I remember a teacher, when? First grade? Second grade? A substitute.  She handed out a sheet to color, I don’t rightly remember the subject of the sheet, though I have a vague sensation of it, I think it had to do with bunnies and Easter eggs. She instructed us to “Color, being careful to stay inside the lines.” Now I had a particlar way I preferred coloring to appear on a page. I especially loved the soft, lightly nappy feel of the paper of certain coloring books and I loved the way the color took to the paper in a very even, albeit ”surfacy” way. I was skilled with keeping all my marks the same direction. In certain coloring books my marks blended into a pleasing “field” of color. Hardly a mark line could be seen.

Now, the paper on this handout? Slick, hard, the lines mimeographed. The “color” didn’t take to it.  All my marks on this paper were completely visible, blending was not possible. There was no way to even it out.

So, the substitute made her way around the room, looking over shoulders. When she happened over mine, my coloring technique didn’t meet her exacting standards. “Fill up the holes,” she said. “Make the color solid,” she said.

I hated coloring that way, it always involved criss-crossings and messiness. It meant “leaning into” the crayon, rather than my rather delicate technique of “lightly rubbing” the crayon into the paper.

Still, I tried. I’m nothing, if I’m not aiming to please.

I “leaned” into the crayon. I gave up my “rules” about keeping all my lines the same direction. I caked color layer upon color layer. Still I could never fill “all” the holes. I got high praise for my efforts. But I stifled my own opinion of the piece, it’s lurid color, heavily flaked with much too much wax for my taste. I accepted her praise. And felt dirty for doing so.

By way of further reference to colors and coloring books. It seemed, every year for Christmas for the first several Christmasses of our lives (my siblings and I), we received coloring books, and new boxes of colors. There’s something magic about a new box of colors, the colors inside so beautifully arranged, all the points sharp. Such possibility! Anything could happen. Every year when I got several new coloring books, I’d vow to myself to finish one from beginning to end, as beautifully as possible coloring every page one after the other until I colored the last page. I have to confess I never finished that self-imposed task.

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