This Side Up

A lesson in wax

John Howell
Posted 4/21/15

Alex had a red dot on the back of her right hand. So did her twin sister, Sydney.

They held their hands up so I could get a better look, and said nothing.

“What? Where have you guys …

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This Side Up

A lesson in wax

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Alex had a red dot on the back of her right hand. So did her twin sister, Sydney.

They held their hands up so I could get a better look, and said nothing.

“What? Where have you guys been?”

They smiled.

“We haven’t been anywhere,” Sydney proclaimed.

Clearly I was meant to guess, but if the red dots were not some form of admission identification, what could they be?

Alex waved her hand in front of me. I took it and looked at the dot closely.

“Mutant chicken pox,” I announced with an authoritative tone.

“Nope,” she responded with delight. She twirled, and the straight black hair of her wig lifted from her shoulders. She wore a band around her head and eyeliner accented her eyes. It was obvious Erica had not only spent a lot of time on the makeup but also the costume. Alex had transformed into Cleopatra.

Her sister provided the contrast. She was dressed in black, a Halloween witch’s outfit. There was no makeup.

“I’ve got to get your hair, we haven’t got a lot of time,” Erica said as Sydney slid off in her stocking feet to find a brush.

She was back in a moment, and Erica set to rolling her hair into a bun.

“There you are, Marie Curie,” Erica said.

The twins were ready for the wax museum. Each had researched the character they had chosen to portray. The first part of the assignment was to prepare a two-minute class presentation describing the accomplishments of the person they had chosen. They were permitted to use cue cards and expected to stand up in class in front of their peers.

I don’t recall doing anything like that in third grade, but then remembering anything from that far back has not been one of my fortes. There’s one lesson I’ll never forget from elementary school – the milk money episode. Milk was cheap then, maybe 5 cents, but my mother had given me 25 cents and the woman in the cafeteria insisted on the exact change.

I brought this to the attention of my teacher, and she told me to go to the classroom next door and ask the teacher there for change. I did what I was told and barged into the adjoining classroom. It went downhill from there.

The teacher was not happy with the interruption and my demand “I need change.” He glowered. I had that sinking feeling something bad was about to happen. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. I didn’t know what to do, so I just froze.

“There,” he said thrusting his hand in my face. I didn’t know what to do.

“Make change,” he bellowed. I didn’t understand what he expected, but I knew I was scared. I started crying which was all the more humiliating because all the kids in the class were now looking at me. He kept looking at me. I turned and bolted. The kids were all laughing, which made it even worse.

So, I doubt I could have stood up in front of my third-grade class and given a two-minute account of a historic celebrity even if everything was written out word-for-word on a handful of cards.

But Alex and Sydney really knew their material, and amazingly had overcome all fear of presenting it. Carol and I were given the dry run of the classroom presentations on Easter Day with Alex recounting Cleopatra’s rule and Sydney talking of Curie’s Nobel Prizes and her work with radiology and how that eventually claimed her life. Erica and Ted coached them.

“Slow down a bit … look at your audience,” Erica advised.

“Don’t pick your nose,” was another bit of advice followed by, “stop giggling.” It was most entertaining.

There were no giggles at Stony Brook School in North Kingstown Thursday evening, but there was an abundance of energy, parents, grandparents and siblings.

This was the site of the wax museum, the final step in the class project. Here the kids assumed the character in history they had researched and came appropriately dressed. It was not difficult to spot Benjamin Franklin, Neil Armstrong, Queen Elizabeth, Susan B. Anthony and Harriet Tubman.

As the parents waited in the cafeteria, the “wax” figures took their positions in the all purpose room. Then the doors opened and we all poured in. The kids were in lines, holding their poses and trying not to even blink.

There was a fanfare of music followed by remarks from the teacher and instructions to “go push the buttons.”

It’s what everyone did. They touched the red dots and Andrew Jackson, Steve Jobs and many more characters from history came to life, identifying who they were and what they accomplished in 30 seconds with no cue cards. When finished, they went back to their wax pose.

“Now I know,” I said reaching out to Alex. She didn’t crack a smile. I winked and made a silly face. Still nothing. She was in wax for certain. A couple of other grandparents stopped to see what would happen.

Alex could have been the Sphinx. She didn’t move.

Then, I reached over and touched the red spot. She came to life, flawlessly telling me about Cleopatra. When she reassumed her pose, her right arm arched like a snake. I couldn’t resist giving her a kiss on the head.

Cleopatra had that effect on men.

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