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Linwood Smith 166 Mike He never wanted to study. Not because he didn’t want to learn, Or because he couldn’t hear But because he wanted to draw. Every day he’d come to me and say, “Can I draw?” And I’d say, “No, it’s time to read.” Then he’d open his notebook and show me his pictures . . . Big, black, beautiful lines and circles that I didn’t understand. Once I asked him, “What’s that?” and he would flip the pages, and explain, “That’s Paul, that’s Peter, that’s Job and that’s the rope that Judas used to hang himself.” and he said, “Remember two weeks ago we studied the Bible?” “Were you listening, you didn’t seem to be paying attention, I think I got you about ten times for daydreaming.” The bell rang, he smiled and left. The next morning . . . like always . . . “Can I draw today?” And I said, “Sit down, Mike!” After class, he came over laid five pictures on my desk and said, “That’s me, that’s you, that’s my father, that’s my mother, and that’s God.” and walked out. Mike had a halo, I had wings, God had a beard, His mother and father . . . were hanging from ropes. ...

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