Broken Crayons, Whole Hearts: Painting a New Future

jobbeeacademy
Aug 27
5 min read

Young child in a colorful dress draws with crayons in a coloring book on the floor, surrounded by scattered crayons. Peaceful atmosphere.

All it took was a few broken crayons. Not the fancy ones. Not the box with all the exotic colors. No, just a box of eight basic colors. The picture was one that only a mother can love. Or at least that's what we all thought, in the beginning. That was before all it took was a picture to make a difference.

Cayla was eight years old when she drew her first recognizable picture. It was a simple picture of a crooked drawn house with a tree in the front, and a sun in the sky. The sidewalk had a winding trail that led up to the crooked house. The crooked house with the almost square windows and the ruffle curtains. There was a family of course, standing in the front yard with the green, green grass. Although the family was all stick people with u faces and bags for the girls and flat top haircuts for the boys. It was still a picture of the family. A symbol as it may. A choice to make a difference. On the other side of the world, another girl was drawing a picture. She had never used the box of eight crayons. No, she only used two tools for her masterpiece. Her picture also portrayed a family. One made of stick people. It was hard to see the hairdo, however. Crayons make it easy. You can see the redhead and the bronze babies with the use of the box of eight. Yes, eight Crayola, crayons. But when your only tools are sticks and dirt, it’s hard to tell. But, a mother can.

The first time that Cayla knew the picture would make a difference was on a field trip. It was at the city library. Outside the McDonald’s that the teacher took them to, she saw a homeless family.

Rather a half of family.

There was no father.

There was also no food. They were outside asking for it.

The teacher and the bus driver both gave them money to eat and the mother quickly went into McDonald’s and bought the children food.

Cayla badly wanted to give them something but she had no money besides what her teacher had told them to bring. As Cayla sat and watched the children gobble down their food she thought of her picture of a stick family. She thought of the house she drew that looked like her own. The one with the chimney, crooked windows, and family of four. The picture with the father and mother holding hands, with the two kids under the sun. The picture that was drawn with the crayons. The box of eight Crayola crayons. The broken ones.

Childlike drawing of a happy family walking on grass with a dog, house, tree, and sun. Blue clouds and birds in the sky. Bright colors.

So Cayla gave the only thing she had. The picture and two crayons from the broken box of eight. And that’s where it started. The first smile. The one that said more than thank you. The one that made everyone’s day. Cayla thought about that smile a long time that night before she went to bed. She told her mother why she no longer had eight but, instead, six crayons. Her mother didn’t mind. In fact, she was very proud of her daughter. She was so proud that she bought her a box of fourteen brand new crayons.

And Cayla did just as she had before. She looked for children everywhere she went. She even convinced her father to take her out on weekends to soup kitchens to give out her gifts. She spent her evenings drawing pictures. And she spent her weekends passing out, two broken crayons, two plain white papers, and one drawn picture. The picture of the house with the winding driveway, the green, green grass and the crooked curtains. And just like that her passion was born.

Soon, there were children lined up on weekends waiting for Cayla. She got more creative. Sometimes she would draw families with no father. Sometimes she would put flowers in the front yard. And every weekend she broke her crayons in half.

Broken crayons scattered on a colorful, chaotic scribbled drawing. Vivid lines and circles in various hues create a playful, creative mood.

So she shared her crayons from the box of fourteen. She shared her pictures of the houses with the different color people. She shared all she had. And then she shared her idea. First, she told a teacher. Ms. Miller had been Cayla’s teacher two years ago when she was in the third grade. She was also the teacher that had taken her on the library trip when she gave away her first picture. The picture she had created with the box of eight broken crayons.

Cayla’s teacher decided to get the whole school involved. Once a week the kids would spend an hour a day drawing pictures for homeless children. And yes, the crayons were always broken in half. One-half to draw the pictures that put the smiles on their face. And half the crayons were used so they could draw smiles of their own. By the time Cayla graduated high school she had been instrumental in delivering over a hundred thousand pictures to children in homeless shelters all over the country. She had been on countless news segments and people from all over the country sent her tons of blank paper and tons of money too. A crayon company even wrote her into a grant that now paid for all the crayons. And Cayla would break them in half, draw the pictures of families and pass them out. That was over 15 years ago. years ago.

Woman with black hair writing in a journal at a desk in a cozy room. Pastel colors, patterned wallpaper, and flowers create a calm mood.

“There are many children who have written to me over the years and thanked me for those pictures of the families with different faces". They loved the houses with the Smokey chimney and the slanted windows with the crooked curtains. Many of those children are still a part of my life. And my teacher is still my advisor. Today she is also my traveling companion. We have traveled to over seventeen countries throughout the world, passing out our broken crayons.

Last month I traveled to a very poor country and as I bent down and handed a little girl two broken crayons and two pieces of paper and one picture I smiled. Her picture looked much like mine. Her tools were different. She had a stick and her family that she drew was in the dirt. But I learned something.

Having a broken crayon or a stick in the dirt doesn't matter. The picture does!

Many of us are broken crayons. This is why Black on the job exists. We understand that sometimes the only thing we have to fight with is a broken stick and some pieces from a broken crayon box. This month we are doing our DIY Resume workshop.