Today is a beautiful day.
I didn’t know that, of course, until 3:30, because my work
space is a cinderblock square with no windows, located in the middle of a
cinderblock hallway. Sounds like a
prison, yes?
I only knew that the sun was shining and the weather was warm
after hearing it from other people who had ventured outside. So my students and I decided to explore a surprisingly
nice February day in the Midwest by going outside to have class. What we discovered (which is something I
already knew, but tend to overlook) is that our outside perimeter has no place
to sit and commune or read or discuss.
We all sat on a concrete sidewalk by a parking lot in the back of the
school. There are no benches. No seats of any kind. Don’t get me wrong, the experience was far
better than being totally Vitamin D deficient, but having ANY sort of semi-comfortable
gathering place outside would be a bonus.
We could have gone to the front of the building, where there
are a handful of concrete benches, but there’s no quiet out front – just cars
and noise and surveillance cameras.
Even INSIDE, the school provides no place for people to find
solace. The library has comfy chairs,
but the comfort ends there. The benches
at the ends of the hallways are made of hefty metal mesh. The benches in the commons area of the school
are all concrete. Repose is elusive
there. It’s as if the school is saying, “here’s
a place to sit, but we don’t want anyone to get too relaxed, so here’s some
concrete”.
Oh, and there is no teacher’s lounge or even department
commons – those rooms look and feel (and smell) just like the rest of the
building: industrial.
My old school had a senior lounge. And a junior lounge. And an outdoor amphitheater for things like
reading Shakespeare out loud, in the sun, to recreate a literary and personal
vibe.
Since when did public schools become part of the prison
industrial complex? No wonder the kids
just want out all the time. We should
let the kids OUT, not lock them in. We
should encourage high school students to graduate early, if they have all their
credits. We should encourage kids to
schedule a late start or an early release, so they can get a job or get more
rest or go for a run or just LIVE THEIR LIVES outside of an antiquated zone of containment. How else can we expect them to function as
proper adults once they graduate? Yes,
some kids need the whole eight hours, five days a week – but not all kids need
that.
High school students dislike regimented school for a
reason: they are being treated like
cattle. They are just learning to cheat
(or “use all their resources” as they like to tell me), because they don’t have
time on a daily basis to do homework for seven or eight different classes every
day. When students have found an app on
which they can simply hold their phones over a math problem, and the app does
all the work for them (steps included), they aren’t learning anything! (Well, to be fair, they’re learning how to
differently navigate the operational systems of their phones.) I’m just saying that people of ALL ages need
time to just breathe in the air and figure out who they are, independent of a
million rules, all designed to regulate their behavior.
Try to remember being 16 or 17 or 18 years old, and acknowledge
that high school students are among those “huddled masses, yearning to be free”.