Every September, something magical happens at Pali High. The blank classroom walls, about as inspiring as a DMV waiting room, are transformed into the remnants of a Blick’s explosion.
According to Ms. Smith, “Back-to-School Night is like our Met Gala. We can’t just let parents walk into a classroom with bare walls and think we’ve been, I don’t know, teaching. Therefore, we need to hot glue macaroni to everything in sight.”
In Spanish classrooms, every bulletin board becomes a collage of Día de los Muertos skulls and sombreros. Parents admire their children’s “ethnic projects,” while the teacher discreetly minimizes the Google Translate tab on the smartboard.
Parents can observe “Causes of WWII” written in pink glitter glue on posters. They can proudly note the only thing their child has learned so far written on a poster board: that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.
However, classrooms in the week leading up to Back to School Night more closely resemble a sweatshop than a school. Students sit hunched over their desks, hands blistered from cutting paper snowflakes for English class, whispering, “Please, sir, may I have more glitter?”
One sophomore, who requested anonymity in fear of retribution from Foreman Magee, said, “I haven’t slept in two days, but at least my parents will think we’ve been watching Macbeth instead of Netflix.”
Careful. Back-to-School Night periods cannot be longer than 10 minutes. Otherwise, an observant parent might notice the “HELP ME” on the back of their child’s poster board.
By Monday morning, it’s all gone, and the only proof of ‘student creativity’ or ‘hands-on learning’ is a trail of glitter leading straight to the recycling bin. But for just one magical night, Pali becomes an art school.