Thinking Different

By Antonia Stepovich


My art teacher had a crazy idea. She said, "let us all carve masks!" We all got brown square pieces of wood. They were all different textures, some were soft, and some were hard. But that did not matter. My classmates and I all sat down and began our journey.

Everyone thinks differently and when they do something they put their hearts into, you can never imagine what is running through their minds. What was going through mine was my Native culture, my Native background about the time and dedication, about their love and the spirit that they put into their masks or their hatred, their fears, their joys. It made me think of mine, my Indian boy, my Eskimo boy, my son. When I was sanding, I felt as if I was sanding away all the hurt, the pain, the anger, and the hate! Get away from me, away from my son my precious innocent child. To the point where he was pure, clean, with his mother, learning his cultures and respecting it with the respect that I have and him loving me, the way that I love him.

Then it was done. I oiled it for days and every day it matured and grew into its own person, as my son will! And that is how my Indian boy mask grew to be!


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