Shady Side Academy
Senior? Yes
Elite top 100? Yes
Letters of recommendation: Letter of Recommendation 1, Letter of Recommendation 2
I press the buzzer, wait for the sound of the locks unlatching, and then push the bright green door open. After the frigid Pittsburgh air, the warmth that envelops me is as welcoming as the same little white and green sign that I have seen so many times before: “Our Clubhouse: Providing Comfort, Care & Hope to Those Touched by Cancer.” Abby at the front desk checks me in, and I climb the stairs to the cozy art studio on the second floor.
I am greeted by stacks of easels, canvases, and palettes waiting to be set up. As I carefully position them on the table, people of all ages begin to make their way in sporadically, each entrance marked by a chorus of greetings and hugs. Some are familiar from my three years, others are brand new faces. After a quick, “I’m Sanjna. Let’s PAINT!” introduction, I hit the ‘play’ button on the stereo. For two hours, I maneuver around the room, helping a little girl perfect the feathers for her eagle and giving tips to a man trying to mix the perfect shade of green for his pear. Stopping by the woman with the red and orange hues accumulating on her paintbrush, I admire her work.
“That sunset is gorgeous,” I say. “If you want, adding purple to the corners will really make it pop.”
“That’s okay,” she replies. “I’d rather it be more quiet.”
“Oh, okay! It looks amazing regardless.” As she smiles and looks back down at her painting, I finish my lap around the room.
Class ends, and I begin my typical cleanup routine. The little girl bounds out of the room, happily clutching her eagle. The older man looks at his pear, excited to show his wife when she walks in. As my students file out the door, the woman with the sunset pulls me aside.
“I appreciate everything you’re doing for us,” she says with a grin. “And I want you to know something. I don’t come here so I can paint. I come here as a distraction. This is one of the few places where I can forget everything, even just for a little bit.” And with that, she turns on her heels and walks out, grasping her combination of warm colors. I continue to scrub brushes, pondering her compliment.
I imagine that when you or a loved one are dealing with cancer and the potential of death, life suddenly becomes an overwhelming blur of doctors, finances, emotional turmoil, and an endless string of well-wishers who need updates and are full of advice. Life is suddenly very full. I used to have this idea that I was expected to actively help my students cope, that I was responsible for healing their trauma. But the woman who sits in the back corner, painting her sunset, does not know me. We don’t talk, other than the chatter during class. But that little bit of ‘quiet’ – that’s how I can help.