January 26, 2011

January 26, 2011

Remember This, Volume 19: Paste

Though you may have learned at the knee of a private tutor or relative (homeschool shout-out), I was raised in Milwaukee Public Schools. (Motto: Training tomorrow’s community college graduates!) Say what you will about its staff (excellent), academics (quite good), or safety (less so), compared to the private school I transferred to in 6th grade, MPS had money out the wazoo (technical term).

OUR ART ROOM HAD A KILN. For real. Take it in.

I mean, we did so many science experiments, it was unreal. I may or may not have built a lightbulb. I dunno. It was a long time ago.

But anyway, back to the art supplies. Remember sticky tape (the colored kind that you could lick on one side)? Remember crepe paper?

Remember paste?

Aw, paste. One of those substances I loved to smell (also: rubber cement, gasoline) (also also: do I have an addiction) but was instructed not not NOT to eat. Despite the fact that, frankly, paste looks delicious in a lardy sort of way. I have no idea what it was made of (horse hooves and childhood dreams?) or who made it. As a kindergartener, it was hard to process much more than “I need to get one of the red pencils” and “I have to pee. Bad. Real bad.”

(Oh, dude, and smocks? Smocks? Man, I loved smocks. I’m lucky that the teacher had extra on hand, because the ol’ “Just bring one of your brother’s old shirts” suggestion doesn’t work when you don’t have a brother.)

Am I the only one with fond memories of margarine tubs filled with love and sticky adhesive?

0 Fish in a Sea of Diet Coke: