Rulers that don’t measure, numbers that don’t add up, dots that don’t connect, and illegible language challenge the expected outcomes of simple classroom lessons, revealing the conformity they perpetuate.

 Brightly colored composition notebooks become charged objects oscillating between excitement and dread, evoking sentiments from nostalgia and innocence to anger and shame. Through inscription and erasure, I introduce concepts of silencing and judgment. Simple repetition becomes a tool of resilience, while language teeters on the edge of legibility, transforming into incomprehensible babble. Others offer moments of light-hearted joy.

As I witness the erosion of our educational system, the rise of theocratic influences, censorship of ideas, manipulation of language, distortion of history, and suppression of individual personhood, these lessons resonate as urgent and critical.