When I Became a Designer

I was six years old living in Norfolk, Virginia and it was the first day of school – first grade. The moment I sat down in my new classroom I noticed a brand new box of colored chalk placed on the ledge of the chalkboard. I remember thinking, “Colored chalk? Wow. No one’s ever told me there’s colored chalk”. I was amazed. There’s blue chalk? Red? Green? They have purple chalk! I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And why doesn’t every teacher use them? Well, things get a little foggy but the next thing I remember is that I’m outside… with my new box of colored chalk, drawing a huge mural on the back wall of the school. The school was made of brick and I quickly learned that’s a difficult surface for chalk to color with. You have to press very hard. I also quickly learned when you press very hard you use up a whole lot of chalk. I was surprised how fast time flew by. When I took a few steps back to check out the progress of my masterpiece, I heard my teacher calling everyone inside. I quickly ran around the corner to join the rest of the class. I guess chalk isn’t the neatest of mediums. With a missing box of colored chalk and multi-colored dust all over my hair and clothes, it took 8 seconds to figure out who got to be the first student that year to visit the principal’s office.

My dad hates leaving work for non-work related things. I remember having to show my teacher, the principal and my dad what I did with the colored chalk. At the crime scene there was the box. Empty. The chalk was all scattered. Every stick of chalk were now just nubs. While my dad, dressed to the nines in his navy uniform, was explaining to anyone within a 2 mile radius what his plans were for me when we got home, I distinctly remember looking at my unfinished artwork. I thought… if I just had more chalk I would change a few strokes here and there and use more of this color instead of that. I’m pretty sure that’s when I became a designer.