Several weeks ago, for one of my classes, I had to make an accordion book. One side was to represent my literacy history, and the other side told the story of someone else, whom we were supposed to interview. The book was left to our own creativity to design, but it was supposed to represent us in some way. This is how my finished project looked:
The front and back side mirrored each other.
The professor’s name is Dr. Galli-Banducellioni, but everyone calls her Joanne. She is also my supervisor. I have been excited to get this project back, because I put a lot of time into it and wanted to see her comments. She passed them back in class today, along with the papers we wrote to go along with the book. I eagerly opened mine, and tried to contain my smile as I read all of her positive comments, saying that I was creative, funny, she loved the shape, and thought I had some good anecdotes. It took a while to read her page of notes, as her handwriting is extremely loopy and hard to decipher. Then, my smile quickly faded and my face became a deep, scarlet red as I read an extra little note. To the side, she said, “Note – yearbook pages stuck together – pages a little tacky.” My mind jumped to the conclusion of, “Oh. She must mean the front and back cover of the books.” If you notice in the picture above, on the inside book covers, I had used mod podge to glue a bunch of letters and other cute things I found on this alphabet paper in a craft store. Joanne had assumed that I had just gone to my yearbook, started cutting it out, and glued it in, and found that to be tacky!! I love this professor. She is so incredibly kind and sweet and bouncy – someone I want to impress, not look unbecoming in front of! She did receive her doctorate in reading literacy – I guess she thought cutting up anything with words printed on it was tacky. I was slightly mortified, and was wondering if everyone else in the class had thought my inside book covers were tacky as well, when they had looked at it. I thought about approaching Joanne and telling her that the pictures weren’t cut-outs from my yearbook, but from paper found in a craft store.
Instead, I left the classroom quickly, not wanting to run into Joanne. I ran into my roommate Erin, and I told her what Joanne had written. Erin was really surprised, as Joanne is a really nice person. I kind of shrugged and said, “I guess she takes any form of literacy very seriously.”
I had an hour break before I needed to get to my next class, which was in a computer lab. I went there early, wanting to double-check other work I had due for Joanne’s class. I wanted to take extra precautions in making sure no more tacky work was turned into her. I also began to re-evaluate my ways of thinking. Did I not appreciate literacy works? Why did I not see the project as being as tasteless as Joanne had? Did she look at it as though I had just cut up the Bible?
Another friend, Libby, who teaches at the same school that I do, was there. I didn’t really want to say anything about what Joanne had written, as I was embarrassed, but I also wanted to know if Libby thought it was tacky as well. I told her what Joanne had written, pulling out the sheet of paper to show Libby. Libby’s eyes got a little wide as I told her, and she said, “No, Joanne wouldn’t say that, even if she thought it.” I showed her the feedback paper, and Libby said, “This says, ‘Your book,’ not ‘yearbook!’ She’s saying that your front pages were slightly sticky!” Aha. Well that made sense. They were a little sticky, as I had used a little bit of acrylic paint, and the paint hadn’t fully dried by the time I turned it in (even though I had painted a week before turning it in!). I suddenly felt much better. Joanne didn’t think I was tacky after all. My reputation was not soiled.
