School Memories: The Ostrich Incident

When I was at high school, Sunday mornings were always reserved for my Art homework. I had an A5 sketch book that I was required to take home and fill with something new, based on a chosen theme by my art teacher, Miss Alexander.

I would hand my sketch book into Miss Alexander on a Monday morning and she would mark it out of ten. I was always her star pupil. (Yes, I know. Big-headed or what!). The conversation would go like this …

‘Simon! Ten out of ten yet again. You are a complete natural. Even I can’t draw lines as good as that, and the shading is just incredible. In fact, I think I’m looking at the next Leonardo Da Vinci!’

When she returned my sketch book back to me with a smile, my face would always turn scarlet. This was for two particular reasons. The first, was because I was a horny teenager and she was hotter than than the sun. The second however, was much more sinister …

One particular week, the theme she chose for the homework sketch was ‘Birds.’ So I began to think of some ideas: ‘an owl perhaps or maybe even a bald eagle.’

But on Sunday morning as I sat down to begin my sketch, the same thing that happened every single week without fail, happened yet again. My Dad would come into the room and see me sketching …

‘Oh, what is it this week. Is that an ostrich son?’

‘No Dad, it’s supposed to be an eagle!’

‘Oh, ahh … right, yes I see that now. Shall I just have a wee look at it for you?’

Then it would start …

The thing is you see, it just so happens that my Dad is an artist. He has sold paintings for years, that make hundreds of pounds a pop. They are amazing!

Look, I realise ethically I should have stopped him, but what else could I do? He was just so into it, that I had to let him continue. Besides which, I was Miss Alexander’s golden boy.

So yet again, my Dad had finished one of his masterpieces in my sketch book. This time it was an Ostrich. I wish I still had the book show you, but it was bloody amazing. If fact, it was just as amazing as every other sketch in the book. For he had done them all (Oh, the shame!).

But my story doesn’t end here …

On this particular Monday when Miss Alexander handed my Ostrich masterpiece back, she was kind of, well, scowling a bit …

‘Ten out of ten again Simon. There’s just no end to your talents. Is there?’

I grabbed the book from her awkwardly and red faced as usual. I could tell something was up, but what exactly? She looked directly at me. Was it love?

‘I just loved your Ostrich sketch so much Simon. If you don’t mind, today in class I would like you to recreate the same sketch on an A4 page so I can display it on the classroom wall. Is that ok?’

I nearly fell off the chair. My heart began to thump so hard my eyes started pulsing in their sockets and my complexation changed from rose, to a deep cherry red. I tried to answer …

‘Ahh … err … yeah … I … umm … suppose.’

When I eventually finished the sketch, there was probably more sweat drips on the page than pencil led. I handed it to Miss Alexander with dread. My Ostrich looked more like a big Chicken!

‘Oh. It’s not quite the same as the one you handed in Simon, but thank you all the same.’

I looked at the floor in shame and then the school bell rang out. Saved! But just as I was about to leave she called me back again …

‘Oh, Simon by the way, I was just wondering. Your Dad. He doesn’t happen to be Paul Aylward by any chance does he?’

‘How the hell does she know that?!’ I thought to myself.

‘Can you tell him I’ll see him at the Art exhibition later. I’d quite like another one of his pictures on my wall.’

Originally published at https://medium.com/never-stop-writing/school-memories-the-ostrich-incident-83d0c2d83fe5