Lunch Break

A short story

The thought of entering a new year at school is always such a nice idea. It's exciting. You wonder about how the next year is going to be, what a new grade is going to be like, because now you've got one more class below you. Perhaps you wonder who your homeroom teacher will be, if there will be any new kids this year and, since there are always new kids flowing in, you wonder what they'll be like. You wonder who your teachers will be. You're not quite sure because they're always getting switched around. The staff can't decide where to put them and the teachers just go on teaching anyways. You think, 'this year I'm going to do well, I'm going to keep everything organized and pay attention in class and I won't procrastinate on homework and projects, because I did that last year and it was such a pain to go through and I don't want to go through it again.' You have all of these empowering thoughts as you wait in line at the diving board, on a gorgeous summer day. Everything seems like it'll go wonderfully this year.
And then school comes. You've perhaps already bought all of your school supplies. The pencils are new, with nice pink erasers on the ends, free of bite marks if you have the tendency to bite your pencils, pens and the like, and the end you write with isn't even sharpened yet. Your pens still have those little pieces of plastic on the tips and their ink canisters I full of blue or black ink. Your notebooks haven't got a scratch on them and the pages are as blank as the soon-to-be-used whiteboards in your fascinating new homeroom. Your folders are untarnished and their colors are bright and fluorescent, not yet having faded away. Perhaps you've even purchased a new backpack, still too stiff to wear comfortably and still smelling like the store you bought it from just yesterday.
And then you are sitting there in your nice new desk in your homeroom, excited to meet your new teachers, excited to see your new classrooms, excited to learn about something new and better than what you learned last year. All of your classmates are chattering excitedly, saying the same things they said last year on this same day. Then everyone gets their locker assignments and you run off to find your new locker. Some people sigh in despair while others grin, happy to have a locker in such a good location. By the time everyone returns to their homerooms they all know where each other's lockers are and they're all talking about what a good or bad locker they got. One friend is complaining while the other boasts with a face that says 'sucks to be you, aren't I so lucky?' and the complaining friend seethes with jealously and then they talk about their classes and which ones they have together.
The bell rings and everyone heads off to their first class, though it takes a bit longer than usual because they aren't used to where their new classes are. Everyone sits down in alphabetical order and chatters softly while they wait for the teacher to begin. When they do begin, you notice that they don't look half as excited as you do. A frown creases their face and they begin to explain the class rules. You realize that they've had to do this a hundred times before with a hundred different classes that looked exactly the same as the last one they taught and they couldn't care less about the start of a new school year and they're only thinking about when lunch break will come. And then the kids around you realize that something's wrong and they look down into their empty hands and see that they aren't holding their iPhones and they've got the sudden urge to check their Twitter and their Tumblr and their iMessages. Their hands start moving for their pockets just as the teacher states that there is no unauthorized cellphone use in the classroom, but they don't hear him and they're all looking down in their laps, thinking they are hiding their phones well enough and they then text eagerly away, their addiction being satisfied now, thank goodness. The teacher notices this and isn't at all surprised. They tell everyone to put their phones away and after sending eight more texts the phones slide back into their pockets and they look back up at the teacher in an irritated daze.
Before you know it your new notebooks are all bent and the pages are covered in blue and black ink. Your pencils and pens are bitten and worn, the new and shiny classrooms and teachers now look dull and boring. You remember those idealistic thoughts you had while standing in the summer sun, in line for the diving board, and realize that you don't remember when you forgot about that little vow and now you are thinking like the teacher and you're thinking about when lunch break will come too.