Sage is a boy of many talents, and he got to show some of them off at his school’s Spring Arts Festival. Of course, he played recorder along with his class on their group songs, but he also stepped into the spotlight. After playing a duet with one of his best friends, he performed the song he composed and named “Knight Adventurer.” (It does indeed make you want to sally forth and attend a joust.)
He’d also achieved a black belt in “Recorder Karate,” which he earned by mastering progressively more difficult songs. Since he was the only student in his class to achieve his black belt before the Spring Arts Festival, he won the right to perform “Ode to Joy” as a solo. His teacher accidentally left the music in her classroom, but he was unfazed: He performed the whole thing from memory.
I have to admit, I was mighty nervous on his behalf, but I shouldn’t have been; his manly nonchalance didn’t waver one bit during the whole performance.
After his musical triumph, Sage led me and two pairs of doting grandparents around the school to see his artwork. His chef d’oeuvre–the Starry Night inspired painting that won him the “SUPERintendent’s Award”–had been moved from the superintendent’s office and put on display–now elegantly framed–in the hallway for the viewing pleasure of his admirers.
Like all his classmates, Sage had a few other artworks on display, so he led us on our pilgrimage to each one. When visiting his “wrinkled paper tree” in the art room, he demonstrated that even the most serious artists have to occasionally let their hair down. Or, in his case, put their tree up.
Sage felt that his artistic achievements had earned him the right to go home immediately after the fourth grade section of the Spring Arts Festival. Given that it was only 10:00 am, I had to sadly deny his request. Even his newfound greatness couldn’t propel him out of the classroom.
I couldn’t help feeling guilty as I left, but then I reflected that suffering is often the inspiration for great art. Now he has something to work with for next year.