All year, my Western Civ teacher has been reminding us about Mystery Day. It’s been on the calendar all year and in the weeks leading up to it she would say at the end of class “Don’t forget Mystery Day’s coming up! I wonder what it could be!” She’d even end emails to us in this fashion: “MYSTERY DAY!!!????!!!!???? NEXT WEEK!!!????!!!”
I got curious about it the day before. And I spent the night before wondering if it would be something really cool and historyish and then trying to figure out what that would be ideally or if it would be totally lame.
The day of, I think I was the only one in the grade who didn’t know. I think my brain refused to make the connection between people walking around with pillows and Mystery Day. Well, it had just never entered my mind that Mystery Day would be anything close to what it was. I kind of thought it would be like the day we got to handle the facsimile of the Canterbury Tales. What I didn’t expect, even up to the second I stepped into the room, was two sewing machines, about 40 yards of the weirdest fabrics on this planet and the next, and a bunch of boys from the period before mine desperately trying to pin St. Patrick’s Day themed fabrics into semblances of boxers.
Wait, you weren’t kidding? You actually didn’t know?? My friend looks at me incredulously, wondering how on earth I manage to function if I miss things like this.
Well why on earth would I lie about not knowing what Mystery Day was? I really had no clue. I’d thought the pillows people were carrying around were either in celebration of something like “Bring Your Pillow to School Day” that only America would have and I would never know about or something Mr. Weisel’s class had done. I’m not quite sure why I connected pillows with math, but it made sense in my head.
So I come into this chaos of fabric and needles and thread completely unprepared and am stunned (for once) into silence and can do really nothing for the first 20 minutes of the period but try to take in the bandeau the girl behind me is attempting to make out of pink fabric that says “You Go Girl!” and “Rockstar!” and stuff all over it, the tie my friend is trying to make out of billiard-ball printed fabric, the loincloth the boy who fancies himself the coolest guy in the class is manufacturing out of monkey-adorned fake flannel, and my usually above-it-all friend cutting out a pattern for a cat pillow.
I found out later that even my above-it-all and shy boyfriend had made a pillow out of kiddy pirate-ship covered fabric.
Things got slightly more easy to process when my friend abandoned the cat out of apathy and because the sides “didn’t match up.”
I should have gotten out my phone and snapped some pictures of the chaos so people would actually believe me when I tried to recount it later.
Well, I didn’t quite know what to do. So I started making a stuffed animal, not really caring how it turned out. I don’t have a picture of what I did in civ class, but it was hastily done out of a need to do something.
I didn’t finish in class. I got the body and 2 sides of the head done.
My friend thought it looked like a four-legged octopus and enjoyed sticking her fingers in the legs and grabbing people’s faces. None of my friends could see how it was supposed to be a stuffed animal.
So in order to prove to them I knew what I was doing, I studied less for the chemistry test than I should have and finished it.
This is his head. His ears are different sizes. He has fake pearl buttons for eyes and a pirate ship on the side of his face.
I ran out of real stuffing so I used scraps. My friend likes it better. She walked around all the next day just holding him.
And so it was that the sewing frenzy began.