"So where did the train go?" I asked my daughter when she told me about a devastatingly dull art class, the focus of which was the vanishing point--that imaginary point on the horizon where things seem to disappear. The art teacher had my daughter's fifth-grade class use pencils only to draw train tracks that seemed to converge until they disappeared on the horizon. They used pencils only to draw the detail that vanished in the distance, too.

No color. This was a big part of the problem. The other problem? She kept explaining the vanishing point as if they didn't get it the first time. Duh. The tracks seem to come together until they disappear because you can't see anymore. Got it.

No magic, no color, no life. No story. A concept and a pencil. Might as well be math class.

"But where did the train go?"

"She didn't say."

"Let's find the train. Teach me the way you'd want the class taught and we'll find the train on the other side."

So my daughter got out the paints and pastels, the markers and pens and crayons. The Crayola people fed our need for color; Dell brought her train into a bright new world--a mere puff of smoke on the horizon, to be sure--but step aside, because here it comes!

PS Having satisfied that need for color and freedom, she went on to draw the life-cycle of the snowman. You'll notice the game's up when the kid heads to school.


This week's blessing: Finding the train.

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