The Day I Hung Out With the Wall of Change

Have you ever stopped to watch the Wall of Change? Truly stopped. Not to take a photo of, or with, it. If you have, what did you see?

I came to campus on a deserted Friday afternoon in January, for a GSB get-to-know-you walk. We’ve all done them: 30 minutes long, walk around the fountain and back to Town Square, and probably never walk together again. After the walk, I circled Town Square because I was rarely here. Town Square has always been my favorite part of the GSB. I love to sit in a sun-speckled Adirondack chair, open to interruptions. I’d witness laughter, overhear phone calls, and relish in a paradise I could never fathom was my life. It broke my heart to see caution tape on these chairs for so long and know that I couldn’t touch or engage with my favorite thing about this place.

When strolling by the Wall of Change, I read the sign below the wall — “Please Touch” — intrigued that the Wall was inviting me in. I approached, soon realizing the sign actually said “Please Do Not Touch” — I happened to be standing at the perfect angle in which the barricade separating onlookers from the art obscured “Do Not.” Yet, it was too late: I touched the glass protecting the Wall of Change.

And then I stepped back. Instead of biking home to join the Zoom meeting I’d responded “maybe” to on my calendar, I stayed and watched — for two hours.

My questions began: Is there logic to this wall? How many colors? Are all the rectangles the same? Are they paint chips? Should I capture this for Instagram? What should the post say? Where can I find these answers?

Many people know I’m a former teacher — but probably not that I was an elementary school science teacher. Curiosity is my muse. Instead of Googling, I stood there, and started answering my questions:

2:02PM

• When each “chip” flips, it usually goes back to the same color.
• The “waterfalls” often come when the wall is a solid color. Sometimes, the waterfalls even return to the same color. E.g.: Green turns back to green.
• Purple is rare. Blue is common.

2:33PM

I texted the three people I talk to regularly at the GSB to see if anyone wanted to join me at the Wall. Like GSB students, they were understandably busy. Instead, I turned on some music, and sat on the ground.

• The colors form geometric patterns: stripes, circles, diagonal lines — the chips flip until the pattern fully completes.
• A quick waterfall happens when the wall is split evenly between two colors.
• Many people work hard to maintain the GSB, even while mostly empty.
• You by Petit Biscuit is a good song, if you don’t want to just listen to the Wall.

3:19PM

I had nothing on me since I only came for a walk, yet wanted to capture my observations. I ran to the printer room, grabbed some scrap paper, and even found a pen. I returned to my spot.

• Two roller bladers say hello. By this time, I could correctly predict and name when a waterfall would happen. I shared my findings with them aloud, as the next waterfall approached.
• You can’t listen to music and film a video on an iPhone at the same time.
• I think blue is the most frequent color.
• Campus is beautiful, even without the laughter, phone calls, and Adirondack chairs.

4:04PM

It’s hard to know when you’ve had enough of the Wall. As I stood to leave, the Wall started pulsing. This was new. I’d learned so much and there was so much to learn. I dragged myself away to bike home before dark. I walked to return the wiped-down pen to the printer room, when a member of the custodial staff stopped me to say hello. He asked me if I was done filming — he’d recognized my presence, as I had his. I told him, “I’ve been here for over a year, and I’d never stopped to notice.”

—

During the “Fast Friends” activity back in Organizational Behavior, I told my section-mate that my dream day was to wake up and have nothing scheduled. This didn’t mean I’d do nothing (though I’m a proponent of that too). I wanted space to choose each moment, no longer bound by obligation. I wanted what I used to teach my students: awe and wonder.

To transition from passively doing nothing to actively choosing how I want to spend my time means I need to be relaxed — untethered from my calendar. Scheduling myself every hour is a learned habit. A habit I’ve been working for years to unlearn.

I was able to sit for two hours, writing with the Wall of Change on a Friday, because I’d opened my calendar the three nights prior. And by opening it, I mean I defensively blocked it off, for me. I’d made a promise to my therapist, and myself: after my session ended with her at 7pm on Tuesday, I would not schedule anything after. And I finally followed through — not just for one night, but three. I paid attention at Talk that week. I read for pleasure. I worked on a puzzle. I rode my bike. I watched TV for joy, not decompression.

School’s ending, and I will likely leave here with those three close friends I texted on that January day. And many lovely acquaintances. And so many more it would have been lovely to know. And that’s okay. Because with the pandemic, I started cooking and yoga again. I hung out with a Wall. I said no. At the GSB, I imagined I’d soak everything up, but in reality, I soaked me up. And while it was not the growth I wanted, it’s probably the growth I needed.

I love the time quarantine gave me. Would I ever choose it again? Absolutely not. Without that time though, I may not have recognized the patterns around and within me. I’ve accepted there are things, big and small, that I can’t predict — whether it’s a pandemic or the color the chips turn next. At the GSB, my biggest lesson has been how to embrace the unknown. And Town Square, for its predictable spontaneity, will always be my favorite thing about the GSB.