mrs miller’s folly

When I was a jr in high school, and applying to art school, there came a time that my portfolio, and the portfolios of several classmates, had to be delivered to a certain place at a certain time by a certain teacher. Mrs Miller.

She took charge of our portfolios. Yes, she did. We had sweated our brains out putting together an amazing array of drawings and paintings and in my case, textiles…batiks. Oh. My Guernica. A big batik mural – Vietnam was in full swing – it was 6 or 8 feet long. Blue. Red. White. She came in to class the day before she was to deliver our portfolios and told me that she couldn’t find mine. It had…how did she put it? It had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Now, you have to understand. This woman was not my biggest fan. From Day One, she had been giving me slitty eyes, and making unnatural comments. Can you imagine how I felt having her reject an assignment…loudly…in front of the class…because “it’s too masculine – you couldn’t have done this…your boyfriend (and here she pointed to a guy sitting at my table!!) must have done it – it’s not your work don’t tell me it is.” That was…oh…in September. HA!

Alright. Blah blah. Yesterday when I was painting roving, I had these colors…and they said…”familiar familiar familiar, aren’t we? you just keep painting sweethot, and we ARE familiar don’t you think, you pointy headed thing you?” Well, here’s the roving.


Of the 4 ounces, 2 are painted in gradations of blue. The other 2 are blue, red and white. This was designed to be spun into a 2-ply.


I don’t know what Mrs Miller would think. When I worked in textiles, she told me I should stick to painting. When I painted, she told me I should stick to textiles. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that she might have had some influence on me. HA! When I found out what she did with my big batik my Guernica…it was all over for her – as far as I was concerned.

One of the upperclassmen, a young man who was a good friend of mine, went to her house to deliver HIS portfolio to her. She invited him in to her kitchen. He walked through the house and past her bedroom. And saw My Guernica hanging over her bed.

Unbelievable that there are teachers like that in this country getting paid to work over our kids.

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