Face Tape

The Compliment Club met each third grade Friday, on the rug in the back of the room. We were required to attend each week, and one of us was always the guest of honor. The week leading up to it, the name of this week's special speaker was posted by a small tub. Beside the tub sat a pile of green and blue papers with the name of the club printed across the top. Before the year was over, we had explored the good in everyone, no matter how hard. For each person, we all had to submit a compliment, no matter our personal matters. Even my archenemy scraped up something on my week: "You are really good at spelling and you are a good friend." (I was supremely confused, as we were not friends.) That was the magic of the Club.

When the meeting began, the speaker stood up at the front, a canvas for our thoughts. One at a time, we got up and extracted a slip from the tub. Read the name. Read the note. Then we pulled off a piece of tape off the dispenser and stuck the good vibes to the person's face or arm. We did it right before dismissal, so they had to wear their bling outside and into the street, the papers fluttering behind them like wings. It is rare that they are stuck on; on most days, we must sprout them ourselves.