click image to enlargeI check the oil in my car all the time, like a ritual. And even though it is a ritual, I never remember to have a piece of cloth, or a paper towel to wipe the dip stick on. I look around the parking lot for a piece of paper on the ground. Today it was Clarance Washington’s spelling test. Clarance is in the sikth grade. His spelling is almost as bad as mine is. His whole personality was clearly reflected in his test paper. The sheet is covered with red corrections and yet he writes. “I love doing my homework.”
He has to make up a sentence using the word popcorn. He starts to write “I love buttery", but he can’t figure out how to spell buttery, so he crosses it out. Then he can see that his teacher will see his misspelling, so he crosses it out again even harder.
I’m not making this up at all. The paper is right here on my table. I didn’t use it for the oil. It plunged me for a moment back into my own childhood. I labored over my homework and tried to make it perfect to no avail. Why, if I could have engraved my homework I would have, if I could have gilded it I would have done that also. Anything, anything I could think of to please them.
Dimensions:
Materials: 23 k gold on watercolor paper
Signature: Along the bottom edge: Richard Britell , May 27, 2002
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