As my car rumbled through the familiar silver gates and past the smiling security guards, I could feel myself trying to stifle an inevitable yawn to no avail. I always thought school started too early. The car took a sharp turn to the left, trundled along for a short distance, and screeched to a grinding halt.
I pulled open the car door, stepped out, and walked into the school. Marching past the clinic, I noticed the garden looked less bare and more vibrant. Suddenly, the drab, gray school felt less drab and forlorn. As usual, I turned right towards the flight of stairs. Sleepy-faced and yawning, I started to embark on my perilous journey, striving to complete my mission; which was to make it to my classroom on time.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the library windows, I could feel the corners of my lips drag down into a frown. The sight before me was a disgrace-my hair was frizzy from the rain, my clothes were damp and my hair was considerably bedraggled. I paused to make myself look more presentable. So far, this mission has been hard.
When I entered my Spiderman-themed class, I was greeted by a cold gust of wind from one of the classroom’s two air conditioners. I plopped down on my pristine white table and gazed out the windows-which were partially wallpapered with colored paper. As the minutes of the lesson ticked by, the ceaseless buzzing of the classroom and the unlimited amount of energy the students contained increased, which would be a rare sight if a teacher was present. Having no vicious teacher who would glare at the class with dancing red flames in her eyes as she expects an answer to a question even the world’s most intelligent mastermind couldn’t provide an answer to was an unbelievable chance worth taking to have at least a few moments of pleasure.
The bell signaling lunch finally boomed from the overhead speakers. I hurriedly copied the remaining notes from the glass board before dashing out into the hallways. The halls were crowded with people and the chaos was perfect, like a well-written movie. Hungry students streamed out of their classrooms and flooded the narrow staircase. I usually take the longer way. Weaving past hordes of students, I finally made it to the emptier but smaller stretch of hallway. I rushed, past the classrooms’ glass windows, past the faculty and past the small table the higher grades sometimes ate on. Glancing to my right, I noticed the small square of space under the wooden bleachers had three new additions to its collection of unobtainable lost items. They were a tennis ball, a chewed up red pen and an empty packet of MnM’s.
I targeted my gaze forward and skipped down the flight of stairs. Although I was still one floor short of my intended destination, I abruptly turned left, strode past the primary chemistry lab and towards the balcony that overlooked the cafeteria- which was a cacophony of loud chatter. Each table was a cosseted huddle of people raising voices so as to be heard over the din. The food is secondary to the information passed here. Over the over-cooked spaghetti and sugar-packed drinks, alliances are formed and gossip traded like poker chips. I did this out of habit- to know who to snub and who flatter, who to approach and who to avoid.
After about five minutes flew by, I turned back, rushed down the stairs and plopped down on my usual seat at the head of the lunch table. Once I finished, I walked straight north towards the receptionist and turned left, just like in the morning. On the third floor, the sound of boys playing soccer in the court clashed with the unorchestrated symphony of the cafeteria.