Peel-and-Stick Laminate

Later this week is the annual First Grade Pirate Party at my kids' elementary school. A few weeks ago, I sent a note to the event coordinator volunteering to help decorate the gym. The note I received in reply thanked me for my willingness to come up with six pirate-themed reading games instead.

Usually I am against bait-and-switch routines, but I agreed to fall victim to this one after my friend Tina hinted that such acts of martyrdom might be recognized at the end of the year assembly in the form of a plaque or large trophy.

What initially appeared to be a manageable assignment was made infinitely more difficult by the friendly reminder that none of my pirate games could include weapons, water balloon launchers, allusions to alcohol, or choking hazards.

"I have nothing," I told my husband, throwing up my hands in defeat.

"Why don't you make a memory game using pirate words?" he suggested.

My husband's idea made me want to poke my eyes out, but I went through with it because it provided me with a legitimate reason to purchase a roll of peel-and-stick laminate.

If I was taught nothing else by this experience, I learned that laminate is underused in higher education. College professors should use it more often: it makes things look more impressive and official. The clip art treasure chests that I printed off the Internet gained instant credibility once I covered them with a see-through layer of plastic film.

I showed my husband the finished products.

He wrinkled his nose. "Aren't you going to laminate the poster board too?" he wanted to know.

That wasn't part of my original plan, but once he made the suggestion, it became a necessity.

Laminating such a large surface proved to be almost more fun than I could handle. Despite (or perhaps due to) numerous attempts to lay the poster board flat on the sticky paper, the finished product was plagued with several air bubbles and large creases, attributes I tried to obscure when I dropped the items off at the event organizer's house on Saturday.

The Offender

"My, what happened here?" the woman said, peering at the poster board. "Are those carpet fibers?" she asked, pointing to a cluster of beige clumps in the middle of the sign.

I explained the limitations of DIY laminate to no avail.

"Hmm," the woman said with an amused smile. "You should have done your laminating over here." She pointed to an object in the corner of her living room, which she identified as her personal laminating machine.

I have never wanted anything more in my entire life. Now I know what to put on my Christmas list.

"Feel free to re-laminate to your heart's content," I said as I walked out the door. The woman threw back her head and laughed like I had just told the funniest joke in the world.

A few choice words ran briskly through my mind as I got into my car, but just as quickly as they came, my feelings of hostility gave way to feelings of compassion.

All I had to do was come up with six games. The event organizer is responsible for producing a pirate-themed snack. My heart goes out to the person who will be spending the better part of the next three days suspending small schools of Swedish fish into 137 cups of blue JELL-O.

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ARGH! In my haste to rid myself of the cursed poster board, I forgot to take a picture of the finished product. You'll just have to imagine its awesomeness.