That's right, kids. The Big Cheese, the Big Big Cheese, and the Powers that Be hath spoken unto the masses, and the decision is clear. In fact, the Powers have pulled rank now, tightening their fist on us in an attempt to retain some dignity. "Due to recent controversy," the statement says, "The renovations will be moved to next month." At this point, they'd like us to believe resistance is futile; it's a dead issue. But we know better. Freedom of Speech, right? Besides, this fist is chafing.
It's not like it's the entire population of the school. Although we wish students were that concerned, it is, in truth, only a handful of virtually powerless riot-rousers stirring up all this controversy, running amuck in the chicken coop ruffling feathers. Only a handful, small enough that each of us could be singled out and swiftly, soundly suspended.
Time to bring out the heavy artillery, mayhaps?
Or wait, gathering power, and then strike? There's strength in numbers.
Patience.
Fact is, Larkin sold out. That simple. Admittedly, he had little choice-- our protests have put him in hot water. He had to get out and towel off, for pete's sake, before he lost his job. There are people above him that he simply has to swallow hard and suck up to; even our iron senior will can't change that. But although the Powers consider him down for the count, there's some fight in him yet. Even whilst lecturing our class ("I'm getting in trouble, folks! Stop. Calling. ABC News."), even whilst pleading with us to stop notifying the media, he smiled discreetly and added, shrugging, "All I can tell you now is, write to congress."
This is how it went down.
First, we were told of the decision by a decidedly peeved Larkin on the first day of school. The Spanish teacher down the hall, who has her students dip their hands in paint and make colorful handprints on the wall each year, had had years of Spanish class legacy simply erased from her wall with three coats of drab paint. ("Three coats? If it's cost of the paint they're concerned about, why shell out money to cover it with even more paint? It's a travesty!") And the English teacher, a former nun and the sweetest woman I know, was apparently heartbroken, because now her portraits of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, Edgar Allan Poe and William Shakespeare would be disappearing the following summer.
Getting cheesed off myself, politically active ideas already germinating in my head, I went and told my fellow Rats the sad news. "Let's PROTEST!" I said emphatically, pounding the lunch table. So we did.
The video production class, getting wind of the issue, began walking around with a video camera, interviewing students in the halls. Capturing their opinions on tape. The response was overwhelming: Keep our paintings. This is Shit of the Bull.. Armed with this information and all sparklingly full of democratic spirit, we proceeded to cook up ideas. One day, noticing Oprah Winfrey was portrayed on the wall in front of me, I stood up and announced to Mr. Larkin and the Social Studies class that I had a crazy idea: Why not send pics of the wall, along with the story, to Oprah? She's all for education; surely she would help. He did not rule it out. In fact, he said, he'd written a psychologist friend, asking for a letter explaining that images aid in learning.
But the Powers were not swayed. Never ones to give up, the Rats emailed the local ABC station, getting in contact with a Mr. Karr. Informing him: There's a board meeting Monday. Expect some Rats to be there. Sure enough, he took the bait. His interest captured, he gave Spaz his cell phone number. She was promptly sent to the office to call. She has always been afflicted with phone-phobia, but pausing outside the office door, she gathered encouraging messages from us and,sucking in her breath, went into the office to dial the digits. The office secretary, however, had other plans. Putting down her gargantuan foot, she explained that there would be no contacting the media without express permission from the principal, and permission would not be coming any time soon. So we all took down the number and went home.
This is why Spaz, maturely and with support from her mother, prepared a speech. This is why, even with an intense, hives-inducing fear of public speaking, she marched into the board meeting, flanked by fellow Rats, and delivered her stance in a dignified manner. This is why it was an outrage when, during her speech, the "dignified" board members leaned over and talked to each other, without one iota of respect for dear Spaz and her opinions. Even so, she proceeded to get interviewed, show up in the paper and the 6 o'clock News. The art class got inspired by her crusade and made protest posters. Hundreds of students, on their way to lunch, paused to read the colorful banners in all their blazing, insolent glory. I vowed to bring a camera the next day and capture them, but unfortunately, when I did, the art teacher had been forced to take them down.
That's right. They've tightened the fist, but it's far from over. I still managed to get the posters on film. Thanks, Mrs. Green. And we will continue to yell until we are heard. |
