“Hi, Alice Trumbull! Hi, Patty Sanchez!” Laura Worthington was there. She had been the weather girl on Channel Four a dozen years ago. She was willowy and blond with graceful hands that framed the cartoon images of smiling suns and angry clouds on the weather map. Everyone always said how much she looked like Vanna White.
“Well, now that we know who everybody is and no one has any anonymity anymore, do you suppose we can proceed with the meeting?” Jo Ellen asked.
A Kleenex went up on the other side of the circle. “Patty Sanchez. For the record, I have about as much anonymity as I can bear right now. And I love that Laura Worthington is in our group.”
“For more than a year now,” Laura said.
Together we made a small sound of wonder.
“Who’d like to tell their story today?” Jo Ellen said.
All the Kleenex stayed down for a while and then finally one gave a small flutter not too far from the seat of the chair. “Go ahead,” Jo Ellen said.
“It’s Lila Robinson again,” Mrs. Robinson said.
“Hi, Lila.”
“I have to say, having Clover here today has got me feeling a little emotional. Don’t misunderstand me,” she said quickly. “I’m glad you came. Sorry for you, of course, but glad to have somebody here I know from before. I had both of Clover’s children in my class. They were very good children, lots of energy. Your Evie would have turned cartwheels all day long if I’d let her. Did she keep up with her gymnastics?”
“She’s a cheerleader at Ohio State,” I said. Something in me began to unclench the slightest bit.
“It makes me think about all the wonderful students I had,” Mrs. Robinson said, the emotion coming up in her voice. “I was with the school system for almost thirty years but when I became invisible, bang, that was it. They were done with me. I think we could do with a few more invisible teachers, especially in the upper grades. Even if they couldn’t use us in the classrooms teaching regular classes, we could still be hall monitors or test proctors. If you ask me there would be a lot less bullying if we had invisible teachers. But no, I wasn’t normal. They thought I might upset the children. I told them I could come in naked, the children wouldn’t even know I was there, but then they said I could be violating their civil liberties.”
“Because of the nakedness or the fact they wouldn’t know you were there?” someone snapped. Maybe it was Patty Sanchez. I wasn’t positive.
“What about your civil liberties?” Laura Worthington said. Her voice I knew. Be looking for sunshine around the middle of the week .
“We aren’t even covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act.” There was a low tide of grumbling in the room.
“No one is interested in us,” Mrs. Robinson said. “When I look back on my life, I was invisible for so many years before I became invisible. I never did stand up for myself. If you don’t stand up before you become invisible, what chance do you have of making people pay attention to you when you aren’t there?”
“Amen to that,” a voice said.
We all had something to say now, all the Kleenex were up and people had started talking over one another. Jo Ellen raised her voice for order when all of a sudden the door to the Magnolia Room opened and a young Filipino woman pushing a cart came into the room. Instantly, we fell into a perfect silence, all of the Kleenex fluttering to the floor. Were we busted? I followed suit and dropped my tissue. The young woman stood in the door for a long time, her large, dark eyes sweeping the room from side to side. Finally she guided her cart over to the refreshment table. Like us, she made absolutely no sound. She was a tiny thing. The beige polyester uniform she wore was no doubt the smallest one they made and it was two sizes too big for her. She looked at the cups and the plates and, deciding they were actually dirty, loaded them onto her cart along with the coffee urn. She took a
“Well, now that we know who everybody is and no one has any anonymity anymore, do you suppose we can proceed with the meeting?” Jo Ellen asked.
A Kleenex went up on the other side of the circle. “Patty Sanchez. For the record, I have about as much anonymity as I can bear right now. And I love that Laura Worthington is in our group.”
“For more than a year now,” Laura said.
Together we made a small sound of wonder.
“Who’d like to tell their story today?” Jo Ellen said.
All the Kleenex stayed down for a while and then finally one gave a small flutter not too far from the seat of the chair. “Go ahead,” Jo Ellen said.
“It’s Lila Robinson again,” Mrs. Robinson said.
“Hi, Lila.”
“I have to say, having Clover here today has got me feeling a little emotional. Don’t misunderstand me,” she said quickly. “I’m glad you came. Sorry for you, of course, but glad to have somebody here I know from before. I had both of Clover’s children in my class. They were very good children, lots of energy. Your Evie would have turned cartwheels all day long if I’d let her. Did she keep up with her gymnastics?”
“She’s a cheerleader at Ohio State,” I said. Something in me began to unclench the slightest bit.
“It makes me think about all the wonderful students I had,” Mrs. Robinson said, the emotion coming up in her voice. “I was with the school system for almost thirty years but when I became invisible, bang, that was it. They were done with me. I think we could do with a few more invisible teachers, especially in the upper grades. Even if they couldn’t use us in the classrooms teaching regular classes, we could still be hall monitors or test proctors. If you ask me there would be a lot less bullying if we had invisible teachers. But no, I wasn’t normal. They thought I might upset the children. I told them I could come in naked, the children wouldn’t even know I was there, but then they said I could be violating their civil liberties.”
“Because of the nakedness or the fact they wouldn’t know you were there?” someone snapped. Maybe it was Patty Sanchez. I wasn’t positive.
“What about your civil liberties?” Laura Worthington said. Her voice I knew. Be looking for sunshine around the middle of the week .
“We aren’t even covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act.” There was a low tide of grumbling in the room.
“No one is interested in us,” Mrs. Robinson said. “When I look back on my life, I was invisible for so many years before I became invisible. I never did stand up for myself. If you don’t stand up before you become invisible, what chance do you have of making people pay attention to you when you aren’t there?”
“Amen to that,” a voice said.
We all had something to say now, all the Kleenex were up and people had started talking over one another. Jo Ellen raised her voice for order when all of a sudden the door to the Magnolia Room opened and a young Filipino woman pushing a cart came into the room. Instantly, we fell into a perfect silence, all of the Kleenex fluttering to the floor. Were we busted? I followed suit and dropped my tissue. The young woman stood in the door for a long time, her large, dark eyes sweeping the room from side to side. Finally she guided her cart over to the refreshment table. Like us, she made absolutely no sound. She was a tiny thing. The beige polyester uniform she wore was no doubt the smallest one they made and it was two sizes too big for her. She looked at the cups and the plates and, deciding they were actually dirty, loaded them onto her cart along with the coffee urn. She took a
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