Measuring, soldering, melting, measuring, soldering, melting. I was so frustrated. It was past 7 o’clock at night and I desperately wanted to go home, but it still wasn’t working out. Giving up sounded so appealing at that moment, but she wouldn’t let me. My whines and complaints didn’t change her set mind. She stayed with me until the end, sympathetic and supportive as always.

The plan was for me to stay after school and finish my bezel pendant for jewelry class that was due the next day. For this project, I had to create a pendant that held a stone which I had all planned out, but still it was taking longer than I expected. Mostly because the silver bezel wire that held the stone kept melting. Every time I aimed the propane torch towards it in attempts to solder it to the pendant, it would melt, so the process repeated itself on and on. All of this re-doing had taken away all of the little patience in me. Being the only student left in the studio, I was about ready to shed a tear – it’s how I let frustration out. With my right hand massaging my forehead, I decided that I wasn’t going to keep working on this just to fail again. I planned to turn in what I had done: a work incomplete.

“Ms. Sommerman, I can’t do this, the bezel isn’t working out, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” I expressed to her along with more whines and I’m sure with an irritated face.

Concerned, she asked what was wrong. I explained to her all of my misfortunes and she quickly comforted me. “Sometimes it takes time to get a piece the way you want it, but the wait is always worth it,” she said. “When people ask you how you created this piece you’ll have a whole story to tell! Come on nerd face let me help you,” she joked while laughing. This got me laughing too which took away some of the stress I felt before going up to her. I guess she’s right, I thought, but would I ever really tell a story about this? I smiled and agreed to stay maybe just a little bit longer. Soon enough, with her help, my pendant turned out even better than I had planned it. That’s probably why her I.D. names her “The Art Goddess.”
That was during my sophomore year when I took my first jewelry class, but it was at the start of freshman year that I met Ms. Sommerman. The first words that came out of my mouth about her were “She’s crazy,” and my friends sitting at my table in art class all agreed. I hadn’t been a full period in that class but I knew right away that this lady, with her blonde, wavy hair held back by her glasses and with her welcoming smile accompanied by her joyous laughter, was definitely a character. Over the years I’ve learned that yes, she is a character. Always making jokes and calling me silly things like “banana head” to cheer me up when I seem irritated. Always breaking into song in the middle of class just because and trying to get anyone involved who would like to, which I never fail to join. Always with her “shoot fire!” “holy moses!” and “dag nabbit!” expressions that sometimes seem to come out of nowhere but never fail to make the class laugh.
Now, at the end of my senior year, I find it hard to imagine that I won’t be in her class any longer. The person who has impacted me most from school, who has helped me and encouraged me every time I’ve needed help, who has made me laugh constantly during these four years, and who is my inspiration of becoming an artist, won’t be my art teacher any more. Staying in the art studio until 7 o’clock at night doesn’t seem so bad now, and I still whine to her but mostly for the fun of it. The fun times I had in art class with Ms. Sommerman will never leave my mind, and her impact on me will always be present. So loving, encouraging, accepting, loving, encouraging, accepting.