The Unspoken Realities Of An Art Teacher: What No One Tells You
Mrs Law was my primary school art teacher. I recall sitting on the carpet of our art classroom, itching to get stuck into the mess of the session, only to endure her introduction on Vincent van Gogh. My seven year old brain insisted he was unimportant, especially when faced with the prospect of using acrylic paint.
It was Mrs Law who inspired my creativity, who taught me to experiment with materials and on occasion, let me take home random bits and bobs I requested for my own home projects. Mrs Law was in large part why I developed a love for art which has led me to becoming an art
teacher. What better way to spend my days: sharing my passion for creativity with young minds, fostering artistic curiosity and challenging the idea of what was possible with different mediums.
Facing my first year as an art teacher, waving goodbye to math unit planning, its image in my rear view mirror appeared smaller and smaller. Ahead, I noted obvious pillars of what it meant to work in the art room. Mountains of student work to label and store, constant rotating and
replenishing materials, the looming reality of art shows and navigating my way around an unmaintained kiln. While these obvious landmarks mapped the road ahead, I neglected to notice the potholes in the road. It wasn’t until I found my suspension stretched to its limit that I realised being the art teacher brought some hidden challenges I wish I’d known sooner.
Your wardrobe is now in danger.
As someone who enjoys a nice outfit and feels the benefits of clothing confidence, the impending mess of the art room challenged my idea of what made a professional, comfortable and stain resistant wardrobe.
I feared wearing my more expensive pieces to work, lest they be ruined with an unruly ink roller. I suddenly needed to consider the style of my sleeves, ensuring they could be rolled up while I washed brushes and didn’t get in the way when I was placing wet work on the drying rack. With these criteria in mind, I decided to invest in some basic, dark wardrobe staples that didn’t
make my bank account weep. These clothes became my ‘if a stain ruined this item, I wouldn’t be tearing my hair out’ workwear pieces and helped me make practical wardrobe choices with ease and confidence.
A good apron is a good investment.
Prevention is key and a good apron saves my clothes day in, day out. I opt for an oversized, old shirt. It’s large enough to pull over layers of clothing in winter, comfortable enough to move in and most importantly, is long enough in case I accidentally sit on a rogue splodge of paint.
I learnt early that a classic apron style wouldn’t suit my needs when a foundation student with oil pastel stained hands decided to tap me on the back. I donned my oversized shirt shield and never looked back.
Behaviour support reality check
Prior to becoming an art teacher, I was a classroom generalist teacher for seven years. I had honed my behaviour support strategies, learnt to anticipate student needs and mitigate scenarios to calm and comfort students. This of course, was in the familiarity of my own classroom with the same 25 students. My first year of art teaching was at this same school, I had taught almost half the students by this stage and it was admittedly, an easy school to work in. I was lucky to work with many respectful students who exceeded behavioural expectations. Despite all this, I wasn’t prepared for the challenging behaviour support required when you are working infrequently with groups and within a new learning context. Now, even the most
responsible of students threw me curve balls. I quickly learnt to ramp up behaviour support strategies, the importance of setting firm and fair art room boundaries and routines and co creating student expectations for added student voice oomph. Clean up and reset time was still the most dreaded ten minutes of my sessions but they would have been a lot worse if I didn’t have these strategies in place.
Handy hand cream.
This one was a hack from my principal. Being a former art teacher herself, when she placed me in the art room she also backed up this news with ‘invest in lots of hand cream.’ She wasn’t wrong. I lose track of how many times in a day I wash my hands, scrub my nails and clean tables. The
skin on my hands became dry and tight which ultimately, left me reaching for hand cream time and time again. Coupled with this, I would find random paper cuts I couldn’t remember getting. Do yourself a favour and keep hand cream in your bag, at your desk and near your bed.
Planning became… fun…
Being an art nerd meant that all of a sudden planning wasn’t as tedious. I didn’t mind planning project units and in many ways, it enabled me to flex my creative brain. It gave me a reason to think creatively about artists, their practice and the materials students could use in the art classroom. I found myself being inspired in all sorts of places. My art gallery visits went from
being personally stimulating to being professional learning opportunities.
I started by attending professional learning seminars and workshops to grasp the curriculum and return to the materials I hadn’t explored since I was a student. Instagram was an accessible source of inspiration and gave me insightful glimpses into the art rooms of other art teachers
and their projects. While this initially felt overwhelming, I focused on remaining true to the needs of my students and what I wanted my art room to look and feel like. The creative planning allowed me to flex my artistic brain that I’d left dormant for a while.
These roadblocks were self-discovered. They took time to emerge and required reflection, consideration and advice seeking to solve. While these learnings weren’t earth shattering in nuance nor were they life changing light globe moments, they were small things that surprised and confounded me for periods in my first year of art teaching. If only Mrs Law had taught me
these as well as the work and life of Vincent van Gogh.
