My mother was a foreign country to a younger me. The language barrier-or lack of understanding of what was said or meant to be said was as obvious as an unforgiving ketchup stain on a new pair of slacks. Our relationship was at its worst during the end of my eight grade year when my art teacher, Mrs. Freighburg saved what was already thought to be an un-repairable relationship. My mother and I gained a new understanding through an unexpected report card worthy of all refrigerators. That report was an A+ in art class.

In my house, a wooden block, a paint palette and a white piece of paper replaced the normal Barbie doll, soccer ball and endless supply of video games present in every child’s home. My creation’s wouldn’t stop on paper, but expand on to faces, link-in-logs and unfortunately to my mother’s dismay, the walls of our house. I always feared that my potentials in life were not ones that my mother would approve of. How would art be an acceptable career to the mind of a straight-forward, factual woman like my mother? I grew angry at myself for possessing one talent I felt the need to keep hidden because of possible disproval. But one day changed all that.
Last semester of my eight grade year, the mail had arrived and my mother quickly rushed outside to retrieve it. Moments later she burst through the door with an odd facial expression, a smile. I had not seen her smile in ages. “Why didn’t you tell me?” was all that could escape from her mouth. A tear trickled down her eye, slowly as if it were a lazy river, her hand softly dropped a white piece of paper in mine and for once I felt comfortable in my mother’s presence. “A+ in art class, keep up the amazing work Hayley!” I continued to read on. “The school would love to showcase you work in its own display box...” That was all I needed to read.

I’ve had one future goal that I’ve carried with me since that day. That one goal use to be described as unappreciated and pointless. My goal to become an art teacher is none of those descriptions anymore. My need to ensure others of their talents as well as continue to express my creativity is my backbone to success. The crazy effects love has on the human mind and heart is unbelievable. To know that my love for art could bring to scarcely different souls like my mother and I together, pushes my need to embrace my talents. Painting a picture, you use all different colors, strokes, shapes and designs, but you need the base of a canvas to hold it all together. My mother, surprisingly, is my canvas and with that in mind, I will become an art teacher.