As the saying goes: "different strokes for different folks."  High school provides a delightful bas relief of this.  Whereas some find delight in English (nerds) and science (geeks), others just as easily find a comfort zone in athletics (jocks) and math (sadists.)

But who didn't love art class?

While the teacher may have required a certain degree of applied technique, there really is no standardized test for creative talent.  Unlike every other class, art was generally a time to put on a dirty shirt and get your hands messy.

Although the arts encompass a wide variety of such disciplines as things culinary, things audio/visual, things language, things performance, and things martial, "art class," as it were, was about things fine.  Yes, the fine arts of sketching, drawing, painting, printmaking, sculpting, and more.  In art class we learned to define it, theorize it, classify it, characterize it, and ultimately, utilize it.

In art class, we learned something about tonality, hue, and value by applying these concepts through sketches of still life.  We learned something about highlight and shadow by doing portraits, the most revealing of which were often ourselves.  We learned something about line and texture by running a chisel into linoleum and stamping it with ink.  We learned something about dimensions through mask work.  And depending on the level of knowledge and experience our teachers possessed, we often learned a great deal more. Most importantly, we learned art by making art.

The reviews may never have been glowing.  The exhibition may have been modest.  In the end, our effort was probably noted as being somewhere along the lines of "just fine."  And if anything showed us why it's called "fine art" instead of "great art," it was art class.