“Monsieur Girard grinned at the effect his story had had, and moved on, grunting disparagingly at another student’s efforts. As he approached her, Caitlyn went back to work, afraid to be caught slacking. He came to stand behind her, watching her attempts, and despite her best efforts her arm slowed and then dropped as she was overcome with self-consciousness. “Do you, too, have a brilliant artist locked in your head?” he asked. “No. I’m beginning to think I don’t know a thing about art.” “Class! Do you hear? She knows nothing about art! And she proves it in her drawing.” Caitlyn cringed. “This,” he went on, laying his hand upon her head, “is the proper state of mind for learning to draw. Your mind must be blank of your old ideas and old ways of seeing. You must start fresh, like a baby who has never seen the world.” He dropped his hand from her head and pointed to the area she’d shaded with parallel lines. “This is nice.” “Thank you,” Caitlyn said in soft surprise. He nodded in acknowledgment. “Keep listening. With open ears, you will be one of the few who learn.”