I walk
back into the building, not just passing through, or dropping by. I am here to
wander the halls and go back in time. The smell of paint and glue fills my
nose. It is both acrid and refreshing. It brings back memories… It reminds me
of when I was a student here. I was awkward, unsure of myself. Navigating the
stresses of high school wasn’t easy. I often felt alone… abandoned. In a
school like this one, where students
here are simply mass produced, I got lost in the crowd. And when I was noticed,
it wasn’t for my talents or skills. It was because I was a truant. A rebel. A
rule-breaker. A problem.
My mind
drifts, floating through the days, weeks, months and years that I spent here.
Were they happy years? Not really. There were certainly happy moments, but I
will never look back and call them the “best years of my life.” When I received
my diploma it took all of my self-control not to jump off the stage and race
out of the building. I wanted nothing more than to rid myself of my awful
uniform, teachers and memories.
If I
could do it over, I would have done it differently. I wouldn’t have let myself
get taken advantage of. I wouldn’t have let myself be bullied by the
administration. I would call out the teachers who shouldn’t teach. The teachers
who let me stumble blindly through my education, and even more, let me grope
through my spiritual lessons. Questions unanswered. Problems unsolved. So much
confusion…
Well,
my time here is over. The tour is complete and I walk out the building. I am
both impressed and disappointed. It is a beautiful tragedy. Within these walls,
potential brims forth, but it is stifled, it is controlled… and it is
destroyed. Within their parameters is the only area for growth. You play by
their rules, or you don’t play at all.
(Photo by me... Trying to practice my photography skills. I am sure there is a hidden message here...)
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