• Picture if you will - a scene in my daily life. It takes place at a wonderful, magical place of learning that I am sure you are all familiar with. Who wouldn’t want to spend seven hours a day, five days a week in the lovely off-white paradise known as school? With locks on every door and security cameras in every hallway, the administrators have captured the essence of a homey, welcoming environment. Would you like to know the only thing my school lacks? That perfect finishing touch? Bars on the windows. Yeah, I’d rather stay home too.

    Every day students file into class and plop down into the dinky, uncomfortable desks our school has thoughtfully provided for us. We feel a little guilty as we laugh at the kid unfortunate enough to pick the broken desk, but his crash to the floor will, without a doubt, be the highlight of the day. The beige walls that surround us are supposedly warm and open, but they lack that certain finesse of personality. A few of the teachers make a valiant effort to decorate the room and make it appear less like a cut-and-paste world, and I’ve come to appreciate the posters with a bit of humor in them. Nothing quite like sitting in a classroom, trying to learn, and you realize the embellishments of the room hold more appeal than what is being taught. The best part of the school is wondering which classroom will hold the “odor of the day”. That would be when you hope to whatever deity you believe in that you will not walk into a wall of stench. The majority of the time you can pin it down on freshmen who have not yet learned the beauty of a daily shower. Or scented candles. Both can be quite deadly to delicate noses.

    Just the other day I can recall walking into a room (thankfully unscented) and taking my place in my usual desk at the rear. Some teachers enjoy picking on the students in the back, but I find that preferable to having someone sitting right behind me. Anyway, the clouds that filtered the sun provided insufficient illumination for the project at hand, but the harsh lights of the school more than made up for it. I had quickly thrown myself into the world of paperback fantasy, relishing in the characters that the author had introduced to my imagination. I was in their world, and I had no interest in coming back to the reality. Unfortunately, the real world has a hard time letting go of the people who would rather be a million miles away.

    When a fellow student came to sit next to me, I simply ignored him as I do with most people. For some reason though, he was insistent on trying to start a conversation. My mind went ballistic. HELLO?! Can he not see that I am busy? I have a previous engagement that requires my attention! I have no interest in speaking with the average students of my school when my book calls to me! In any case, I would respond to his ramblings with the occasional, highly intelligent comment of “uh huh” and “yeah”. I swear he was like the Energizer Bunny. He just kept going and going and going...

    I would like to think that I am not a violent person on most days, but I could feel my fingers begin to twitch in time to his talking. It wasn’t as if I wanted to wrap them around his skinny little neck and strangle him - oh goodness no! More like I would give anything to be able to bash his cranium in with one of those brick-like textbooks we are required to lug around. Learning material? Not so much. Weapon of mass destruction? Most definitely. As I am sure that it is quite evident, my self control was remarkable that day, and no brains were splattered. Otherwise I’d be locked up in another institution where I’d get to spend every night for who knows how long. I’d bet the food would taste the same anyway. My eyes remained narrowed slightly, and there was a frown in my brow as the monkey kept chattering. There was also a pressure in my head that kept growing with every second that his mouth kept moving. Was that some form of super power? Shouldn’t he be using that ability to save the world? If he continued for much longer, I was pretty sure that my brain matter might explode and leak out of my ears (you just loved that mental image, didn’t you?). Oh, and somehow my mouth had gained the ability to produce an incredibly bitter taste. I don’t know how it accomplished that, but it was almost as if my body wanted to contribute to the ever-growing list of things that were bothering me. Thank you, Body. I always knew knew I could count on you when I was in need.

    I wanted to cheer when the teacher finally walked into the room and I was able to politely “shush” the kid who was talking in the excuse that class had started. I then resumed my reading with relish. Sure, I would look up in the pretense of paying attention every once in a while, but I had more important matters to attend to. I had secrets to be revealed right in between my hands, and patience was required for the pages to reveal them.