Do Dinosaurs Paint?

Welcome back to another episode of Sarah’s Adventures in the Art Studio (SAAS). This post answers the age-old question: do dinosaurs paint? We will get to that in a minute.

But first, I’m interrupting myself to share some happy news: I’m starting a new position at work. I’ve worked at our preschool for the last two years, and I’ve enjoyed my duties as classroom aid and outdoor art studio teacher.

But about a month ago, I was asked to become the lead teacher of the 2-and 3-year-old combined classroom. I felt excited but also a little nervous. I want to do a wonderful job, but I will be learning as I go, which isn’t always comfortable for me. Can you relate? I have moments of anxiety, but I keep reminding myself that it’s okay not to know everything on day one. I care about doing a good job, and that is a solid foundation. So stay tuned—eventually I will resurface and update everyone about how it’s going.

Now back to the original topic: do dinosaurs paint? In my studio, the answer is yes.

We have plenty of dinosaurs in our outside play area, and one day, I noticed that some had open mouths. Hmmmm, what if I stuck a paintbrush into the mouth of the dinosaur? Then the dinosaurs could paint. It was a twist on our painting time outdoors and the kids had a good time. 

But let’s back up a few steps. This blog post was intended as an April post but here we are in August. Last school year was good, but so busy, and blog posts had to wait their turn. So, here are some highlights from the last eight months at preschool, including some cute moments from our preschool summer camp. It’s like a buffet: a little bit of everything. Some Valentines Day, some St. Patrick’s Day, some Easter and lots of messy fun. 

 

Big mess = big fun.

This is Rudi the Robot. I made him as a creature with four slides
(one down each arm and leg). One of my students, Caleb, said,
"Is that a robot?" And that's how Rudi the Robot came to be.

This summer I worked at our preschool's summer camp. Each

week had a different theme and our first week was all about 

pirates and mermaids.

At the end of the week was dress up day so I gathered various accessories and threw together this pirate outfit. I channeled Johnny Depp and played the “Pirates of the Caribbean” theme song while I dressed. Got to get into character, right? 

One kiddo asked about my tights, and I told him that pirates sometimes wear fishnet tights. He asked, “Do you catch fish with them?” So funny, but that’s how young kids’ brains work. Another kiddo asked if I was a real pirate, so I answered, “Yes!” He thought about it for a minute and then said, “No…You’re Ms. Sarah!” 

Arrgh!

Another week was dinosaur week and for our dress up day I made myself a triceratops head piece out of paper plates. I got the idea from one of our campers, who called me “Tri-Sarah-Tops.” Hmmm…I feel an idea brewing. When we were playing outdoors that day (obviously I still had my dinosaur head on), I saw people down the block looking in my direction. Only my shoulders and head were visible above our fence. I hope they knew the truth: that I am both a teacher and a real dinosaur (from the neck up).

Tri-Sarah-Tops

My students tried to hide from me. 

Balloons: all fun and games until they pop, scaring me every time.

The summer passed quickly, except when we were outdoors at camp. Yes, I’m in San Diego, and it’s much cooler here than in most places. But it was in the 80s, with humidity, which we are not used to here. Sweat dripped down my back and face, which is not as glamorous as it sounds. We sometimes sprayed the water hose into the air to create rain, which cooled us off. Of course, the kids loved it, and we tried to keep them cool with outdoor water table play. At home, I parked myself next to our portable fan, put my wearable fan around my neck and tried not to move.

Besides doing art with the preschoolers, I also have done some of my own paintings this year. I took myself plein air painting last week (for those who don’t know, this means bringing my easel to a location and painting on site). Sweat trickled down my back, but a merciful breeze found me. People stopped to say hi and to share details about the neighborhood, a maze of streets twisting in and out of a canyon, filled with trees and plants. I listened to the distant sound of the trash truck, the bird calls, and the rustle of leaves in the trees. It had been eight months since I’d last painted outdoors, although I’d drawn outdoors twice in that time. It felt like a gift to myself, making that time to do something that feeds my soul.

Here is my painting, entitled “Pink House.” It wasn’t my intended subject matter that day, but when I looked down a street, I saw a pink dot in the distance, and I had to check it out. There aren’t a lot of pink houses here, and it called to me. It has at least three floors, as it is built into the side of a canyon. It reminded me of another plein air adventure from two years ago—my painting of a house, only a mile away from this one. It seems I like to paint old houses, tucked into the trees. 

Pink House, 11 x 14", acrylic on canvas panel

Some of my other paintings from this year involved cityscapes or street scenes—moments from everyday life. I have done several paintings of bodegas, and one depicting the inside of a Japanese market. Anything with color and interesting angles and shapes. 

My drawing of NikiGator, a San Diego sculpture
by French artist Niki de Saint Phalle

Japanese Market, 11x14", acrylic on canvas panel.

Crashing Wave, 9x12", mixed media on paper.

Earlier this summer I made a sandcastle with one of my kids. A small castle--but it was on my summer list. Would it even feel like summer without a sandcastle? 

It’s fun to make temporary art. A sandcastle will not remain intact for long, but the act of creating something is always worth it. 

This summer I also chipped away at a few DIY projects. They

involved lifting concrete blocks and brick, and I asked myself

why I do this in summer, when it’s hot. Longer daylight hours

for outdoor projects? I also enjoyed swimming, hanging with

my family, checking out dramatic sunsets and taking a few

naps. 

Gardening is another of my passions, and my flowers put on a good show this summer. 

Tradescantia Nanouk

Epiphyllum (Cactus Flower)

In case you thought my life is all flowers and sunsets,
here I am in my paint shirt, weeding in the heat.

Monarch and Milkweed

hybrid Hibiscus

The end of summer is always bittersweet for me—it’s not easy to return to a more rigid school schedule, and to accept the days becoming shorter. But it’s part of life, and I will try to be present in each season. Soon I will be welcoming new kiddos into our school, and I hope that they will feel happy and safe with me. We will practice taking turns, sharing, using our words (not our hands) to communicate. I know I will witness beautiful moments, like one from this summer, when a young three-year-old brought a crying friend his water bottle  to soothe him after a playground fall. These kids may be little, but they already have big hearts.

Please wish me luck for a good school year. I remember when I started teaching art nine years ago, and the challenges were daunting. I had to attempt to get thirty-eight kids to listen, while also encouraging them to express themselves, to let loose with their imaginations, while not letting so loose that their glue sticks became stuck to the ceiling (true story). I was overwhelmed--but I persisted and in time, I found my pace and style. I hope this new chapter will also be a good one, and I will try my best to be a patient, consistent, fun teacher this year. Stay tuned for updates.

Until we chat again, watch out for painting dinosaurs. And of course, keep shining brightly!

Building Bravery

 

I’m at the top of the water slide and there is only one way down.

This might be a bad idea, my brain whispers. You don’t like speed or falling. And you keep getting letters from the AARP. 

“Humph!” I retort, refusing to back down. It seemed like a manageable plan when I was climbing up. Yes, I’m fifty-one and I haven’t been on a water slide in years—but I’m challenging my comfort zone, so here I am, perched up high, with the water far below.

I picture myself gliding down the slide with the grace of a mermaid, landing elegantly into the turquoise water with barely a ripple. I fumble from a standing to a sitting position and attempt to lay down on the slide. My body starts to slide, so I grab the sides above me. Yikes! Too fast! But gravity is pulling me downward, so half nervous, half elated, I let go.

A moment later I splash into the water, and surface with a bear-like snort, water up my nose. My hair is like a tangled clump of seaweed (Ariel the mermaid never had this problem), but I swim to the edge and feel a little proud that I did something new, something not entirely comfortable. Of course, I’m glad that no one witnessed my awkward attempt. This was just for me. It didn’t need to be graceful—it just had to be done.

Truthfully, this was not one of those skyscraper waterslides you see in videos online. It was an eight-foot 1970s pool slide with a curve, but shoot—I challenged my own doubts, and I'm glad.

Moments later, I’m informed that the family did see my descent, and I feel a bit chagrined. My performance was like the videos of a confused panda somersaulting backwards off a deck or getting tangled as she attempts to belly-flop a swing set. These pandas are graceless--but determined. My slide attempt was clumsy. The Olympic synchronized swim team will not be recruiting me, but hey—I’m proud I did it. 

A year ago, I decided I was going to try more things outside my comfort zone, without caving to my fears of failure or looking stupid. Trying things (not cuteness or perfection) is the win.

So what is bravery? It often is portrayed as physical challenges in which injury is possible--visible displays that defy fear or gravity. As kids, our role models were Wonder Woman and Superman. We learn that bravery is skydiving, bungee-jumping or walking over hot coals. Action. Capes. Shields. Heights.

I say sure, these acts require courage, but bravery can be small acts (that feel big). It's brave to raise your hand in class, sharing a personal story because your teacher asks for volunteers. Your heart may have been pounding, and this goes against your brain’s command to avoid anxiety-inducing acts. But you did it anyway. I'm proud of you for that.

Sometimes bravery is in doing something new. Or making major life changes. Bravery is not a contest, with a finish line and a clear winner. It’s not always a physical challenge--it may be an attempt to overcome a fear. Bravery is built by challenging yourself.

My own bravery journey has been an ongoing quest. I've done activities that made me scared, like climbing Half Dome at Yosemite. But the bigger challenges were not physical--they were emotional. My journey has had loops, wrong turns and dead ends, but I kept going. Two books that helped me shift my fear of judgement are Brave, not Perfect by Reshma Saujani and Rejection Proof by Jia Jiang. I heard NPR interviews with each author, and their stories fascinated me. I decided that like them, I wanted to try things that were out of my comfort zone. 

Physical Threats

When I was a child, I was scared of everything: big kids, dogs, snakes, spiders, heights, judgement, the dark, roller coasters. I’m still scared of heights but over the last few years I have challenged myself to ride the Skyfari gondola above the San Diego Zoo. You ride high over the treetops—awesome for some, but scary for me. I’ve ridden it at least thirty times now, and while it’s not 100% comfortable, I’m much less nervous than before. I used to count the seconds until it was over, both hands clenched onto the pole. Gradually, I began holding the pole with only one hand, and eventually, I stopped needing to hold the pole at all. To those without a fear of heights, this may not seem like a big deal. But for those of us who don’t enjoy falling, this was a big deal. A sign of my growth. I’m proud of that.

Me on the Skyfari ride. Look--no hands!

And what about my fear of snakes? In the last few months, I've challenged myself to look at the snakes in the science museum. I used to look at the floor in the reptile room, determined not to look at snakes, with their beady eyes and big appetites. But recently, I started looking at the snakes because I wanted to challenge my fears. When I was very young—five or six—we saw a long rattlesnake on the ground, less than ten feet away. I was terrified. My mom told us to back up very slowly so as not to startle the snake. The snake moved along, and no one was hurt. But this is a core memory, and it is not easy to overcome fears that date back decades. So, looking at snakes in glass enclosures is my first step toward challenging my own fears. We will not be getting a snake as a pet any time soon (at all, ever) but I’m building my way up to possibly holding a gentle, sleepy, small snake at local nature center. 

(Update: I wrote this post about two weeks before publishing it and during that time I said to myself, "Why put this off? You can go hold a snake right now. Empowering!" So, we went to a nature center and held a California Kingsnake. I was a little nervous but not terrified. I challenged my own fear and it wasn't overly scary. Go me!)

Physical health can present huge threats. I know people who are facing true health challenges right now: cancer of various sorts. That takes amazing courage by the patient as well as by the patient's loved ones. A friend’s husband is battling cancer, and I know she worries about him. But I see her walking her dogs each morning, going to work, dropping kids at school, despite her worries over her husband’s cancer. He is brave and so is she.

Physical threats sometimes involve the loss of a home, which is a double loss because it also involves emotional loss. I’m quite proud of the people I know who have started over after losing their home. Putting one foot in front of the other after tragedy—that takes guts. Courage doesn’t have a look or an age—it’s on the inside.

Emotional Threats

Fears sometimes involve emotional discomfort, not a lack of physical safety. A lion eating us is frightening for obvious reasons, but why is public speaking so scary to many people?

It's brave to face an emotional hurdle. 

Our ancestors who lived outdoors faced physical threats as well as emotional threats like exclusion. When people lived in nomadic tribes, feeling accepted within the tribe ensured survival, because food, shelter and safety were group goals. To be shunned could lead to death. Fear of exclusion is real, even if we are no longer nomads.  This is why fitting in at school feels so important to kids. Everyone wants to belong without judgment. 

A close friend came to town for the weekend, and we had a long talk about life. She’s faced a lot of challenges and is still finding her footing. In my eyes, she has true courage and resilience.

I'm proud of facing an emotional challenge a few months ago. It was graduation at the school where I taught art for seven years. When I visited my former students at school in September 2024, I promised the eighth grade that I would go to their graduation in June 2025 and I wanted to keep my promise and cheer on the kids. But I was nervous about it for weeks ahead of time because I did not want to be near my former boss at graduation. He was dishonest with me, and I confronted him when I visited school in September. Although necessary, the confrontation was uncomfortable, and I didn’t want a repeat. But I found the courage to go, and it was so good to see the kids again and to be part of their milestone. Of course, it wrecked me afterward—the loss of that part of my life. It opened wounds that had been healing for almost a year. Still, I’m proud that I didn’t let fear stop me. Courage can be small or big acts—but it often means doing what you feel is right, even when there is potential discomfort.

Fear of judgment or exclusion has reared its head multiples times in my life. My fears said, “Don’t rock the boat. It’s safer to be quiet.” So, I didn’t speak up. Or if I did, I was tentative. I dressed in a safer way, because I wanted to earn approval. I’m happy to say that I’ve grown and I dress in whichever fun way I want now. I speak up. I still like belonging but I’m not willing to shrink myself to fit into the mold. (Shrinking myself to please others didn’t work anyway, so it was a double loss.)

Sometimes going against the group feels as threatening as battling a lion. Speaking up might lead to exclusion—but it is essential to find the courage to be true to yourself. 

Fight or Flight

How do our bodies respond to fear? Some people sweat, faint, or have a fast heartbeat. Why do we have physical responses, even when the threat is emotional discomfort rather than physical harm? My online search led to the University of Edinburgh Science Media website, which posted the article 

 "Fear: from ancestral origins to modern thrill-seekers."  

Here is what I found:

Anxiety first emerged for human protection in the face of present danger. Fast forward to modern times, and our need to protect ourselves from predators has disappeared. Some of those instincts have remained ingrained in our programming, but most of our fear now lies in the future; whether that be paying bills on time, preparing for exams or working on a relationship. We now live in a delayed return environment, where the choices we make in the present will often not have an impact until later.

When we are afraid or anxious, our bodies release stress hormones. This leads to increased blood flow and oxygen directed to our muscles—a way to prepare our bodies for battle or escape (fight or flight).

So why do some of us experience these physical symptoms when we are not in physical danger? Certain activities feel emotionally dangerous. For some people, public speaking leads to the release of stress hormones--even a panic attack. There is no actual lion, but the audience feels like the lion.

Yet there are people who love scary activities—haunted houses or extreme sports. Why do these people run toward frightening activities, while others run from them? The University of Edinburgh article says that some people seek a natural high (dopamine release) from scary activities.  

The Comfort Zone

People fascinate me: our differences, and our commonalities. Everyone fears something.

Our fears and strengths are a map of who we are. What do we fear? What is our comfort zone?

We are encouraged to get out of our comfort zone. This often feels counterintuitive—like trying to exist without oxygen. So, why get out of our comfort zone? Here are a few reasons:

·       Our comfort zones can be a safe place, but they may limit us, too. If you don’t try new things, you may be missing out on something wonderful.

·       Taking baby steps out of your comfort zone allows you to grow. Growth is good!

·       Tiptoeing out of our comfort zone is a way to challenge our own fears, to dismantle them. If you challenge that inner voice that says, “Don’t,” and you try something and it goes well, that fear no longer controls you. It’s freeing.

There is a kid at my preschool who recently challenged his own comfort zone. He’s four and this is his first time in preschool. He looks strong and confident but he was nervous about his first visit to our outdoor art studio. His teacher cajoled him into trying it and I didn’t insist that he try the messy stuff like finger paint. He was allowed to play with toys I have set up for the kids who don’t want to make messes. I reassured him that he can take his time getting used to this new activity. Allowing someone to take baby steps is important, whether that person is four or sixty-four. It helps ease their anxiety. The new activity is not always the challenge—it’s the fear of the unknown aspects of the new activity/food/person/job/place. Fear of failure or discomfort.

A friend recently commented that she wishes she had the courage to dress in a braver manner. She is stylish but sticks to a neutral palette. I was surprised because I think of her as quite brave. She plays softball, after all! I dress in a fun and perhaps brave way, but I’m terrified of softballs. (Specifically, moving softballs. Softballs on the ground are okay.) I’d rather confront a rattlesnake than get hit by a softball zooming toward my head at fifty miles per hour! What terrifies some is fun and exciting to others. 

Discomfort won’t kill you.

A therapist I know says that avoiding scary things is not the answer. She advises us to remember that we can handle uncomfortable things. Avoiding discomfort keeps us removed from the possibility of good outcomes. Her advice has been helpful when I was nervous. If the “why” is important, and the potential good is there, challenge yourself to try something and know that you can handle some discomfort. The growth is the reward. This is coming from me, the kid who was so shy at four years old, she stood outside birthday parties because she didn’t want the kids looking at her. (I’ve come a long way!)

Have you overcome a fear? Please share in the comment section. 

(I've been told that the comment section is not allowing people to comment this time around. Sorry about that. Blogger seems to be a little temperamental right now. If you are able to comment, I always enjoy the feedback.)

I hope you are proud of challenging your fears, even if you think they are small victories. They aren’t. And challenging our fears helps us to grow. Let's keep building our bravery. We’ve got this!

What's the Buzz?

Are your allergies acting up? Spring flowers mean allergies for some people, and happy bees and ladybugs in the garden. My students have been making adorable garden insects and the energy in the art room has been buzzing.

Here are the happy bees the Kindergarten class made: 

Some kids added extra wings for additional flying speed.  

Kinder also worked on adorable lollipop art. This sweet bunch of kids has been fun to teach this year and I hope that I get to teach most of them when they are official first graders in August.

My first grade artists also made cheerful lollipop art. Originally, I thought of having them use watercolor paint, which would have been beautiful. But I’ll be honest: it’s May and we are all worn out, so I took a less messy route and had them use markers. Markers add a big boost of color so this was a win-win. 

The first grade also created ladybug collages out of construction paper and googly eyes. Each one turned out a little bit different.

Second grade made bees and lollipops this spring. The bees are from toilet paper rolls, covered with paper, and colored with markers. For our art show I hung some of the bees from the ceiling so that they appeared to be flying from flower to hive. The cheerful lollipops these kids created also packed a lot of punch in our show.

Third grade had three projects this spring and I am saving two for my post next month. But I want to share their bees with you now. We made wings out of pipe cleaners, and I love these happy bees.

Fourth grade made butterfly art, filling the wings with pattern.

Fifth grade created bunches of busy, buzzy bees. Each kiddo interpreted this project a little differently. Some even used hot glue to fill in the bees’ wings. Each bee has its own hexagonal piece of honeycomb. 

I’m saving the sixth graders’ recent work for my next post but rest assured, you’ll love it.

Seventh grade made beautiful butterfly collages. I asked the kids to layer pieces of origami paper, tie-dye paper and weaving paper to create unique butterflies. A few kids even made marionettes out of their butterflies and they flap their wings when you pull the strings. Each butterfly is completely different and so creative.

Eighth grade also made butterfly collages, as well as bees.

My eighth graders painted hexagonal wooden trays to resemble a honeycomb, and we made paper bees to glue inside each one. The kids really liked this project and I was delighted by their bees.

I have just a few more weeks of teaching, and I can say that it’s been a very full year. We created tons of original art and these kids impressed me with how they brought their art to life.

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On a personal note, I am thrilled to share that two of my recent paintings have been accepted into the juried Exhibition of Art at the San Diego Fair. If you are at the fair this June, stop by the Fine Art section.

Here is what my two pieces look like:

Half Moon Motel, a midcentury treasure in Los Angeles

Tower Bar, a 1932 Zig Zag Moderne building
in San Diego. 

There is such variety in the art exhibit, and something for everyone. My art was included in the fair years ago, twice. But for many years afterward, it was not accepted. That was hard on my ego, but it makes it even sweeter to be included this year. This feels like a good reminder to keep doing what you love. Sometimes your efforts will be recognized, and sometimes they won’t be, but you will know how much you’ve grown.

I have one more art post to do before the summer is in full swing, so look out for another post soon.

Until then, be sweet like a lollipop, and colorful like a ladybug. Be a team player like a bee and soar like a butterfly!