Yesterday afternoon my son stormed out of the room in a fit of teenage frustration over who-knows-what. (Most likely his sister was bugging him.) After about a half an hour he returned in a sunny mood, with this drawing:
He'd been looking at trees outside the window, trying to do homework, when he picked up a pen and started drawing on the back of a school paper. I love the composition and the graphic quality, and told him so. He was very proud.
"Here's my chance," said my Mom-brain.
I asked if he had ever thought about keeping a sketch journal, just for himself. His eyes lit up and he said, "Okay." Being a laid back kid, believe me, this qualified as totally excited. Then he asked, "Can you get me more of these pens?" My good ones that always mysteriously disappear. "You bet!" I told him.
He's always been a creative kid in a 3-D sort of way-- brilliant with legos from a young age and fascinated with everything mechanical. He loves his drafting class and talks about wanting to study architecture. This past semester he'd taken Drawing 1 as a back-up class, since his first choice was full. I think he was surprised by how much he liked it.
I hope he discovers the joy and sense of wholeness that comes from putting pictures and ideas on paper. I hope he sticks with it.