I could say that one of the reasons I volunteer at my neighborhood elementary school is that I'm touched in the head and don't know any better. The real reasons I volunteer is the fact that, first and foremost, I love children and, secondly I know a lot of trivia about artists and felt that it was best to bounce that kind of information off children. I fooled myself into thinking that they wouldn't be able to see my insecurities or, possibly know when I would attribute some art trivia to the wrong artist. It's those darn Impressionists paintings that I mix up. When I do a review with the kids, after a while, the brushstrokes start to look the same. But, the kids forgive the mix-ups and, we have fun when they get quizzed on who painted this or that painting.

A month ago, however, they tested me severely. When the teacher was called out of the room for a brief moment, they took advantage of the opportunity to misbehave. Looking at the boys, especially, I was very astute at reading the grimaced faces and, it was at that time, I wanted to run out of the classroom. These few boys were very adept at mischief-making. It didn't take me long to realize this was not going to be a good session. In seconds I withdrew into myself, unable to reprimand them or defend myself against their bad behavior. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable in that short period of time. I couldn't bolster my courage and, as I have no teaching skills, I picked up my picture-lady materials as soon as the teacher stepped back into the room. Not saying a word about seeing them next Tuesday, I slowly walked out of the room, determined that in the time I had left before I drove to my job, I probably would get more satisfaction at home throwing in a load of laundry.

Later in the week, the teacher e-mailed me, saying she had read the students the riot-act and, urged her students, by way of apology for their misbehavior, to write letters to me. All twenty students did write their letters of apology and, I was so touched by the sincerity in their writing, I asked them if I could share a sampling of their letters with my Pen & Ink writing group. Their approval was unanimous and the following few letters I would like to share with our group.

Letter No. 1:

Dear Mrs. Choske:

I know you feel like you're not wanted in Room 603, but I know some kids appreciate what you teach us and, I'm one of them. I've learned a lot from you and couldn't wait for the next time you came into our class. My favorite artist is Pablo Picasso and, I know that you like him too. You taught us many things like the difference between a "Fresco" and a "Mural" or, where each of the artists lived. So, after all this, I would love it if you were to come back.

Jimmy Poremba

Letter No. 2:

Dear Mrs. Choske:

We really like it when you come to our school. We learned a lot in the 12 times you came. Honestly, I had no idea who Marc Chagall, Claude Monet, or even Henri Matisse were before you came. I only knew who Frida Kahlo was. We really want you to come back. I can tell you that I didn't even know that Frida Kahlo had to have surgery a lot of times. I was so into what you were saying I didn't even pay attention to other people. So please, Mrs. Choske, come back. We really miss you.

Letter No.3:

Dear Mrs. Choske:

A lot of us wish for you to come back. We all really appreciated what you did for us. I now can say when I see the "Starry Night" or, the "Mona Lisa" -- "I know that painting!" You have taught me and many others how art influenced many painters' lives and how it can do the same for us. We all gained knowledge about art and that is something not many people can do for some of us. If you don't come back, that would be cutting off some of our knowledge for art.

Sincerely, Dar’cl Romero

Letter No. 4:

Dear Mrs. Choske:

Please come back. I want to learn more about artists. Even since you started teaching 603 about art my heart opened a new door and my brain made more room to learn. I miss you very much. My notebook is just waiting to have more notes about artists.

Mrs. Choske you made my brain grow and my heart open a new door, my pen just wants to write more, but ever since you left, my heart and brain fell to the floor.

Sincerely, Kimberly Castillo

I am glad to be able to share these letters, not because I will have less insecurity about myself but, mostly because it renews my faith in children.

"But Mom, it was an accident. It's nobody's fault. I didn't mean to do it,"

"Yes, you did. You didn't mean to get caught that's all; that's one of the many things wrong with the world today. Too many people know that they are doing wrong, but as long as they don't get caught, they figure it is okay. Well, it's not!"

"Look around you at how some people drive. There, that one's driving on the shoulder of the road to get ahead of everyone else. Is that right? What gives him the right to think he is better than the rest of us, and that he doesn't have to sit and wait in traffic like we are? Up ahead, where the road narrows by the bridge, all he's going to do is block up the road for any emergency vehicles that might be attempting to get through or further delay the responsible drivers who have been waiting, as they should, in the proper lane. Is he more important than the rest of us? No, he's not. There's another driver coming behind us, also riding on the shoulder. Monkey see, monkey do. Because one does it, then it's okay for another to do it? I don't think so. Soon that shoulder will be filled and no one will be going anywhere. But it's ok with them as long as they can get through, and they don't get caught. If they did, I bet the excuse would be that it was an accident and they didn't mean to do it.

Look behind us...see the car coming from way, way back. The driver probably doesn't even know or care that he or she crossed over the double yellow lines, and is driving in the on-coming traffic lanes. I suspect the driver wants to make a left turn at the corner, but is feeling too important or too hurried to wait in line like we are. That's even better...she's talking on a cell phone, and drinking from a cup, clearly oblivious to the world around. Ever wonder how those people steer - with their knees perhaps or an invisible third hand? Watch her now that traffic is starting to come from the other direction. She'll squeeze back into our lane and further block up the flow of cars. Her excuse perhaps...it was an accident and she didn't mean it.

Your solo car driving privileges, young man, are revoked. You can drive when one of us is in the car with you, and that's all. It's going to take awhile before we get our trust back in your ability to drive alone again."

"Sorry, Mom. I get it. You're right. It really wasn't an accident, and it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to my driving. But I really didn't mean for it to happen."