Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo — and the second graders.
I love chaperoning field trips but one thing never fails to surprise me when I get off the bus at some destination.
Chaperoning means keeping track of children.
As in make sure they don’t wander off. Make sure they behave. Make sure they get back on the bus alive.
A few weeks ago, I traveled with my son’s second grade class to the High Museum in Atlanta for a celebrated exhibition.
Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo were married Mexican artists. Rivera was Kahlo’s senior by many years and an internationally renown artist when they met. He is considered the greatest Mexican painter of the 2oth century. Kahlo was a self taught artist who began painting while recuperating from injuries sustained in a serious bus accident.
Here’s a blurb about the exhibition in the Huffington Post.
Now the High is a cool place. They made us swear blood oaths not to take pictures of the Rivera/Kahlo work. So later when I tried to take pictures else where in the museum, my four charges freaked out.
But I snapped away in spite of their shrieks that an officer of the High would carry me off to the museum pokey.
Now the exhibit itself was fascinating. We donned headsets and stood in front of the painting the voice described. There was an adult track and a child’s track.
I chose the adult track which in hindsight was a rookie-chaperone-of-second-graders-to-the-High mistake.
For they didn’t talk about the same pieces of art. The kids were running to the paintings they were hearing about and I was back trying to follow the adult track.
In the end, I skipped some of mine — because frankly I didn’t want to be the mom who lost a child.
Some of the art was more adult in nature.
I got that the nude figures were sensual — but it took the nice voice over headset person to point out the erotic nature of the splayed-open papaya sitting next to the rather large banana.
Frisky fruit. Who knew?
When we came upon a three-story exposed breast and I heard giggling from my charges, I quickly shuffled them on the the next painting of watermelons. Not sure what the watermelon represented but it was a lot less funny than a naked lady to a nine-year-old boy.
After viewing the exhibit we got to roam the floors of the High for about 20 minutes until lunch.
In case anyone turned up missing, I thought this one was a good shot to verify I had everyone with me at 12:05.
While we were eating our lunch, a youngster who wasn’t in my immediate group sidled up to me.
“Joe’s mom,” J. asked while putting the mouth of a milk carton to his lips.
“Yes, J.”
J. swallowed the milk.
“I don’t think it was appropriate that we saw some of those pictures.”
Dear goodness. I wasn’t even J.’s chaperone. I think all such sensitive questions need be answered by the individual child’s shepherd for the trip.
“Well, J. The human body has always been a subject of artists since people began drawing. It’s a object of beauty.”
J. looked me straight in the eye, took another sip and darted off to throw away his carton.
Okay my answer was pretty lame — the kid threw me a curve — but I said it so matter-of-fact that he must have thought there was nothing to be concerned about.
After all the human body is a work of art.
It’s those darn papayas that you’ve got to watch out for.
When was your last field trip?
