Since elementary school, the courses that I hate the most have never been mathematics, politics, etc. There is only one class that I don’t want to take the least, and that is art class. There is no other reason, really. Because I have not been able to draw since I was a child, I have an inferiority complex.
However, even so, when I was in the third or fourth grade of elementary school, I was selected into a sketching group by my art teacher. The teacher asked us to learn sketching. I was confused at the time and it was very confusing. I couldn’t understand it. I can't draw well, but you still ask me to sketch with pencil? Teacher, what do you think? But when I was young, I had an inexplicable fear of the teacher's authority, so I didn't dare to say anything, so I just started sketching. At that time, the art teacher was a middle-aged woman, and there were five or six people in the group. The first lesson was to draw a cube. The teacher taught us how to draw this, and then everyone started.
I vaguely remember that I thought it was too simple at the time. It took just a few steps to complete the painting in a while. However, I don’t know whether I underestimated its difficulty or overestimated my own level. In one class, I didn't even finish drawing a cube. The other students finished drawing the cube and then moved on to other things. I still only finished drawing the top side, and I wiped the other sides over and over, because I always felt that my drawing looked good. It looks awkward and doesn't look like a cube at all. It has to be erased and repainted.
A few days later, the teacher took out something made of plaster and asked us to trace it. As a person who can’t even draw cubes, the final result did not disappoint me. The teacher looked at my painting. After that, I was kicked out of the group directly, which was considered a happy outcome for everyone. I no longer had to be tortured, and the teacher’s eyes no longer had to be damaged by my paintings.
Speaking of which, my mother once praised me for my art homework when I was a child. At that time, I told my mother that I didn’t want to do art homework because my paintings were not good-looking. Then my mother was guiding me next to me, praising me while watching my paintings, why do you think the willow leaves you painted are so green, the house you painted is so cute, why is this big tree domed? I said, Mom, this is a dandelion. How can there be a big tree whose leaves are painted gray? Then after I handed in the homework, the teacher gave me a C, which was a passing grade. It was the first time I received such a low score for my homework in elementary school. Then my deskmate laughed at me because she got an A for her homework and she was in the original sketch. The group is also well-liked by teachers.
Later on, this weakness of mine did not have any adverse effects on me, because after junior high school, art classes disappeared and were not so important. However, I have always regarded not being good at painting as a major regret in my life. , I feel very envious when I see the lifelike feeling of those painters’ oil paintings and sketches. Nowadays, I sometimes watch live broadcasts, and there are anchors who play "Draw and Guess", which is very funny, so I also go to QQ game to play "Draw and Guess", but I get thrown slippers, eggs, and tomatoes throughout the whole process, which is very annoying.