Artist Story: Kathy Cunningham

"A Round And Through," Kathy Cunningham. (welded steel and silver)

My initial degree was in Music Education and Music Therapy, then came a Master of Pastoral Studies, and finally a BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. While studying music, I would always come well-prepared for each lesson. At my final lessons, when both my bassoon and percussion teacher knew I would no longer be their student, they told me the same thing: They admitted they’d routinely given me twice what they thought I was capable of. All along, I’d believed that they thought I could handle it! It wasn’t that they simply set expectations; I felt they also believed in me. What a valuable lesson that was! Teachers can be powerful motivators, but that power can also be destructive. Whatever beliefs we project onto students can either limit their progress or help them break through barriers and reach goals. 



Another experience that shaped my development was working with children with disabilities. One day, while working with a group of hearing-impaired students, I brought in some drumsticks and practice pads. About a week later, I received a call from one of the parents asking if I would give their son “Robbie” private lessons. He wanted to be in the school band when he got to junior high, and his parents didn't believe in denying him anything because of his handicap.



I didn’t want “Robbie” to have a bad experience, so I told them that if they would sit in on his lessons and drill him an hour a day, I would teach him. They agreed, and after the family hour, he would practice another hour because he was so motivated. 



Since music is an abstract form and these children learn visually, it presented special challenges. I had to learn how to get complicated rhythms and rudiments across. I started tapping different beats out on his shoulders, so he could feel it in his body. 



He made the band and had a wonderful time. The following summer, “Robbie” also wanted to learn to play the guitar. He would play and sing with all his heart. I remember watching him and thinking that if someone listened, they probably would think it was just awful. But I knew that this was real music to God’s ear because it came from deep within his soul. 



For several years, I worked with children who had all types of physical and mental limitations. I would come prepared with a lesson plan, but if it wasn’t working, I had to abandon it and try something else. It taught me to be flexible and spontaneous in my teaching, and I soon discovered that what I had learned in music could be directly applied to visual arts as well.



By now I have taught people age three to 99½, and I think that among them, there are more similarities than differences. Everyone wants to feel good about what they are doing. They want to feel that the teacher cares about them, and they want to be confident in the skills they're building.  



One summer I had a five-year-old in my clay class. “Emily” was particularly skilled for her age with both handbuilding and painting. After taking great care with her work, I told her she needed to put glaze on the piece in order to finish it. She was shocked and didn’t want to put “that pink stuff” on. I started to demonstrate, and she burst into tears because she was sure that I had ruined her piece! I assured her that it would be all right, and she would see that it was really beautiful after it was fired in the kiln. In a very soothing tone, I told her, "Just trust me." Needless to say, everything turned out just fine, and she was delighted.



When I teach camp, on the first day I have the children introduce themselves and let me know one thing they would really like to learn or create. Then I try to work these specific items into my lessons. I had “Emily” four summers in a row, and each time she would end her introduction by declaring, “Just when you think Miss Kathy is going to ruin your piece, it will be okay. Just trust her!”

I relate that incident to my senior adult students at retirement centers. The story makes them laugh, and then when someone starts resisting one of my suggestions, all the others chime in, “Just trust her!”

Something else which is important to my teaching is the pastoral element. It is necessary to be fully engaged in the moment, and to direct energies “with” them rather than “at” them. This effort goes beyond just making a pretty object; it requires taking the time to find the students’ creativity and passion, and assisting them to become the artists they are meant to be—not simply carbon copies of their teacher.  



In some circumstances, even the specific project is not so important. At a nursing home, one resident thanked me for looking her in the eye when I talked. She said that no one else ever really “saw” her. To be fully present takes a conscious effort. Like small children, the oldsters see through the façade and know whether you are being genuine or not.  



I count myself lucky to have taught such a wide range of ages and abilities. I have gained much and feel that I’m a better person, and a much more complete artist, because of these experiences. When done well, teaching is a profession that can touch us all in a profound way. 

Just trust me!  



Kathy Cunningham is an artist working and living in Chicago. She has more than 35 years of teaching experience and currently brings art to the Kenwood of Lakeview Retirement Center, the Evanston Art Center, and Artreach at Lillstreet. Kathy creates work in watercolor, welded steel, and clay. You can see her work on her website.