By the time I was old enough to begin elementary school my Grandma Curtis had retired from teaching, but our year brought many children and a shortage of teachers. She was asked if she wouldn't teach a kindergarten class and I was lucky enough to end up with her [as my teacher]. Since I had been so active and hadn't learned to sit still or concentrate I was a very difficult child for my Grandma's class. She had a hard time controlling me and getting me to obey. Part of the problems stemmed from the fact that she was my grandma and wouldn't let me call her that in class. I thought she was embarrassed to have others know I was her grandson. I remember a quiet and friendly boy named Trent who wore his back pockets as patches. He had a talent for drawing stick figures. He was my only real friend and I longed to be able to draw as well as he.
When I graduated and moved on to first grade and a full day of school, I was in a class taught by Mrs. Ruth C. Landslaw. I was equally as difficult for her to handle and she didn't particularly like me. My mother remembers attending my first parent/teacher conference and finding that I was in the lowest reading class, [and] having a hard time learning and doing what I was told. She asked what I did do with my day and she [my teacher] said that I would sit and draw. This really disturbed my mother so she went home to talk it over with my father. Ater many prayers and much consideration they decided to give me some artistic training. I was only six years old and it was difficult to convince any teacher that they would have success with someone so young and restless. Nevertheless, after some persuading, a man in the ward named Mr. Williams agreed to help. He was a large man with stalky short fingers. He asked to see what I had been drawing and I remember showing him a small airplane I had done in school.
He started by teaching me principles with a pencil in black and white but soon had me painting in oils. Not only did he improved my artistic tendencies but he also gave me a whole new image of myself. He, my family, and even my friends gave me praise for the work that I was doing. My painting become better and gave me a source of pride, and I began to see myself in a different way. By the time I was [a little] older I was doing work that brought praise from many people. The decision was made to show one of my paintings at an art show that came to Salt Lake. I didn't receive any awards, but I had caught a few eyes. Someone offered me $75.00 and Channel 2 was interested enough to do a little special on me. They interviewed me and showed my painting to all their listening public. Family also helped me learn patience and gave me the ability to sit and concentrate. I was never one of the better readers, but even the reading skills I developed came about because of my artwork. I saw myself as being capable artistically and that showered over all [else] I was doing. With my new found confidence, I was soon at the top of my class.
I remember that in first grade or kindergarten that a six-grade girl came up to me and accused me of hitting her little sister, I quickly denied but to no avail. She promptly beat me up and I went crying home. Mom wondered why I hadn't fared better in the struggle and I told her that she had taught me not to hit girls, so I hadn't. I was also blessed to be a student of the week and had my picture displayed in the main hall for all the student body to see. Next Page
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