JANE C. MARTIN

I found the literal meaning of coloring outside the lines in kindergarten.  Watching how others moved their crayons inside each shape, some light, others inconsistent pressure leaving blotches.  The ones with dark lines around the edge shaded lightly were my favorite.  They were organized and pleased with something inside of me, and if I was really patient, I could do that, but I’m not usually.  What if I added pressure when I put the color to the paper.  My average-child-sized-body put its weight behind the force of the crayon.  The dark marks left were thick, and left sprinkles of wax all over the desk.  Faintly, I saw the marks begin to grow thin borders of grease around the waxy edges.  As my fingers slid over the bumps that had been worn down into a barely-there-topography, I sat back, pleased with my work.  

It was a beautiful, natural moment of my neurodivergent learning process. I will intentionally end this memory here because what comes next is, while now understandable in context, is unacceptable.

I am a learner of learners.  I have spent my educational and professional career trying to maneuver my way through the lens of the neurotypical. As a veteran teacher, I’ve “left the classroom” for the third time, after the realization that I could actually apply the advice I repeatedly gave to my students, to my own life.  (NOTE: I have gained more insight about the human learning process from students in my classroom. By being my most authentic, silly, queer, fat, neurodivergent self, high schoolers feel safe to be themselves, and most importantly, come back to when they fuck up. Professional development isn’t going to make you feel that.)  

I have rediscovered my intense self-affirming love through reflecting on my natural learning process.  Uninhibited experimentation with acrylic paints and inks have allowed my “teacher brain” to make notes about which color combinations exude intense warmth, and which textures can represent pure anger.  If I am curious, I let the mediums interact and I observe, and take note.       

Painting in one of very few socially acceptable ways to slow my brain to a pace that allows my thoughts to be fluid enough to comprehend.  I mostly use the time to process my repeated childhood trauma through reparenting.  “There is a lot of anger in this room, anger and healing”. 

When I’m feeling a bit lighter, I let my imagination run wild.  I am able to dream of what community learning could be. Still frames that only exist for milliseconds blip from one scene to the next.  Life could be so warm in our cores.  Humans of all stages and interests are reliant on our own self chosen groups instead of the external forces that mandate life’s daily requirements. Safe community context is key in this dream, so I hope through my art, I will find folks who also imagine beyond the status quo, and action oriented in the ways that feel authentic to them.  It’s really great over there in my dreams.  Even just a sliver of it could really shift quality of life, so the only question is what are you going to do to find your peace?   

——     Jane began her painting practice in May of 2023, the same month she left the classroom to pursue a career in K-12 STEM program development.  While she felt most at home in East Boston (Vamos Lobos!), she has lived in Wilmington, VT, Jacksonville, FL, and all over Massachusetts.  A non-traditional college student, Jane graduated from Middlesex Community College with an A.A. in Life Sciences and a concentration in studio arts.  Upon graduation, she left her job of seven years at Jordan’s Furniture to move across the state to Smith College in Northampton.  After graduating with a B.S. in biology and a minor in marine science, she became a classroom teacher.  With the mentorship of a brilliant educator, and sexy-ass partner, shea wesley, Jane excelled in her understanding of equity in education should and could look like.  The pursuit of just education has taken their family around the country.