A Lame Journal of a Wantbe Artist - 4. Chapter 4- Family Flats

In 1935, Roosevelt created the Federal Art Project (FAP) as the agency that would administer artist employment projects, federal art commissions, and community art centers. Roosevelt saw the arts and access to them as fundamental to American life and democracy. The art produced through government programs pictured the hardships of the period. Breadlines, homelessness, and poverty were often common subjects.

One of these works produced was Family Flats by Millard Street. Family flats artistically showed the overcrowded and in poor condition, of the ghettos. These tenements are often the only option for working-class families.

It was finally time for me to pay for my sins. It had been weeks since I pulled the fire alarm. But because of my mother’s busy schedule, she had convinced Principal Hill not to expel me yet.

But now my mom was in the Principal’s office talking with Principal Hill and Mr. Big Bird. They yelled at each other for a while but then things seem to calm down. The principal comes to the door and waves me in.

I sat down between mom and Mr.Big Bird. Principal Hill sits across from us, under his desk.

“Ms. Rivera, after talking to your mother and your teacher....I’ve decided not to expel you. But to make a compromise.”

“Okay?”

“You will work off your punishment, assisting in the cafeteria.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

My mom shushes me.

“Georgia! You are lucky you are not getting kicked out. You will do what he says and you will listen to Ms. Jones.”

“Ms. Jones?”

“Yes,” Principal Hill says. “Ms. Jones will supervise you. You will report to her right every day, after school.”

“Every day?”

“And you will assist her for an hour and a half. And she will tell me if you’re not there.”

I roll my eyes then say, “Fine.”

***

“They want you to work?” Big Eyes asks me.

“Yep. Every day, after school, for an hour and half.”

“In a row?” She exclaimed.

“In a row.” I nodded

We walked into Mr. Big Bird's history class. The words “The Forgotten “ written on the chalkboard.

“What does the lunch lady even do all day?” Big Eyes says sitting her seat. “Doesn’t the food just appear?”

I shrugged my shoulders and sat in the seat next to her, “I guess I’ll find out.”

Mr. Big Bird stands in front of the class, “Today we are going to learn about The Great Depression and the forgotten man.”
***

I reported to the kitchen after school where I officially met Ms. Jones. A 6 feet tall black woman, I had seen every day at school. But I had never put a name to the face.

“I’m...”

“George Rivera.” She said cutting me off. “I know.”

“Then, you know why I’m here.”

“Yes, I do. Here.” She said as she handing me a pair of gloves, an apron, and...a hairnet.

“Oh, I’m not wearing that.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Yes, you will. I’m not losing my job just because someone finds a little red hair in their peas.”

Okay, she kind of scars me. I put the hairnet on.

“Today, you are going to help me prepare the mashed potatoes for lunch tomorrow.”

She places a huge bag of potatoes on the sliver table.

“Peel the potatoes put them in the pot.”

“Have you ever tried using boxed mashed potatoes?” I smirked.

She raised her eyebrows again. I threw up my hands.

“Peel the potatoes put them in the pot. Got it.”

She hands me the peeler and walks to the other side of the kitchen.

***
The rest of the time was pretty quiet. I stood on one side, peeling potatoes with my earbuds in listening to my playlist.

And Ms. Jones stood on the other side, listening to old disco music from her CD player.

I know, who owns a CD player anymore?

I walked out of the building, free at last. But I was pleasantly surprised to see Big Eyes on the steps.

She turns to me and smiles. She’s so cute.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you of course.” She says so matter-of-factly.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“It’s no problem,” She says standing up. “How did it go?”

“I peeled potatoes for an hour.”

“In a row?”

I had to laugh.

“Yes, in a row.”

She waited for me. That had to mean something, right?
***
Walking down my street. I swear I saw Ms. Jones was walking on the other side of the road. But I couldn’t get a real good look.

I walked into my apartment and my mom popped her head out of her room.

“Hija.”

“Hey mom,” I said really confused why she was home.

I walked into her room to see her changing out of her blue uniform with her pink uniform laying on the bed.

“How was the cafeteria duty?”

“I peeled potatoes for an hour.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Yea...it’s hard. I don’t know how you to it for 40 hours.”

Mom chuckles. I stared down at the floor.

“I just want to let you know that...I appreciate you, for you know doing that.”

I looked up at my confused mother. She seemed to be just as uncomfortable receiving the compliment as I was saying it. She reaches out for arms and steps forward. But for some weird reason stepped back.

“I should get started on my homework,” I said before leaving the room.

“Ok,” she awkwardly waved. “I’ll bring you back a patty melt.”