We Were Made To Create!

In Ms. Tarkington’s third-grade classroom, where multiplication tables and cursive writing ruled the day, a different kind of competition was brewing in the back corner. Four young artists, armed with nothing but number two pencils and notebook paper, huddled around their desks during recess. The challenge of the day: who could draw the most radical Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?

I was eight years old when I discovered my superpower. While other kids struggled to draw stick figures, my pencil danced across the paper, bringing Michelangelo to life with every stroke. My fellow artists were worthy opponents in our daily drawing battles. One day it would be Bart Simpson’s spiky head, the next, a car that looked like it drove straight out of the year 3000.

The city arts festival became my championship ring, and my elementary school walls bore my winning pieces like trophies. Each drawing found its way into my prized possession: a thick, worn binder that held every sketch, doodle, and masterpiece I’d ever created. It was my portfolio, my time capsule, my proof that I was meant to be an artist.

Then came that fateful day in eighth grade. The gym locker room, usually filled with the smell of old sneakers and gym cloths, became the scene of a crime that would alter my artistic trajectory. When I discovered my locker had been broken into and my beloved binder was gone, it felt like losing a piece of my soul. Years of creativity, vanished in an instant.

High school arrived with its own cruel irony – not a single art class in sight. Instead, I found myself in drafting and design, ruler replacing pencil, precision overtaking creativity. Yet somehow, in those straight lines and measured angles, I discovered a new kind of artistry. Architecture beckoned like a practical dream, a “sensible” creative career.

But fate wasn’t finished with my story. She arrived in the form of an art school representative, her presentation filled with possibilities I’d never imagined. As she flipped through programs – graphic design, animation, web development, and film – I saw my childhood dreams reimagined through a digital lens. Computer animation became my chosen path, a perfect fusion of all my creative passions.

That stolen portfolio in eighth grade wasn’t the end of my artistic journey – it was just the plot twist I needed to find my true calling. Now, instead of battling over who can draw the best ninja turtle, I create digital worlds and design in digital spaces where businesses and ministries can thrive.

Sometimes I wonder about that old binder, about where those drawings ended up. But then I look at my screen, at the ideas and visions I bring to life every day, and I realize that eight-year-old artist would be proud. He didn’t lose his creativity after all – he just found a new canvas.