I was flattered when Pam called and asked if I could be a last minute substitute judge for the VFW Patriotic Art competition. I didn’t really feel qualified to judge art, but since Jason had been the school’s art teacher and an artist himself, he had taught me some things. “OK” I agreed, “10:15 a.m., room 216.”
I have no idea where room 216 is, I thought to myself as I entered the school the next day. When the secretary looked it up we both laughed because room 216 was the art room. I guess it was just one of those things…you know exactly how to get the store but have no idea what the address is.
I met up with the other judges outside of the classroom. We chatted and looked over the rules. When the bell rang, students filed out of the classroom. It was now the new art teacher’s prep period, and since she was also one of the judges, Pam would set up the art in her room for us to judge.
I didn’t anticipate what I felt next. As I walked in I felt dumb for being surprised that things were not exactly as he left them. I sat down as Pam laid out the art on his tables and glanced around. His still life objects – random things he had picked up at yard sales, antique shops, and around the house – were stuffed up in a corner. He would arrange these objects on a small table draped with a sheet in the center of the room and put a spotlight on it. The tables would be set up around this smaller table so that students could practice drawing the objects from different angles. They would learn about lighting, shading, perspective, value, and proportions.
Next I saw the white boards. Again, I was surprised. That isn’t his handwriting. I quickly looked down at my hands. This would be harder than I thought. Maybe if I just focused on judging the artwork…
But I glanced up one more time and I saw the bulletin board. It was neat and feminine with the typical curvy, cardboard border you see in schools. I had a flashback of that board as he had it.
I had put it together for him. It was my Father’s day gift. I printed out facts about him like how many siblings he had and why he chose art teaching as a career and about why he loved art. I also printed pictures to go along with the facts. I put these all on the board with a yellow butcher paper background. “So that when people come in this room, they’ll know who Mr. Harmon is, “ I told him proudly. It was our first job out of college and we were excited. As the years went by he added things to the board but never took the old things down. It looked awfully cluttered. I told him more than once he needed to re-do his board but he never did.
I was tempted to keep looking around the room, but I knew that was enough. The tears were already coming.
Instead I said, “Pam?”
“Yes?” and she looked at me.
“Could we go to a different room?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Of course.”