Educational Prison

It was a place with tan, plain walls that killed any sense of creativeness or color. A place of long sharp ended metal bars that made the building look like prison. A school where the only happiness of the child’s day was dashed by the sound of a bell. It had the sour smell of dry-erase markers and the tempting aroma of hot lunches. I t was also a place of memories of a childhood that have now been drowned by homework and maturity.

The children flow into the gates of the school like blood through veins and begin their day. The roar of the playground grows greater as more students gather. The once visible black gravel is now a sea of Vans and Nike shoes. The weak sun is chilled by the frozen air and as the playing ensues, more breaths can be seen. Parents' cars come and go like school years. The pounding of soccer and basketballs hitting the frozen wooden boards and backboards are gunshots in the battles between the children. The smiles of the children light up the once dark morning. The sound of the bell silences the kids and forces them into their uncomfortable desks.

Children file into the classroom like prisoners in a jail. A heater that warms the room is the ray of light while everything else is cold and dark. The aroma of coffee fills the room as the students begin their daily routine. Worksheets are handed out like traffic tickets. As the class continues, the reading, writing and silence do the same. The pale gray walls of the classroom discourage creativity rather than promote it. Sighs of boredom and pain begin to fill the classroom due to writing cramps. When the teacher rises from her desk and makes her way to the whiteboard, the children send out a sigh of relief. She uncaps the dry erase marker and begins writing down the lesson. The sour smell of the marker floods the room and the screech of the marker breaks the students' silence. The brown eyed girl in the back takes a look at clock waiting for lunch time to come. When bittersweet bell rings the children grab their basketballs and lunches and rush at of the room like a herd of buffalo.

The children are free. They feel the warm sun on heir backs as they meet up with their friends. As they sit at the worn out blue benches they begin to eat as fast as they can to get out to the playground. Once the students finish eating, the screech of the yard duties whistle sounds and the madness begins. The children rush out to play their games and the school does not feel like a prison anymore. A group of boys play basketball on the edge of the blacktop. The war begins between the groups of friends. As the game goes on the heat becomes yet another obstacle. Sweat begins to drip from their heads like a faucet and with every shot battles below the rim ensue. With every basket the tension and intensity of the game increases. Up on the field, a soccer game is taking place. The ball zooms across the field like cars on the highway. The dead grass crunches as the kids run back and forth. The cheers of one team eliminate the moans of the other as the ball goes in the back of the net. After forty minutes of play, the dreadful bell sounds and the children are sent back to class like prisoners are sentenced to their cell. Smiles turn to frowns as the children cross the threshold into the classroom.

The bright yellow play structure, previously a haven for the kids, is now engulfed by the colorless stucco of the classrooms. The smell of fresh air and flowers that filled the playground is stifled by the unpleasant aroma of markers and coffee. The soothing voice of friends and fellow classmates is silenced by the monotone voice of the teacher. The fresh air blowing through the student’s hair is suddenly terminated by the hot air that was created by the heater. The taste of the kid’s favorite snacks is nowhere to be seen in the classroom. The bright pink line that separated the classrooms and the playground is the divider between heaven and hell at Corona Creek Elementary School .

-Dominic