My sister and I went thru her effects about a week later. Mom was a "messy" -- we found all sorts of random things, stuffed together in grocery bags, in piles, in a drawer marked "Nightgowns". She still had my kindergarten report card. None of the others, just the one from kinder. Perhaps she was still proud that I was "ready for First Grade."
We also found a drawing I did in 9th grade. My art teacher that first semester of 9th grade art had a mission. His mission? To teach us how to draw. I remember this drawing vividly. He took us outside, and we each picked a house to draw. Looking at this drawing, I realized the project must have taken more than one class period. In my memory, tho, I remember sitting down to work, completely absorbed in the drawing. Here it is:
I had a different teacher the second semester of that school year. Her mission was to help us express our creativity. She gave us free reign, and I doubt I produced anything of much value. I look at the drawing above, and, despite some clunky details, I see the tools were there. What I needed was practice, practice, practice. Our first semester teacher knew this deep truth: teach them to draw, draw and draw some more. Creativity is useless without the tools.