Quodlibetica

Living the Dream

Written By: Ed Charbonneau Constellation 07 4.1.10

My version of the recurrent “Student Nightmare” begins with a realization that I am lost in a cavernous school building on the final day of classes before graduation. In my hand, I hold a sheet of paper that lists my class schedule. However, it is written in a language I cannot understand, and no room numbers are noted. I haven’t studied for any tests, nor do I own any of the textbooks, and there is no hope that I will graduate. Adding to my dream-dilemma, the vast network of hallways, passages, and secret doors within the building become increasingly complex as I run and run and run — until I wake up in a panic.

That used to be my nightmare.

Since becoming an adjunct college instructor in 2004, I have a new recurrent nightmare, one I call the “Teacher Nightmare”. This dream is the virtual opposite of the student nightmare. I wake up in the same panicked state after having found myself at the head of a small classroom packed with about 50 students. It’s the first day of the semester. I have no idea what the class subject is. I have no class roster, no syllabus, no idea what is going on, and the president of the college has chosen that day to make an unannounced visit to my class. “Do you mind if I sit in and observe?” is usually the last thing my dream-boss asks before I force myself to open my eyes.

Playing the protagonist within these tragic dreams does make for some lively evenings (which I will admit is better than being bored while I sleep!). However, I have often wondered if these unconscious episodes Proxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0

gnify a deeper belief, or fear that I do not deserve what I have earned — that I faked my way through school, and that I am now faking my way through life as a teacher. Yet, I did pass all my classes. I did well in school. I graduated. I earned BFA and MFA degrees in the visual arts.

I tell myself they are only dreams; it’s just nightmares. Everyone has them, right?

I nod my head in agreement, and I say that it’s only a dream. But as I do, I think back to all times that I’ve stood with a student in front of their artwork, and I’ve thought, “I have no idea how to advise this person.”

Perhaps it’s a question of authority? What does authority really mean? Does the title of “teacher” state to a student that I am in possession of the facts and the expertise? Does the title make me an authority?

Perhaps.

However, the moniker does not denote the degree to which I am knowledgeable on the subject or coursework. Like anyone, I am very knowledgeable on some subjects and miserably deficient at others. But as a teacher, my expectation of myself is that I have perfected my knowledge of the subject I am teaching.

The only other time that I find myself thinking along these lines is when I am working on a painting in my studio. The pressure I place upon myself to challenge my technical and conceptual abilities often leads me to re-work the painting several times over. As new ideas about the work enter my mind, I make changes in the hope of producing something better. In this way, I often completely repaint the canvas many times. One of the problems I confront during this process is that the word “better” is an ill-defined concept in my mind. Therefore, I can paint a canvas 5 or 6 times over in pursuit of a quality that continually remains out of reach.

Over the years, I have tried to stop evaluating my work in this manner, forcing myself to begin new paintings as different ideas are generated. Ideas follow one another during the art making process, and as I form new works from these progressive thoughts, I end up with a series of related works, rather than one canvas with 6 separate paintings hiding under the final layer. And given the parallels between my studio work and my experiences as a teacher, I have begun to view teaching as an extension of the creative process as well — as a teaching process.

The creative process is a complicated series of events that are dependent upon context and history, or, perhaps it’s better stated as a progression of cause and effect, thought and reaction, or action and consideration (divided by, and/or multiplied by a myriad of elements, such as knowledge, skill, means, etc., etc.). It’s a realm of thinking and responding to thought and action that is difficult to quantify and yet it leads to specific conclusions and further questions. It is at once dependent on accumulated knowledge, yet independent of preconceived or logical notions of a final outcome.

It allows for contradictions.

It allows for not understanding and non-knowing.

Yet authority is generated through this process: folks place importance on artworks that break new ground, individuals and organizations formulate collections, and the public values the art-objects as well as the artists themselves. This validates the exploration. Society values risk-taking; without it, we would lose something vital.

So, as artists generate authority with their artwork through the creative process, perhaps the instructor of a studio art class can act authoritatively while engaged in pedagogy. Living with risk and uncertainty doesn’t necessarily connote failure or fraud, but rather it is the acceptance of non-knowing that enables a dialogue between the participants (student/teacher) to occur. I am walking with the student artist, rather than directing.

The nightmare, or fear, isn’t merely self-doubt, but rather, it is the element that keeps me a student to the teaching process.

Therefore, when I stand before an artwork with a student, if I ask myself, “How can the needs or goals of this artist be met?” Thus the creative/teaching process comes into to play. Then the nightmare of having to be the all-knowing authority dissipates.

So the jury is still out in the case of fraud and authority vs. Ed Charbonneau. Last year, as I edited several student papers, I repeatedly misspelled the words, sentence and grammar (as Sentense and Grammer). I wonder what the class thought as they read my notes advising them to avail themselves of the college’s tutors for help with their writing? What could they have thought? The bright young man who pointed out my error seemed to imply that he saw it as a simple mistake on my part.

Perhaps it was simply a spelling error, however, since that orthographically challenged day, I have noticed that the scope of my “Teacher Nightmare” has expanded to include a segment where I write hundreds of misspelled words on a chalkboard as a crush of students, my boss, and ALL of my colleagues look on and silently shake their heads.

Images:

All four paintings by Ed Charbonneau will be part of the  Art Educators Juried Exhibition at Minnetonka Centerfor the Arts, which opens on April 1 and will be on view until April 27.

1) Unusual Landscape (Variation), Oil on canvas, 65″ x 70″, 2009.

2) Untitled (Pour), Acrylic on fluorescent orange fabric, 12″ x 24″, 2009.

3) Untitled (Circle), Silicone on fluorescent orange fabric, 48” x 48”, 2010.

4) Unusual Landscape (Variation), Mixed Media on Canvas, 84″ x 92″, 2009.