Art Class

I already explained before how Peace Corps encourages its volunteers to take it easy the first three months in site so we can have time to adjust to our communities, as well as work on our diagnostics of our towns. Right? Right. So you can see how I would be excited to jump on board with any community activity available. Right? Right.

So this was my mindset when I agreed to help teach an art class at my CTC about 2 months ago…

And this was the beginning of the art class from you-know-where.

It started off easy enough. Basically I was just supposed to help with the set-up, roll call, clean-up, and whatever other odd jobs the teacher needed help with. The class was on making pottery using plaster and trash. A recycled art piece type thing. I’m not big on arts and crafts…never really loved the stuff, but I thought it could be a good way to get to know people in my community and have something to do, too. Art is supposed to be fun, right?

One would think.

I went to the first class, which hardly anybody showed up- including the teacher. Oh Dominicans. Went to the second class, which ended up being me and 25 students standing around awkwardly while the teacher did an entire project to “show us how to do it.” I had to miss the third class because we had something to do for Peace Corps. When I got to the fourth class, the teacher said I was behind and therefore could not do my own project. While everyone worked on their large art pieces, she gave me a teeny tiny little lid of a can to cover in the plaster mixture. I was a little disappointed because I really wanted to make a vase, but oh well, I’m trying to make friends. Can lid, you say? Never have I ever been more excited.

Piece of cake. It was looking great (if I do say so myself), so I thought I would change it up a little bit and try to add a little creativity to my bland project.

I tried to make it into a flower; the teacher yelled at me and said I was doing it wrong. She sawed off the petals of my flower with a knife.

I thought maybe she didn’t like the flower idea, so I tried to add a design in the plaster with a knife. You would have thought I was trying to eat the plaster by the way the teacher reacted. She was so upset and frustrated that she grabbed a handful of plaster and smeared it over my design. Adios creativity.

This is when I noticed that she was killing everyone else’s creativity, as well. But they didn’t seem to mind. If someone was doing something that didn’t perfectly match up with her vision, she would take her knife and saw away chunks of the art pieces here and there. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Not in this case.

The next week, I guess she thought that she would give me another mini-project to work on. Like it would be impossible for me to start my own pottery since I missed the first class. Because mixing the plaster, water, and scrap paper is rocket science and all. So she gave me the World’s Ugliest Vase and told me that it was hers and she wanted me to finish it. Seriously, there was nowhere to go from there. It was awful. I tried to salvage what little I could by changing the shape and trying to round out the bottom. Meanwhile, the entire art class was cracking up at my incompetence. First of all, I couldn’t explain that the tiny round blob from the week before wasn’t my idea. And to make things worse, now the dumb American is sculpting the most hideous project in the class. I wanted to wear a t-shirt that said, “Whatever I’m working on is not my fault.”

Apparently I was not doing exactly what she envisioned, so she made a big scene about how I don’t understand anything about art and everyone was laughing. She took that dang knife and sawed off all of the work that I did to the vase, and said I would have to start on it again the next week.

Um…no thanks.

Anyways, so the classes were on Saturdays, and sometimes those tend to be difficult to attend. That was around the time when I was traveling a few weekends in a row, so I was rarely there on Saturdays. I went when I could, but I know I wasn’t the most reliable student. Also, she didn’t really want my help anymore “teaching.” Surprise surprise.

Then things got really busy when I was trying to finish my diagnostic for the 3-month In-Service Training. I went to the CTC one Saturday to finish my presentation (because my harddrive crashed the week of the IST…lost everything…you can imagine that I was a little stressed). The teacher, who is actually super nice outside of class, saw me and made another scene about how I’m never there and how behind I am. I tried to explain how I had to work on something for Peace Corps, but that wasn’t cutting it. She pulled me aside and told me that I was the only student who was probably not going to pass the class. PASS THE CLASS?!?! I thought this was for fun? Nope.

You see, this country is super weird about certificates. The people here looooove getting certificates. Pass a class? Here’s a certificate. Go to a lecture? Here’s a certificate. Successfully pick your nose? Here’s a stinkin’ certificate.

And they actually mean something here! Instead of a normal resume, Dominicans have a piece of paper with their name and some info about themselves, but the most important part is the stack of certificates that are stapled to the back of it.

So I guess she thought that was a big threat by saying that I wouldn’t get my certificate.

Needless to say, I did not go back to the art class (I honestly was out of town the next few weekends…I think). So then one day I am at my friend Sabrina’s house, and Pedro from the CTC calls me and reminds me about the art class graduation. I answer by saying, “Remember Pedro…I didn’t pass the class. I don’t know if it’s a good idea that I go.” He assured me that it was ok and I should just go to show support blah blah blah.

When I get there, Delvin (my always happy, light-hearted project partner) is printing out the certificates for all of the students. He says he wants to make me one, but I tell him that I don’t want one because I really didn’t make an art piece and everyone knows it. He said that I always told everyone how pretty their art was, and I always was an encouragement, so for that I deserved a certificate. Ay ay ay.

He printed one out and put it in the stack for the ceremony. I panicked and I knew the last thing I wanted was for attention to be brought my way for this stupid art class. I took my certificate out of the stack and hid it in the office. Things seemed to be going well, and as the ceremony started, my only job was to take pictures. It was going along fine and dandy…until they started to announce the names of the graduates. It was like slow motion. I was in the back of the outdoor ceremony, and I saw them whispering and looking around the podium. I had an awful feeling that all of the commotion was because of me. Then they started talking louder, “Where is the certificate for Heather??” and “Is it lost?” The people in the audience all looked at me, I pretended not to know what was going on (extremely believable for me in this country), and Delvin and the teacher continued to frantically search.

I just thought, “Kill me now.”

Then they made a big deal about not being able to find it and eventually announced that they could merely hold up someone else’s certificate for the pictures. They retrieved a certificate from the audience, made me go up there, and started in on the speech:

(roughly translated) “This certificate is for our volunteer, Heather Phillys. Actually she did not complete the class or even make a piece of art because she had other obligations from the Peace Corps…and Saturdays are really difficult for her, but we still wanted to recognize her. She is always positive and always encouraged all of the students about their projects. All of the students here know this...Heather always told them that she liked whatever they were working on. She always told people how beautiful their art was, even though she was not able to complete her own project. Encouragement and positivity are very important, and we thought it would be a good idea to give her a certificate because she is important to us. So we would like to present this certificate to our very own American volunteer, Heather Phillys!”

Awful.

Not exactly the way to not draw attention to yourself. Then they made me take a million pictures with someone else’s certificate. While everyone sat there and watched.

Ay ay ay. After that, I definitely tried to hide out as much as I could until everyone left and I could help with the clean-up. Sure, my “lesson learned” could have been to never start something you’re never going to finish, but instead I merely learned the following: don’t ever take an art class. period. never go to a graduation for something that you dropped out of. and finally, never, ever forget the importance of a seemingly ordinary piece of paper with a stinkin’ stamp on it.

If this would have been my most embarrassing experience in the DR, then I would be doing well. But I feel like I have situations like this daily. My life is one awkward moment after another here, and the part that worries me- I'm getting used to it.

Pics for your viewing pleasure...

The other students hard at work.

My 1st project.

Unimpressed reaction to my 1st piece.

More pics of hardworking students.

Example of another student's art.

My art. Try #2.

The teacher giving a speech at the graduation.

Me with my very own certificate.

The graduating class...they asked me to take the pic.


Oh well. Adios for now!