It was a new pack of crayons with endless colors. Those huge packs that had colors in them which had barely been invented or named.

I had snuck my little sunkist can radio into school that day. They used to make these radios which were in the shape of a soda can. I would wrap mine in tin foil so the teacher couldn’t figure out it was a radio, or were that sound was coming from.

On this day, the teacher was out of the room, and i turned on the radio.

They were playing motown, and I saw this amazing pack of crayons on a desk in the back.

Recently i had seen a picture of a painting by Jackson Pollock. I knew what I had to do. There were those old golden colored radiators in that school, and today was a cold day, so the radiator was very hot. Well, the rest is art history. After going to the principal’s office and being told I would be suspended for three days, I realized the price you pay to make art in school. After that, i really only ever wanted to go to art school when i grew up.

I remember the principal called me son, then he called me boy. I remember telling him, or rather singing to him the little song i used to sing to myself all the time at church: “I’m not a boy, I’m Derek Demonte.” It had a melody, and I would repeat it all the time. I’m not sure why i felt the need to sing my own name all the time, but it kept me happy back then.

I think, even then, i liked to celebrate the identity of things, including my own. Later when i read King David’s psalm in which he celebrated himself as a poem of God, i felt vindicated. It’s ok to celebrate our uniqueness as part of the poetry of God.

When we write the song of ourselves from the right place, we are actually worshiping God, as one friend put it.

I think David probably melted crayons in school too.