I’m No Artist

I’m no artist.

When I was in the fifth grade, I made a drawing of a barn owl that seemed, by my standards, okay. My art teacher had had us make these drawings and paintings so that she could create a world map out of them, based on the origin place of the each species we drew. When I turned in my piece, my artwork was placed over in the Pacific Ocean, right over Australia.

Why?

Because she thought I had drawn a kangaroo.

There’s going to be many answers to this question, but this will be the only of its kind. In a world where artists want their voices heard and understood, I only want mine to feel like I’m drawing a barn owl.