how i becaome a high school legand, the story of Antus

I had few teachers in high school that i will never forget.

Some good and some bad, some just beyond comprehension. This is a story of one of those crazy teachers,..
Mr Robert Antus :)

He kinda looks like he could be author Dean Koontz's brother right?
Mr Antus was a legend, and the English teacher you wanted to have. You were not allowed to smile unless the story he told was happy, or laugh unless the story was funny. He was strict and passionate, some would say plain crazy .He was so into literature and stories he literally threw himself into telling  them.

My favorite story is still his one about going off to summer camp and the swimming test. As he began the story of the boy he immediately raised his voice and faced the chalk board, then violently started to back stroke across the room! He did this with vigor and intensity and all the students like Moses parting the red sea evacuated there desks as he came barreling through the middle ! He ran right into the back wall and jerked for a second.Antus  kept telling his tale as he turned around and back stroked back to the front of the room. That was his style throwing loudly voice and body into every literary masterpiece.

That year I actually had my counselor switch my English classes so i could have him. Even though i had been diagnosed and she recommended i go to a teacher who would be better at helping me with my "situation".So against her better judgement i switched and undertook the adventure of being one of his students.Our first book if memory is correct was "To kill a mockingbird".  This is forever one of my favorite books, and the office enlarged a copy for me nice and big so i blazed through it as quickly as my eyes would allow.Of course to keep everyone one on the right path and because he was one of those teachers, a pop quiz was to be had at the end of each chapter cluster you were supposed to read.

The day came for the quiz, i stayed up late eyes burning but finished my assigned reading and was ready.I was actually looking forward to showing that i enjoyed the story. I should add I'm not just an Art geek but a Literature one as well. He started class in his usual quiet stern fashion , ordered silence and then passed out the quizzes,..

umm,..
there's a problem here,..

I froze, i thought my vision itinerant gave him the papers on what i needed,... this is ,,..

ditto paper????

Who used that anymore?? The paper was this blur of purple smudges and spots, this was in no way at all legible not to mention not in large print.  This could only get worse if he says,.." OK you have 10 minutes" . OK it just got worse! Wait ,..what? i get time and a half and with this mess I'm gong to need an interpreter,  a magnifying glass, a decoder , and alot of prayer to figure it out!!

I sat in silence , frozen, i was not a child or teenager to buck authority,..but i didn't know what to do.After i sat not moving for about what seemed like forever he approached my desk.
 "You didn't do the reading did you?" he said looking angry.
" i did,." i was quiet, meek, i didn't really know what to say.
" Then take your test ,.."he said walking away.
I muttered" but i cant".
He stopped with his back turned then walked back to my desk,.. omg what have i done, i don't want  the wraith of antus! At this point the entire class has now stopped and is watching my defiance,...
"what did you say?"
now i know my eyes are bad and these things seem to only happen in cartoons, but ,i promise I'm sure i saw actual steam rising from his beet red head.
I know at this point I have become a blubbering idiot. This was the third interaction i had had with a teacher since diagnosis and none good .I had not stood up to any of them, i just sat there and took it. The amount of embarrassment and anger was now starting to well up in me.
I remained crying and non-responsive.
" Rachel that is enough ! You didn't  do the reading and now your interrupting my class! Office now!!!" he bellowed so loud the hair moved off of my face.
I turned my head and uttered quietly and firmly
" no."
 Not sure how this was possible but the room became even more silent, i think other classrooms were listening at this point. It was so quiet i heard my own heartbeat louder then my breathing.
Antus stopped shocked, crossed his arms and walked to his desk. He stood there, then paced for a moment. Then confused but angry made his way back to my desk,
" i will not tolerate your defiaance , you will go to the office now."
"no."
He now looking more confused and amazed at me walked again to his desk. This was a bad thing, now with all eyes on me, and the history of years of being teased for my squinting and blindness, and now for being disabled i was  hitting the point of no return.
The next part happened with some assemblance of courage and stupidity that still shocks me to this day,..
as he came back , arms flayling to yell once one, i stood up, tears streaming to let him have it,..
this is about what i can remember,.. and i said alot,..through lots of sobbing,..
"I am legally blind and I'm losing my vision and its not my fault YOU didn't do YOUR reading my vision itenirent gave you papers about me at the beginning of class and i cant read that! i cant read ditto paper i can only read white on black the best and its supposed to be enlarged and its supposed to be time and a half if i need and I'm not going to the office and I'm not gong to be yelled at!"

I sat down and heard the loud "thud" echo,... i hadn't even told most of my friends about my diagnosis at this point. i had been afraid to,.. now i just screamed it at my teacher through the entire school,...

He stood for a moment with eyes as big as saucers starring at me.  He then put his hand to his head rubbed it and then left the classroom.
Omg ,.. that's it,.. i just got suspended! Everyone waited a minute til they knew he was gone and the flood of  "omg i cant believe you did that!" cheers went up from my classmates. I'd like to say that it felt good ,but with my heart still in my throat not so much. I was still sobbing and trying to makes sense of it all and what i had said.

About another 15minutes later the door opened. I had tried to regain my composure so that i could beg for forgiveness from the dean Mrs Musil.To my shock he came in alone, quiet and with a paper in his hand,..he walked over , took my original test, and replaced the papers on my desk.
" is this OK?" he said in a very low tone.
He had gone and gotten me an enlarged white on black test made!
" yes thank you" i said shocked and meek, i started to cry a little again.
I think it was a combination of relief, shock, and awe.
I finished my test handed it to him.  He told us he'd grade it for next time.
We sat quiet til the bell rang.

We did not speak again about it while i was in his class that whole rest of the year .I had no suspension, no call home, nothing,I was very lucky.

Skip ahead to my senior year of high school. I had come along way out of my shell. I had a co-lead in the musical and wanted to invite all my old teachers. Being that his passion for literature affected me so much I made my way to Mr Antus' last period to invite him. With a fellow friend and cast mate in tow we knocked on his door.
He was at his desk and turned and saw me at the door and smiled.He motioned for us to come in.I walked to his desk and leaned down since his class was sitting and working on something.
" i just wanted to invite you to see the musical Cabaret, i play Frau Schultz and id love you to see it".
 I handed him the flyer.
He smiled ,"absolutely" he said with a big smile.
" can you come here a moment?"
I smiled and nodded my head.He took my arm and walked me to the front of the classroom.

" do you all remember the story i told you about the little girl i had who was the only student to ever stand up to me and live? This is Rachel!"

 He smiled and i smiled!The class laughed and clapped, I couldn't believe it!! Somehow my bravery made it into one of his epic stories! I gave him a hug and smiled, "Thank you!" That thank meant more then thank you for making me a story. AT that moment i learned to speak up for my self for the first time, to not be bullied , to not  be afraid. It also meant someone understood and accepted me.

I might have became one of his legendary stories but Mr antus will always star in many of mine, thank you for your passion and everything you taught me and all who had you, we  are truly grateful for the experience.

You will forever be missed and remembered.

the "art" of the blind-ish chef,.more tales of the utterly squinty

i was inspired by my dear FB friends from "Cooking with out looking" to look into how i cook,..

for those who don't know me i adore cooking! funny since i got off to a rough start as a kid.

one cold winter day back when i was about 4 years  old, i was pretty thirsty," mom can  have some hot cocoa?". My mom running around yelled  back " just get some milk , cup and start boiling the milk on the stove." I must explain i was quite the literal child, so i did what i heard. I grabbed a frosty grey coffee cup, filed it with milk then placed it directly on the gas burner and turned it on.I watched it intently as i started to boil so proud of myself for cooking something! As the bubbles got wilder i yelled to my mom" its boiling its boiling!!".
She entered the kitchen, slowly , confused,..looking for the pot.I could see on her face the horror as she realized what i had done. She quickly turned off the burner of boiling milk , grabbed a oven mitt pulled the cup off then,..
BOOM!!!!!!!
YEAH,... SO,..UM,..WHEN A COLD CUP OF MILK GOES DIRECTLY ON A BURNER AND BOILS SEE IT TENDS TO MAKE THE CUP EXPLODE WHEN REMOVED.
(do not try this at home without adult supervision, direct written consent of mythbusters, a cop riot shield and a camera,..)

i wasn't allowed to cook for many years,..or cut with a real knife,...

But growing up despite this fact my father and my grandma fisher when she was alive would teach me how to cook. Both had great techniques that i actually think made it easier to learn how to cook with my impairment.

My grandma Fisher was a wonderful cook, she pretty much cook the majority of her waking time, that and watching tennis , She was a Russian Jewish woman, her cooking reflected this style completely. She measured absolutely  nothing there were measuring cups  but she didn't really measure what a normal cook would use them for. She also cooked in large quantities programmed for ultimate leftovers. The meal always had sides, a main meal, mogan david wine, desert and pre and post meal snacks. She used her hands to feel the food, tasted everything instead of just going by numbers and used her sense of smell to know when it was done verses watching the clock. All three of those things really effected me and if i hadn't of learned from her I'm sure id burn allot of food!

My father,  the artist of the most unhealthy concoctions ever imagined. Much like his mother, my grandmother, he doesn't measure he tastes, but he used such extreme combinations experimenting with food. He would even name them hilarious names, one was BUFCA. it was the name of a school friend of my brothers back in the day that he thought sounded like the best made up swear word ever. One day when experimenting with a crazy taco type meal he went crazy trying new cheeses, sauces, seasonings and when it was done it looked awful! but tasted amazing!!! this craziness led to him naming his dish, bufca.i think his silliness but experimental joy and love for cooking really taught me allot.

I still have nights when at 2 am i experiment and make something that Shane says is delicious.  He giggles about my late night cooking and how i move through the kitchen not using measuring cups. trying new things. On several occasions he'll say " but I've never really liked that",..then i make it and he says" this is ACTUALLY good". lol this has been my new cooking goal to open his "food mind."

maybe its that old European cook in me, my dads creativity and my need to make people smile, but cooking is so much fun even if you cant see what your doing,...you don't have to!

raising a little girl , an act in individualism.

so I'm going to run off topic today and not about art at all,..its about my Lil darling, my biggest fan ,..Madison.

Raising her as a visually disabled mother and an artist make for some fun   . I'm more open to artist type choices in what she wears and tries, not opposed to earrings or things like that. But i draw a line at her looking older then her age,.. which by the way is 6.I help her with her body image and let her know shes beautiful inside and out everyday.

When my daughter was born unlike most parents i didn't buy all the typical clothes. I found fun unique pretty bohemian flowing tops and dresses, fun colors bows etc. she didn't even have typical stuffed animals, she has soft plushy Kitty's and what not id find in stores on the north side, different types of animals, fell asleep to blues jazz  and symphony music.When she was awake she listened to Yes ,Sheryl crow, comporary music, id sing to her , shed dance and i tried to be as eclectic as possible. I am by no means a typical person. Ive been told that most people after getting to know me say that I'm complex and not at all the way I'm perceived.I wanted Madie to be just as artistically and eclectically complex giving her choices.

When she was 2 we started doing "starfall" computer games, and i for several  years cut her slow growing hair into a cute pixie cut. not at all normal but adorable on her. You see i try to incorporate my daughter own personality , and i want her to be comfortable with who she is. When she was about 3 we walked into a store that had pink hair spray. She asked me if we could make her hair pink that the lazy town girl, i said yes. I get scrutinized for this but seriously my daughter being creative with her temp hair color isn't that bad. sending your 6 year old to school in a bra or a half top is bad, this hurts no one and lets my daughter express her individuality Young, makes her confident and she feels great about it.

A few years later when listening to some rockabilly music videos on YouTube she  saw the pomp style bang hair do, shed seen me do it and she wanted to try it, even wanted to do her bangs pink, i said yes! how creative and adorable! I of course did up her hair for her and shes beamed from ear to ear. for the most part she wears skirts, tights ,knee high hello kitty socks, hello kitty clothes and the occasional sparkly skull t-shirt.I still get a giggle that some moms look at my letting her do that as wrong but i see incorporate clothes ,skin showing and hear my daughter tell me about all her friends wearing bras already,.. shes in first grade *shakes head* i cant wrap my brain around that at all.

So me and Madie had a talk about the bra thing and she said she didn't like it so that was avoided. She had learned to hate the built in shelf bra in her tank tops from target so this was an easy win for mom. As we kept talking we talked about her clothes, her knee high socks and her one pair of skinny jeans. Now these are appreciate they aren't to tight and her stockings are in no way sexy, lol they are totally kids socks bought by her grandma and as far a i ever go clothing wise. She tells me the boys tease her for being too skinny,....what??? she says (mind my daughter is very tiny for her age short and tiny, she looks 5 and shes turning 7 soon) that she  like the stockings because they cover her legs when she wears a skirt because the boys tease her for being too skinny,...

Its kinda sad that when not in school my daughter has this amazing beaming confidence, is artistic, already painting space and constellations, but in school is the shrinking violet. She leaves my  side every morning glowing and excited, and comes home defeated and with a story everyday of crying. Not for what t she wears or her hair,.. no,.. because shes to quiet or too skinny, or the new one they make her cry then tease her for crying too much. Shes stopped trying in school, we usually do her homework then i do about 2 hours more of working with her because she doesn't remember a thing she learned in class, but can tell me everything the kids did or said to her. Today she had a boy run over her hand and another hit her with a umbrella, she said cause its funny,.. and they wonder why after so much my daughter finally fights back,she can only take so much.

What kills me is shes being teased not for individuality, but for being normal, for being how God made her!!!

Its a shame no one there see the amazing unique artistic girl she is. All i can do is keep supporting her, loving her and teaching her shes better then all that.Raising a girl shouldn't be this hard but I'm in it for the long haul , i love my little girl.

The Dance Fantastique

To sit and stare at a figure from my  perspective, my visual view is so very hard to describe.

"Why black and white?"

Why ?

 Its the shadow dance.

I could stare at someones face and let the details sit amidst a blur of blobish spots and holes, but i choose to not see that. Tonight as i sit and talk with friends and smile i watched the shadows play and dance on all of them.When my models stand even as they are still they play, the shadows boldly sit and wrap around and they dance against the light.

The light becomes less important, the shadows become bolder and fluid.I quickly go to sketch  the play at hand. First i draw the whole figure ,proportions ,like the steady blueprint of a wonderful building. Then once that foundation is down i begin to trace the lines of the shadows as they  played. With every twist losing portions of face, arm, leg, but showing still amazing contrast of whats left for me.

See to describe my black and white art and why i paint without color is this,..

I don't paint the figure,
i paint the shadows,

 the figures re-emerge from that.

So next time you look at one of my paintings  look more at the flowing wisps of the black which appear to surround the figure.
Then you'll see what i see,
they don't surround them at all,

they dance.

"id give you medicine if your tummy aches,..build you a fire if the furnace breaks,.."

Some friends have asked me over the past few years how i have become so positive, how Ive started painting more and  how  Ive become so happy. I was always and independent person. with lack of vision instead of relying on people i become more afraid to and More stand off-ish. I relied more on myself for fear of being told i was taking advantage of people.

and it always happened someone would say" you always ask people to drive you around you take advantage of people!" I wouldn't try to either, id go about taking cabs and trains, some one would offer to help, then scrutinize me for taking he help! It was a vicious circle and i hated it, so i become as self reliant as i could.

But you see the problem with that is at some point you lose the ability to ask for help. Much worse the ability to take help with out feeling horribly guilty.I may be on steady terms with my vision as afar as accepting but i know others aren't, so with everyone who tried to still help me, it was met with fear, a million thank yous and a " please I'm OK now you don't need to do that again"

I also become more afraid of dating, more afraid of meeting new people. What happens with meeting is telling everyone all over again about my vision instead of getting to know each other. Sometimes it came with pity, and i hated that.

3 years ago i began talking with a man i had talked with only a few times but knew through mutual friends. That phone call 3 years ago this week  become the beginning of me learning to look at the world in a different way. It took one man to make me realize how close minded i was and how stubborn i was! He was so very sweet and for the first time i felt comfortable talking to someone, telling him why i painted, admitting my vision loss ,and why i was a single mom. That acceptance and that kindness and understanding has only grown through the years, triumphed through very low times and still beats strong even today.

I am stronger, more open, and happier because i realized i didn't have to do things on my own, i could have a partner in crime , a friend to guide me through, someone to keep me laughing through just about anything.

Today i dedicate my blog to my future husband and my best friend, to Shane who taught me more about my self, love and the world then anyone has. Thank you for being my biggest fan, support my art and encouraging me to live my dreams, i am blessed to know i get to" grow old with you " :)

Truth in ourselves, olive joose :)

This last week Ive had allot going on and many things swirling around me,..
I began thinking about the way people act and react,.. and one thing stuck out,.
we can only answer for our own actions in life, and not for others. and if we choose to not act how can we hold others accountable? I see this allot and this tends to be the true reason for most people, friends, and family fighting.

inevitably something happens and we by nature have an opinion, but then somehow choose to not say anything to the person whom is upsetting us. Therein not being truthful to ourselves and how we feel. Then we get upset at that person for doing or saying said "thing"  begin our campaigns of " do you know what this person did? "and " I'm going to get back at them for this " as the anger swells up form sitting and  stewing on this "thing" for some length of time. But aren't we responsible to speaking our mind and feelings? were in the world did we start expecting our loved ones and friends to become mind readers? Especially in a day and age were most our interactions are over an electronic device?

Somehow people lost the "human in "human nature". it becomes more fun to bad mouth someone then to be honest to yourself and THEM and tell  them its upsetting you.

Its so sad, i see it constantly, It's like people are afraid to be honest to friends and family. Whats worse is when they get defensive then they became grasping for straws and attacking with false accusations, why because they've made themselves so hurt that's all they can do.

For those who know me, you know this annoys and saddens me. I am an extremely honest to a fault person, i tell my friends and family everything i think and feel without holding back and i do expect the same in return. Even if i don't want to hear you , the point is being honest is far better then holding back and creating hurt feelings.  I mean wouldn't you rather be told up front even if it hurts you then see your friends get hurt over time because they couldn't be honest with you?

Less fights , hurt, and aggravation would happen if people were truer to themselves and to there loved ones, Don't hurt people who love you, be honest you never know how long you have them or how long you can utter the words " i love you" appreciate your friends, they are your chosen family :)

I dont take things for granted, i could be wrong and loose my vision tomorrow, or lose my life or my family, seeing friends fight is a waste of time you could be making memories.and the things you say in anger are put out into the world and you cant ever take them back. Hurtful words make the biggest ripple in the pond.

"breathe is wasted on closed ears, you can say many things but at some point your the only one who will hear them"

I'm thankful and blessed for the friends and family i have they are amazing and I just wish i could see them all happy.

and to my chosen family,... olive joose :) thanks for understanding me :)