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School work was always done quietly. It was always better if it was finished at school. If you don't know how to do your work don't expect any help from 'them'. Getting an 'F' was better than being screamed at, insulted, belittled. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't you know better?"- I do now.
Title: Swimming lesson
Dated: No date
Digital ID: 15051_1_31_a047_000413
Series: NRS 15051 School photograph collection
Rights: No known copyright restrictions www.records.nsw.gov.au/about-us/rights-and-permissions
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These are the chollas cacti.
The pieces should not be handled, as the spines are barbed and can cause painful, very slow-healing wounds if the barbs become embedded in the skin.
some things you have to learn the hard way
Lesson in monastery school. One of the most important subjects is learning to read tibetan script - as all religious texts are written in this language, which is unfamiliar to Monpas of Tawang.
I have a couple of attempts at the out sketch. This is the best so far, a 1950sbeach house on a bush block
I did finish my first class yesterday.. i t was fun teaching advance Photoshop. I had the chance to meet passionnate people who loves photography, this is the best thing...
I am preparing the lesson by Skype for this summer.. One class in french, one in english..
If you are interested, let me know..
MIke
Model is Marie-ève
A lesson on how to paint a quick face with watercolor. I taught this in Christina and my class in Los Gatos, CA. Christina brought her camera and captured the face lesson.
I got really behind on art class, I'm not on 23 in the rest of school, so now i have to post this embarrassing rough sketch
Our teacher told us one day he would leave
And sail across a warm blue sea
To places he had only known from maps,
And all his life had longed to be.
The house he lived in was narrow and grey
But in his mind's eye he could see
Sweet-scented jasmine clinging to the walls,
And green leaves burning on an orange tree.
He spoke of the lands he longed to visit,
Where it was never drab or cold.
I couldn't understand why he never left,
And shook off the school's stranglehold.
Then halfway through his final term
He took ill and never returned,
And he never got to that place on the map
Where the green leaves of the orange trees burned.
The maps were redrawn on the classroom wall;
His name was forgotten, it faded away.
But a lesson he never knew he taught
Is with me to this day.
I travel to where the green leaves burn
To where the ocean's glass-clear and blue,
To all those places my teacher taught me to love
But which he never knew.