Back to school... back to school...

As of now I am enrolled in 9 graduate hours at Texas Woman's University in pursuit of my Masters in Art Education. I use the term "as of now" because TWU has yet to process my financial aid application (classes started 4 days ago), and if I don't get aid, well, I don't get to continue. It's that simple.

Still, I'm trying not to think of that and am trucking along... subbing, freelance designing, and studying. Where does sleep fit into that equation? Well, new boyfriend > sleep. So, it doesn't.

Here is my first assignment in Art 5333: Individual Differences.

"Now let us look at your first assignment: your 300 word assignment needs to be introspective, about yourself, your differences. For instance, when driving I do not follow maps well, I am very visual so I use points of reference, a yellow house with red shutters on the corner is where I turn left, the field with the barn that needs paint is where I go straight. Another difference about me, it is easier for me to write my thoughts and concerns, when I am upset or angry, in order to communicate my ideas and thoughts effectively rather than speak. Your assignment is more about you being introspective about your differences, than your ideas or thoughts about special education. The focus is you and the wonderfully, created, special person you are."

Here's my go. It sounds more like a blog post than anything "introspective." Oops.

We’re all different. And since we’re all different, doesn’t that mean we all have something in common?

One of my first classroom memories invokes some anxiety about being different. I’m not sure what my first grade teacher was trying to reinforce – colors, maybe – but I remember she was calling us one by one to announce our hair and eye colors. Before my turn I heard, “Brown hair, brown eyes,” then, “Blonde hair, blue eyes.” When I said, “Blonde Hair, brown eyes,” my teacher corrected me.

“You mean blue, Carolyn.”
“No. I have brown eyes.”
“Oh, usually blonde girls have blue eyes.”

Really?

A year ago I once again mentioned my brown eye color only to be corrected by my boyfriend of the time. I have hazel eyes, and it disturbs me that I didn’t even notice they changed.

Like Jesus, I tell stories. Unlike Jesus' stories, they don’t always have a point.

I do believe, like Robin explained in her instructions, that I am a “wonderfully-created, special person.” I learned this at an early age in my paternal grandfather’s Primitive Baptist Blue Mound, Texas church. Growing up in a church doesn’t make me any different than the millions of other Christians around the world, but I doubt many had an experience like mine. Blue Mound Baptist had under 30 members, and we met in a small, one-room building. We called each other “Brother” and “Sister” and chose the hymns to sing each Sunday by yelling out their page numbers. There was no organ or piano, so I learned to read music by singing a cappella aside Brother and Sister Nelson.

Still, even with that experience, I have always been a member of the Lutheran church. My dad even became Lutheran. Traitor?

I’m “different” in other ways. My front tooth is fake. I’m ridiculously outgoing, yet suffer from an anxiety disorder. I can fit a six inch pickle in my mouth sideways. But when it comes down to it, I am more interested in finding out what I have in common with my fellow man than how we are different. There’s enough to separate us in this world without going to look for it, don’t you think?

So, what do you think?