I've been thinking about this clip a lot
Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.
On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.
The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy
It'll forever be funny how when you rescue Mikau from the Great Bay waters that he goes from "help me I'm dying" to jumping up and rocking out on his guitar to sing about his woes before faceplanting into the sand again. King shit.
New design because my home province of New Brunswick won't stop trying to incite a trans panic in schools
(free for non-commercial, nonprofit use)
this is a joke with no audience but I really wish there was a Wii U game that told you to look at the gamepad but then the gamepad just said "psyche" while simultaneously an enemy on the TV screen attacked you
bobot colors
in light of recent events as well as a new rise in creating nazi ocs I think this post is an important one to have on your blog if you stand behind your jewish followers or are jewish yourself.
My first time posting here, I draw, but I’m in art block, so not often rn. But I can’t wait to fully embrace the hell that is tumblr
Oh my god I’ll keep an eye out for fundraisers but my hometown is in flames.. they think it might all be gone.
horse standing in a field facing the camera head on its short legs hold up its round frame as it gazes with unsettling unending determination in its eyes its long hair flows in the wind this horse is driven by a force unknown to me
(He/Him, 18) I will almost never post here but when I do it'll be somethin I guess
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