Mr. Jules Gravel, my Grade 9 art teacher, is a man who changed my life completely with some much needed advice. “You’re an excellent artist, Wendy, but exaggerate your shading. Darker darks. Lighter lights. Exaggerate them. And try blending a little more.”
I was 14 and thought pretty highly of myself. I didn’t appreciate his “advice”, so for my next set of sketches, I exaggerated all right. BLACK darks, WHITE lights. All blended to smooth perfection with my finger. I did it to teach him a lesson.
Ha, what happened is that HE taught ME a lesson. The most important art-related lesson I’ve ever learned.
The scarab fits right in with some of my other Egyptian-related items
He was THRILLED with the results. I stood there dumbfounded as he raved about how my drawings had gone from good to great. That this was just what my work needed. I got more than an art lesson that day. I got a life lesson in humility. I learned that at 14, I did NOT know everything.
While I was in high school, every March break Mr. Gravel helped organize a major student trip. Australia, Italy, England. It was expensive ($1000+) so I never went, but the year I was in 9th grade, the trip was to Egypt.
After the break, the class was hard at work when Mr. Gravel started handing out souvenirs from his trip: he had a little bag full of these wonderful blue scarab beetles. I don’t know what it’s carved out of, but it’s super light. Not stone, but some kind of porous, wood-like material.
I can still remember him setting one on my desk and then asking me if I liked it or if I’d like to choose my own. They’re all hand carved and coloured so each one is a little bit different, and many of the other students wanted to pick through them. I said that when someone gives you a gift, it always means more if THEY choose for you rather than you picking it yourself. So I told him that I was happy to keep the one he picked out for me.
It’s kind of a silly notion, I guess, especially considering he probably gave out nearly 100 scarabs (he brought back enough for all his art classes), but I had so much respect and admiration for him that I wanted the scarab HE had given me.
Mr. Gravel retired that year — didn’t even finish out my semester, actually, much to my disappointment. And a few years ago, when I learned that he had died, it honestly broke my heart.
I never got to thank him for all he did for me. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I wouldn’t be the artist I am today without Mr. Gravel. And because of that, this little scarab is one of my most cherished possessions.
According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, the scarab hieroglyph, Kheper, “…refers variously to the ideas of existence, manifestation, development, growth, and effectiveness…” Well. Isn’t that appropriate?
This post is an entry in the 2016 Cherished Blogfest. Somehow I managed to actually stay under the 500 word limit (yah!), so I’m expecting a gold star sticker from Dan Antion at some point.
You can visit other participants in the Cherished Blogfest here.
Good post, Wendy. It’s interesting how one comment or bit of advice can have such a profound effect. Shows how careful we should be with our words.
Thanks! You’re so right. You just never know what will stick in people’s heads and what won’t, so yes, we should always be mindful!
I have one of these too…given to me as a gift…
Synchronicity??
Anyway, it rests in my jewelry case – I’ve always wanted to do something with it, like string it on a necklace or something, but I never have. I’ll never forget the wonderful, eccentric lady who gave it to me!
Oh, how nice!!
I put this one on a chain pretty much the day I got it, and did wear it many times, but I took it off to snap the pics for this post. And tbh, now that it’s off, I’ve put it in my studio where I think it holds more meaning for me, rather than just hanging with the rest of my jewellery.
But it DID make a perfect pendant!
That’s quite the collection! I always find the story behind them interesting :)
Me too, Andy, thanks!
Beautiful story
Thank so much, John!
I love your post. I know just what you mean when a 14 year old sets out to “teach the older person a lesson”. And then you learned from your own revenge. Mr Gravel sounds like a super teacher.
Thank you kindly, Fran. He certainly was. He was knowledgeable and friendly, but always told it like it was, which is the only way to teach other people!
Gold star approved! I have memories of several people who inspired a change in my life that turned out to make a huge difference. I’m sorry you lost him so soon, but I’m happythat you remember him and that you’re giving him the credit he deserves. I also think he probably appreciated your accepting the gift you chose. Thanks for joining us Wendy :)
Thanks, Dan! I’m glad you encouraged an entry in this year’s Blogfest. Much like Mr. Gravel did, it challenged me to go outside my snooty little box for a while. I surprised even myself by sticking to the 500-word count!
Currently working my way, slowly but surely, through some of the rest of the great entries!
I knew you could stay under the limit. I just have mine to the editor. 475 words (leaving her room to add a ‘that’ or an ‘of’ or two). Your posts are always so informative that they don’t seem long.
Well, I certainly appreciate you saying that, Dan. I know I can be very long-winded and often wonder if anyone can possibly enjoy reading my blabbering even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! ;P
I really enjoyed this post. Beautiful thoughts, and beautifully written. Thank you!
Thank you so much! Ha, your Gravatar pic is fantastic!
Why thank you! First time anyone has said that!
It’s personal but unique, and works so well as a little icon image. Very nice!
Your post really touched me. I think we all have had someone over the years who played a significant part in our development without any fanfare or recognition.
I’m very sad that your Mr Gravel is gone and you never had the chance to thank him for his guidance and influence. This post reflects both your humility and appreciation for his role in your life <3
Thanks so much, Joanne. He certainly left an indelible mark and I will never forget him and the lessons he taught me.
I love the scarab. The lowly and magnificent dung beetle is the essence of life. Thank you for this beautiful post. I can relate to it so much because it called to mind a teacher who gave me something similar when I was young and knew everything.
So glad to hear that my story resonated with you. I appreciate you taking the time to stop by and comment, thank you!
A gift from a teacher who made a huge impact and difference in your art, that’s incredibly precious and cherished indeed! It was good to know your beautiful story!
Thank you very much for reading and I’m glad you enjoyed it. And also thank you for tweeting a link, Shilpa!
Wendy:
I enjoyed your post regarding a teacher who taught you something significant that left a lasting impression and affected your life. I think many of us may have similar stories regarding such a special teacher.
For myself, I recall a tough, idiosyncratic, opinionated high school physical education teacher who managed to reach into my soul and leave some wisdom there that has greatly helped me in life. Like your teacher, my teacher is now deceased. His name, appropriately enough, was Mr. Whipp. His first name was Clarence, but no one called him that.
He grew up in the coal country of Pittsburgh and worked in the mines there in his youth. He later was a professional boxer, as demonstrated by his scarred face and a large nose that had been broken many times. His demeanor was tough and his often critical comments were usually accompanied by a smirk that terminated in a sneer.
In his health class he called us “gentlemen” and required that we sit upright without benefit of the backs of our chairs. He said leaning on the back of a chair was an admission of weakness. What he drilled into us was that we were all responsible for the physical condition of our bodies. He told us with exercise and discipline any of us could transform into as physically powerful a human as we desired. I sat there, a fat kid of 14, thinking of my own weakness and my wish to achieve something more. Up until that time I had assumed that being fat and weak were aspects of myself that I had to live with and could not change. Whipp’s speech about self-determination and discipline opened my eyes.
On that first day, Whipp challenged us all. He put a solid, heavy wooden chair on the floor at the front of the class and then reached down and, grasping a leg of the chair in one hand, he lifted the chair in the air with the seat in a horizontal sitting position. The strongest kid in class was invited to duplicate this feat. Of course, he couldn’t do it. In the silence that followed, Whipp told us that any of us could duplicate this feat by consistent exercise over a few years.
That day I started a regime of physical exercise. I used weights, gymnastic equipment and other tools to push myself to my physical limits and beyond. Over the next couple years I trimmed down to a solid 175 pounds and reached a point where I could lift massive weights and do 100 pushups and 30 pull-ups without much effort. I joined the gymnastics team and learned how to do one-arm handstands on the parallel bars and iron crosses on the rings and earned my varsity letter in high school wrestling.
Whipp would pass me in the hall and would typically say something like: “Nice arms and back Benson, but your legs could use some work.” So I joined the track squad and ran the mile event to build up what Whipp called my “scrawny legs.”
Whipp wasn’t a kind or gentle guy. He worked solely by presenting a challenge and heckling you while you attempted to do it. He didn’t supply any support. His whole point was that you supplied your own motivation without congratulations if you achieved your goals. He once told me when he got his degree he did experiments on rats where he would throw them in the water over and over to motivate them to swim for their life and grow stronger in the process. If they survived, he would then attach weights to their tails to cause them to swim harder and grow even stronger. He said he eventually developed a group of rats that were solid muscle and hard as nails. He said this swim or die exercise regime would work just the same for humans, but ethical considerations barred the experiment. I thought he might be kidding until I learned he required his Dad to shovel snow every winter to keep him in shape and thereby avoid a heart attack.
That was Clarence Whipp. He was a hard man. May he rest in peace. He taught me that excuses are worthless. It is what you do that counts. And with determination, discipline and sacrifice, you can accomplish anything within reason. Oh, by the way, in my senior year, I went into Whipps health class and lifted that damn heavy wooden chair, just as he had done for my class four years earlier. I looked at the class, all sitting upright in their chairs, and said, “Listen to this guy. He is a pain in the ass, but he will show you how to accomplish your dreams.” With that I walked out, accompanied by Whipps sneering laughter.
Joel, thank you for sharing your story. Your teacher certainly sounds like an unforgettable man. I’m glad that you weren’t discouraged by the harshness of what he was trying to teach and used his advice as motivation to better yourself. As much as I sometimes shy away from the idea of a teacher as hard as Mr. Whipp was, you know what? Sometimes it’s necessary. I think we can see evidence of that today especially, where children are coddled to death by their parents and their teachers and what do they turn into? Snivelling little brats who are offended by everything, won’t take responsibility for anything and are pretty much useless in the real world. I think the teenage generation of right now could use a Mr. Whipp in their lives, don’t you agree?
Wendy:
I agree with your comment that kids sometimes need a firm hand to nail down a teaching experience. But, with that said, my teacher, Mr. Whipp, was definitely one of a kind who could do and say things in the 1960s that would not be tolerated in today’s fairly permissive and gentle teaching environment.
My generation grew up during the cold war. We were taught a duck and cover strategy to avoid the blast of atomic bombs. We were the first generation to get polio vaccine which had long been a scourge that frightened kids and parents alike. People had big families so that if a couple kids died, your family was still intact.
In the 1950s we were also taught “big boys don’t cry” and upon graduation in the 60s we faced the draft to serve in the Vietnam war. No one cared or even thought about how anything said or done would affect a child’s self esteem. Boys were pretty aggressive and got in fights fairly often, with little consequences. Zero tolerance was a concept that hadn’t been invented yet. World War II and the Korean War were not so far in the past that they were considered history. Everyone’s Dad had fought in these wars and most had a deep hate for the Germans and Japanese.
On the first day of public school, the girls knelt down and the distance from the bottom of each skirt to the ground was measured. They were sent home if more than an inch of space was noted. Likewise, the distance from the eyebrows to the hairline was measured for boys. If the hair was too long, the boy was sent home for a haircut. We all believed we lived in the land of the free and the home of the brave, but no one talked much about free speech. You watched what you said and deferred to your elders and the police, or faced a slap in the face or a few strokes with a belt. Physical punishment in school was accepted. Typically wooden paddles were applied to the butt to get your thinking straightened out.
Political correctness was not yet active, so people said pretty much exactly what they thought. There was racism, and many white people treated blacks as members of an alien culture or failed to notice them at all. Television was a new invention and it regularly showed programs like the comedy Amos and Andy which plainly promoted black stereotypes; while Al Jolson sang songs in painted “black face.”
And then there was the anti-war hippie antics of the 60s with crazy flower children, free love, bra burning, physical violence and riots. Sometimes it seemed the very fabric of society was being ripped apart.
From the perspective of the future, the 50s and 60s were a very different world- quite violent and even crazy. I grew up in this world and learned some things from a tough guy who was also a part of this culture. I think the time has passed for this kind of hard teaching. I actually prefer the kind and sensitive teaching that you experienced. Just looking at your teacher’s face tells me he was an intelligent, gentle guy. I would have preferred to get my instruction from such a helpful and kind human being.
I don’t blame you, Joel. If given the choice, I too would much prefer the gentle hand to something harsher. I think an extreme in either direction is where the mistake is often made. Too hard isn’t good, but too soft isn’t really any better. Going to the extreme on either side ironically results in the exact same outcome: Chaos. Upheaval. Fighting. The only difference is how it manifests. I hope that at some point people will find the balance between the two. Making sure there are rules and that they’re upheld, but doing so without stepping on anyone or treating them in a manner we ourselves wouldn’t want to be treated.
Great post, Wendy! Being an educator/school administrator for 35 years, it is great to read about the positive, life-changing influence that Mr. Gravel had on you. Even though you were not able to thank him, I’m sure that he knew. And by publishing this post, which was beautifully written, other educators can be inspired by that influence!
Donna
http://www.retirementreflections.com
Thank you so much, Donna, both for your nice comment and also for your many years of dedicated service in what is surely one of the most important fields of work.
Wendy, what a beautiful post and tribute to not only a wonderful teacher, but a wonderful man. I had a teacher like that in high school–Mr Bradley, my English teacher. The scarab….back when I was younger, scarab bracelets were popular. I had one that I just loved. No idea what happened to it, but this post brought back the memory of that. Thanks so much for the memory.
Thank you, Lois. I’m so glad that my post made you think of something nice from your past. It also makes me happy to know that there are others out there who also had their own “Mr. Gravel” to leave such a positive mark on their life!
I’m sure Dan will give you a sticker because he’s a nice guy too. :-) This is a wonderful post about a very special teacher in your life. If we are very lucky, we all have one of those stories in our past. I can only imagine how many young lives he positively impacted. This story is the thing legacies are made of. :-)
“This story is the thing legacies are made of.” I like that so much, Judy! You know, I have to admit, I was a bit perturbed when I read his obituary and there was ZERO mention of his career as a teacher. To this day I don’t understand that at all. It made me sad to think that anyone who didn’t know him personally would never know what he meant to students like me, because I’m surely not the only one his teaching touched. Which is another reason that I wanted to write this post. And I’m happy that I was able to be included in this lovely Blogfest and share his story with so many more people than I normally would reach. He deserves to be remembered. :)
A wonderful, commemorative post, Wendy! You honoured (to use your Canadian English) him well! Neat scarab, too!
Ha! Frank, tbh, it means a lot that you spelled it that way for this post. Thanks so much for stopping by!
You’re most welcome. I could see he and what he did for you meant a lot to you!
How wonderful that you have a keepsake from someone who influenced you so much. This post is a great tribute to your teacher. Love the scarab and everything Egyptian.
Thanks, Debbie! I’ve always been a big fan of anything Egyptian. As a little girl, my dad always knew exactly where in a museum I wanted to go — to see the mummies!
I really loved the scarab that you cherish. What a great way to put forward your story. A really nice post to say what’s close to your heart. As a co-host, I thank you for being the part of the Cherished Blogfest and I hope you’re having a great time meeting new and existing blog friends.
Thank you so much! I’ve very much enjoyed participating in this year’s Blogfest, and send my heartfelt thanks and appreciate to you and the other co-hosts as well for making it possible to share and connect.
Your post reminded me of why I love being a teacher. I had two middle school teachers who encouraged my love of fiction and poetry writing, Mr. Tisdale and Mr. Brame. I doubt they would remember me (I know Mr. Blame is still alive) but I recall all their positive input.
Sadly, I lost my way without teachers in high school to invest in my love of writing. Although one college professor helped me, life happened.
But here I am on the cusp of middle age finally pursuing that dream nurtured so long ago by caring teachers.
Great reminder to invest in other people’s lives with positive feedback.
That’s wonderful, Sharon, that you’re able to go back to something you were passionate about before. Sometimes the most valuable thing a person can do for another is plant a seed of interest, watered with a little encouragement. Maybe the flower won’t have the opportunity to bloom right away, but I think we’d be surprised at just how many times a little seed ends up blooming in the future.
Oh lovely post, brings back memories of two teachers who touched my life whom I have tried to track down. As an artist (and a co-host) I had to have a look around for your art — thank you so much! I’m following…. PS I also have a cherished scarab…
Thank you, Kate, for the kind words, the comment and the follow! I hope you found my “Gallery” tab at the top and were able to scroll through some of my paintings there. :) I truly hope that you are successful in finding your teachers. I wish every day that I could talk to Mr. Gravel just once and tell him what a difference he made in my life. And you have a cherished scarab too? How wonderful!
Wise words Wendy. And correct, as always. You are truly the Seeker of Truth. By the way, I have my own collection of Egyptian artifacts as, like you, I have long been fascinated with that culture. And I have a real scarab beetle, embedded in transparent acrylic. There are no special memories associated with this scarab. It just looks really cool. it is not cherished so much as coveted for its unique features which are both repulsive and attractive.
Oh, it sounds amazing! What a wonderful object to have!
Wendy:
As it happens, I have a few acrylic pendants, each with an embedded blue/green iridescent scarab beetle. Each pendant is about 1.25 x .75 inch and looks pretty amazing if you would like to display a formerly living bug around your neck. I think I can say without hesitation that you would definitely be noticed.
The top of the pendant displays the bug in full formerly living color and if you flip the pendant over you can study the black underside of the bug. Gross but interesting. I would love to mail you one of these pendants sealed in its original 4×2 inch display box at no cost.
I initially acquired these pendants with the intention of displaying them with a replica screech beetle matchbox prop from the Constantine movie. However, the scarabs were too big to display with the prop, so here they sit with no one to appreciate them. I think you should take responsibility for one of these clean but repulsive things.
I hope I’m not overstepping the bounds of blog communications, but feel free to email me with your business address and I will mail a scarab pendant for your use, perhaps to celebrate your Cherished Scarab blog-fest entry.
I understand if you cannot accept mail communications with dead insect attachments. I’m only making this offer because I doubt that I will ever run into another person who would enjoy a scarab insect pendant.
Just sent you an email, Joel!
Wonderful. I had such teachers. Cherished indeed. Thanks for sharing with the CBF. Cheryl.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment, Cheryl!
What a touching story. Great teachers not only teach, they inspire. Thanks for sharing.
So true! I wish more teachers had a passion for inspiring.
Wonderfully written! I love how you have expressed your gratitude to your teacher, in this post.
Thank you! He’ll forever be an important part of my life.
Wendy:
Check! I received your email and have responded.
Great post,Wendy. I also loved my 9th grade art teacher, Mr. Harrod. He was so supportive, just what a 9th grader needs!
Thank you very much! And you’re so right. A supportive teacher is always important to have, but even more so when you’re in that early high school grade!
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