School - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Looking at the models, there was no safe way to reopen schools in the pandemic, and so we took the per head funding for each student for that academic year and paid it directly to parents on top of their child benefit money.
If we are going to solve the madness of the world, we can start by respecting the human brain as an organic computer that works best with logic, emotion, creativity and self driven passion; though we have the capacity for random access memory, it is a poor way to educate and the reason our schools damage our innate genius capacities.
This school is not the million bricks, but the thousand hearts who carry more dreams than the night sky has stars. This school is the emotions, our stories and our love for each other. I hope you can see that through the stress filled haze this thing called adulthood has you smoking. We aren't the product, we are the reason.
You can make policies ten miles long and alphebetize your filing cabinet. You can attend meetings and dress real nice. But my stomach is empty and my mind is full of pain. It can't take no more in, Miss. It can't take no more in. So unless you gonna fix that, unless you gonna care, shut up. Please, for the love of God, shut up. My mom is sick and the rent overdue. My uncle said I'm a looser like me dad. The world is fucked up real bad and the gang got their eyes on me. So like I said, lady up there talking words that bounce off my skull, my mind is already full. So you learn. You learn how to take this shit out. You learn how to take my desire to put your head through that wall and make something calm. You learn how to love your students like a good mother, whatever the hell that is. You learn how to come into my head space, meet me for who I am and not tell me to meet your neat printed government bull crap standards. Because if you don't I'm gonna take a fist full of this anger and pain, this fear that's sat in me since I don't even remember when, and I'm gonna shove it right in your face. Then you'll hate me like all the others. All the others. All of them with their judging eyes from their comfortable lives with those that love them. Why don't you ever learn to see what you are seeing? So, Miss, here is your grade: SEE ME.
The wind howls as the students arrive through the gates, hustling and bustling down the corridors. Friends are greeting each other with a hug or a playful punch while newcomers stand looking scared. The seniors stand, tall and proud, confidence born of experience. Soon the bells ring and everybody runs except an occasional slowcoach or chatterbox. Everybody goes in except one and all is quiet; the girl smiles to herself. "Another school year begins," she thinks before smiling and running in to join the others.
The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra of deadbeat droids. A single figure entered the room, sheer authority silencing the group.
The schoolhouse, a great log shack with holes for doors and windows, was without either doors or windows to keep out the weather
Bustling corridors, cluttered classrooms, noisy chatter, bright displays, obscure tannoy announcements, friends arrive, smiles, grins, teacher enters, hush descends, register called, day begins, math, literature, geography, science, homework forgotten, homework lost, homework crumpled in bottom of bag, dog ate homework, baby puked on homework, just kidding, homework in right on time, home time, goodbyes, hurried trot to bus, slide into middle row, not cool enough for back row, daydream, watch world go by.
Head down, dodging bullies, taunts, jabs, jibes, avoid eye contact, move in hurried scurry, shoulders hunched, stomach lurches, geek, four eyes, smelly, desperate to be inconspicuous, perch at table, wait, another day, another ordeal, six hours will drag by, tick tock, tick tock.
Heidi sits on the edge of her plastic chair, this is science class, her chance to shine. The other kids seem to come alive in art class, amongst the pastels and fine charcoal pencils, but for her the sight of the laboratory was the heaven she craved. Art was amazing, art was beautiful, but not when drawn by her hand. By her hand it was like a three year old with a broken arm was given a crayon and told to have fun. Mr Tobias was beaming at the front of the class, and she fought not to reflect it back, grinning at teachers wasn't cool. But as he announced the new assignment her face fell into a natural look of disbelief, her lips as straight as the pencil on her desk. Twenty percent of the grade was based on the artwork that went with it. Nine out of ten kids in the class voted to approve the new rubric and Heidi felt like something had just died in her mouth. Twenty percent. She could kiss her A's goodbye.
Matthew slumped at the vinyl desk-for-one, flicking at the tape that peeled from the side to reveal the MDF board underneath. These plastic chairs were alright a few grades ago but now all the heights were wrong and it made his back ache. The teacher droned on, he wasn't quite sure what the topic was, some king or other. Someone dead. What felt like the back end of a pencil jabbed him in the shoulder blade. He turned, it was Tyler. "Wanna take a package tonight?" He knew exactly what was in it and his mother had told him not to, ever. But he also knew how much it paid and he was hungry 24/7. Growing up on food stamps wasn't easy for a boy heading over six feet tall. He imagined his mom eating her old favourite dinner, lemon chicken and thyme. It was just a parcel, wasn't like he was pushing them was it? He nodded once and Tyler sank back into his seat, returning to running his empire from his cell phone.
School for the children of the tented ghetto was a large rug for them all to sit on while they were lectured from a black board on an easel. On a good day the teacher would have some chalk.
The halls were crowded with people, and the chaos was so perfect, like a movie. There was the couple that was always making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the cliquey girls. Opposite them, the cliquey jocks, and between them, the parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make paper airplanes and the fashion kids that wheeled mannequins and clothing racks down the halls. And then there was me, not that I fit into any of those groups.
I had managed to push past the constant stream of children and to the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As I walked my footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of me in the cold ground. The field was out of bounds in the winter but I didn't care, it was a Friday and the school teachers had better things to do with their time.
Ellie turned, her voice the same as she'd use with her kid sister. "Miss, you just don't get it. This 'education' is just indoctrination; it's being forced into a life we don't want. We don't wanna be just like you, we don't want to lead lives that kill our planet. We want a better world, one that loves, shares, takes care of Mother Earth. We want to boldly go where no generation has ever gone before - not meekly into cubicle farms."
Give me the freedom to learn by my own errors without judgement and I will school myself faster than you can ever teach.
Don't fill me with lies while my parents die, die in the capitalist machine, forced to kill the world I need to survive in. Show me light, love and laughter. Let me follow my passions. Free my parents to save the world, to be part of a nurturing society. I want an open sky; I need the cage ripped away. Please, won't someone rip this cage away.