Ten years ago today, on March 11, 2016, Clara was a seven-year-old girl in second grade, sitting at the table, doing her homework, when this happened:
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My daughter had to vote for her “favorite groovy expression” from the list
below. She read through the choices. We explained what each expression meant.
Then she refused to pick. She didn’t like any of them. “I just like to dance. I don’t like any of this,” she said.
“Yes,” Elysha said. “But of the choices here, can you just tell me which one you like the best?”
Clara took the marker, scanned the page once more, thought for a long moment, and finally wrote the word “No” above each list.
It was the strangest thing. It was like looking in a mirror. So many times in my life, I have been asked to complete a form, fill out a worksheet, or vote on something like this, and so many times, I have willfully abstained.
Or attempted to make a mockery of the process.
Tried to inject myself unnecessarily into the request.
Rejected the attempt to put me in a box.
Pushed back on bureaucracy.
Refused.
When I’m asked to complete personal day or family illness forms at work, one of the lines asks for my position.
I’m supposed to write “Teacher.”
Instead, I write, “Upright.”
I do this kind of thing all the damn time.
I can’t describe the joy in discovering that I am no longer alone in my petulant nonconformity.
Elysha can see it too, as you can see from what she’s written on the assignment.
I’m just not sure if she is as gleeful about it as I am.
