Editor’s Note: Voices of OA is a weekly opinion column that showcases the viewpoints of the students at OA on a variety of topics.
By Katherine McCormick
You wake up late, it’s 7:25. Scramble to get all your stuff ready, putting on your shoes while trying to brush your teeth. Run downstairs to grab your backpack and a granola bar then rush out to your car. You have to sit there for an extra three minutes waiting for the ice on the windshield to melt away. Anxiously trying to speed up the process.
You wake up late, it’s 7:25. Sitting there contemplating whether or not to get ready, or roll back over and sleep for another half hour. On one hand it’s really cold out, and you’re really tired. Your sleep schedule is all messed up so you fell asleep at 2. On the other hand, you haven’t been to school in a week and it’d be good for you to leave your house. You decide to go. Lethargically taking your time getting ready. You sit in your car as you have to wait for the windshield to defrost. Although it’s kinda late, you don’t really care.
You push the limit as you go forty in the thirty, remembering spots usually filled up about five minutes ago. You pull into OA, tires screeching as you hook around the bend. There you see it, an open spot. Surprised because the access road already looks kinda full. You pull in, sit there and take a breath of relief, as it is 7:48 and you made it on time. Sitting there you are startled by a sudden tapping on your window. You look up to see your senior friend. The muscles in your face force a smile. You want to savor moments like these until they are no longer here next year.
You pull up to OA at 7:47 and not even half the spots are full. Pulling into the turf lot, you get a spot right up front. Instinctively you look to the left to see your friend’s car, but then you remember, they graduated.
Walking shoulder to shoulder into school, laughing, ready for the long day ahead. He takes a sip of his caramel swirl, cheeks tensing up and a look of true pain when he has to swallow the iced drink. “Ugh! This is disgusting! Good to know I wasted four bucks. I’m gonna throw it away unless you want it.” Your eyes light up, as you were up until 2, finishing editing your DECA paper. You made it to states this year and your aspirations are to at least place so you had to make sure the paper was beyond perfect, thus sacrificing your Wednesday night sleep.
You see your friends and walk with them. Reaching into your left jacket pocket, then your right. It’s not there. You panic a little as there are none in your backpack either. You run back to your car, and a wave of relief comes over you. Sitting there on the passenger’s seat, there it is. A blue surgical mask.
Grabbing the cup from their hands as you strut through the threshold into G Block History. The straw going up to your lips, as the sub par, but definitely not sewage worthy coffee fills your mouth, and you get a little jitter of sugar. Knowing that you will most definitely be bouncing off the walls today.
You catch up to your friends, and you all turn right, where it’d be much quicker to go straight, but the arrows tell you otherwise. Following the floor markings like guinea pigs in a maze. Arrived, A Block Senior Project. Go sit in seat number 9.
Your best friend sits in front of you, turns around to tell you some stupid joke, you can’t help but laughing. Today’s lesson is partner work then a class discussion, you push your desk with the person next to you as you ask them what you’re supposed to be doing because you were not paying attention.
The bell rings, class has begun. Wanting to talk to someone you begin to turn to the person who sits next to, only to see their face up on the front board. “I’m jealous of them” you think to yourself, because they are all comfy in bed. This class had at least 10 people in person on the first day, now there are only four sitting amongst you. “Another one Bites the Dust” plays softly in your head.
Ten minutes go by, then the teacher brings the class to an open discussion. Struggling to find participants, the silence grows louder. You figure you might as well help him out and your hand goes up, and the discussion begins. The topic slowly slips away as someone brings up the new news of the President’s impeachment. Teacher looks at the clock, letting us proceed because it’s fine we have thirty five minutes left of class. Eventually the bell rings, and you never get back on topic, but it’s alright because everyone enjoyed the casual conversation.
After telling us what we should be doing, the teacher sits back down at his desk. We all open up our laptops and spend the next thirty five minutes in silence, aside from the clicking of keyboards. In the beginning of the year school was weird, but now you’ve gotten used to it, knowing this is as good as it can be. But hey, at least you get to go to school, right?
You gather your stuff, walk out the door, and tell your teacher you’ll see him tomorrow. As you walk down the hall you say hi to all your friends passing by. You go up the staircase and down the hall to chem. Knowing that your neighbor and one of your best friends will be coming out of the central staircase right as you pass. He screams “neighbor”! Respectfully you say it back matching his enthusiasm. You all walk together asking if you can borrow a shirt for tonight’s basketball game, the theme is Hawaiian. You make a plan to get food before and he’ll bring the shirts. As you get to their classroom you say “bye see you at lunch”.
The bell rings, you say goodbye and leave. You walk through the hall, it’s practically empty. You go up the staircase to the third floor and down the hall. Walk past the central staircase and look over instinctively, but to no surprise; nothing. You get to your second block class, you sit down, and class starts like a broken record. Click, click, click. Now repeat five more times.
Once connection in school meant creating meaningful bonds and relationships with your teachers and classmates. Connection now means whether or not your laptop will be able to join the meet. Classes and hallways once filled with lively students, now consumed by near robots, stuck in a screen, going through the motions. Everyday repeating like the last, no end in sight. Monotony.