When
i was still studying at PSID in Makati, there were a lot design
projects to do. I remember hurrying to the classroom, carrying a
T-square on one hand and on the other, a bag full of triangles,
pencils, watercolors, oil pastels, brushes and a rigid envelop
containing all of the design plates that our instructors so love to assign
us. Weeknights were spent making perspective drawings from floor
plans complete with color renderings. It took a lot of effort to
make just one plate. Imagine making three in one week! It's ironic
though that I still think it was the best episode of my life.I
enjoyed the challenge of making the plates, especially on subjects
like Color Rendering, Freehand and Perspective Drawings.
Architectural and Art History was quite boring but there was one
subject that really made me anxious: Interior Design I. Our
instructor was very critical. His verbal assaults can be
discouraging. My first plate was, according to him, capricious. I
didn't know exactly what he meant, but by the way he said it, I knew
it was not a compliment. When he returned our plates, I stared at the
red marking he mercilessly scribbled on my plate: 2.5 - barely
passing the prelim. It was the only subject that marred my report
card. I hated him that moment.
During
the finals, he made us design our own ideal private spaces. A place
of well-being, he called it. Most of my classmates had such
grandiose ideas but I opted to be honest about it. So I designed my
ideal bedroom. We were required to explain in writing why we think it
is our place of well-being. Then came the time to submit our plates.
My anxiety grew as our instructor mounted our plates on the wall.
There were so many drawings, good and bad, of log cabins, mountain
resorts and beach houses. Mine looked pathetic compared to the
others. A bedroom! To make matters worse, he called each one to
read what he wrote while our instructor holds the student's plate for
us to see. We had a few laughs but most of the time we were silent.
When it was my time to stand in front and read, the bell rang, My
friend Ellie whispered to me: You're saved by the bell. I smiled at
her and said: So are you. And we both laughed. Her plate was
mounted next to mine.
The
following week, we had our grades. Most of my final grades from other
subjects were either one point less or more than midterm, but to my
surprise and relief, my Interior Design I grade of 2.5 became 1.4 - quite a big leap, if I might add. My only regret though is that of not
knowing why. If I wasn't saved by the bell, would I have listened to
a compliment instead?
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