海上的雲 （海雲）
人生感悟, 生活點滴
“The annual Noble Elementary winner of best self-portrait in the second grade is…Casey Tang!” I wasn’t even paying attention to what Principal Moley was saying. “Casey, you did it! You won!” my friend hollered. “Go on up there, Casey!” Dazed, I feebly walked over to Principal Moley, shook his hand, and received my drawing back while the whole school watched. What a small achievement it was, and yet an important one. The principal went on. “And moving on to the winner of most creative ocean-themed drawing for the third graders…” My second grade teacher, Ms. McClelland, hugged me as I trotted offstage. “Casey, I’m so proud of you! That portrait you drew was fantastic! Have you ever considered taking up art as a career?” I looked at her, puzzled. All I did was draw my head differently than the others: two eyes that don’t look like giant raisins, a nose that doesn’t resemble a chimney, lips that don’t have crooked teeth peeking out of it, and two ears that weren’t each completely different sizes, I thought. I didn’t actually have the intention of thinking of art as a career, mostly because I thought I didn’t even have the chance to make it in the art world. Still, I thanked and assured her that maybe I would take her suggestion into consideration. I sure am glad that I did.
One year passed. In the city of San Jose, California, I had decided to attend an art class about thirty minutes away from home. The teacher of that class was Mr. Duan, a short, chubby man who wore one of those old-fashioned rectangular glasses, in his late forties, quite well-known among the traditional Chinese painters in California. He was a strict and unreasonable teacher; the kind that kisses up to the newcomers, the kind that yells at his students whenever he is in a bad mood and lightens up when he is happy, and the kind that wouldn’t know the first thing that comes to opening a student’s eyes to the amazing world of art. I wouldn’t say going to his classes were a complete waste of money and time, despite all the times he yelled at me and told me to get out of his class because of my “lack of talent.” His ferocity enabled me to put up with so much criticism for my art, and allowed me to somewhat develop serious feelings for drawing, no matter how small. I knew that tiny ember glowing in my heart would develop into a wild bonfire.
After another two years of blood, sweat, and tears(literally) drawing for Mr. Duan, I moved to a different city in California, Palo Alto. I transferred into a new art class very close to where I lived. I walked into the classroom with very low self esteem as to how I draw. I imagined jumping into yet another hole filled with harsh comments and put-downs. Instead, a teacher by the name of Mr. Chen was standing in front of me, greeting me with a smile. This man was the complete opposite of Mr. Duan. He was a tall, thin man, also wearing glasses, and showered me with love and compassion. He treated me like his own daughter, and never scolded me or told me I lacked the talent, the ability, or the passion to create true art. Mr. Chen put me through a breakthrough, using his natural abilities to make a student create a very strong bond of friendship with him. He was not only good to me in that way, he was also a very skilled and experienced artist, and, unlike Mr. Duan, knew all the things there is to know about guiding a student through the difficult steps of learning. There, in that very small room of art supplies and talented students, I awakened my own talent, which was quite a large one that even my teacher was surprised to discover. In a brief year and a half, Mr. Chen left me with everything he knew about drawing and love, things that I would remember forever.
Moving to New Jersey was a devastation for me. I was not just upset because I was leaving all of my childhood friends and memories behind; in a way, I felt like I was also kind of getting a third parent taken away from me. After unpacking things in my newer and larger house of the east coast, my dad immediately tried to cheer me up by searching for another art class. I felt like none of them were ever going to be good enough. Each one he mentioned, I rejected. My mother introduced me to Sharon Art Center, the supposedly famous and successful art school for the best of the best. I rejected at first, but I decided to at least try it out, for the sake of my career. I met a bunch of teachers, all very skilled. I liked a teacher named Emily very much, the director of the school. She was a very kind and warm person. Apparently she decided I was “too good” for her class of kids who were my age, and recommended me to the older class, of the woman who owned the entire school, Sharon. Getting into her class was a difficult task, and you had to be very skilled and experienced to make it. I was extremely frightened of her at first, as I heard she was a very strict teacher and also yelled at her students sometimes. The image that kept popping up was ,“Oh no, she’s going to be like Mr. Duan. She’s going to put me down like Mr. Duan.” Actually, I was wrong. Sharon was a mysterious woman, someone I would say to be right smack dab in the middle of Mr. Duan and Mr. Chen. She disciplined her students like Mr. Duan, but was also very caring for her students and whose teaching skills were just as amazing as her drawing skills. She has molded me into the artist I am today.
All of my teachers played important roles in this story, giving me many things to remember and cherish. Mr. Duan forced my way into the world of art, using his discipline, opening the door just a crack. Mr. Chen pushed that door wide open, with his loving ways of teaching. Sharon encouraged me to move forward and take baby steps toward professionalism, fine-tuning my talents. Now, I wish I could’ve teleported straight back to six years ago and slapped the second grade me in the face and say, “Stop hesitating! You do have a chance in the art world!” I still am grateful for how things turned out, though. The world ahead of me still lies unknown, and a mystery. But my three role models taught me to never look back, and I know I would never have a chance unless I take one.
我的三位藝術老師 （翻譯：海雲）
“諾貝爾小學二年級的最佳畫作的得主是……凱茜。”我根本沒有注意到他們在叫我的名字直到莫利校長對我說：“凱茜，是你，你得獎了！”我的朋友們高喊：“上去啊！凱茜！”我有氣無力地走過去，在全校師生注視下與莫利校長握手，並接過我的畫。雖說是那很小的一個成就卻是非常重要的。莫利校長還在說：“接下來是三年級最有創意的海洋繪畫，是三年級的......”我二年級時的老師麥克萊蘭小姐一把擁抱住快步下了舞台的我：“凱西，我為你感到驕傲！你畫得真是太棒了！你有沒有想過將來成為一名藝術家呢？” 我看著她，不解。我所做的隻是把我的腦袋畫得跟別人不一樣：兩隻眼睛，看上去並不像巨大的葡萄幹；鼻子，也並不像一個煙囪，沒有齜牙咧嘴，兩隻耳朵差不多大。我並沒有真正有意要做一名藝術家，主要是因為我想我在藝術的世界裏可能沒有什麽機會。不過，我對她表示感謝，並告訴她說，也許我會考慮她的建議。我真的很高興，我拿獎了。
一年過去了。住在加利福尼亞州的聖何西這個城市，我決定去一個開車有三十分鍾的藝術學校學習繪畫。這個繪畫班的老師是D先生，他是一個個頭不高，胖乎乎的男人，戴著老式的長方形眼鏡，大概四十歲末了，在加州那一帶他以傳統的中國畫 著稱。他是一個嚴格的和不合理的老師，那種會討好新來的學生，卻常對老學生開罵，尤其是每當他心情不好的時候就會對學生大喊大叫，心情好的時候還算好。他是那種不知道如何在最初打開學生的眼睛，用藝術世界來使的學生驚豔。我不是說上他的課完全是在浪費金錢和時間，除去他對我的辱罵，叫我從他的課堂出去，因為我的“缺乏天份。”他的凶猛讓我養成能忍受對我的繪畫作品的過多的批評的能力，並讓我在一定程度上開啟了對繪畫藝術的嚴肅性，無論多麽小，我知道，在我的心裏那微小的餘燼將發展成為一個遼源的大火。
又經過兩年多的血、汗和眼淚跟從D先生習畫，我搬到一個不同的加州城市：帕洛阿托。我也因此轉到一個新的繪畫班，我住的地方離那裏很近。走進教室，我那時對於如何畫畫很自卑。我想象著跳進另一個洞裏，那裏充滿惡劣的意見和奚落。可相反，那個陳姓先生站在我的麵前，麵帶微笑迎接我。這個男人與D先生有著天壤之別。他是一個高高瘦瘦的男人，也戴著眼鏡，卻讓我沐浴在愛和同情心中。他把我當成自己的女兒一般，從來不罵我，從沒責備我說我沒有的天賦、能力和熱情去創造真正的藝術。陳先生帶著我突破，用他獨特的自然的方式，使學生和他之間產生一個非常強大的依戀和友誼。他不僅對我好，他也是一個非常熟練和經驗豐富的藝術家，與段先生完全兩樣，他知道如何引導學生一步步度過學習的難關。在那裏，在那個不大卻充滿了有才華的學生和藝術用品的房間裏，我的藝術天份覺醒了，不是一點點兒而是相當大的部分，即使我的老師也是如此驚訝地發現我的這個天賦。在短暫的一年半的時間裏，陳先生教給我繪畫和愛以及相關的一切，我會永遠記住這些。
搬到新澤西州，對我來說是場災難！不僅僅是因為離開我的童年的朋友和記憶難過，在某種程度上，我覺得我也被帶離了我的三分之一的父母。在我的新的、更大的東海岸的房子裏把搬過來裝箱的東西打開，我爸爸立即尋找另一個藝術學校試圖讓我我振作起來。我覺得他找的每一個學校都沒可能比我在加州的好。我全部拒絕了。我媽媽向我介紹莎倫藝術中心，據說很有名很成功，是最好的藝術學校。我開始也拒絕了，但後來我決定為了我將來的職業生涯至少嚐試一下。我遇到一群教師，都有著熟練的藝術技巧。我喜歡上了一個叫艾米莉的老師，她是學校的資深教師。她是一個非常友好和熱情的人。很顯然，她感覺我太“好”了， 她班上的孩子幾乎都是我這個年齡，她卻建議我進入一個比我年齡大一些的學生的繪畫班，教那個班的老師就是擁有整個學校的名叫莎倫的女人。進入她的班級是很不容易的事情，你必須非常熟練，經驗豐富，我因此很緊張害怕，因為我聽說她是一個非常嚴格的老師，有時也會對她的學生們喊叫。我頭腦中不斷出現的畫麵就是，“哦，不，不會像D先生那樣吧。她會不會像D先生那樣詆毀我。” 事實上，我錯了。莎倫是一個神秘的女人，我想正確的說法應該是她是一個介於D先生和陳先生之間的人。她像D先生那樣嚴罰學生，但也很關心她的學生並且她教學技能是出奇得好，因為她卓越的繪畫技巧，她塑造了我，使我成為今天的小藝術家。
我的所有的老師在這個故事中都扮演了重要的角色，他們給了我很多難忘和珍貴的記憶。段先生以一種強迫的方式逼迫我進入到藝術的世界，用他的嚴律，把門打開了一條縫。陳先生用他的愛的教學方式幫我把這扇大門推敞開。莎倫鼓勵我向前走，並且一小步一小步地帶領我邁向專業和藝術的精髓，我的天賦和才華得以充分調動。我希望我能穿過時間隧道回到六年前，一巴掌打在讀二年級我自己的臉上，並說，“別猶豫！你在藝術的世界裏有的是機會！”我還是心存感激的，雖然，我前麵的世界仍是未知的一個謎，但我的三個藝術上的榜樣（老師）教導我永不回頭，我知道我永遠不會有機會，除非我采取行動。
回複梅花糕的評論:梅花糕，我能猜想到你這種感受的來源，不過，說真的，我不想隨便給任何人下評論。我女兒很滿意她的老師，從這點上說，我覺得就夠了。
讓我們不要把一個孩子的文章擴大到成人不夠協調的世界裏，單純地讀文字吧。謝謝你。
謝謝你告訴我一些家長們的意見。
再次，這篇文章是我女兒-一個十二歲的女孩子寫的親身經曆，我相信可信度應該在90%以上，當然，同樣的事情，每個人所處的角度不同，看出來的風景自然不同。我相信你朋友和你的所見也許是事實，但是，我也相信我女兒的經曆和體會是真實的，她對她的三位老師的尊重和感激，是我樂意見到的，也是讓我感動和欣慰的事情，所以願意與大家分享這種為人父母看見自己孩子成長的喜樂。
你誤解了，你女兒很棒！可能是我沒說清楚，向你道歉。我說得的是段老師吹自己不著調，我有次路過想了解一下小孩學畫的事兒，他說我不經家長介紹隨便問沒誠意，不和我談，他的學生家長都是清華北大的，他自己也是文化部出來的，他學生的畫都是送參議院的，他的學生都是天才，他教畫不是為了賺錢，從來不打廣告。。。。我聽了馬上就走了，我就是看了某報的廣告才想去問問的。。。
三個不同的老師，給了一個十二歲的女孩子不同層次的藝術啟迪，這是我從這篇文章中讀到的東西。