2 summers ago when they were finishing up my art room,
my superintendent and I were talking tables- here in
Arkansas you can get furniture made at the state
prison for really cheap- so we agreed that he would
get my art room tables from the prison. The tables are
a little different than what I had hoped for, but they
work. I decided I needed a few more so he ordered
them. With the prison you never know when you are
getting your order-so one afternoon this truck pulls
up to the back door of my studio room- a correctional
officer comes in followed by prisoners carrying my
tables- my kids were mesmerized (high school)they
silently unloaded the tables- then got back on the
truck and left. At semester we were moving some of the
tables around and I noticed writing on the bottom of
the tables- well I just started screaming about WHO
MARKED ON THE NEW TABLES!!! then I realized the
prisoners who made the table had signed the underneath
side :) One of my students started looking for his
uncle's name.
So thats my table story-
Amanda
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If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear- George Orwell
