Artistic Interest

When I was in 10th grade I took an art class. I wasn't expecting much, considering it's a class taken just for the the easy A, but that class turned out to be one of the most memorable of my highschool career.

People said the teacher was strange, as most artist are. He was an extremely tall man, with a strong bone structure and a fantastic set of eyes behind his wire glasses. The first class of the year, after handing out the syllabus, he gave a brief introduction of himself. Suddenly, after seeing this handsome man and hearing about his accomplishments, I was smitten.

I sat next to his computer, and often he would have powerpoint presentations prepared that would be displayed on a projector in front of the class. Because he would rather stand in front of the class lecturing instead of sitting at his computer clicking, he always asked me to be his "mouse".

"Miss LastName (he always called his students Miss and Mr, something I adored about him), will you be my mouse today?" he'd ask with his intelligent smile.

I, unable to manage an equally as intelligent response, would ALWAYS blush and nod.

I could tell he appreciated me, but there's no way he ever like-liked me. I was the quiet, respectful girl who never caused trouble like the other students. Though he was probably just being nice, he would often compliment my techniques. I would be in complete shock and just stammer out 'thank you's'.

One memory between us was one of the times he approached me about my work. We were doing self-portraits, and he would look down at my drawing for a moment, and then up at me. After a time, his eyes locked with mine. Then he was talking, but I heard nothing. I only noticed his eyes had moved down my face, "...and your lips are a little fuller than that, but good so far." He said professionally.

A second instance was during some free time in the classroom. I sat there at my desk, and he at his right next to me. He was playing music on Pandora, when a really optimistic song started to play. Suddenly he turned to me, smiling, we had a lot of time to communicate because of how close we sat together. I smiled weakly, feeling embarrassed again. He laughed and elbowed me playfully, "Come on now, Miss Lastname!"

If I replay those memories in my head they still gives me butterflies. He gave me all the classic symptoms: weak knees, inability to speak, and constant blushing...he was the most intense crush I've ever gotten.

Since then, he's moved on from my school and gotten another career. I can say I wasn't completely crushed, but I did feel a twinge of heartbrake. He was a truly remarkable man, he had accomplished many things--went to a top art school, put up with the stupidest group of highschoolers ever--and I will always admire him.
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1 Response May 15, 2012

very nice story . . . I had a crush on my high school art teacher as well . . . even kept in touch with him well beyond graduation . . . the feelings were mutual but nothing ever happened. 30 years later and I still have the rose he gave me fr<x>amed under glass . . . :)