Then Washed Down The Drain

We once had a family with a girl drop out of our school, in part, because I "let the boys dominate the art table."  I had managed to disappoint the family in several other more significant ways, and this was a minor point, but it was one of those Huh? moments until I realized that the only day the father writing to me had worked in the classroom, was the day we drove cars in paint, one of the few sure fire ways to get boys to the art table. And indeed it had been a day, one of those rare days, when a group of boys dominated the art table.

As any preschool teacher knows, it can be like pulling teeth sometimes to get 3-5 year-old-boys involved in art. My Aussie buddies Sherry and Donna from Irresistible Ideas For Play Based Learning actually put on a popular workshop for teachers trying to crack that very nut, and I'm sure even they will tell you, it's still a challenge. I don't know why it's a challenge, exactly. If I did, I could retire on selling the formula, and hopefully Sherry and Donna will, but it remains as elusive as a four-leafed clover. Parents often tell me, "I don't understand why Johnny never makes art. At home he draws and paints all the time, but at school . . ."

I've developed a few tricks for engaging boys in art over the years, but I've more or less given up on specifically targeting them, figuring that in a play-based curriculum children need to be free to choose how to spend their time and "tricking" them into art just isn't worth the effort. Still, it's rather exciting when I manage to accidentally get them enthused.

Last Thursday, almost lazily, I got out our cans of foam paint for our outdoor art station. A group of boys hit the outdoor class room first, fell on the project and did not let up for a good 45 minutes, chanting, "Messy, messy, messy," to each other almost the entire time.

I had a few tools out (masonry tools, large women's hair combs, spatulas, etc.), planning for those who would not necessarily want to get messy, but they quickly got buried under the swirl of preschool grey.

Several girls did stop by, especially early on, but it really was all about boys on Thursday. There is something about young boys that really makes them want to touch one another, to interact physically, often in ways that look like wrestling. They did a lot of that with the foam, covering their hands in it, then sort of pulling, tugging, and squeezing one another's hands and arms. Eventually, of course, it spread to their clothing and hair.

It was one of the most spontaneous and unexpected outpourings of "boy art" I've ever witnessed.

But alas, it was of the ephemeral, performance variety, one that only exists in these feeble photos . . .

. . . then is washed down the drain when we went back inside to read a story.

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