-- the class grows. I had a lot of comics to scan. In the midst of the drudgery of scanning and laying out their little book, I could see, REALLY CLEARLY, how their comics have improved-- become easier to read, to understand, and how their attention has turned (pretty much on their own) towards making a beautiful, funny comic. These kids are making comics I want to read-- I want to look at them, and when I do, I'm impressed and revitalized in my own process. What a kick-- that I'm helping them to make them. That I get to read them first! I guess I'm not the absolute worst teacher in the history of the universe. Or maybe I am, and they're just that good. Who knows? (The Candyman knows!)
Man, kids comics are absolutely the best. |
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