About six weeks back I got on Amazon to find a horse costume for my son and a cheetah costume for my daughter. While sifting through the many horse costumes out there, this beauty caught my attention and I almost died laughing:
I came home one day to find this unicorn mask on the chair opposite my bed. I don’t know how it got there, but I know what it wants. Me. One day the unicorn mask will impale me on it’s horn and I will die. Until then, it watches me sleep at night. Watching. Waiting. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because I’ve seen a flash of light hit its’ eye and I think it’s time. Time for the unicorn mask. “Not yet, not yet,” the mask will whiny and I will fall back to sleep, to dream and wonder.
I know it’s selfish of me, but I can only wear my Unicorn Mask when I am sitting on my throne, nude, in the dark, in the cellar, due to Court Order.
As a unicorn myself, I am quite satisfied with the authenticity of this particular item. I believe that for far too long, other species have had a rather undisciplined view of how we truly are. This mask gives such individuals the chance to “walk a mile in our shoes” per say. Obviously there are several unattractive flaws with this particular mask, such as how the mouth is continuously gaping as if to say something or take a small bite of food. However, all other educational aspects seem fairly correct except for the fact that I myself have a black coat of fur (yes, we black unicorns exist) and I would like to see a more diverse line of products for the following fiscal year. All in all I thoroughly enjoy the chance for humans to truly understand us for what we are.
Well, the creative writing in those reviews sealed the deal. I HAD to have this mask. I ordered it, it arrived quickly, and since it is made in a toxic plastic factory somewhere in China, it needed to off gas for about 4 weeks (lest the wearer die of noxious fumes), but last night it was good to go.
I had been trying to figure how how to rock my unicorn mask. I didn’t want to go full-body-unicorn, but I wanted to do something more than just walk around in the mask. As I lamented about my unicorn costume identity crisis one night at dinner my brilliant husband suggested, “Why don’t you go as the Uni-corn Standards instead of the Common Core Standards?”
See why I married him? He gets it (and me).
And here I present you with my unicorn against the Common Core Standards costume: No Common Core State Standards! Unicorn Standards! Unicorns against bad ed reform!
My dear friend Rhonda, who was a teacher with me in Cohort 1 of the New York City Teaching Fellows from 2000-2002, just said on Facebook, “That’s odd, because whenever I hang out with mythical creatures, it is always the centaurs that are most outraged about Common Core” which gave me this idea:
NEXT YEAR can we have a band of roving mythical creatures against the Common Core, high stakes testing, the Pearson Occupation, who love public education, etc. for Halloween? Who’s in?
As I walked the streets of Park Slope last night, teacher after teacher stopped me to take my picture. They loved the Unicorn against the Common Core. And there’s not much that makes me happier than making a public school teacher happy in this educational climate. I love you teachers. LOVE.
Oh, and the photo above is the only way I’ll own property in Park Slope–by magical forces!
Hope you all had a Happy Halloween. Let the protests (and laughs) continue.