Day 174
As I mentioned last week, I’ve been giving away lots of my stuff to students via classroom raffles. Bluetooth keyboards have been the most popular items, but crystals, seashells, and colored pencil sets have also been a big hit. Classroom decorations have been less in demand, but I’ve given away wind chimes, a ceramic sun hand-made in Mexico, a Black Lives Matter t-shirt, a pride flag (to an ecstatic student), a “No Zombies Allowed” poster, and lots more.
In one sixth-grade class last week, the name I pulled out of the raffle bucket was a girl who has kept me at arm’s length all year. At one point, a month or so into the school year, I thought we’d had a breakthrough, but it was short-lived. She remained aloof and often dismissive. Eventually we settled into an unspoken pact of “don’t push me and I won’t push you.” As much as I don’t want to admit it, that’s pretty much where we still are.
So, when I pulled her name—which was after the two available keyboards had been claimed by other winners—I half expected her to say there was nothing in my room that she wanted. But she looked around, thought for an extended moment, and then pointed to a poster—a remix of the World War II-era “Rosie the Riveter” poster that features three working women of color underneath the words “Together we can do it.”
I tried not to show my surprise that she’d picked that poster. Instead, I climbed up on a chair and began to take it down. But it wouldn’t budge. Whatever adhesive I’d used wouldn’t let go from the wall. I was afraid I’d rip it, so I told her I’d get it down and bring it to her later that day.
This morning—five days after she said she wanted it—I was determined to get it down come hell or high water. I even brought a putty knife to school. But I couldn’t pry the poster from the tape, or the tape from the wall. (Side note: If you want to put a poster on your wall and have it outlast a zombie apocalypse, try EZlifego Double Sided Tape Heavy Duty.) I ripped a hole in one corner, but I thought I could still salvage it. Then the next corner was left with an even larger hole. By the time I got it down, the poster was a mangled mess.
I remembered that I’d bought it years ago from an organization called Syracuse Cultural Workers, so I jumped onto their website to see if they still sold it. They do. Then I went down to the girl’s classroom, told her what happened, and said I’d be glad to buy her a new copy of the poster and have it mailed to her home if she still wanted it. She said she thought she did. An hour later she showed up at my classroom door, a blank expression on her face and, in her hand, a tiny, tiny slip of paper with her street address printed on it.
I’m not pretending it was a breakthrough—it’s far too late in the year for that. But something about that poster that she saw on the wall all these weeks sparked something in her. And today, two days before the end of this final year, that is enough for me.