My art teacher, Mr Colter, asked me to have a one-on-one Google classroom meeting with him, the next Monday. I logged on, and his face was already there, waiting expectantly. He was wearing his trademark bright striped shirt and colourful tie, even though he was working from home.
'How are you going, Ivy?' he asked, smiling encouragingly.
'Fine,' I said.
'Handling the quarantine?'
'Sure, it's fine,' I said. 'I'm missing school a bit. But I've got a lot more time for drawing. I've filled three sketchbooks.'
'Excellent,' Mr Colter said. 'It's important to keep a record of times like this. You'll look back on them one day and won't believe what you went through.' There was a pause in the conversation. I wondered what it was that he wanted to talk about. I'd uploaded all my assessments and my major project was progressing well. 'What are you thinking about doing after year 12 next year?'
'I don't know. Mum and dad say I should do graphic design. They say I can make a living out of that.'
'Have you thought about going to art school?'
'Yeah, sure ... I'd love to. But my parents would freak. They want me to have a real job.'
'I think you should apply to the Victorian College of the Arts. I went there. It was amazing. You get your own studio and everything. You can still take graphic design subjects, if you like. But you'd get training in everything. And you could specialise in drawing or printmaking or sculpture. Whatever you like.'
I stared into my laptop screen. My hair was frizzy and I'd had an outbreak of pimples across my forehead and it was weird to be watching my own face next to his on the screen. He continued, 'I don't usually say this to my students ... but there's something about your work ... and there's this fire within you. But I think you need focus. I don't want you to be one of those students who slips through the cracks. I can talk to your parents if you like and see how they can support you in preparing an application to the VCA. It's pretty involved. You need to put a folio of work together and there's an interview panel. You'll need to be fully prepared.'
His enthusiasm made me feel rosy around the cheeks and I wondered if he'd notice. I played with the spine of a notebook beside me. 'I'd be really interested,' I said. 'Thank you. I'd appreciate you talking to my parents. It might help them understand things more. They don't really get it. They're into sport. They're not into art.'
'I can help,' Mr Colter said, pulling back from the screen a little. There was a large photograph in the background of a mid-century hotel with palm trees and the laptop screen was reflected in the glass on the print. 'We'll have to work on your art theory knowledge. I've got lots of books I can lend you. Reading about art is as important as looking at art. I want you to discover what you want to say with your work that hasn't been said before. Art should be a vehicle for important ideas. If you're not moving people in some way, there's no point.'
He said he'd get in touch with my parents in the next few days. 'Thank you, I really appreciate that,' I said.
'It's tough being in year 11 or 12 and going through this,' Mr Colter said. 'I feel for all of you. It's an important two years. But you're all adapting really well.'
I smiled into my lap. I was still wearing my pyjamas and had my pink slippers on my feet. 'It's strange,' I said. 'But it could be worse.'
'Stay safe, Ivy,' he said, before hanging up.