My Purple Elephant

I recently made some Artist Trading Cards for a swap. The theme was Purple, Purple, Purple ATCs. Seeing the word purple written three times, put me back in my first grade class sitting at my desk, wishing I could hid under it. My Inner Child needed some catharsis on that terrible memory, so I wrote a story.

My Purple Elephant 

One day in the first grade, we had an elephant page to color. The teacher gave no specific instructions; I think it was just busy work. No, sir, not one word of direction!

As a child, I had extremely advance small motor skills. I am not trying to brag, just set the scene. I made a set of plates that had a Gay ‘90’s Couple (not the Gay ‘90’s couple we now know, but, you know that might be a good craft) cut from felt and glued on the plate when I was 4 years old. I am sure my mother was also making these at the time as a craft. My two plates were displayed on my Mother’s dining room wall until she passed away. Everyone could not believe through the years that I had made the plates when I was only four.

My favorite color was purple, oh my, how I loved purple! So I thought why not a purple elephant! I knew elephants were grayish, for the love of everything right and decent! I spent the time VERY CAREFULLY coloring my elephant purple. It was perfectly colored; you know, within the lines, shaded appropriately, a little too much perfection probably.  It was much later that I discovered being perfect was not something I wanted to attain, but I am digressing, back to the purple elephant! When it was time to hand the pictures in, I was feeling very good about myself and I loved that purple elephant.

As soon as everyone handed in their pictures, the teacher pulled MY purple elephant from the stack, held it up in front of the class and called me out. I was chastised for coloring the elephant purple! Didn’t I know elephants were grey??? Well, needless to say, my first grade sensibilities were devastated!

After I recovered from the shock, my tenacious streak took over and I was going to color every damn elephant purple I could! I turned this opportunity around and became more determined to express my own personality!

I wonder if the teachers of the early ‘60’s had classes in college on the development of a child’s personality? Did she not know that it was very wrong to call me out like that? Did she not know about individuality? Did she not read Carl Rogers? Was Montessori not a subject of study in college? Was it that important to ridicule me? I think not!

Whether or not she knew any of the above things, today I thank her for making me the individual I am today, marching to my own drummer and coloring my elephants purple!