Personalized homework help and expert tutors information

In response to school closures during the COVID-19 pandemic, the daily hours for availability of TutorATL’s online tutors are expanded to cover 9 a.m. to 11 p.m.

Cobb County Public Library offers TutorATL for free to Cobb County and Marietta City K-12 students with regular Cobb library cards and through Library PASS accounts. Powered by, TutorATL is a service of ATL PBA and is made possible by the generous support of the Chick-fil-A Foundation.

TutorATL features personalized homework help and expert tutors in more than 50 subjects with bilingual offerings. On-demand access to tutors has doubled with morning and early afternoon sessions added as regular hours for the tutor service are 4 p.m. to 11 p.m. Atlanta Public Schools and Fulton County Public Library are also TutorATL partners.

Library PASS (Public Library Access for Student Success) accounts are offered to all Cobb County and Marietta City students. Student numbers are the keys to Library PASS access. 

For information on TutorATL, visit

To explore the Cobb library’s student resources, visit

Digital Resources

This document provides a list of resources that will be used to support students during an extended District initiated physical absence from school. We understand face to face instruction provides the best opportunity to ensure content mastery, however we place great value in the proven digital resources that are shared below to act as a secondary response to instruction.  The following outlines the times that students should be accessing digital resources along with additional “digital office hours” for teacher support. In addition, a list of the primary resources to access assignments is provided along with some support resources that students can use to support content mastery.

Department:  CTAE

Content: Intro to Graphic Arts, Graphic Design and Production, Advanced Graphic Design 

Daily Student Work Hours: 10:30am-12:00 

Content Office Hours: 8 am- 9am 

Digital Resources links: Mr. Wardlaw 

Schoology Codes 

Advance Graphic & Design 1st Block — HX48-ZZ57-XSWXV > Click this Link

Graphic Design and Production 1st Block — BB2Q-DRQK-VTZ9T > Click this link

Intro to Graphics 2nd block – 3D7G-JRGG-FBSV4 > Click this link

Intro to Graphics 3rd Block – XW7X-MWPR-228RH > Click this link


How to Be Creative :: Sections 25/26

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then meditate on what you read and post your own, well crafted reply about what you have learned from the two sections, highlight some key words & post any questions you may have.


25.You have to find your own shtick.

A Picasso always looks like Picasso painted it. Hemingway always sounds like Hemingway. A Beethoven Symphony always sounds like a Beethovenʼs Symphony. Part of being a Master is learning how to sing in nobody elseʼs voice but your own.

Every artist is looking for their big, definitive “Ah-Ha!” moment, whether theyʼre a Master or not.

That moment where they finally find their true voice, once and for all.

For me, it was when I discovered drawing on the back of business cards.

Other, more famous and notable examples would be Jackson Pollack discovering splatter paint. Or Robert Ryman discovering all-white canvases. Andy Warhol discovering silkscreen. Hunter S. Thompson discovering Gonzo Journalism. Duchamp discovering the Found Object. Jasper Johns discovering the American Flag. Hemingway discovering brevity. James Joyce discovering stream-of-consciousness prose.

Every artist is looking for their big, definitive “Ah-Ha!” moment, whether they’re a Master or not.

Was it luck? Perhaps a little bit.

But it wasnʼt the format that made the art great. It was the fact that somehow while playing  around with something new, suddenly they found themselves able to put their entire selves into it.

Only then did it become their ʻshtick,ʼ their true voice, etc.

Thatʼs what people responded to. The humanity, not the form. The voice, not the form.

Put your whole self into it, and you will find your true voice. Hold back and you wonʼt. Itʼs that simple.

26. Write from the heart.

There is no silver bullet. There is only the love God gave you.

As a professional writer, I am interested in how conversation scales.

How communication scales, x to the power of n etc etc.

Ideally, if youʼre in the communication business, you want to say the same thing, the same way to an audience of millions that you would to an audience of one. Imagine the power youʼd have if you could pull it off.

But sadly, it doesnʼt work that way.

You canʼt love a crowd the same way you can love a person.

And a crowd canʼt love you the way a single person can love you.

Intimacy doesnʼt scale. Not really. Intimacy is a one-on-one phenomenon.

Itʼs not a big deal. Whether youʼre writing to an audience of one, five, a thousand, a million, ten million, thereʼs really only one way to really connect. One way that actually works: Write from the heart.

How to Be Creative :: Sections 23/24

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then meditate on what you read and post your own, well crafted reply:

Today’s sentence starter: A conclusion that I’m drawing is …

23. Worrying about “Commercial vs. Artistic” is a complete waste of time.

You can argue about “the shameful state of American Letters” till the cows come home. They were kvetching about it in 1950; theyʼll be kvetching about it in 2050.

Itʼs a path well trodden, and not a place where one is going to come up with many new, earth-shattering insights.

But a lot of people like to dwell on it because it keeps them from having to ever journey into unknown territory. Itʼs safe. It allows you to have strong emotions and opinions without any real risk to yourself. Without you having to do any of the actual hard work involved in the making and selling of something you believe in.

To me, itʼs not about whether Tom Clancy sells truckloads of books, or a Nobel Prize Winner sells diddlysquat. Those are just ciphers, a distraction. To me, itʼs about what YOU are going to do with the short time you have left on this earth. Different criteria altogether.

Frankly, how a person nurtures and develops his or her own “creative sovereignty,” with or without the help of the world at large, is in my opinion a much more interesting subject.

24. Don’t worry about finding inspiration. It comes eventually.

Inspiration precedes the desire to create, not the other way around.

One of the reasons I got into drawing cartoons on the back of business cards was I could carry them around with me. Living downtown, you spend a lot of time walking around the place. I wanted an art form that was perfect for that.

So if I was walking down the street and I suddenly got hit with the itch to draw something, I could just nip over to the nearest park bench or coffee shop, pull out a blank card from my bag and get busy doing my thing. Seamless. Effortless. No fuss. I like it.

Before, when I was doing larger works, every time I got an idea while walking down the street Iʼd have to quit what I was doing and schlep back to my studio while the inspiration was still buzzing around in my head. Nine times out of ten the inspired moment would have passed by the time I got back, rendering the whole exercise futile. Sure, Iʼd get drawing anyway, but it always seemed I was drawing a memory, not something happening at that very moment.

If youʼre arranging your life in such a way that you need to make a lot of fuss between feeling the itch and getting to work, youʼre putting the cart before the horse. Youʼre probably creating a lot of counterproductive “Me, The Artist, I must create, I must leave something to posterity” melodrama. Not interesting for you or for anyone else.

You have to find a way of working that makes it dead easy to take full advantage of your inspired moments. They never hit at a convenient time, nor do they last long.

Conversely, neither should you fret too much about “writerʼs block,” “artistʼs block,” or whatever. If youʼre looking at a blank piece of paper and nothing comes to you, then go do something else. Writerʼs block is just a symptom of feeling like you have nothing to say, combined with the rather weird idea that you SHOULD feel the need to say something.

Why? If you have something to say, then say it. If not, enjoy the silence while it lasts. The noise will return soon enough. In the meantime, youʼre better off going out into the big, wide world, having some adventures, and refilling your well. Trying to create when you donʼt feel like it is like making conversation for the sake of making conversation. Itʼs not really connecting, itʼs just droning on like an old, drunken barfly.

How to Be Creative :: Sections 21/22

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then meditate on what you read and post your own, well crafted reply:

Today’s sentence starter: It makes a difference that this text was written because …

21. Selling out is harder than it looks.

Diluting your product to make it more “commercial” will just make people like it less.

Many years ago, barely out of college, I started schlepping around the ad agencies, looking for my first job.

One fine day a Creative Director kindly agreed for me to come show him my portfolio. Hooray!

So I came to his office and showed him my work. My work was bloody awful. All of it.

Imagine the worst, cheesiest “I used to wash with Sudso but now I wash with Lemon-Fresh Rinso Extreme” vapid housewife crap. Only far worse than that.

The CD was a nice guy. You could tell he didnʼt think much of my work, though he was far too polite to blurt it out. Finally he quietly confessed that it wasnʼt doing much for him.

“Well, the target market are middle class housewives,” I rambled. “Theyʼre quite conservative, so I thought Iʼd better tone it down…”

“You can tone it down once youʼve gotten the job and once the client comes after your ass with a red hot poker and tells you to tone it down,” he laughed. “Till then, show me the toned-up version.”

This story doesnʼt just happen in advertising. It happens everywhere.

22. Nobody cares. Do it for yourself.

Everybody is too busy with their own lives to give [two-cents] about your book, painting, screenplay, etc., especially if you havenʼt

sold it yet. And the ones that arenʼt, you donʼt want in your life anyway.

Making a big deal over your creative shtick is the kiss of death. Thatʼs all I have to say on the subject.

How to Be Creative :: Sections 19/20

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then meditate on what you read and post your own, well crafted reply:

Today’s sentence starter: The author is trying to make me (see, feel, know, do) …


 19. Sing in your own voice.

Picasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldnʼt paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinbergʼs formal drafting skills were appalling. T.S. Eliot had a full-time day job. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan canʼt sing or play guitar.

But that didnʼt stop them, right?

So I guess the next question is, “Why not?”

I have no idea. Why should it?

20. The choice of media is irrelevant.

Every mediaʼs greatest strength is also its greatest weakness. Every form of media is a set of fundamental compromises; one is not “higher” than the other. A painting doesnʼt do much; it just sits there on a wall. Thatʼs the best and worst thing thing about it. Film combines sound, movement, photography, music, acting. Thatʼs the best and worst thing thing about it. Prose just uses words arranged in linear form to get its point across. Thatʼs the best and worst thing thing about it, etc.

Back in college, I was an English Major. I had no aspirations for teaching, writing or academe; it was just a subject I could get consistently high grades in. Plus, I liked to read books and write papers, so it worked well enough for me.

My M.O. was, and still is, to just have a normal life, be a regular schmo, with a terrific hobby on the side.

Most of my friends were Liberal Arts Majors, but there the similarity ended. We never really went to class together. I dunno, weʼd meet up in the evenings and weekends, but I never really socialized with people in my classes that much.

So it was always surprising to me to meet the Art Majors: fine arts, film, drama, architecture, etc. They seemed to live in each otherʼs pockets. They all seemed to work, eat, and sleep together. Lots of bonding going on. Lots of collaboration. Lots of incestuousness. Lots of speeches about the sanctity of their craft.

Well, a cartoon only needs one person to make it. Same with a piece of writing. No Big Group Hug required. So all this sex-fueled socialism was rather alien to me, even if parts of it seemed very appealing.

During my second year at college, I started getting my cartoons published, and not just the school paper. Suddenly I found meeting girls easy. I was very happy about that, I can assure you, but life carried on pretty much the same. I suppose my friends thought the cartooning gigs were neat or whatever, but it wasnʼt really anything that affected our friendship. It was just something I did on the side, the way other people restored old cars or or kept a darkroom for their camera.

My M.O. was, and still is, to just have a normal life, be a regular schmo, with a terrific hobby on the side. Itʼs not exactly rocket science.

Looking back, I also see a lot of screwy kids who married themselves to their medium of choice for the wrong reasons.

This attitude seemed kinda alien to the Art Majors I met. Their chosen art form seemed more like a religion to them. It was serious. It was important. It was a big part of their identity, and it almost seemed to them that humanityʼs very existence totally depended on them being able to pursue their dream as a handsomely rewarded profession etc.

Donʼt get me wrong, I knew some Art Majors who were absolutely brilliant. One or two of them are famous now. And I can see if youʼve got a special talent, how the need to seriously pursue it becomes important.

But looking back, I also see a lot of screwy kids who married themselves to their medium of choice for the wrong reasons. Not because they had anything particularly unique or visionary to say, but because it was cool. Because it was sexy. Because it was hip. Because it gave them something to talk about at parties. Because it was easier than thinking about getting a real job after graduation.

Iʼm in two minds about this. One part of me thinks itʼs good for kids to mess around with insanely high ambitions, and maybe one or two of them will make it, maybe one or two will survive the cull. Thatʼs whatʼs being young is all about, and I think itʼs wonderful.

The other side of me wants to tell these kids to beware of choosing difficult art forms for the wrong reasons. You can wing it while youʼre young, but itʼs not till your youth is over that The Devil starts seeking out his due. And thatʼs never pretty. Iʼve seen it happen more than once to some very dear, sweet people, and itʼs really heartbreaking to watch.

How to Be Creative :: Sections 15/16

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then meditate on what you read and post your own, well crafted reply:
Today’s sentence starter: So, the big idea is…


15. The most important thing a creative person can learn, professionally, is where to draw the red line that separates what you are willing to do, and what you are not.

Art suffers the moment other people start paying for it. The more you need the money, the more people will tell you what to do. The less control you will have. The more [nonsense] you will have to swallow. The less joy it will bring. Know this and plan accordingly.

Recently, I heard Chris Ware, currently one of the top 2 or 3 most critically acclaimed cartoonists on the planet, describe his profession as “unrewarding.”

When the guy at the top of the ladder youʼre climbing describes the view from the top as “unrewarding,” be concerned. Heh.

I knew Chris back in college, at The University of Texas. Later, in the early 1990ʼs I knew him hanging around Wicker Park in Chicago, that famous artsy neighborhood, while he was getting his Masters from The School of The Art Institute, and I was working as a junior copywriter at Leo Burnett. We werenʼt that close, but we had mutual friends. Heʼs a nice guy. Smart as hell.

So Iʼve watched him over the years go from talented undergraduate to famous rockstar comic strip guy. Nice to see, certainly—itʼs encouraging when people you know get deservedly famous. But also it was really helpful for me to see first-hand the realities of being a professional cartoonist, both good and bad. Itʼs nice to get a snapshot of reality.

His example really clarified a lot for me about 5-10 years ago when I got to the point where my cartoons got good enough to where I could actually consider doing it professionally. I looked at the market, saw the kind of life Chris and others like him had, saw the people in the business calling the shots, saw the kind of deluded planet most cartoon publishers were living on, and went, “Naaaah.”

Thinking about it some more, I think one of the main reasons I stayed in advertising is simply because hearing “change that ad” pisses me off a lot less than “change that cartoon.” Though the compromises one has to make writing ads can often be tremendous, thereʼs only so much you have to take personally. Itʼs their product, itʼs their money, so itʼs easier to maintain healthy boundaries. With cartooning, I invariably found this impossible.

The most important thing a creative person can learn, professionally, is where to draw the red line that separates what you are willing to do, and what you are not. It is this red line that demarcates your sovereignty, that defines your own private creative domain. What [nonsense] you are willing to take, and what [nonsense] youʼre not. What you are willing to relinquish control over, and what you arenʼt. What price you are willing to pay, and what price you arenʼt. Everybody is different; everybody has his or her own red line. Everybody has his or her own Sex and Cash Theory.

When I see somebody “suffering for their art,” itʼs usually a case of them not knowing where that red line is, not knowing where the sovereignty lies.

Somehow he thought that sleazy producer wouldnʼt make him butcher his film with pointless rewrites, but alas! Somehow he thought that gallery owner would turn out to be a competent businessman, but alas! Somehow he thought that publisher would promote his new novel properly, but alas! Somehow he thought that Venture Capitalist would be less of an asshole about the start-upʼs cash flow, but alas! Somehow he thought that CEO would support his new marketing initiative, but alas!

Knowing where to draw the red line is like knowing yourself, like knowing who your real friends are. Some are better at it than others. Life is unfair.

16. The world is changing.

Some people are hip to it, others are not. If you want to be able to afford groceries in 5 years, Iʼd recommend listening closely to the former and avoiding the latter. Just my two cents.

Your job is probably worth 50% what it was in real terms 10 years ago. And who knows? It may very well not exist in 5-10 years.

We all saw the traditional biz model in my industry, advertising, start going down the tubes 10 years or so ago. Our first reaction was “work harder.”

It didnʼt work. People got shafted in the thousands. Itʼs a cold world out there.

We thought being talented would save our [butts]. We thought working late and weekends would save our [butts]. Nope.

We thought the Internet and all that Next Big Thing, new media and new technology stuff would save our [butts]. We thought it would fill in the holes in the ever-more intellectually-bankrupt solutions we were offering our clients. Nope.

When I see somebody “suffering for their art,” it’s usually a case of them not knowing where that red line is, not knowing where the sovereignty lies.

Whatever. Regardless of how the world changes, regardless of what new technologies, business models and social architectures are coming down the pike, the one thing “The New Realities” cannot take away from you is trust.

The people you trust and vice versa, this is what will feed you and pay for your kidsʼ college. Nothing else.

This is true if youʼre an artist, writer, doctor, techie, lawyer, banker, or bartender. I.e., stop worrying about technology. Start worrying about people who trust you.

In order to navigate The New Realities you have to be creative—not just within your particular profession, but in EVERYTHING. Your way of looking at the world will need to become ever more fertile and original. And this isnʼt just true for artists, writers, techies, Creative Directors and CEOs; this is true for EVERYBODY. Janitors, receptionists and bus drivers, too. The game has just been ratcheted up a notch.

How to Be Creative :: Sections 11/12

MacLeod highlights the value of authenticity and hard work, and reveals the challenges and rewards of being creative.

Read the sections from Mr. MacLeod’s manifesto on how to be creative. Then post your own, well crafted reply; using this sentence to start your reply: The most important message here is …

Sentence Starter Today: The most important message here is …

11. Don’t try to stand out from the crowd; avoid crowds altogether.

Your plan for getting your work out there has to be as original as the actual work, perhaps even more so. The work has to create a totally new market. Thereʼs no point trying to do the same thing as 250,000 other young hopefuls, waiting for a miracle. All existing business models are wrong. Find a new one.

Iʼve seen it so many times. Call him Ted. A young kid in the big city, just off the bus, wanting to be a famous something: artist, writer, musician, film director, whatever. Heʼs full of fire, full of passion, full of ideas. And you meet Ted again five or ten years later, and heʼs still tending bar at the same restaurant. Heʼs not a kid anymore. But heʼs still no closer to his dream.

His voice is still as defiant as ever, certainly, but thereʼs an emptiness to his words that wasnʼt there before.

Yeah, well, Ted probably chose a very well-trodden path. Write novel, be discovered, publish bestseller, sell movie rights, retire rich in 5 years. Or whatever.

No worries that there are probably three million other novelists/actors/musicians/painters etc with the same plan. But of course, Tedʼs special. Of course his fortune will defy the odds eventually. Of course. Thatʼs what he keeps telling you, as he refills your glass.

Is your plan of a similar ilk? If it is, then Iʼd be concerned.

When I started the business card cartoons I was lucky; at the time I had a pretty well-paid corporate job in New York that I liked. The idea of quitting it in order to join the ranks of Bohemia didnʼt even occur to me. What, leave Manhattan for Brooklyn? Ha. Not bloody likely. I was just doing it to amuse myself in the evenings, to give me something to do at the bar while I waited for my date to show up or whatever.

There was no commercial incentive or larger agenda governing my actions. If I wanted to draw on the back of a business card instead of a “proper” medium, I could. If I wanted to use a four-letter word, I could. If I wanted to ditch the standard figurative format and draw psychotic abstractions instead, I could. There was no flashy media or publishing executive to keep happy. And even better, there was no artist-lifestyle archetype to conform to.

It gave me a lot of freedom. That freedom paid off in spades, later.

Question how much freedom your path affords you. Be utterly ruthless about it.

Itʼs your freedom that will get you to where you want to go. Blind faith in an over subscribed, vainglorious myth will only hinder you.

Is your plan unique? Is there nobody else doing it? Then Iʼd be excited. A little scared, maybe, but excited.

12. If you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you.

The pain of making the necessary sacrifices always hurts more than you think itʼs going to. I know. It sucks. That being said, doing something seriously creative is one of the most amazing experiences one can have, in this or any other lifetime. If you can pull it off, itʼs worth it. Even if you donʼt end up pulling it off, youʼll learn many incredible, magical, valuable things. Itʼs NOT doing it when you know you full well you HAD the opportunity—that hurts FAR more than any failure.

Frankly, I think youʼre better off doing something on the assumption that you will NOT be rewarded for it, that it will NOT receive the recognition it deserves, that it will NOT be worth the time and effort invested in it.

The obvious advantage to this angle is, of course, if anything good comes of it, then itʼs an added bonus.

The second, more subtle and profound advantage is: that by scuppering all hope of worldly and social betterment from the creative act, you are finally left with only one question to answer:

Do you make this damn thing exist or not?

And once you can answer that truthfully to yourself, the rest is easy.